Land of the Scots

Wotcher friends,

For time's sake, and your own--seeing as how that last post had 983247 too many words--I've decided to just post a brief synopsis and pictures of last weekend in Edinburgh, Scotland.  Please, enjoy.

THE SYNOPSIS:

Friday...

1.  Bus Tour (i.e. Nap on a bus)

2.  Best dinner yet and a lecture from a University of Edinburgh English professor

3.  DANCINGGGG at Electric Circus, a cool local bar

Saturday...

4.  Walked to the summit of Arthur's Seat to watch the sunrise

5.  Visit to Edinburgh Castle; Exhibits, Presentation/Reinactment, and tea

6.  Souvenir shopping at an outdoor market, and dinner at Maggie Dickenson's--a great, authentic pub

7.  Stopped at Elephant House! (where JK Rowling wrote the first HP book, you guys!)

Sunday...

8.  Tour of Sir Walter Scott's House and gardens

9.  Visit to the ruined Abbey in Melrose

THE PICTURES:

 

I dance real good.

 

There are just no words

 

Arthur's Seat 250.5 m (about 822 ft)

 

A view of the city

 

Zee Castle

 

Does that make Rowling's mind the womb?...just wondering

 

The gardens at Sir Walter Scott's house.  Be-A-Utiful.

Thus, Scotland was an amazing experience.  The climate was cool, the people were warm, no rain, cultural pride everywhere, if only I had had more time to explore.  Definitely would like to visit again!  Count it.

Sincerely wishing YOU were here,

Kels

Hindsight: Parts 1&2

Wotcher world,

     Well, my I've made many an excuse in my head for not putting up a post since my last, one of which is that I've had to write seven papers in the last week--not exaggerating.  I'm also a bit under the weather, so I've been sleeping as much as possible (which still isn't very much).  I'm also pretty convinced that I'm better at blogging about things about a week after they happen, because that way I have a better feel of how things were--you know, hindsight IS 20/20.  However, excuses aside, I'm finally taking my lunch break today to get a word in with you all, relate a little tale or two.

     Pt. 1:  So on Tuesday of last week, I went to Oxford with my Harry Potter class.  While there we visited Christ Church where they used the dining hall for the Great Hall scenes in all the movies, and we visited the Bodleian Library where they filmed the scene with Harry getting a book from the restricted section.  Both were very beautiful places, very historic, especially the library which was established in the 1600s and had books dating back to much earlier time periods.  All very interesting.  After we were done with our tours, I stayed in the town for a while and went shopping for the first time since I'd been in the UK, and woe be unto my wallet!--this place is ex-pen-sive.  But I was in desperate need of some pants/leggings and close-toed shoes, because apparently I had packed for London like I'd be spending a month in Jamaica.  Clever of me, I know.

 

Hey, look!  It's the Great Hall!

 

The ceiling and staircase leading to the "Great Hall."  Also used for some of the movies.

 

Nervous first years

 

The colorful residential streets of Oxford.

 

Shakespeare's First Folio, on display below the Bodleian Library.

 

Good food, guys.  Don't believe everything you hear.

 

A coaster portrait

----------You're half-way through the post!  Take a breath.  Keep it up, you're doing great---------

     Pt. 2:  Then, on Thursday, my Virginia Woolf class went on a tour of the National Theater here in London.  Really wonderful place if you're into theater.  It currently has three stages, I believe, and does onsight set and costume work.  Beforehand I'd actually never been to a professional theater (unless you count Thalia Mara Hall in Jackson, but I don't), so this was all very new to me.  We went back stage, through the dressing rooms, and even got to handle some props (which I opted out of because they were passing around the severed head of some Shakespeare character or another...ew).  But toward the end of the experiencing I realized just how entrenched in British culture the theater is--I must see a play, I said.  And since Alec Baldwin tweeted recently about how wonderful Warhorse was, I got a ticket (I mean, it's not the only reason, but it was a contributing factor).  

     We then left the theater and went on our "Mrs. Dalloway" walk.  Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway takes place in the expanse of a day and moves from consciousness to consciousness thereby throwing off linear time and space completely; however, one of the main characters, Mrs. Dalloway, goes on a walk in the earlier part of the day and the reader sees the 1920s London landscape through her eyes--Big Ben, Parliament, flower shops, an airplane in the sky.  So we took the same walk to try and channel her mindset--what was post WWI London like?  What were women's roles then, what was expected of them?  Afterwards, we went to a book shop, one of the oldest in London, and perused the shelves.  There was many a book I was tempted to buy, but in the end, I only got one.  It's called Dreaming in Hindi, Life in Translation by Katherine Russell Rich.  I've not gotten to start it yet, due to classwork, but I'm very excited about it.  London is getting me excited about literature again.  Look at that.

 

My professor, Jill Eichhorn, sipping coffee outside of the National Theater

 

Boudicca charging Paliament.  You get 'em girlfriend.

 

The National Treasury lookin' gloomy.  Hmm..

 

Flowers at St. James Park

 

Look at his feet!  St. James duck.

 

Yay culture!

So, I hope you were able to make it through the whole post, lengthy as it is.  And if not, I hope you at least enjoyed the pictures.  I'm actually going to Ann Boleyn tonight at The Globe!  So, very excited about that.  Hopefully I'll be able to blog again before the weekend--we're going to Wales.

Sincerely missing all o' y'all,

Kelsey

P.S.  WARHORSE WAS AMAZING.  Alec wasn't kidding.

Let Me Entertain You

Wotcher all,

I literally just posted 5 seconds ago, but I just really need you all to know...
That yesterday I attended one of the most amazing concerts of my life:

The Head and The Heart, opening for My Morning Jacket, at Somerset House in London... um, and, front row.  Let's just say, Jim James may have winked at me (like twice).  Also, I may have permanently damaged my hearing, but that's yet to be fully determined.

 

This was the venue (FTW).  And here is the MMJ Setlist.

Jammin' Jim (Gigwise)

So, definitely a highlight of the trip so far.  Loved it.  Since the bands were both from the States, we were in the front row chanting "USA" and screaming "America!" (all very tactfully, mind you).  We're actually going to another show tonight--The Head and The Heart is headlining at Bush Hall in West London.  Should be fun!

Sincerely looking for some good earplugs,

Kelsey

 

Rising and Falling

Wotcher mates,

So to catch you all up, for yes it's been a while, I thought I'd give you guys somethin' spesh*.  Thus, here is a passage taken from my journal about events this past week:

"On Tuesday, we took a tour of the Globe Theater and the Bloomsbury district, and in so doing, paid homage to the gods of literature--Shakespeare, Woolf, Eliot, etc.  We heard the history of it all, too.  This was the theater district of the day, she said, where there was gambling and prostitution, for no one respected theater in those days.  In a moment, I questioned Shakespeare and his ability to overcome the restraints of little education—William, did you know your genius?  Had you seen the future?  We then continued on to Bloomsbury where many writers have lived and worked, Virginia included.  Their lives, so private and personal, were laid before us like a platter of food (and of course we ate them up!).  Did you know this writer was an alcoholic and that one a gambler?  Did you know Virginia did not have sex with her husband?  What did it mean for us to know all this?  Did these authors realize that the things they did in everyday life, each choice they made, acted as a nail in wood, a board in the frame, so that one day, even after they were no longer around, we would tour their lives as if they were the buildings themselves?  We would discover every nook, every secret place—no closet would be left unchecked.  The front door would be torn off the hinges.  And we would eat it up.  Rising and falling from the past to the present, I decided it didn’t matter to me who Virginia Woolf loved (or didn’t), or how Shakespeare spent his time in the infamous theater district, but rather that they had foresight and initiative enough to pave the way for those after them, for me.

a reconstruction of Shakespeare's Globe Theater

However, the most amazing experiencing (and most humbling, fulfilling, circular—I could go on!) has been the visit to Stonehenge.  Just as Virginia Woolf wrote in Mrs. Dalloway, 'the world wavered and quivered and threatened to burst into flames,' so too was my experience at Stonehenge, but maybe in a more phoenix-dying-and-being-reborn kind of way.  To see this place, which was toiled over for many hundreds of years, for the sake of those after them, was so singular.  They knew I would come there.  They knew I would see and understand.  My friend and I even joked that the real reason we weren’t allowed to go inside of Stonehenge was because in the center laid a wormhole which would take us somewhere else in time, and such a place should never be visited (so they say).  But it was at this site, this place of great encumbrance and uplifting, that I felt here while still feeling away.  Rising and falling, as it were.  This is all real."

"Stonehenge rocks."

oh hey

Again, sorry for the lack of updates, but I do hope to update more frequently from here on out!

Nox,

Kelsey

*special (for all our "mature" readers)

The Weekend

Wotcher all,

So much to tell and yet I've no idea where to start; so I'll just give a short recap of everything that's happened.

It's been a long (but good) weekend , that's for sure.  The flight over was not too dreadful, although I slept very little.  Then, after alighting at Heathrow, we all moved into our dorms at Kings College in Hampstead.  We've also had orientations, meet and greets, and have taken several tours already--the first, just a walking tour around Hampstead to get better acquainted with the area, and the second, a bus tour around the city.  After the bus tour, I met up with two friends from back home and together we went to the Soho district in the West End of London--the capital of revelry.  Then, after a night of zero sleeps, I attended a church service at St. Paul's Cathedral, which had the most beautiful choir music I've ever heard.  Now, I'm back at the dorm, putting off working on a paper (go figure).

Phwew.  So obviously a lot has been going on.  However, I've at least had time to realize just how singular I feel in relation to my new environment.  And by that I mean to say that the culture shock feels much more like a culture pinch or a culture buzz--it's all very subtle.  It's kind of like A Sound of Thunder, a short story by Ray Bradbury.  In the story a man goes back in time to hunt dinosaurs, strays from the intended path, [Spoiler alert] steps on a butterfly (killing it), and upon returning to the present, finds all sort of nuances in his surroundings--such as words being spelled differently.  Well, that's how I feel here.  It's like I never really left the States, but while I was on the plane going to "London," someone put "Diversion" on street signs that used to say "Detour."  (I mean, this is kind of a joke, like I know I'm in London, but sometimes I like to see just how far I can convince myself of possible alternate realities.)  That's not to say I'm not enjoying the London, only that it doesn't feel entirely real yet.

 

from my dorm

 

I'm keeping a tally of how many times I get honked at/nearly killed by a car while in London.  So far I'm at three.  Thankfully, there are indications on the ground as to which direction you should expect traffic.

 

The Union Jack atop Buckingham Palace

 

A built in caption.

 

haha. This late night ice cream shop in Soho district made me giggle.

So I hope you've enjoyed the update, devoid of details as it may be (I'll be better next time!).  But as for now, I must be off.  Paper to write and food to eat.

Sincerely sleepy,

Kelsey