May Eighteenth

It’s hard to believe that one year ago I was finishing up junior-year finals and packing up London-bound suitcases.  Like last May eighteenth, the 2010 version begins a new chapter for me.  I won’t be abroad, but I will be entering the foreign world of full-time employment (fingers crossed).  Also, like last May eighteenth, I will be packing my suitcases once again for a big city, New York.  I am so excited to see how our nation’s hub of culture, commerce and commuting compares to that of the United Kingdom.

Here are a few memories, good and bad, that will always tie me to London.

Walking to Sainsbury’s

It was just a five minute stroll down Hogarth to get  to our neighborhood grocery store.  The bright orange sign was always a welcome sight for our hungry selves.  We made frequent trips to Sainsbury’s during the week due to the “British” size of our refrigerator.  I quickly became a pro at finding the cheap food, usually Sainsbury’s brand.  My rule of thumb?  Don’t buy anything over 1 pound.  If you ever Skyped with me, you saw me eating off brand Frosted Flakes or Cinnamon Toast Crunch.  Potato wedges mashed with butter were another one of my favorite treats.  They sold reusable bags for 9 pence at the registers.  I think I ended up with about 20 of them by the end of the trip.

Skype Dates

Speaking of Skype, what did people used to do without this?  I probably used it about every day, along with the rest of my flatmates even though we were warned against it due to our low bandwidth (?).  No matter the time of day-or night-I was always ready to Skype.  (For those of you who talked with me around 8:00 US time, I apologize.)  Having friends and family just a click away helped pass the time when I wasn’t out exploring the city.  Heck, it even got me a boyfriend ; )

Public Transportation

This was kind of  a love/hate relationship for me.  For every time I thought “man the tube is awesome,” there was a time I wanted to just get in my own car and drive.  Everyone on the trip was advised to buy an Oyster card, basically a key to the city.  It came with a hefty price though-25 pounds per week for unlimited riding ($40-45).  I tried to cheat the system by just putting 20 pounds on at a time and using it like a debit card.  This resulted in many hour-long bus rides and hour-and-a-half-long walks home from work.  Despite the extra effort and time entailed in my method, I was able to see the city from a who whole new perspective–above ground.  I definitely learned my way around London, and I think that is one of the best things I took from the trip.

Using the Pound

I almost despise the pound.  It has nothing to do with the shapes or colors or even who’s face is on it.  It has to do with me loathing anytime I had to pull one out of my purse and hand it over to the cashier.  The most difficult part of London, for me, was watching my bank account dwindle.  Living in one of the most expensive cities in the world and having no income was a terrible combination for someone who is normally very careful with her money.  Looking back now, I wish it wouldn’t have bothered me so much, but it is what it is, and it lead to some interesting experiences anytime I tried to avoid spending money.

Living without TV

I didn’t think I could do it.  But I did.  You can ask anyone, and they will tell you that TV is very important to me.  Not because I’m a  lazy couch potato, but because I find it so interesting sociologically.  It might have something to do with advertising too.  Of course, the first and only time I was able to watch TV was a very memorable experience for me.  I was glued to it.  I do think it would have enhanced my understanding of British life and humor had I been able to see more TV programs and ads, but, at the same time, it forced me to get out and enjoy a few days in Hyde Park or exploring the city.

Tuk Tuk and Scoop

Gibberish to you, maybe, but to me they are some of the most delicious words in London.  I came across Tuk Tuk, a Thai restaurant, while job-shadowing a PR agency in SoHo.  I had never been to a Thai restaurant before and ordered the Pad Thai, a safe bet in my book.  I was more than pleasantly surprised, I was in love.  I hadn’t had such a tasty treat in London aside from my experiences at the markets.  I ventured back one other time and was not disappointed.  Scoop was a great find recommended by a co-worker of Emily’s.  It was a gelateria nestled behind Covent Garden.  Some of the most delicious frozen dairy I have ever had.  I walked an hour to get there on one other occasion and crave it to this day.  Along with Borough Market, these were my favorite places to eat.

Close Quarters

I cannot mention my time in London without talking about my flatmates at 40 Hogarth.  Together we shared many laughs, times of sadness and a lot of late nights.  These times, along with our cramped living space, bonded us in a way not many other experiences could have.  No, I will not miss sharing one shower and a mini fridge with five other girls.  And I won’t miss the early morning wake up calls from William the Pigeon.  But I will miss having five other girls to go on walks with, stay up late and chat with, study with and party with.  Just like the rest of the trip, it is an experience that I won’t be able to recreate but will cherish always.

Of course, these are not all the memories I have about my trip across the pond.  The rest are enclosed within these blog posts.  I have enjoyed going back through them, and I hope you will too.  Putting this book together is the least I could do for those who supported me emotionally, physically (chips and queso, yum!) and financially all so I could have the experience of a lifetime.  If you are reading this, you are likely in that group, so, thank you.  The farther away the trip gets in time, the closer it becomes to me.  I am able to distance myself from the bad and revel in the good.  And now I can say, in more ways than one, I have minded the gap.

Thank you so much for reading and supporting me!

-Rachel

Amsterdam

Two weeks ago a group of us traveled to Amsterdam.  It was a wonderfully relaxing weekend after Kenna, Katherine and I had worked our tails off putting our final project for International Issues Reporting together.  Amsterdam has a very distinct reputation, but there really is more than meets the eye.

In order to get to the airport for our 7 am flight, we had to catch a bus at three in the morning.  Just one of the many perks of flying cheaply.  We opted not to sleep, not that there was really any time to.  It wasn’t until 1:00 or so that we finished our presentation, and then there was the whole matter of packing.

Somehow, we pulled ourselves together in time and headed to the bus station.  We spent then next 5 hours traveling and waiting to travel, until we finally touched down in Amsterdam around 10 in the morning.  It was the first time in my life I had been someplace where I couldn’t speak the language or at least decipher the language to some extent.  I think it was Mike who said that whoever invented the Dutch language must have just thrown down some Scrabble letters in no particular order and called it a day.  The language barrier made it difficult to figure out where we were supposed to go to catch a train/bus/taxi to our hostel.  Luckily, most of the airport employees spoke English and pointed us in the right direction.

On the train, we ran into a couple of people from Washington DC.  Mike struck up a conversation with them, since he too is from Washington.  They gave us a few pointers of what to do and what to avoid.  The train took us to the central station where we had to take a tram to our hostel.  An attendant, seeing our obvious confusion, led us into a shop, ordered our tram tickets and told Mike to pay.  I think we got a deal or something.  None of us knew what was going on and the attendant, an old Dutch man, kept saying, “I’m the boss.  I’m the boss like Bruce Springsteen.”

We weren’t able to check into our hostel yet, but they let us drop off our bags, and we headed out to get something to eat.  Once 2:00 rolled around, we went back, checked in and headed to the room to take a nap.  When we got to our room, one suited for six people, someone’s stuff was already on one of the beds, spread across the dresser and hung up in the closet.  It was quite a bit of stuff, not something you’d expect to see at a hostel.  We were obviously intrigued by the situation, but not enough that we weren’t able to fall asleep.  For the next six hours.

When we woke up from our nap/the only sleep we’d gotten in the last 24 hours, our mystery sixth roommate was there.  She told us that she was from Finland and had been living at the hostel for 26 days because she had to move out of her apartment.  We never learned her name, but she was nice enough to answer the many other questions we had for her.

We got ourselves ready and left for dinner, where I accidentally spent five Euro on an orange juice.  I have to say it was the best (and most expensive) orange juice I’ve ever had.  Once everyone finished eating, we headed to the Red Light District.  I wouldn’t say the area was dirty or sketchy, but it does catch you off guard to see women basically selling themselves in the window fronts.  It also caught us off guard that men actually went inside.  It appeared that some of them were even regulars.

Then next day, we got up and decided that pancakes, a traditionally Dutch meal, were a must.  They were more of a mix between American pancakes and French crepes, but mostly they were just delicious.  Then our sightseeing began.  Amsterdam is a beautiful city filled with canals and quaint waterfront buildings.  It turned out to be a really sunny day, which was perfect since we walked for about six hours that day.  Our first stop was the house Anne Frank and her family lived in while they were in hiding.  It was a really interesting experience, and so eerie to be walking through the rooms that the family stayed in.  The most touching things were the scraps of wallpaper that still had the posters and pictures Anne put up to decorate the space.  One of the other pieces had a height chart that her dad had put up to keep track of his daughters’ growth during the years they were there.

After the tour, we wanted to head back to the Van Gough museum near our hostel.  Unfortunately, we turned the wrong way, and ended up walking until we were off the map.  We stopped in at a shop to ask where we were, and realized we had gone 20 minutes in the opposite direction.  That meant we had about a 45-minute walk back.  By the time we arrived at the museum, it was only going to be open for 45 more minutes.  I opted out and decided to just buy a postcard instead.  We reconvened at the hostel and went out to grab dinner and walk around some more.  We saved room for waffles though!  Another Dutch specialty, the waffles could be topped with anything from fruit to powdered sugar to ice cream.  I think we all tried something different, but they must have been good because we devoured them.

Other interesting food we ate on our trip included croquettes that we got from a warm food vending machine.  We also bought some Stroopwafels, more sugary Dutch fare, to share.  They were basically really thin waffles with a layer of caramel inside.  They were so sweet they made my teeth hurt, but I think they would’ve been great with a cup of coffee.

Our flight left Monday morning at 8, so we went to bed relatively early.  We got back to London an hour before class started.  Katherine, Kenna and I scrambled to make ourselves look presentable enough to stand in front of the class and talk about diversity in advertising for twenty minutes.  The presentation went well, but we were beat.

Thanks for Reading!

-Rachel

Adventureland Part II

Whenever I have a paper due, you can usually count on a new blog post.  Here is the live blog that would have been for the rest of our thrilling weekend in Cardiff.

5:20 pm – Emily and I make it to Cardiff with forty minutes to spare before our 6:00 bus back to London.  We decide to grab some food for the road.

5:45 pm – We head back to the bus lot and search for the Megabus to London.

5:50 pm – With no luck, we ask an attendant where the Megabus station is.  The attendant gives us directions and says it takes 10 minutes to get thee.  We tell him we have to catch the bus in ten minutes.  He suggests a cab.

5:55 pm – We hail a cab.  The driver questions our need for a cab explaining that it isn’t a far walk.  We assure him that we don’t have time to walk.

6:00 pm – The driver drops us off at a station near Cardiff Castle.  The Megabus is nowhere in sight.  Emily and I enter panic mode.

6:10 pm – We see a Hilton across the street and go in looking pitiful.  We explain our predicament to the concierge.  He spends the next 20 minutes looking up ticket prices for trains and busses leaving in the next 12 hours.

6:30 pm – We realize the next bus we can afford won’t leave until 4 am.  Jorge the concierge proceeds to look up cheap hotels in the area.  Jorge kindly tells us that the Hilton has available rooms, but they would be out of our price range.

7:00 pm – We thank Jorge for his time and leave the Hilton.  The cheap hotels have no vacancies.  With no money and no place to stay we wander the streets of Cardiff.

(It is important to note our appearance at this time.  After a morning of coasteering, neither of us fully showered.  We merely rinsed off and put our clothes back on.  Each of us only packed sweats, jeans and enough makeup to get by.  I was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt.  My hair was in a frizzy ponytail, and my bangs braided back.  Oh, and we each carried all of our belongings, including dirty swimsuits, towels and tennis shoes in our Karrimor backpacks.  Keep this in mind as the night progresses.)

7:15 pm – We devise a plan.  The next bus is scheduled to leave at 4 am.  We decide to hit the town until then. We reason that if we don’t need sleep, we don’t need a place to stay.

7:30 pm – We enter a nearby pub.  Because of our temporary homelessness, we head to the bathroom to deodorize and primp to the best of our ability.

7:45 pm – Still full from our convenience store dinner, we opt for a couple of drinks from the bar.

8:00 pm – We foresee the potential for a long boring night as no one has approached us to keep us entertained.  I leave the bar to buy cards at the “Everything’s a Pound” store down the street.

8:05 pm – I jam to Michael Jackson as I search for a deck of playing cards.  The music stops abruptly, and the clerk locks up without knowing I’m in the store.  I quickly grab a package containing cards, dominos and dice, check out and head back to the bar.

8:10 pm – The bouncer rstops me at the door and asks to see ID.  I tell him I’ve already been in the bar and explain that my backpack is inside.  He asks me to get my ID and bring it back to him.  I show the bouncer the ID.  He looks me up and down then back at the card.  I ask if something is wrong.  He replies, “What happened?!”  I ask what he means by that, and he says, “Well, in your picture you look respectable.”

8:25 pm – Emily goes to the bar for the next round of drinks.  She is carded.  While she is away, I make up a new card game: CARDiff.  Hah.  Emily talks to a couple of nice boys at the bar.

8:30 pm – I teach Emily CARDiff.  We play for awhile.

9:00 pm – One of the guys from the bar approaches the table.  We learn that he is in town for a stag do (bachelor party) with 12 other guys.

9:10 pm – The other guys join their friend at our table and serenade us with “You’ve Lost That Lovin Feeling.”  We receive an invite to accompany them for the rest of the night.

9:15 pm – We pack up our backpacks and head out.

9:30 pm – We arrive at a very skinny bar and wade through a sea of people knocking them in the face with our backpacks.  Dirty looks abound.

9:40 pm – The guys take us under their wing, and we become the main attraction of the bachelor party.  Many questions and free drinks follow.

10:00 pm – A pig with a moving mouth appears in the hands of the bachelor.  We learn that the bachelor’s nickname is “Piggy.”  I ask why.  I have to break it to the group that it’s “Pippy Longstocking” not “Piggy Longstocking.”

10:15 pm – We head to the next bar.  The guys take turns carrying our backpacks for us.

10:30 pm – I fail miserably at my shot in pool and get teased.  More questions and free drinks flow.  We, along with the pig, have become the mascots for the party.

11:30 pm – We walk in a pack to the next venue.  We stash our backpacks under a table.  Dancing ensues.  Keeping track of time becomes less of a priority.

1:30 am – Emily and I are separated.  Neither of us has enough money on our phone to call the other.  Using our free allocation of messages, a texting conversation begins.

2:30 am – Plans are made to meet at the castle where we will catch the bus.

3:30 am – Each of us, with help from some of the guys, finds our way to the castle.  We are reunited, and it feels so good.

4:00 am – The Megabus drives down the road.  Our eyes light up.  It never stops at our station, and we lose sight of it.  All our hopes are dashed.

4:20 am – We enter panic mode for the second time in less than 12 hours.  We curse the Megabus name as we walk the lonely streets of Cardiff.

4:30 am – We decide to wait it out until morning.  Fortunately we are able to take shelter at the guys’ hotel.

9:00 am – We still have no idea how we are getting home.

9:30 am –  Through our sleep deprivation, we remember the National Express ticket office is just down the street.  We journey there to look at our travel options.

9:45 am – The man behind the counter quotes a 25 pound rate for a bus ticket back to London.  We talk about how that is out of our price range.  The man behind the counter overhears and offers us the online deal that he’s not supposed to sell.  The bus is set to leave at 11:30 am.

10:00 am – We grab an English Breakfast from a local theater turned pub for 2.99.  We rehash the events from the night before.

11:00 am – After learning from past mistakes, we make sure we get to the right bus terminal with plenty of time to spare.

11:20 am – We board the bus and await our departure.

11:30 am – The bus pulls out of the station.  It starts to rain.  We sleep for the entirety of the ride.

2:45 pm – The driver lets us off near Earl’s Court.  We breathe a sigh of relief as our feet safely hit the ground in London.

3:00 pm – We decide this was the best weekend ever.

-Rachel

Adventureland

Sorry for the delay.  I wanted to make sure I portrayed my favorite weekend of the trip as accurately and cleverly as possible.  Here it goes…

From the beginning, I knew I wanted to go to Wales.  Not to see the castle of Cardiff or the beaches of Swansea, but to the small town of Haverfordwest in Pembrokeshire.  To do what?  Coasteer.  Never heard of it?  Neither had I until my friend Christy retold her adventures from her trip last summer.  It’s a bit hard to explain, so here are a couple of references: Preseli Venture & Wikipedia

The trip nearly didn’t happen however.  With packed traveling schedules, a visit to England’s neighbor fell farther and farther down on the list of priorities.  With dwindling funds, the cost of train tickets and an expensive adventure resort scared us away.  And with our weekends in London limited, the 3-day commitment  seemed a bit much.  Fortunately, Emily and I found the perfect weekend to go, worked out the cheapest and fastest way to get there and made a deal with the lodge director to allow us to stay for just one night and one activity.  Thanks to Sophie at Preseli, we were able to head down to Wales Friday the 16th with plans of returning the 17th.  Yes, I said plans of returning.

The lodge was tucked away in the outskirts of Haverfordwest surrounded by the most beautiful green trees.  On the train ride there, I kept looking out the window to see all the different shades of green blurring together kind of like an Eric Carle illustration.  When we arrived at the train station, a van from Preseli was waiting to pick us up.  It was a rickety, curvy ride through the hills and fields of Wales.  In a way it reminded me of the drive to the lake at Table Rock.

It was the first time we had been outside of a city.  The air was still and silent except for maybe the mooing cows in the distance or a slight rustle of the leaves.  We took in deep breaths of fresh air for the first time all summer and enjoyed being the only people around.  It was a nice and welcomed change from London.  The lodge itself was quaint and eco-friendly.  The staff was so helpful, and we got home-cooked food for every meal.  I told Emily it was just how I imagined a summer camp would be.

During our wonderful meal of lasagna and salad (with apple pie for dessert!), we met a group of students from California.  We decided to journey to the nearest beach afterwards, grabbed the hand-drawn map from the woman behind the desk and set out.  The walk was beautiful.  The map led us along a trail through the woods.  We talked about how neat it was that they hadn’t commercialized the walk to the coast as our shoes got stuck in the mud, our hands pricked by thorny vines and our clothes stained by tree sap.  It was like my childhood explorations of the the woods and creeks behind my neighborhood at home.

We were rewarded, however, with one of the most amazing views.  Did I mention it was sunset?  Absolutely stunning.  We hung around the beach for a while taking in the view.  My sweatshirt accumulated about 10 beach rocks and my camera a few dozen photographs.  It was getting colder and darker so we bid adieu to the coast and headed back to the lodge a little muddier, a little smellier and ready for bed.

The next morning we woke up early by my standards to go on our coasteering adventure.  It’s at this point in the trip that my camera decided to stop working, so I don’t have any embarrassing pictures of me in a wetsuit.  But we did wear wetsuits.  We also had helmets, life jackets and special socks to keep us safe and warm.  There were two guides that showed us the ropes.  Oh, wait, there weren’t any ropes.  Just us, on the edge of a cliff with waves crashing below us.  Somehow, I managed to get to the front of the group behind one of the guides.  This meant I was the first one in the water.  With a little hesitation, I leaped in from about 3 feet above the water.  I think I went into slight shock, and apparently everyone could see it on my face because I heard the guide say, “see the look on her face?”  The water was so cold, but after a few minutes I caught my breath, the wetsuit kicked in and our adventure began.

We climbed and swam along the coast of the Irish Sea for a few hours.  Every so often there’d be a cliff to jump off of.  I had sworn that I would never jump off a cliff again, but this seemed safe, and Emily and I managed to jump off a 25 foot cliff by the end of the adventure.  We couldn’t stop smiling the whole time and kept saying, “I can’t believe we’re doing this!”

After about three hours, the coasteering trip was finished.  We walked back up to the top of the cliffs, changed out of our wetsuits and headed back to the lodge where hot soup and sandwiches were waiting for us.  It was bittersweet because we knew we’d be headed back to London as soon as we finished eating.  We wanted to stay longer, go on more adventures and get to know more people from the group.  But the taxi came, and we were headed back to the train station.  We reasoned that it was better to leave on a good note and boarded our train to Cardiff where we would catch our bus back home.

The adventure didn’t end here though.  Stay tuned for Part 2…

Series Finale: “Week In Review”

For the sake of keeping things in order and finishing what I started, here is the final installment of my weeks in review. 

Week of July 13

BBC Tour:  Older and dingier than the Guardian offices.  They have a lot crammed into this building including television studios, online editorial, television editorial, etc.  The BBC is an interesting media outlet because it is mostly funded by licensing fees paid by everyone in the UK.  Well, everyone is supposed to pay the fees.  On a recent visit to the ad agency Wunderman, I found out that the TV licensing people are in need of a better marketing strategy to encourage citizens to pay the fee.  Anyways, this results in no commercial advertisements on radio and television statements.  The online site however has since had to look into other means of funding. 

Grade: B

The Gallery:  I somehow stumbled upon a news story (probably from Twitter) about a man who makes microsculptures.  What are microsculptures?  Only the coolest things I’ve seen since I’ve been over here.  After work on Wednesday, Emily and I ventured to the gallery of Willard Wigan, appropriately named “My Little Eye.”  The sculptures were only viewable using a microscope, and you really have to see them to believe them.  Most of them fit within the eye of a needle or on the head of a pin.  A woman who works closely with Mr. Wigan runs the gallery and share all sorts of information about the sculptures with us.  Most fascinating were the descriptions of the materials he uses to make each sculpture.  For example, anyone can build a sailboat using wood, rope, canvas, a few nails and a hammer.  (Well, maybe not anyone, but go along with me here…)  Try using grains of rice to build the base, cobwebs to hoist the sails and the hair from a housefly’s back to paint in the details.  Anyone can plant a garden in their yard.  You just need some dirt, flowers maybe some mulch.  Well, try constructing a garden using the fuzz from a green sweater instead.  Oh and careful not to breathe the project in while you’re working on it!  Unbelievable stuff.  http://www.willard-wigan.com/

Grade: A+

Portrait Gallery: Emily and I were feeling artsy this week and went to our second gallery in two days.  We met at the National Portrait Gallery on Thursday after work.  The gallery itself houses famous portraits (duh) of important people in British history.  That was all fine and good, but the best part of the visit was the BP Portrait Awards Exhibition.  Every year, BP hosts a competition for amateur painters to submit a portrait.  There are many different prizes awarded and many different subjects painted.  The artists used varying techniques to portray their friends, their families, their role models, anyone really.  Some of the paintings looked like photographs.  Others were a little rough around the edges.  But most all of them emitted a very strong emotion and connection with the person sitting for the portrait.  At times it was even a bit haunting.  You could also read about who the subject in the painting was and the meaning behind the artists’ renderings, which added to the whole effect.  http://www.npg.org.uk/bp-portrait-award-20091/the-exhibition/prize-winners-home.php

Grade: B+ 

English Breakfast:  So we actually had our English breakfast in Wales.  But I don’t think I missed out.  In fact, to be honest, I didn’t even order the English breakfast.  Here is what is included for those who don’t know: bacon (not the American kind), eggs, sausages, baked beans, grilled tomato and mushrooms.  If you know me very well, you know that I do not like half of those ingredients.  Especially with breakfast.  So instead I just got sausages and eggs.  The sausages were mushy.  The meal was also very cheap.

Grade: D

 

Well now that that’s taken care of, I can move on to more interesting blog posts about my adventures in Wales and Amsterdam the past two weekends.  Stay tuned…

Thanks for Reading

-Rachel

 

 

Ants in Our Pants and Flies in Our Food

Our time across the pond is winding down.  We only have two full weeks until we try to pack up our London lives into two checked bags and a carry-on and head back to Missouri.  There’s an odd mix of emotions that goes along with this.  A lot of people are antsy, both to get home and to get the most out of the time we have left here.  Some people are stressed out by the final projects due here, commitments back home and the nearness of the upcoming semester at Mizzou.  Some are getting homesick, and some are just loving life.  I’m pretty sure I’ve felt all of these things at one point or another in the past week–my flatmates can attest to this.

We spent this week fretting over grades and final projects.  My group and I managed to pull together our presentation in about two and a half days.  We present on Monday.  Oh, did I tell you none of us get back from Amsterdam until Monday morning?  That’s right, five of us are headed to Amsterdam in less than an hour.  It will be a nice weekend away from the weird stress I’ve been getting over schoolwork.

Off to Amsterdam now!  I hope when we come back from this trip there won’t be any flies buzzing about our kitchen.

As promised, here is the continuation of my recap of the last three weeks.

Week of July 6th

The Guardian: As part of our International Issues Reporting class, our professor organized a group trip to The Guardian, one of the biggest and most well-known newspapers in the UK.  The building was newly re-done and very modern.  A lot of thought went into the layout and comfort level of the offices.  The tour was great even for us advertising students.  It was my first time in such a big newsroom, and it was fascinating to see how much goes in to producing a newspaper and it’s online component.

Grade: B The tour was interesting and the color scheme of the office enticing, but our guest speakers were hard to understand and that slightly jaded, slightly arrogant journalist attitude.  Wouldn’t want to work there but was cool to see the people who do.

English Tea: How do I even begin to describe this?  It was straight out of a movie!  Our department at Microsoft went to celebrate the end of a successful financial year at Claridge’s, an old but renowned hotel and tea spot.  In fact I read an article where Michael Kors recommended going there when in London!  The doormen all wore top hats and suits with coattails.  Everything inside was embellished with a “C.”  There were chandeliers and velvet columns.  The rest of the decor was a mix of greens and creams just like the dishes.  Waiters served us champagne and all the tea we could drink.  Then came the tea sandwiches and pastries.  We had interesting conversations about life in the US, London and all parts of the United Kingdom.  (I dazzled them with my knowledge of proper Super Bowl foods and the appeals of Lady Gaga.)  The only thing that almost ruined the afternoon were the pistachios hidden in the strawberry tart.

Grade: A+ Even with the nut allergy scare, it was a wonderful and delicious experience.  So perfect I’ve turned down all other tea outings since.

Harrods: So big and well-decorated, it could be a museum.  Emily and I went there on that Saturday just to take a look.  Well, there are about 7 floors to take a look on.  Harrods has everything you could ever want, but nothing we could afford.  Well, except in the food hall.  And that reminds me: all of the department stores here have food halls like little grocery stores.  It’s usually over-priced, but still fascinating.  We looked around the clothing, the jewelry, the electronic, the toy, the pet, the sporting goods and the furniture departments.  (Did you know that you can buy a zebra pelt?)  They say Harrod’s has everything you’d ever need, and if they don’t, they’ll find it for you.

Grade B+  A really cool London landmark, but a little too crowded and a little overwhelming for my tastes.  Still, it was so cool to see floor after floor and room after room of anything you could ever want.

Tate Modern: I’m all for modern abstract art.  I think it’s nice to look at, and sometimes I can grasp the intangible meaning behind it.  But when a rope twisted around the ground, gets put in one of the most famous museums in London, that’s where I draw the line.  Thank goodness for the Pollack and Warhol exhibits.  Monet even made an appearance which was nice.  My favorite “installation” was a piece called 30 Pieces of Silver, which was really pretty to look at and also made some sense.  I do highly recommend the audio tour to anyone who might go in the future.  I would’ve been lost without it.

Grade: B Things a first-grader could draw do not belong in a museum.  Cool building if you’re into that kind of thing though.

To be continued…

Loyal Readers Deserve a Loyal Blogger

At this I have failed.  What I haven’t failed at: delving into some of London’s quintessential experiences.  The following is my take on the weeks that have passed since our return from Spain.

Week of June 29

 

Big screen for the big games.

Wimbledon: Adrienne, Emily and I ventured to Wimbledon after work on the Tuesday after our return to London.  Our grounds passes were discounted since it was after 5, but unfortunately there were no well-known players left to watch.  So we settled for watching a doubles match on the big screen outside one of the main courts.  It was a great atmosphere.  People brought picnics and drinks and sat on the hill to watch the match.  The grounds were beautifully color coordinated with purples and greens everywhere.  On Saturday, we were able to catch the Williams sisters battle it out from our local pub.

 Grade: B+ Loved being on the grounds of Wimbledon but would’ve been better had we seen some big names play.  Also, I was disappointed that I didn’t get to watch the two historic mens matches with Andy Murray, Andy Roddick and Roger Federer even from a pub.

Patriotism at its finest.

4th of July: Now this isn’t a classic London holiday, but the Brits were definitely involved in its creation, so it gets to appear in this recap.  We weren’t entirely sure how our national holiday would fare over here.  After all, it celebrates the fact that we aren’t English.  Fortunately, most of London isn’t English either.  The first sign of this was the American Independence lunch at the American company, Microsoft.  On July 2nd (a Thursday), the group of interns that work at Microsoft walked into the cafeteria to find red, white and blue balloons and streamers, American flags and fliers boasting the “American” menu of hamburgers and waffles.  We were all a bit confused, but I suppose the 4th of July is to them what Cinco de Mayo is to us.

On the 4th, a bunch of us got together to celebrate the only way we knew how.  We broke out the charcoal grill (rusty but useable) and the Budweiser and had ourselves a little backyard (or concrete patio in our case) barbecue.  We spruced up our rather dull locale with the patriotic decorations sent by Adrienne’s mom.  It was a great time and one of the few days we got to celebrate being from the US without caring.  Unfortunately, I celebrated a little too hard.  No, not with the aforementioned Budweiser, but with the food.  In true American fashion, I overate on a holiday and fell asleep on the couch.  Everyone else headed to an Irish bar that was throwing a 4th of July party.  Apparently the Irish love Americans.

Grade: A- It was a great taste of home, and we made the best of what we were able to find (Oscar Mayer doesn’t exist in London).  Only thing that would’ve made it better?  A little self-control when it came to the cheesecake and hot dogs.

Brick Lane: The Sunday after the 4th, four of us headed to the much talked about Brick Lane.  Many had described it as having great shopping and Indian food.  When we got there, it was one of those “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore” moments.  Every restaurant was Indian and every store was vintage.  The streets were lined with people peddling everything from VHS tapes to used Primark shoes to remote controls (no kidding, one person was only selling a bunch of old remote controls).  The bright spot of the day was finding a little indoor market that had stalls with vintage jewelry, boutique clothes and food from around the world.  I managed to find some gold stud earrings and a floral skirt that were just what I had been looking for.  On our way back to the tube station, every restaurant had a guy out front yelling out specials to us, which we politely turned down.

Grade: B- Even though I was able to find a few things at the market, the streets looked like the Salvation Army threw up on them, and the Indian restaurant pitchmen were a bit much.

To Be Continued…

Barcelona Story Time

After a whirlwind trip to Alicante, we headed to Barcelona via a five-hour train ride.  The train ride was long and bright, and we arrived at our hostel with no sleep under our belts.  We met up with the rest of the group who had been in Barcelona for a few days already.  We swapped stories about our crazy nights and leisurely days before the three of us girls headed to Subway then bed.  (I realize a turkey sandwich is not a Spanish delicacy, but we had been craving it all day, and it just happened to be right near our hostel.)

After a most refreshing sleep, we woke up to do some sightseeing.  Most of us had three goals for the day: Sagrada Familia, Park Guell and the beach.  We were able to hit them all, but not without a few incidents along the way.

To get to Sagrada Familia, we had to take the subway.  We figured out how to get there, bought our tickets and headed through the gates.  That’s when the trouble started.  Emily forgot her freshly opened Diet Coke on the other side of the gates.  The two of us worked out a plan to get it back without her having to pay again.  I was to stand on one side and trigger the automatic doors, and she was going to run back through.  Simple enough, no?  Well, we couldn’t get the timing down, and finally, a woman came to our rescue by holding the doors open as Emily hurried through.

As we boarded, I noticed that the train car had air conditioning (something London trains lack), then I noticed that my purse felt lighter than normal.  I looked inside and told everyone, “Guys, I think my wallet is missing!”  But they weren’t paying attention.  Great friends I have, right?  Well, turns out they were watching this scene play out behind me (one I was oblivious to):

Our heroine from the Diet Coke incident, a fat balding woman (FBW), was getting heated at a one-armed man (OAM) who was getting off the train.  They were pointing at each other and yelling.  The OAM motioned that he was going to hit the FBW.  The FBW motioned back insinuating that the OAM only had one arm.

Next thing I knew, my wallet was at my feet with a thud, everything still in its place. With the help of a blue-shirted woman (with whom I tried to converse in Spanish to no avail) we deduced that our former heroine FBW was the thief and our new hero was in fact OAM.

So, thank the OAM, that my wallet was taken and returned before anything bad happened.  It was a moment that could have ruined the trip, but instead it taught us a lesson and gave us a laugh as we tried to re-enact the scene to understand just what happened.

We finally arrived at Sagrada Familia, an unfinished cathedral designed by Gaudi.  It is quite an interesting sight to see. The inside is designed to look like treetops, and the outside has three facades each representing a different part of the life of Jesus.  There are all sorts of Gaudi touches to look at on each facade as well.  Click the link to read more about it. Sagrada Familia

Adrienne and me in a flowery oasis.

After the cathedral, we navigated our way to Park Guell, another of Gaudi’s creations.  The park is full of beautiful gardens and mosaics, and the view only got better as we ascended.  There were musicians to provide a melody for our journey as well as peddlers in case we were feeling consumerist.  I wish we could have stayed longer, but the beach was calling our name!  Read more about the park at Park Guell.

 

Finally it was beach time!  We went back to our hostel to get ready, grabbed some snacks and a bottle of wine at the store and trekked to the beach.  It was a beautiful walk along La Rambla and the marina.  The beach was crowded and the beach-goers topless.  We found a spot for the five us and settled in.  Immediately, we were met by an onslaught of salesmen and women selling everything from beer to coconuts to massages.  They all had a unique sales pitch as well.  We caved when the mojito crew came by.

We grabbed dinner at a beachside restaurant where a South American waiter pulled out all the American jokes he could think of.  He referenced the Backstreet Boys, serenaded us with the Star Spangled Banner and made for an entertaining meal.

This post is getting long, so here’s a rundown of the rest of the evening:

• Went back to get ready
• Used a chapstick tube to open a wine bottle
• Lost the chapstick tube to the wine bottle
• Found out Billy Mays died
• Talked about all the celebrity deaths
• Tried to find this so-called stock market bar
• Entered the bar to find it was empty
• Went to get kebobs after one drink
• Ran into two KU students I met on the plane from Kansas City to Chicago at the kebob place.  They had stopped off in Barcelona after studying in Italy for a month.
• Talked about how random life is
• Went back to the hostel to sleep

Final thoughts about Barcelona:  It was not the trip we were expecting at all.  We didn’t really experience the crazy night life everyone talks about.  Plus my wallet almost got stolen (one of the other guys on the trip did have his taken) and I didn’t get to use my Spanish (though I tried).

Overall great trip to Spain.  I would go back to Alicante in a heartbeat and would definitely visit Barcelona again, but with a more securely fastened purse.

Thanks for Reading!
-Rachel

Remember the Episode of Boy Meets World…

Where Cory and Topanga honeymoon in paradise and decide they never want to leave?  Well, that’s pretty much what I was thinking on our trip to Alicante last weekend.  The best way to relay what happened over the course of the one and half days we spent there is through what our professor fondly refers to as “story time.”

The Story of Cheap Airlines Part 1:

To get the cheapest flights, you sometimes have to go to some extraordinary measures.  For example, flying out of Ryanair may cost just 50 pounds, but it comes with a few stipulations.  One of those stipulations is that you have your boarding pass printed in advance or face a 40 pound surcharge.  Well, I have a theory that technology knows when you’re in a time crunch and decides not to work just to spite you.  Our flat’s computer would not load my ticket, nor would it connect to the printer.  So at 4:30 pm, I ran to our classroom building to print off my boarding pass.  Side note: the bus to get to the airport was to leave at 5:00 pm.  With less than 20 minutes to spare, I speed walk/jog to the nearest tube station and hop on for the 15 minute ride.  Sweaty, but on time, we board the bus, and I promptly pass out for the ride.

The Story of Cheap Airlines Part 2:

Apparently an uncertainty of riding Ryanair is the landing.  This was written out in two ways on our journey.  First, the signage in the plane gave explicit directions as to what to do in case of an emergency.  First thing on the list?  Remove your glasses and dentures.  Noted.  The second thing that seemed strange was the loud applause from some of our fellow passengers upon landing.  Umm, should landing really be applauded?  Shouldn’t that be a given?  Anyway, all’s well that end’s well.  And thankfully, my first Ryanair experience ended well.

The Story of Miguel Jackson:

We successfully hailed a cab.  Then we found out that Michael Jackson died, first in mumbled Spanish, then confirmed by a text from home.  Adrienne, Emily and I will always remember where we were and what we were doing when MJ died.  And I’m okay with it.

The Story of Our Introduction to Alicante:

Upon arrival at my friend and future roommate Xenia’s house, we were greeted by a slew of internationals.  We were introduced to them as the Spaniard, the German and the Irish guy.  They of course had names, but the fact that there were so many different nationalities (all speaking English I might add) was a pretty amazing first impression.  After mourning Michael Jackson’s death for a moment, Xenia asked if we were ready to go out.  We were all up for it, despite it being 1:00 in the morning.  We got ready and were out the door just after 2:00 am.  We didn’t return until 6:00 am.  Luckily they sleep in in Alicante.

The Story of a Sunrise:

After having a relaxing day at the beach, it was time for our next adventure.  We went home and made an amazing meal complete with wine and sangria for 8 euro.  Then, we headed back to the beach to watch fireworks that marked the end of a week-long festival.  Oooo and Ahhh seem to be the universal reaction to such a display.  After the beach, it was time to embark on our second night, or should I say morning, out in Alicante.  The nightlife was amazing, and I don’t think we paid for a thing all night, so needless to say, we enjoyed ourselves.  So much so that when we exited our last bar, the sun was rising over the ocean.  What did we decide to do?  Take a swim of course!

The Story of the Mountain Climb:

There was one thing we all wanted to do on our last day (Xenia’s last day too!) in Alicante, climb to the top of the mountain castle.  We also all came to the conclusion that going to sleep was not an option.  So we got changed, grabbed some churros and chocolate and made the climb.  I think with each step we started to regret our decision.  It was hot, and we were thirsty, not to mention worn out from the previous night’s activities.  But we didn’t falter.  And it was a good thing, because we were welcomed to the top by the most amazing views of the Mediterranean Sea on one side, the city of Alicante and mountains on the other.  I found a spot with what I will always think of as the best view, and didn’t move for about 2o minutes.  It was all a little overwhelming for some reason.  A moment and a sight I hope to never forget.

The Story of Sleep Deprivation:

With no sleep, we packed our things, thanked our hosts and headed to the train to station to board what we hoped would serve as our bed for the next five hours.  The bright lights, uncomfortable chairs and loud cell phone conversationalist meant no sleep unfortunately.  So we arrive in Barcelona running on six hours of sleep out of the last 55.

I think my travel companions would agree when I say it was one of the best trips we’ve ever been on.  We had some of our best laughs, meet some really friendly people and finally got to just relax and have fun.

Thanks for Reading!

Rachel

Things Are Getting International!

I once read that you need three unrelated events to be a trend.  This week, aside from the fact that half of London comes from a different country, I’ve encountered enough international situations to qualify.

First, at work on Tuesday I lunched with two of my coworkers.  One is from France and the other is Finnish.  We were talking about packing lunches (the French don’t understand the concept), and I mentioned that one of my favorite sandwiches to pack is bologna.  Neither of them had any idea what this bologna stuff was.  Try explaining what it is and how it’s made.  It doesn’t paint the prettiest picture.  I told them to Wikipedia it, then realized I’d need to spell it for them.  Here’s what a Wikipedia search would yield: “Bologna sausage is generally made from low-value scraps (trimmings from steaks, roasts or other meat cuts).”  Yum!

Second, on my way home from work on Tuesday, I came across an Iran election protest.  There were hundreds of people lined up near Hyde Park singing and shouting and holding up pictures.  My initial reaction was “London already has free elections, why are they protesting here?”  Then I saw the Iran embassy across the street and felt stupid. 

Third, I leave for Spain today!  I’m most excited for this trip for many reasons.  The Beach. I haven’t been to the ocean since I went to Los Angeles a couple years ago, and it was cold there.  I can’t wait to just lay out on the beach and do nothing all day.  Which reminds me, I need to pick up a good beach read ASAP!  The Sun.  I’ve heard it’s been an unusually warm London summer.  But that doesn’t mean the sun is always out.  And it most certainly doesn’t mean I’m getting a tan.  Plus, 70 degrees does not qualify as a heatwave unless you’re measuring in Celsius.  The Language.  I finally get to put my 10+ years (yes, I’m counting Language Camps) of Spanish experience to practical use!  Hopefully I’ll be able to help the group out a little bit more than I was able to in Paris.

It’s strange to think that when we arrive back in London, our stay here will be halfway through.  Time is flying!

All for now!  Canterbury and Spain posts when I return.

Thanks for Reading!

-Rachel