Thoughts by Cady

Florence For What It Is

2009-05-09T01:47:00.000-07:00

What makes Florence, Florence? I have been thinking about this more and more lately as the end of the semester is approaching for me, and has concluded for most of you Riponites.

Trees start as seeds in the ground and work their way upward through life. We start as small babies and only get taller from there. So I suppose it’s only fair to start from the ground up with what makes Florence what it is. It is a city that is so steeped in history it’s easy to get lost in the quagmire, and they haven’t done too much to repair many of the roads. Where the flagstones have cracked and sunk into the ground black top has filled the gaps. But even that has worn away over the years from millions of feet treading over it. The ground seems to have a mind of it’s own here. More often than not it jumps up to grab your toes and trip you up, or it disappears beneath you quite abruptly causing a most ungraceful performance of a swan dive. Walking is a process. You can’t zone out and just walk because the pavement won’t let you. At first, and still most of the time in unfamiliar territory, you walk with your head down staring at the ground so as to not be caught unawares of the sudden changes in elevation or to step in animal excrement. Once you have picked a good path to school and become familiar with the terrain you are allowed to lift your chin slightly and gaze intently at the pavement just a little bit further in front of you. This slight adjustment in where your eyes are must be counterbalanced by lifting your feet ever so slightly more than they normally would be. Which in Florence doesn’t look so strange, but once we get back to the stage and walk like we are stomping down a runway it might look very strange. You’ll have to forgive us, don’t worry the oddity of it will fade once we have readjusted to normal pavement.

The buildings here are definitely part of what makes Florence, Florence. One day Brandi and I decided that we were going to name all the colors of the buildings we saw on our way home. I think it took us 20 minutes longer than usual to get home that day, but we named some remarkable colors. First of all there are numerous versions of butter: there is butter (of course), butterscotch, butter cream, and buttercup. Moldy Orange is a particular favorite of ours (I know that moldy orange doesn’t sound that appetizing, and I’m sure it’s not, but you’re just looking at it, not eating it!). Lemon, cream, ecru, beige, the occasional variation of strange pink; I have been very glad not to see stark or even dirty white. The colors of Florence are amazing. It’s no wonder that Olive Green is in the color spectrum, but I think that Tuscan Blue needs to be added. That is the color of the sky here on a sunny day. When thunderstorms roll in they roll in from all sides of Florence, which is situated in a basin with mountains surrounding all sides of it. The clouds that sit low in the basin creep over the tops of the mountains and slink down to settle among the rooftops. Outside my bedroom window I have a beautiful view of the mountain town, Fiesole. On days when big thunderstorms hit, Fiesole completely disappears. Then when the clouds dissipate it is night time and the lights of Fiesole peep out, twinkling like stars at midnight.

On an Evening in Roma

2009-05-05T08:29:00.001-07:00

"On each avenue or via, street or strata you can see 'em disappearing two by two on an evening in Roma."

Standing on a crowded bus from the train station Piazza Argentino we stretched our heads around in every direction trying to see as much as possible. We were filled with the flooding sensation of "NOW we are in Italy! This is Rome! We're in Rome!!"

We checked into our hotel and immediately departed for the Vatican City which Janet had eloquently described as "going through Purgatory, but it's always worse than I say it is!" So we prepared for the worst, but were surprised when it was exactly what we had expected ... and not worse ... But we still got a kick out of the Vatican City being described as "Purgatory".

The Sistine Chapel was beautiful. Japan owns the rights to the ceiling because they paid for the restoration of it (or something like that), so you aren't allowed to take photos in the chapel itself ... yeah. St. Peter's Basilica is HUGE and beautiful, and incredibly overwhelming. I can't imagine attending a service there.

That afternoon we went to the Pantheon and several other churches, and then Gelato. Getting Gelato was more like going through purgatory than the Vatican City was. We were literally packed body to body in front of the counter and you had to hold your gelato above your head when you got it as you wedged your way back through the crowd to the fresh air.

That evening we went to a local restaurant called "Insalata" where we figured out a really savvy way to split the bill and not pay an arm and a leg. Splitting 2 salads and 3- 4 main dishes between 6-8 people wound up being the perfect amount. After dinner our group of 7 disappeared down the strata to find the Trevi Fountain. We ran into Amanda and Sarah Penrod, who we had encountered earlier in the day at the Vatican City. We made wishes, threw coins in the fountain, took pictures and went back to our hotel thoroughly tuckered out!

The following day threatened rain in the early morning and made good on its promise in the afternoon. Before the downpour we managed to fit in the old city walk and the colosseum. Both locations were absolutely stunning. I really could have done without getting absolutely drenched, but life goes on. That evening there were images projected onto the side of the Forum and live opera singers to celebrate Rome's birthday. Furthermore, because it was Rome's birthday, Italy celebrated by opening up all of the museums for the week free to the public. Which was great for us because we saved a significant amount of money! Happy Birthday to Rome!

Monday wasn't terribly exciting. There were more churches ... so many churches. In the afternoon the majority of us hopped the train to Naples and then on to Pompeii. We checked into our hotel and then wandered around the city. We picked up a few stray dogs as travel companions, and I kind of came to see them as three furry guardians. We got pulled into a family restaurant for dinner and had some really good food. For everything we ordered they gave us some complimentary food as well. Some strange Falafel like things, and Limoncello for those of us who wanted it. Two more dogs picked us up outside and made sure we got back to our hotel safely.

The ruins of Pompeii were astounding. It reminded me of Mesa Verde (Native American homes built into a cliff near Moab, UT that I loved to hike around when I was little). We speculated about what a few buildings were, but fairly quickly were able to identify temples, homes, factories and bars. I guess the saying that could be applied then as it is now: this place had just as many, if not more, bars as it had temples! Lovely place! Most of the frescoes were damaged, but the ones that remained were beautiful, primarily domestic scenes. It boggled my mind, just as it had in Old Sarum, that once upon a time this was a thriving metropolis where people had families and friends. They had parties, fell in love, got married, raised children, got into fights, had affairs, made wine and olive oil and may have spent a great deal of time in the bars on every corner!

Coming up: Lucca and Pisa

Ciao!

In the Beginning ...

2009-04-20T07:57:00.000-07:00

I don’t know why, but I’ve found it much more difficult to update my blog here. Maybe it’s because I’m losing the energy, or things are happening so fast that I can’t keep up with them. Our arrival into Florence was rather wet. We flew from Barcelona to Pisa and were waiting on the train to leave for Florence when I looked out the window and saw a familiar brunette bob frantically moving down the platform; “That’s Rachel!” I exclaimed, and I jumped up to get her attention. Leaning out of the car I got some strange looks, but when Rachel heard me calling her name and she desperately looked around to see who was calling to her she looked like she wanted to burst into tears! Her plane had been rerouted from Florence to Pisa because of the rain, and she was frantically trying to figure things out. She was so grateful to have run into us, and I was happy to see her again after a week.

We found our way to the Pensione in the rain, fortunately it wasn’t to far from the Santa Maria Novella station. After dinner we desperately wanted to go find gelato, even though it was raining! A small dish of dark chocolate gelato later and I was ready for bed.

Two days later we moved in with our host families. We were all a little nervous, and Brandi and I were the furthest ones out. Our host dad met us at the door to the apartment building and helped us carry our bags upstairs … up eight flights of stairs. After a long day of trotting after Janet and listening to Stefano stuff prepositions into our brains, those stairs still look very daunting. Elizabetta, Piero and Chiara are the members of our new family. All of them are very sweet, Elizabetta and Chiara speak the most English and it’s fairly easy to communicate with them, but Piero doesn’t speak much English at all. I have come to think about our exchanges not as having a language barrier, but more like playing charades. If you say something in a certain way, and wave your hands around, it is perfectly clear what you are trying to say.

Our first class with Janet she took us up to a cathedral that overlooked all of Florence. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and I was so glad to see and smell green again. Spring has definitely been in the air. Our adventures outside of class have been small, as our bank accounts had been nearly detonated by London and then Spring break, but we have managed to have some fun. Easter weekend was probably the most fun. Saturday a small group of us went up to Fiesole, a mountain town that Brandi and I can see outside our bedroom window. We tried to hike to the next mountain town over, but we took a wrong turn somewhere and wound up hiking back to Florence! It was a long hike, but a marvelous adventure nonetheless. Easter Sunday we met up with Jess, Andy and Michelle at the Duomo to see the Easter celebrations. There was a parade with flag throwing, and a big cart was drawn in by 4 white oxen (I found out about the oxen later after I looked at my pictures, which were taken by sticking my camera in the air angling slightly down, zooming in, saying a prayer and clicking). The cart later exploded with fireworks for about 20 minutes and red and white smoke poured out of it filling the piazza. Fireworks in the middle of the day was a strange concept to us, but it was very exciting. Talking about it later with our family was possibly the most amusing conversation we had had, Elizabetta and Chiara had gone, but they were both inside the church and all they had heard was “BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BANG! BOOM! BANG! BANG! BANG!” With lots of hand gestures at the dinner table and Elizabetta nearly fell off her chair in excitement.

All in all, life is good here. But I do confess that I am ready to go home and sleep in my own bed. The most distracting thought on my mind has been the fact that I am going to live in the apartments next school year, so I have been making lists and drawing diagrams as to where I want things to go. ‘Tis the season I suppose, because I do this every year about this time.

Ciao!

Spring Break! (Finally)

2009-04-03T03:10:00.000-07:00

My arrival in Paris wasn’t the most magical. In fact it made the most miserable impression on me that a city has ever made! I missed London so much. The Metro is dirty, the cars are not in the least bit comfortable or arranged in a logical manner. We were staying in a hostel in Monmantre, the old part of which was quite charming and, as exhausted as I was, I found to be lovely. Dinner however was an interesting affair. We wandered down to where all of the fast food restaurants were and the farther we walked the more grossed out we became. I was hoping that the actual city would make a better impression on me than that part of town.

We had two roommates. One of which was a student named Phillip from Sweden. He has hostel hopping because he had not yet found a place to live. We promised we understood that he would want to be studying, and that we would be very respectful roommates. He smiled awkwardly and left the room. His English had been pretty good; he just seemed like a very shy person. Brandi, Jessica Mann, Andy Peck and I met up with Amanda, Sarah, Baker and George and we wandered to the Eiffel Tower to see what we called “the ten o’clock twinkle time”. It was absolutely beautiful, and I think the most amount of pictures I took of Paris were of the Eiffel Tower in the dark! We continued on our adventure along the Seine to the Louvre where the pyramid was all lit up. My camera battery was dying so I was lucky to get some pretty decent pictures.

Brandi and I got home expecting to see two roommates sound asleep, but there was only Phillip. We slept in our clothes so as not to bother rummaging around in our suitcases and wake him up. I heard him get up and leave, but when we had both woken up, all of his stuff was gone. We had scared him off! Woops! Still no sign of the other roommate. We were beginning to wonder who he/ she was and were starting to worry about their character. While there was a white tie and a pair of manly looking pants, there was makeup remover in the bathroom … ? C’est tres interesante …. Oh well! We would only be there for a couple days anyways, and Paris awaited! We walked from the Arc de Triomph to Notre Dame with Jess and Andy. That was a LONG walk! But it was really lovely because it was so sunny, albeit a bit windy!

We were completely exhausted by the time we got back to the hostel and just wanted to take a bloody nap. Brandi and I wondered again if we would have a roommate when we got back to our room. Sure enough, and rather surprisingly we did. A brown haired young man, who looked maybe 24, was sprawled out shirtless on the bed above mine wearing mauve colored pants. “Hi! We’re your roommates!” I said, trying to sound as chipper and friendly as possible. He asked us what we were doing for dinner, and we told him we were waiting for Jess and Andy to do dinner at the Moulin Rouge. He readily accepted our invitation to join us, saying that he knew where the Moulin Rouge was. However, that night they were just doing dinner and a show, which was way to expensive to even think about. We found food at a small café in Monmantre (unfortunately I never did get to eat Escargot in France), and then Brandi and I spent the evening in with our strange new roommate watching Family Guy while Jess and Andy went out for their last night in Paris.

The following day we woke up and went to breakfast before heading out to Versailles. Rolf came with us to Versailles, and the ACM mob consisted of myself, Brandi, Michelle and Aubry. We meandered all around the palace and the grounds before hitting up a Starbucks and getting coffee after our very long walk. The grounds were lovely, considering the drab time of year we saw them in. most of the fountains were off, but some of them had been turned on and were cheerfully spouting all over the place. We continued our wanderings down into the fields where there were sheep and horses. Brandi went to make friends with the rather dilapidated looking sheep, while I headed up the pony parade. The stout, furry creatures were more interested in the new green grass than us but just to be able to smell horse and grass made me feel a little bit at home. We walked back the Starbucks near the station to absorb some liquid energy before our journey back to the city via train. I sat staring out the window at the French suburbs flying by; I missed London, but the afternoon sunshine cutting through the clouds into the train car splashed across my face warming my heart. Rolf shared some of the music on his iPod with me; we had discovered a mutual like for Amy MacDonald, Tina Dico and Imogen Heap. There were several songs by both artists that I didn’t have that he thought I would like. They were sweet songs about finding love, losing love, loving life and living your dreams despite the forces around you; you know, the usual stuff.

When we got back to Paris we hit up a little English bookstore near Notre Dame, which was where our train had stopped. We split up with Aubry and Michelle, and Brandi and I followed our more experienced travel companion to the Shakespeare and Company bookstore. This little hole-in-the-wall near the Latin Quarter was something I could have spent hours getting lost in. Almost immediately I found a book that I had wanted to read for the longest time: The Princess Bride. I love the movie more than anything, so I decided that reading the book would be fun, and the perfect thing for Europe. Rolf sat down and quietly started to play the piano that was literally propped up on stacks of books. I was surprised, and pleased to discover such a delightful quality about our strange roommate. Brandi and I spent a good 20 minutes reminiscing in the children’s section about our favorite books from when we were little, and for yet another instance I wished that I were small again. We went back to the hostel: Brandi and I finished our Pizza from two nights before, and we discovered that the entrance to the hostel was right below our window. We may have played a rather mean trick on Rolf by pouring a little water onto his head (we didn’t actually mean to hit him, even though we did!) to get him back for kicking the backs of our legs and trying to trip us in the metro. Later on we were laughing about some of the things we had seen that day and parts of Versailles we had thought to be particularly interesting. We decided that we liked Rolf after all. He wasn’t that strange of a person, in fact he was relatively normal! He has an adventurous and genuine personality that is very fun to be around, and we suggested that he come to Barcelona with us. He wasn’t sure, but then we mentioned there was a beach and he was sold on the plan.

The following day we walked up to Sacre Coeur, which is a cathedral whose name means “Sacred Heart”, and went all the way up to the top of the dome. The view of Paris was absolutely breathtaking. From where we stood we could see all the way out to the mountains beyond the outskirts of the city. Brandi made sure that I was doing okay with being so high up, but I feel like every time I try something like that my fear of heights goes away little by little. I appreciated her looking out for me, and I constantly am aware of how miserable I would probably be without her here (BTW. She has all those cool pictures, so get on her about posting them)!

The night train was almost a really cool experience. I was very glad that Brandi and I got our own little double sleeping car, but I slept horribly. I think the earplugs would have been completely necessary, but I was too exhausted to move to get them. We were woken up by the Porter knocking on our door at about 7am, and then George came to visit about a half hour later. We sat on our beds watching the Spanish countryside wiz by; “Tree, tree, tree, tree, WALL! MOUNTAIN!” When we got off the train we all breathed the warm Spanish air (coughed a little as a bus drove by), and collectively agreed that we need coffee ASAP. After finding our hostel we walked around the area we were staying in. We stopped at a small market and got some fruit to much on, then found a park with swings. I don’t think we were supposed to play on the swings, but we did anyways. We watched 4 middle aged men playing a competitive game of squash, and then found possibly the coolest version of a jungle gym ever: airline cable covered in rope, knotted together around a pole to look like a small Eiffel Tower that was super fun to climb on. We discovered another one on the beach later that afternoon that was even bigger! Being on the beach was possibly one of the most exciting things that happened over break because I knew that no one else would be sitting in Wisconsin in a tank top and capris (sorry guys!)! This was also a really fun place to people watch, and child watch in particular. There was this little boy with short blonde hair and round silver rimmed glasses who chased a little brown haired girl maybe a quarter of the way up the tall jungle gym, she monkeyed her way all the way to the top, and he kept telling her (in a cute little kid British accent) to “come back down! Or I’ll kiss you! I’ll kiss you on the mouth!” She must have wanted him to kiss her on the mouth, because she didn’t come down, but the predicament in that was that he couldn’t climb up to the top to get her. Eventually she did go back down, and he did not kiss her, but he did chase after her away from the jungle gym. Day one in Barcelona came to a close with Tapas, and Sangria.

Day two we took a walking tour of the city, which was a great deal of fun. Seeing all of the architecture we were able to pick out the Greek and Roman influences, but the Spanish alterations of it made the work completely unique and amazing. We saw the school where Picasso went to school and where he father taught, we stood at the top of the hill where Saint Eulalia was martyred for her faith, and we saw a section of the original Roman wall. George, Brandi and I giggled to ourselves and joked about wondering when the Roman city burned down because there were so many similarities between the original London and Barcelona. We took a six-pack of Corona for the boys, and a bag of Ruffles potato chips down to the beach around 430 that afternoon and watched the sun set behind the hills of Barcelona. That night we walked around for a good two hours trying to find a dance club, but we had no luck what so ever. We called it a night around midnight.

Soon to come: Cady and Brandi arrive in Italy … followed by a full account of European Bathrooms (trust me, it will be funny).

French Twisted: Bonjour Paris!

2009-03-22T10:19:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 0630 so nervous I could have thrown up. I wasn't sure I was entirely ok with traveling by myself to Paris, even though Brandi had done it the night before and was just fine! On the tube a man in an kilt sat a few seats down from where I was perched on my luggage. "Check! I have now seen a man in a Kilt." I made it to the station an hour ahead of time. Good. Completely comfortable with this now. Getting there on time is always half the issue.

I arrived in Paris and my first reaction was this: I miss the Tube! The metro here is just as efficient as the London Tube, but it's much dirtier.

Brandi picked me up at the station and we hauled my luggage to the hostel. I laughed later today as I said "Hey Brandi ... we're in a hostel situation!" We are living with two, as of yet, unidentified people in a VERY tiny 4 person room. At least one is male, but if it's two males one wears eye makeup, which may concern me a little bit. I'll keep you posted about that! Haha.

We were hungrier than sin and thirstier than anything else, so we decided that finding food and water would be the first order of business. We found a little cafe and ordered Tapas Fromage. For those of you that don't speak French - it was bread and cheese :) and a big bottle of water. I really have never been so thirsty in my life! I think I could have drunk 2 of those bottles! After our little snack, which was quite satisfying, we wandered around. Our hostel is situated in Monmantre, just a 15 minute walk from the Moulin Rouge. Moulin means windmill, and it's actually quite a popular thing to name cafe's after windmills. Water runs out of the drains here ... which contradicts the purpose of a "drain", I realize this, but none-the-less it does. So you we are constantly hopping over streams to cross the very narrow streets. I have gotten used to looking to the right first because of being in London. The first time I did that I thought to myself "Why are those cars facing the wrong way?!" ... nope. They were going the right way. I've been Londonified. We continued to wander around the city and down a street with a bunch of cafes and fruit vendors. I bought an orange to share with Brandi, and felt very European eating my orange meandering down cobblestone streets that seem to lead nowhere in particular but every turn you make takes you to a new and fascinating sight.

I am ready for an adventure! I have good leg muscles, a pocket full of metro passes, and a random assortment of change to purchase fruit.

<3>

Throw a Stranger an Unexpected Smile :-)

2009-03-05T04:32:00.000-08:00

I wish I could say I have been able to take a breather after the last week, but I would be lying if I did! After getting back to 270 Earls Court from Wales we had one night in our own beds before hoping the train to Stratford Upon Avon for two days. Stratford is lovely. It bleeds Shakespeare out of its every pore, which was redundantly charming. Hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it, and when you’ve got Shakespeare you hold the ultimate trump card! Every corner you turn you can find cafes, pubs and knick-knack shops named for characters and lines. It became the thing for us to pronounce that we were “exiting” instead of leaving rooms, and indeed we were occasionally exiting “pursued by a bear” (A Winter’s Tale). Unfortunately Shakespeare’s birthplace is not as exciting as we were hoping. For the theatre enthusiasts on board there was much disappointment. We also got to see Anne Hathaway’s house (not much more exciting, but it’s OLD! So it’s COOL!) and Mary Arden’s farm. Who is Mary Arden? You may ask. Well, she was Shakespeare’s mother. So there. There are plenty of furry creatures for children of all ages to play with. The goats were particularly enthusiastic, and the Owl named Agnes was definitely a highlight of the day.

We took over a couple of B&Bs while we were in Stratford so that we could see a joint production of the Tempest done by the Royal Shakespeare Company and the Baxter Theatre Centre. Never have I been in such awe of a production. The Tempest has never been one of my favorite plays to read because I found the script odd, detached, and therefore difficult to follow at points. I take it back! The interpretation, placed in South Africa, was a splendid account of Colonization and subsequently de-colonization. Chorus members leapt and chattered all over the stage and became master puppeteers (puppets very reminiscent of Julie Taymore). Miranda was not the blushing innocent child in a pink dress, she was a Tarzan raised by nature and subsequently innocent and naïve of corruption. Her genuine portrayal of the character was delightful to watch. Ariel was the epitome of masculine ethereal beauty and grace. After seeing the production, as per tradition, we went to the Dirty Duck for dinner. We go there because it’s tradition for the actors to hang out at this pub after a performance. In passing I managed to squeak out “wonderful show! I really enjoyed your performance!” to Ariel. That was about all I could manage to bring myself to do or say.

After returning back to London we had one night to ourselves before receiving our lovely ladies from Paris! Baker, Jacqie and I dashed out the door upon class ending early to go meet Lucy, Amanda, and Sarah Penrod at Kings Cross St. Pancras station. We took them out to a dance club that night (the original plan was a sports café, but it was packed!) and what we thought was going to be a relatively tame night of pitchers of maitais and chatting turned into wild dancing with French girls, and boy. To make up for being lame during the day we did our very best to keep our guests entertained at night. So we took them to get rush tickets for Wicked, which I have seen twice in Chicago, but I’m afraid nothing can compare to 5^th row seats for 20 pounds. Another night at the theatre to see England People Very Nice, a farce about immigration in England, brought us in contact with our first protest. I’m afraid all I have to say about it is this: if all you can say is “Richard Bean is a racist” with no other arguments to back up your statement you have successfully destroyed all of Aristotle’s modes of proof in about 5 seconds, so stop talking! You are misusing your gift of speech! You are an embarrassment to rhetorical society!

This past Monday was a great deal of fun for Jessica, Andy and myself! After class with Sarah a few of us decided to go to Camden Market and walk around. Jess, Andy and I broke off from the group intending to go get tickets to see The Woman in Black but were distracted by an article in the paper about the London premier of Marley & Me. Leicester Square was only a few tube stops away, so we decided to go. After standing for an hour on hard pavement and sitting/ standing on a barrier for about 40 minutes our knees were quite weak and we walked like sailors fresh off a ship. But we were quite giddy from getting to see Owen Wilson and Jennifer Anniston up close J There was still time for us to proceed with our original plan, so we went to get tickets to see the critically acclaimed thriller The Woman in Black. I don’t like scary movies at all, but I will watch them occasionally. I wanted to see this production because I was skeptical about the ability of a live performance that didn’t have the capability of getting a hold of the technology that cinematic thrillers do. This production successfully blew my mind! The use of lights and sound combined with the two actor’s genuine physicality was, in a word, incredible. The first time I was startled I nearly leapt right into Jess’s lap!

That brings me up to today. I blinked and my week was nearly over. I can’t believe it. Brandi and I are trying to figure out our spring break plans. We’re thinking that a beach in Croatia might be fun! Who knows at this point, it’s a mystery! We are looking forward to having Zac, Megan and Jeff come visit us immensely. But there is so much to get done before they get here! Best wishes to one and all. I’m out!

Exits: pursued by a bear.

Cherish these mountains, born in fire and ash out of the seato make this wilderness ...

2009-02-23T09:47:00.000-08:00

But for how long?

Cherish these mountains, born in fire and ash

out of the sea to make this wilderness

asleep for aeons beneath ice and snow,

carved by the shifting glaciers long ago

till ten millenia back, the Ice Age

made right for fern and purple saxifrage

this place, whose evolutions given burth

to the rare Snowdon Lily's home on earth,

but all could go with the melting snow.

- Gillian Clarke

“Alright. Where’s the bus station?” That was the question of the day when we got off the train platform in Bangor, Wales. You would think that usually the bus station is attached to the train station, but no such luck. The man at the ticket counter said that the bus station was “down by the grove of trees”. So we went outside and started walking toward the grove of trees. But there was no bus station, so we kept walking. We were absolutely starving, so we stopped at JD’s Café to get lunch and ask for directions to the station. We were all very excited when we discovered that we could get breakfast all day, and didn’t realize how much we had missed pancakes until we saw them on the menu. Andy ordered the “Big All Day Breakfast” which included sausage, bacon, eggs, beans, toast and black pudding. We all looked at the black pudding and contemplated eating it. It was decided that, since we didn’t know what was in it, we should try it anyways. Each of us made faces that were a little bit different, but all of them said “this is weird!” I burst out laughing when I decided that it looked like a round of potting soil and tasted like a greenhouse. We didn’t ask what was in it right away because we didn’t want to be the obnoxious immature Americans. Jess and Andy asked though, and we all let our reactions out when we were outside. Black pudding is pig’s blood and oats essentially.

The bus on the way to Llamberis was about a half hour long and the bus driver was delightful. He enthusiastically acknowledged every other bus driver he passed and frequently reminded us not to worry, that he hadn’t forgotten about us. We were dropped off between Llamberis and Cwm Y Glo, where Cat lives. From there we were able to follow the directions that Cat had texted me to her house. She lives at the top of a very long, very steep hill. We were almost distracted from how tired we were getting whenever we turned around to see how high we were. Rachel and I half expected to see James Harriott walk out of a little whit washed house with his vet bag in hand and a stethoscope around his neck. Smoke curled out of the chimneys of houses that were placed in no particular order. We met a little horse along the way who I decided to name Frank; later on our second trip up we found out his name was Chidill (Kid-ick). That’s the thing about Welsh: double consonants have really random sounds that you wouldn’t think of at all. “LL” is made by placing your tongue like you’re going to make an “L” sound, but hissing instead. “DD” sounds like a “th” in the or than. “W” sounds like “U” and is the most common vowel sound besides “y”. Besides that, there are not a lot of vowels at all.

Cat’s house once was a part of an old sheep barn and the only heating element, besides her oven to cook in, is a wood and coal-burning stove in the living room. The six of us slept literally wall to wall in her small house, and Brandi and I slept in her house mate’s room. It was so cold inside the house that we could see our breath in the kitchen and bathroom! Personally I found it to be a delightful little house despite the cold.

Early the next morning Cat and I made breakfast before we adventured out. We explored the old slate mine that was once the largest slate mine in the world in the only part of the world where slate came from. After that we went to explore an old castle. It sat on the top of the hill surrounded by twisted old trees and emerald green moss. The sunlight crept through the clouds to touch different parts of the landscape making it look mythical. It was the kind of place where you expected Merlin to just step out from behind a tree. I feel like I’m trying to hard to describe how beautiful this place was because words really cannot describe it.

We continued our hike up an old Victorian pipeline to a waterfall. The only place I have seen this kind of beauty in has been in movies. Water amazes me; the only way to stop it is to build a wall and then it’s a shot in the dark as to whether or not it actually holds. It’s such a powerful and beautiful element. It has the ability to flow gently and peacefully while at the same time it can destroy whole villages and cities. This part of our hike looked like it came right out of a Lord of the Rings movie. The sun was out more, so I took off my jacket and climbed up the moss covered rocks to get some better shots of the waterfall. The rest of our group started climbing after me and we clambered up the rest of the way underneath the train tracks to the road. We walked along the tracks for a few yards and continued our trek through sheep fields and up to the first gate on Snowdon Mountain. Cat told us later that we made it up 1/3 of the mountain, which sounded pretty cool to us!

Around 1545 we started our hunt for rooms for cheap so we wouldn’t have to impose on Cat’s hospitality another night. Brandi and I found 2 rooms that would comfortably fit all of us for 100pounds. Between 6 people, that was a great deal for how nice the hotel was! Andy, Jess and Michelle found a place that had entertainment and that night it was going to be a country singer. Cat got all kinds of excited about that, and said since it was the only bar in town no matter how bad the act was it would still be fun. The act was bad, and it wasn’t even country music! We listened to him murder Livin’ La Vida Loca, Hallelujah, and Pretty Woman (which is hard to murder). We tried to keep the conversation as loud as we could even though it had turned to American politics, just to drown out the sound of the singer.

All in all it was perhaps the best weekend I have had here. We got to sit and chat with the locals, all of whom were so friendly and kind. I want to go back to do some serious camping and actually try to do some real rock climbing.

What would you do if you met a celebrity?

2009-02-14T15:09:00.000-08:00

I wouldn’t necessarily say he is one of my hero’s, or that I idolize him. Hero’s usually do something epic or, well, heroic. Saying I idolize him would make me feel like a creepy stalker. I would, however, say that he is a literary genius who has had an incredible impact on the way I look at life and the world around me. In saying that, I would also say that I hold a great deal of reverence and respect for him. It is because of his material, that of Arcadia in particular, that I have been able to excel in ways I did not think possible.

Brandi and I got to the National Theatre an hour and a half before the platform was supposed to start. Standing room had been completely sold out, we had to queue for return tickets and pray that enough people would return their tickets so we could see the platform talk. There were two delightful old ladies who shared their opinions on Every Good Boy Deserves Favor, which Stoppard wrote and we saw two weeks ago, and English People Very Nice, which we will see later in the month. As English people, these ladies did not like the play very much and were not afraid to tell us so.

As we sat in the queue waiting for word about returned tickets, a whisper rippled through the crowd: “It’s him. It’s Stoppard. It’s Tom Stoppard.” My heart nearly stopped and Brandi muttered in my ear “He’s nothing like I pictured him!” Tom Stoppard is tall, of an artistic build, and moves with an almost awkward grace. He lumbered past the queue to the balcony outside the 2^nd floor (which in America is the 3^rd) to smoke a cigarette and check his cell phone. I was sorely tempted to wander out, casually introduce myself and … well I didn’t because I couldn’t think of anything productive that would come out of the casual introduction because I had neither a cigarette to smoke myself nor the nerve to move from my seat. Sneaking glances over my shoulder through the gigantic picture window that surround the National Theatre I analyzed the features of the man. He was born in the Czechoslovakia in 1937, which makes him 72. Despite the fact that he smokes he looks like he is only in his early 60’s. But his eyes are sunken in a little bit, making it look like he gets very little sleep. The lines on his olive colored face reveal many emotions: pain, sorrow, joy and a great deal of contemplation. He had done a terrible job of matching his clothes: a purple shirt was covered by a heather grey blazer and dark grey dress pants, blue socks and brown shoes.

I wish I could remember every word he spoke. I tried. But I’m pretty sure that only the most brilliant minds could retain all of the information he put forth. I honestly found myself spacing out in the amazement that I was sitting in the presence listening to my favorite playwright talk about a play I had seen just a few weeks earlier … wait, what is he talking about now? Ah language, that’s something I can follow: “I took to language because of language”. He loves language and how words fit together to form sentences and thoughts. Clearly, because the answer to every question he was asked was extensively involved and had some sort of story behind it.

He loves children. He loves their outlook on life and how they have the ability to rationalize the world. This is something that I particularly took away from Arcadia and the character of Thomasina. Still a young girl, but poised on the brink of discovery of the world that is dark and corrupt, yet she will try to rationalize it and keep it as innocent as possible before giving in to human lust. Also the little boy in Every Good Boy Deserves Favor who is so terrified at what the world has done to his father. His innocence was shattered very forcefully, but he still tried to rationalize.

He doesn’t like to direct. He puts very little direction in his plays, and leaves the dramatic interpretation up to the director.

I wanted desperately to ask a question, but the thought of doing so was more terrifying than singing a solo in a musical. I wanted to ask him if he had put himself as a character into any of his plays. I wanted to ask him what had inspired Arcadia. I rationalized this myself by telling myself that if I really wanted the question answered then I shouldn’t care about it being so tangential and personal, I should just ask it. So when the interviewer called for the last question my hand shot into the air without my bidding. Alas, I was not even seen.

Brandi and I left the theatre and went to the bookstore. I promptly bought a new copy of Arcadia, and we headed up stairs to the book signing. The queue was terribly long and I told myself not to be disappointed if I didn’t get to get it signed because I was lucky enough to have gotten in to see the platform in the first place. I did get to have my book signed though. He looked at me and met my eyes with his big grey ones as I reached out my hand to shake his. It was big and warm, and his grip was confident which told me he was glad to take the time to shake my hand even though he was in a hurry to catch a show. I asked him to sign my book and told him that it was my favorite play that I had ever been in. He said, “Thank you very much” in a quiet voice. I thanked him as well, and Brandi and I were on our way.

He seems kind. Is energetic and enthusiastic when he talks about his work and experiences. He rolls his R’s at the beginning of words, and flips them in the middle of words, so when he says “rather” or “write”, or “very” it sounds positively musical. He is still very much a child at heart. He even described the eight year old that is still inside of him as one that still questions everything in order to rationalize it. I can’t imagine being inside his brain: all those thoughts of things I will never understand: chaos theory and quantum physics just as a couple.

I think this has been a very good Valentines Day J Chocolate and meeting Tom Stoppard with Brandi. A very good one indeed.

How Far is Heaven?

2009-02-06T05:38:00.001-08:00

The days have been blurring together lately ... I'm not entirely sure where they are going!

We saw a production of David Hare's Gesthemene, which was an engaging enough production. Themes of political corruption, failing marriages, mother/ daughter conflict etc. fell pretty much across the board, but were approached by the playwright in such a way that 16 twenty year old American College students were clearly not the target audience! Some of us have taken to doing cold readings of the plays, which makes for a really good time! However what we found funny when reading the script to ourselves, was not terribly funny to the british audience, and the same on the other side of the coin. They used some pretty brilliant technical features though, like a rear projection of London moving in fast-forward to classical music mixed with urban techno.

We have also seen a production of A Midsummer Nights Dream by the Royal Shakespeare Company, which in retrospect I liked very much despite my very negative feelings towards the portrayal of Hermia and Helena. The physical humor used in the production was highly entertaining, but a little distracting at times. The fairies were very dark punk rocker fairies which was an interesting interpretation I have seen pictures of, but haven't actually seen in live productions. I liked how much the fairies were used (however I could have done without the use of dolls and creepy voices for some of them), they became creatures and trees and delightfully creepy all around nuisances.

Yesterday we took a trip to Westminster Abbey. I think it has, thus far, been one of the most meaningful trips to me and I would have liked time to wander around by myself and to have sketched somethings as we were not allowed to take photographs. But it was cold in the Abbey and if I didn't keep moving, small appendages like fingers and toes went numb. Brandi and I really wanted to sing, and I had Ave Maria running through my head so loudly it was distracting. It was the strangest sensation in the world, knowing that so many people have been actually buried in that Abbey. They don't just have memorials in the flagstones on the floor, they are actually buried underneath the stones. I felt bad about walking over them. I feel like that's what paths in graveyards are for: so you don't step on the dead people! At the same time though, there was a peace and reverence that I felt. Walking into the tomb of Queen Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots was one of the most surreal experiences. There is a corner called the Poets corner in Westminster Abbey. The first poet to have a memorial in Poets corner was Goeffrey Chauser. His is an actual memorial; he is buried elsewhere. Charles Dickens was buried there against his will (I wonder how he feels about that ;) ). He was buried at night because those who buried him were concerned about the popularity of his death and did not want a lot of people at the burial. Lord Byron is buried next to Dylan Thomas, who is buried next to Mary Evans who wrote under the pen name George Elliot. Her grave stone says "George Elliot and Mary Evans". At the bottom of Lord Byron's gravestone is the quote "But there is that within me which shall tire, torture and time and breathe when I expire." Some of the stones had quotes, but I found this one particularly because it is what Byron said :) . I can't help but wonder how he feels about being buried next to Dylan Thomas, even though their lives were far apart. Adjacent to the poets are actors and story tellers. Rudyard Kipling is buried in this corner: I grew up on his fairy tales. Lawrence Olivier is buried next to David Garrick who is buried with his, wife Eva Maria Veigel. To say that I stood on the graves of David Garrick, Lawrence Olivier and Lord Byron seems unreal to me. To know that these people once walked in the same places that I did, lived lives that have influenced ours through their art and to be standing so close to them, the feeling is indescribable.

Breaking News: Civil War Breaks Out in London

2009-02-02T11:24:00.000-08:00

War has officially broken out in London today. Battles are taking place all over the city. Some armies have been spotted using decoys both large and small in the form of three round shapes stacked on top of each other with sticks for what appear to be arms. Be wary if you come across one of these “man” or “woman” shaped decoys as they have the potential to be armed and dangerous. This correspondent and her companion’s route followed the path from Piccadilly Circus, through St. James’ Park, across the Westminster Bridge and down to the Tower Bridge. We witnessed many battles and got caught in the crossfire of no less than 3 battles ourselves. Brandi’s left butt-cheek was our only casualty and we were lucky enough to escape with our lives. Should you wander into London within the next couple of days be warned: civil war has broken out here and no one is safe.

Now, all joking aside! England experienced snow today in a magnitude that it has not experienced in 18 years. Headlines screamed from papers of all shapes and sizes about the phenomena. Schools shut down today, and will be shut down tomorrow. We Wisconsinites are taking this for granted I think, while we are used to this kind of weather, while we would be zipping down the highways at 65-70mph, this city, unprepared for this kind of weather, has shut down. Three underground lines shut completely down, all but 2 lines were partially suspended, and the buses did not function until about 3pm at which time only a couple braved the onslaught of snow. Had I chosen to go out to Richmond again I would have been stuck there until tomorrow or even Wednesday! Which would not have been a bad thing in the least, probably very fun, but definitely stressful.

The hiatus that public transportation has been forced to take, however, has not stopped Londoners from getting outside. School children took advantage of the snow day by taking over the parks to build snowmen and make snow angels. We witnessed one little girl experiencing her first snow. She may never experience snow of this magnitude ever again in her lifetime, but at least her mother will have the pictures to remind her of how she crawled her way through 9 inches of fresh white snow like a wind-up doodle bug on a carpet: sort of a stop-and-go effect.

Children were not the only ones out in force enjoying the impromptu vacation. Young business/ university men and women were building their own gigantic snowmen, and snowball fights raged thick and fast from St. James’ Park all the way past the National Theatre on street corners across streets. In fact the most impressive snowball fight took place ON the National: one lone soldier on the ground lobbed balls of packed snow up to the balcony while volleys of the same were chucked right back down at him. Soon those on the balcony of the National turned on each other and the battle continued above our heads.

Brandi and I got caught in the cross fire of a couple of the snowball fights, and despite her rear getting struck by a misfired snowball, we escaped each of them relatively unscathed. We had a delightful afternoon, filled with laughing at, and with, the ecstatic population, and meaningful conversation.

To those of you in Wisconsin, hope it warms up a wee bit for you! It was lovely to think of you all in our snowstorm on the other side of the pond J

River People

2009-02-01T16:21:00.000-08:00

London people are river people. I walked along the Thames today in Richmond with two friends, keeping the river on our right we headed from the Richmond visitor center towards the Teddington Lock. However we didn’t get anywhere near that far down the river. The river here is not much cleaner than it is in the central part of the city, however it is a different color: instead of a muddy, murky brown it is a dirty milky emerald color. All it needs is a little polish to clean it up and make it sparkle. Coots and geese populate this stretch of the Thames, as there is much less motorized traffic. Instead, the boats moored along the river look like they have been adapted many times to try to keep up with the ever changing technologies while trying to retain some historic charm.

A couple of young men, taking advantage of the last fading rays of sunlight, were restoring a long skiff. This was clearly an annual project that they had just begun because most of the paint had been faded away by river water and summer sun. The boat was a handsome one: red, white and blue, colors of the Union Jack, with an eye at her prow searching for an adventure. The young men looked to be about our age, university students who might enjoy a few drinks at the pub later on. However they were taking great pride in their restoration of the skiff. One chipped painstakingly and gently away at the old paint ahead of the other who gracefully and lovingly brushed fresh sky blue paint on the exposed port side. These men are river men following in the tradition of other river men before them.

We continued past the skiff being restored, under the Richmond Bridge. A pair of friends was being walked several yards ahead of us by a longhaired golden retriever who insisted on marking every other tree. My friends and I chuckled with each other recalling our own golden retrievers who display similar behavior. Near a park bench shaded by a tree a couple shared an intimate moment, lost in their own little world on the riverbank. A young woman wearing blue running spandex passed us going in the opposite direction. Not far behind her a father jogged along carrying his little daughter facing forward in his arms so she could see the view. He made fatherly cooing sounds to entertain her as they bounced along down the river walk. My companions and I exchanged smiles with him as he passed; he realized how funny he looked, but did not care in the least. The river is here for these people, reminding them that no matter how fast, hard and long they might run it will run faster and longer. No matter how often they come to visit her, or how long they stay away from her, she will always be there for them. These people are river people.

We were distracted from our walk along the bank by a long footpath that led up the hill to where we could catch a wide view of the river and a protected bit of land. We hiked up the path, realizing by the time we got to the top how truly out of shape we were, but immediately forgot about it by how beautiful the view was. The protected part of the river was a delicious green/gray and a haze was settling over the tops of the trees. From our high point, this is what London looked like in my dreams; the haze like a blanket protecting Richmond, putting it to bed for the night.

Let's Go Exploring!

2009-01-29T08:25:00.000-08:00

"Cady! Don't look over to your right!" Brandi giggled nervously.

"Why not?" Of course I try to sneak a peek, and burst out laughing. What I wasn't supposed to look at over to my right was a young couple sharing a moment in a shaft of sunlight under some trees that covered one of the paths in Kensington Gardens. I usually have this thing about PDA ... I don't like it. But this was sweet. The young woman wearing a stylish long black pea coat popped one black heel as she stretched up slightly to receive a gentle kiss from the man holding both her hands to his chest. They both smiled at each other, completely in their own world, as they turned away from us to continue their walk hand in hand.

I laughed at myself for sneaking a peak and replied to Brandi with "Oh that's not so bad! The way you said it I thought someone was running naked through the park!" A gentleman who was walking nearby overheard me and burst out laughing.

Since moving into the house we have had 4 sunny days and one very rainy and wet one. Unfortunately the rainy and wet one was our first day with Sarah. I was very glad of the umbrella I had purchased at H&M the other day. I would consider ourselves lucky to have had this many sunny days so far; they have been wonderful for exploring.

We do plenty of exploring at night as well. In a large, rather conspicuous group we go to pubs, or meander around Piccadilly Circus. Quite by accident, and a little on purpose because of the area we accidentally wound up in, on our first night together a bunch of us wound up in Trafalgar square at night. The fountain all lit up was quite stunning. One couldn't help but feel love in the air at that particular spot with that particular magnificent view.I know that one particular person I have been charged with taking care of has been missing a certain someone over in Ripon land very much, but don't worry, she is being taken good care of :) This certain someone does miss other certain someone's over there as well. You know who you are!

Lots of love! I'll be seeing you soon!

Spend a Day (or 2) in Richmond

2009-01-24T09:56:00.000-08:00

Went to bed at about 9:30, woke up sporadically through the night, convinced myself it was 3 am every time and went back to sleep. Before I knew it, it was NOON! I couldn't believe that I had slept that long! I woke up well rested, and all I can hope is that I will want to go to bed tonight at a decent hour. If I do than I believe I can say I readily kicked Jet-Lag's ass! If I don't, well then Jet-Lag still won.

Today we spent the afternoon at Kew. They were once royal gardens and king George was there when he heard that the colonies had fallen and the revolution had begun. I finally understand now the reference that Stoppard made in 'Arcadia' when Lady Croom wanted her gardens to be as splendid as the ones at Kew. It's only January, which feels like spring time in Wisconsin, and the garden is green! Magnolia trees are starting to bud and should be blooming by March; snow drops are peeking their little wh

ite heads out of their green pods and the botanical gardens in the green houses flourish with colors. The sun has liked coming out in the afternoon here, so it was the perfect time to go for a stroll through the gardens.

Tomorrow I move to the flat with the rest of the crew!

Trying to call across the pond ...

2009-01-21T08:51:00.000-08:00

So my mom and I have spent the last hour trying to figure out how to make an international phone call ...

The reason for this being, while I am not worried that our friends will forget to come and get me at the airport, my mom is! "You don't travel that far and not contact the people you are meeting!" I did contact them ... many times with this amazing thing that doesn't require 6 million numbers called EMAIL!

Yesterday I went to Ripon to say my goodbyes. I did pretty well, up until I got in the car where I burst into tears. There's something about driving at night that makes the world seem to go by faster than normal. I was mesmerized by how rapidly the lines in the highway and the piles of snow flew by. It made me think of life in general, and how we can't go through life just watching the lines and piles whiz by. We need to actively participate in life, and take every opportunity that we can. I am sad to be leaving my friends here, but I am so excited to start this new adventure of my life!

I'm not saying good-bye, because saying good-bye means going away, and going away means forgetting. I'm not going to say good-bye. I'm going to say, see you soon!

"To live, would be an awfully big adventure!"

37 Days ...

2008-12-16T06:33:00.000-08:00

This whole online journal thing is going to be weird to get used to; I'm usually a very private person. This is, however, the easiest way to keep everyone updated on where I am and how I am doing while abroad so I don't spend massive amounts on stamps or phone bills. Should anyone wish to communicate with me: I have Skype! Facebook messages and email are all very good ways to reach me from across 3,000 miles of ocean.