Insanity

Tuesday was NATIONAL PANCAKE DAY and quite possibly my craziest day in London.

After class, we all ventured to All-Hallows Church right by the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, where we entered two teams into the Pancake Race!!! I was the original Team Viv, and the other four were Team Viv 2. (Viv is our Yale-in-London program director. She's hilarious.) So we all decked ourselves out in blue--I could say that this was an example Yale spirit, but actually it was the most common color we could find that didn't need some serious laundering--and put on warpaint that turned out to be Gerald's old ProClear face cream. I am currently the proud owner of a remarkably clear T-Zone. And I had an apron.

Team Viv below:


So we brought our own skillet, the church provided pancakes (crepes, really), and we had to race across the ground, flip the pancakes twice, and hand over the skillet. Team Viv 2 (not my team) made it to Round 2 out of 3, which was really QUITE the accomplishment. This was some high-stakes food-flipping skillet sprinting.

About to run:


Then we ate crepes with lemon and butter.

And THEN, best part of all, the church guy (minister? vicar?) comes over to us and starts quizzing us. A sampling below...
Question 1: Is your boyfriend left-handed?
Me: (humoring him) Yes.
Question 2: Does he have trouble opening your blouse?
Me: ... what what now?
Him: That's because the buttons on a woman's shirt are on the wrong way for a lefty!

Question 3: (Indicating Josh) Does he get grumpy?
Me: Sure.
Him: You just tell him to keep his pecker up.
Female vicar/ministress person: What on earth is going on here!?
Him: Calm down, it just means chin!

Question 4: (To Josh) Do you knock up your girlfriend in the morning?
Collectively: W.T.F.
Him: It means wake up, people, get your mind out of the gutter!

We then ask for a picture with him. To which he responds by posing, then saying, "What don't you get? Don't say cheese, say sex!"

The man, the minister, the legend--getting his sin out before Lent:


And the craziness did not stop there. I got back to the flat only to receive an e-mail from my father, informing me of a group called Democrats Abroad that apparently held primary races on Super Tuesday in London. So I ran over there, where there was this huuugee rally going on. I had never been involved in any political rally on a grand scale before, but it was really quite energizing and inspiring and also frightening. The Obama supporters on one side of the room were screaming, "YES WE CAN!", the Hillary people screaming, "YES SHE CAN!", the people in between just generally screaming. It was muyyy intense.

Plus they had candidate cookies, with print-out pictures of the candidates attached in frosting. We were told to take off the picture and paste it around the room, so there were tons of Baracks and Hillarys all drooping frostingly down the wall.
See:


So that was my Shrove Tuesday / National Pancake Day / Mardi Gras excitement. Happy (unhappy?) Lent to all those who celebrate. Laura told me of an interesting tradition in her church, where they add on a good habit for Lent rather than taking away a bad one. This sounds more difficult to me.

Wednesday (yesterday), we saw a play for class called "Land of the Dead / Helter Skelter," by American playwright Neil LaBute. It was a combination of two one-act plays, and the most disturbing night of theater I have ever witnessed. Each one was just a man and his wife talking to one another, covering issues of blame and abortion and 9/11 and commitment, and they featured such an intense level of human tragedy and trauma--not to mention truly unsettling acts of violence at the end--that I was actually nauseated. The production was damn good, just disturbing.

And today the lead actress came to our class to talk about it, and she described at least the first play as a love story, which was a really surprising interpretation that changes how I view the whole thing. Such interesting stuff...

Word of the day, American-British this time (brought to you by your friendly neighborhood minister):
Fanny pack = obscene reference to female genitalia

Whan that april...

I visited Canterbury on Saturday! With Laura, Tanya, and a whole bunch of international students. Twas so nice to see a part of England that is not urban like London is. Apparently there's a whole other world out there, just like you really can't judge the US by what you see in New York. I am ignorant enough not to have realized this until Saturday.

So Canterbury is kind of a funny amalgamation of the really really old with the modern (see: the Jaguar store beside the Nordic ruins.) We saw the Canterbury Cathedral, the ultimate end of pilgrimages such as the one described in Chaucer's "Canterbury Tales" (thank you, English 125.) Then we climbed on the Nordic castle ruins-- so much fun, like some giant medieval playground.




After that we walked to the real playground and chilled (literally) on the see-saw-like contraption into which Laura and I could not fit our legs. It was such a beautiful park/play area--reminded me of one that I saw in L.A. but a lot colder, and also everyone had British accents.

Other fun things about Canterbury: The Black Prince is enshrined there. The grass is beautifully richly green, which I have not seen for a while living in the city. They have fresh crepes with butter and sugar--mmmmmm. And best of all, they have a Winnie-the-Pooh store!! I loved it. I have discovered since being in London that I adore children's literature, and should probably try and do something with that at some point in my life. This is an odd little passion and one that I don't really know what to do with, but for now I'm content just to read about the Hundred Acre Wood.

Then today in our history class, we were talking about how the US still observes Blue Laws in some areas while England does not, and our sweet benign little 80+ year old professor said: "Well, you are Puritans, after all. You're descendants of the people we got rid of." Love it.

Then Laura and I walked around attempting to find the UCL Hillel House and failed miserably, but did discover the University of London Union house, where they had a little student hang-out place.

We then attempted to make pancakes in honor of NATIONAL PANCAKE DAY tomorrow(!), but the Brits' version of pancakes are crepes and not the lovely fluffy things we have in the US of A, so we got burned and eggy and confused and ended up switching things up in the middle and converting our batter to Yorkshire Pudding batter. Which turned out AMAZINGLY. I do not really understand the concept behind Yorkshire Pudding, but I do know that it is a) not pudding b) deformed mutant batter that puffs from the tray and sprouts branchy little offshoots c) most perfectly made by Courtney and Laura's Home Cooking (brought to you by the 10-Second Rule.)


Thought of the day:
I miss American pancakes.

Word of the day:
Flapjacks = NOT pancakes. They are little granola cookie snack-like thingies.

Distinction of the day:
Sweet v. Savoury. Sweet foods are sweet and dessert-like (self-explanatory), i.e. jam, honey, ice cream. Savoury foods are heartier, more meal-like, i.e. meats, potatoes, pasta. I did not understand this until today, which is highly unfortunate, since British people use this overly frequently to ask what kind of crepe, pie, etc you want when it can go both ways.

Uncertainty of the day:
Sheets = ? As in, "Professor, how long should our essay be?" "About six sheets." "Do you mean six pages, or the front and back so it's twelve pages?" "Don't worry about that; just make it six sheets."

Records and Rip-Offs

I actually cannot believe that it is already February. Why does life pass by so quickly the older I get?

It's been a fun few days. Wednesday night I saw a play called Dealer's Choice for class. It was really really good, an all-male cast dealing with poker but really with the gambles and stakes and choices we encounter in all aspects of lives and relationships. And it dealt a lot with father-daughter father-son relationships, which for some reason always really gets to me. So all in all a very good night at the theatre.

Then yesterday night, I babysat for my professor's 2 year old (so cute!) in the afternoon, then took a class at the gym.

{{Heretofore unrecorded event: I bit the bullet and joined the Y here, and took a trampoline class Tuesday night!! It was so much fun; I now have a trampoline coach every Tuesday who will attempt to restore just a tad bit of my former gymnastics-y glory. He has failed thus far (by which I mean, I have failed), but at least he's cute. }}

Yesterday's class was called "Abs Blitz" and was, I swear, taught by a Nazi. He actually gave time penalties for letting your feet hover more than an inch above the ground. And had a little pencil mustache. And was evil all over. My abs do not thank him.

So thenn I returned home to a delicious dinner of chicken salad curry and naan prepared for me by my dear wife Laura, and Gerald joined us, and we drank wine to the iTunes party shuffle feature that changes songs every 40 seconds to the sound of Homer Simpson saying, "Did we drink enough yet?" And we used my iTunes, which guarantees not a single good party song but plenty of Broadway, Backstreet, Spice Girls, and Dirty Dancing. Lovely.

Then we decided it would be a good idea to seek out a pub called The Cock (hilarity ensues when asking passersby to help me locate the cock), which in fact does exist a few blocks down. Since the wine had affected me the most, I was nominated to go up to random Brits and exploit my American stupidity, so in conclusion we met a few London college students who we will never see again. Fun times.

And today, Laura and I had afternoon tea at the National Portrait Gallery with the BEST. DAMN. SCONES I have ever tasted. I cannot begin to explain the deliciousness. Served with clotted cream (still unsure just what that is) and black currant jam, scones are my new favorite.

We also looked at the special exhibit (oh, it turns out museums are for art, not food) showcasing the winners of the Photographic Portrait Prize 2007. This is a movement to use photography as portraiture, aka as a means of capturing who a person is more than the special effects and such that photography sometimes gets caught up in. (Though I can't speak to this, because I know very little about photography.) Some of the photos were incredibly moving, though interestingly I don't think they translate quite as well on the computer screen as they did in the gallery-- http://www.npg.org.uk/live/PPP2007_16.asp and forward and backward for more.

We then went to Brick Street, which is basically Indiatown (as opposed to the Chinatown we have in most US cities and also a block down from me in London.) We don't tend to have Indiatowns in big cities, but this was CRAZY. Every single restaurants had really aggressive people standing outside trying to talk you into going to their restaurant, and even when you pass by them, they actually walk next to you still convincing.

We ended up in this place because they gave free beverages, and got utterly delicious Indian food-- chicken tikka malayan, yumm--but ultimately got ripped off because they offered us bread and we said yes and then they charged us for the bread, which is all well and good if not something that generally happens in the US...but ON TOP of that, they made us pay for the sauces it came with that we hadn't ordered and that seemed as natural and, may I say, as included as butter is with bread in Italian restaurants. Ridic. So we payed them 5pence short (wanted to make it the entire price of the sauces short but didn't have the cajones), and left. Bitter but still a good night.

And now we are going to watch Reentttt! :) Woooot.

Word of the day:
Busker = entertainer in the tube

PANCAKES!

Most exciting thing I have learned since loaning myself to Great Britain:

In the Christian world, it's called Shrove Tuesday, the day before Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent.
In the United States, it's called Mardi Gras.
But in the UK...it's called National Pancake Day.

THAT'S RIGHT. The great people of England, Scotland, and Wales have a NATIONAL HOLIDAY in celebration of that most venerated of all breakfast foods: the pancake. Neither is this some new tradition; the Brits have been observing this cultural gem since 1445. I kid you not. It's happening February 5th, only one week from today.

And among the many Pancake Day traditions, the most exalted is...pancake racing! This involves the flipping of pancakes on a frying pan while racing down a city street, alternately booed and bolstered by the cheering crowds. And lest we think this sport is without its dangers, one pancake race team application specifies: "Each team must provide a frying pan and NON-SLIP running shoes--we provide the pancakes!" (http://www.allhallowsbythetower.org.uk/pancake_race.htm) Screw Relay for Life. This is Pancakes for Life.

I love the Brits.

The three things I recall doing

What have I been doing these past few days? I ask mostly because I cannot remember. Some highlights:

Laura and I explored both London's biggest and oldest bookshops. Waterstone's, the biggest, was insane. And the oldest, Hatchard, was established in 1797. It's very sweet with lots of character. I love the bookshops in London--there are rows and rows of them all along a single street near my flat, which makes me very happy. Musing: Is it bad that I still love Barnes and Noble best? I am a corporate drone...

Was awake for a grand total of 4 hours before 7 PM yesterday, and it was wonderful. Had gone to the Hope but not made Fabric the day before, instead hanging out at the Penthouse (boys' Turkish flat) and having to be carried down the street due to a shoe disfunction. Upon waking yesterday, we went to a concert thingy with a bunch of different bands, where, having first gotten us rockin out with hair limbs body flailing, Gerald proceeded to push Laura and me onto the open area right in front of the stage. We continued to dance like crazy people, whereupon the lead singer pointed us out and thanked us for our enthusiasm. Musing: I am now considering "groupie" as a professional career choice.

Awoke this morning to attend a mock execution of Charles I. Walked to St. James' Park and observed Brits with pikes and rifles marching down the square. Sadly, there was no real execution. Musing: Would it be so hard to fake cut off a head? I am anti-bloodshed and even I found its lack distressing.

I am sure I've done more than this recently, but my memory span is bloody short. Bullocks.

Corkingly

I am in a lovely lovely mood. Life is going just corkingly.

After English class today, Laura and I took the tube to Knightsbridge and went to Harrods. It was magnificent. Truly the most out of control department store I have ever been within--and I'm a Jersey girl. We like malls and department stores. There's this whole Egyptian escalator section, where they have sphinxes and hieroglyphics and headdresses and such all the way around on your way up these little escalators. Actually, there's a lot of Egyptian stuff in Britain--saw Cleopatra's Needle on Satuday, which is just plopped down on the Strand along the Thames. It was not quite as thrilling as I had expected, and certainly not as awesome as Harrods was today!

Laura and I spent about an hour and a half in the children's book section of Harrods alone. It was lovely and wonderful. We saw more Horrid Henry (I mistakenly called him Harry last time--oops), which apparently is a favourite children's book series here. British people just adore horrid things. I love it. And we got oh-so-excited about the "Horrible History" books on display that the saleslady started talking to us for a while. She had this odd British accent with very full and rounded vowels, and she seemed to love what she does, and she brought us to the Winnie the Pooh section and told us that the idea for the series actually originated in Harrods, when A.A. Milne bought a bear for his son, Christopher Robin, and then made up stories to go along with it. How sweet! I love original pooh bear; the cover of one of the books quotes:

"Hallo, Piglet," he said. "I thought you were out."
"No," said Piglet, "it's you who were out, Pooh."
"So it was," said Pooh. "I knew one of us was."

How pure and adorable is a friendship in which you get confused as to which of you was gone when you are alone? I adore British sensibilities. In every way they are more direct than Americans: they come up with the simplicity of Pooh Bear--and then on the other end, they have ads for competitions that are like, "Come to Quiz Night! Trump all the people stupider than you!" I feel like we'd get sued in the US for insinuating that some people might be "stupider" than others, or that, sometimes, we're not all winners. Anyway. Yay England.

I did in fact buy a few of the "Horrid History" books, featuring such topics as the "Terrible Tudors" and the "Stinky Stuarts." I plan to read these in place of my history book, which is dry and boring and gives all the same information minus much of the loo humour.

And then we saw the shoe area, which is all black and each shoe has its own black platform. Very dramatic. AND I played around with a beaded Cleopatra dress that was worth over 1600 pounds--that's 3200 US dollars, for those who are counting. Craziness. And the Food Halls were fucking incredible: gelato in enormous goblets with museum-quality presentation; an entire wall of jelly beans; and a chocolate area with more truffles than I have ever seen in my life. And the lady behind the counter felt bad for Laura and me, so she gave us free Turkish Delight candies (which I am told feature heavily in the Chronicles of Narnia, though I realize now that I have never read those books).

In conclusion: I love Harrods. One day perhaps I will be able to afford one bead on one of their dresses.

Then we located Hyde Park, but it looked pretty sketchy at night--kind of like a less populated Central Park-- so we decided to leave that for another day.

Educating Courtney, or Things I Can Do Now That I Could Not Do Two Weeks Ago:
I can semi- use a map!
I can also use the tube.
I can also use the bus! (Much more difficult than the London Underground, let me assure you.)
I can cook stir-fry vegetables and noodles and chicken, and (must give credit to Laura here) can get creative with leftover rice and add yogurt, cinammon, mango, grapes to make a dessert-like salad.
I can get a drink at a pub and not get carded. (I could not do this two days ago, lol.)
I can clean and organize my life into a single closet, half a dresser, and no desk. It's true. Jen, you would love me better now.

So yesterday was a wasted day completely, except for my history class, which I loved loved. That little British man who is my professor makes history a story, and then we break for tea and coffee (these people take their tea damn seriously), and then we look at primary sources and somehow this is not dry. I think perhaps because I have a secret crush on my 70-year-old professor.

But then our internet went bonkers, so we went bonkers, so we tried everything to set up a modem but failed miserably--I missed all my wonderful techies at Yale--so we tried to continue to steal from the internet cafe across the street as we had been doing but were thwarted, so we chatted with the internet guy as he tried to help us for 3 hours. So in the end nothing was accomplished and we went to bed unwired. And I realized that never never could I have done this trip sans internet. Communication with my homies (hah- pun) is key.

And on Saturday, we walked around London a bit. Passed Chinatown and Soho and Leicester (pronounced Lester) Square, which I particularly liked--lots of Italian restaurants and movie theaters and a nice little statue square area thingy in the middle. And I saw posters for British Rent and Wicked, which pleased me immensely and which I studied enough to give a detailed analysis of the differences in US-UK advertising, but will not do here. This is the day on which we figured out the buses. This is also the day on which Laura and I ate dinner on the Queen Mary--yes, a ship on the Thames. We just kind of walked over a plank and sat at some wavy table and ordered chips and then were like...hm! We're eating on the Thames. That's kind of fun.

And that's London Life. I'm off to Moroccan Night at the International Student House now, to crib some free dinner. And tomorrow I'm seeing a play called the Vertical Hour, directed by the guy whose master class I saw last week and set at Yale. It will make me miss my wonderful Yalies, I'm sure.

Word of the day:
take a piss at / take a mickey at = make fun of

Thought of the day:
London rain is mean to curly hair. Talk about frizz.

Spider's Web!!!!

The Jonathan Edwards Spider's Web Literary and Arts Magazine is currently in the Swing Space mailroom!!! I am very excited about it and very proud of it and very sad that I cannot actually hold a physical copy for the moment. But if you are reading this and at Yale, go pick up a copy!!!!



:)!!!

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