i think i open every post with a disclaimer of why i haven't been posting as much as i should have.
disclaimer: i haven't. deal.
i will say this - i'm falling in love with london more and more every day. it's seeped with history, with mystery, with romance and passion and terror and sadness and incredible energy, all at once.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
spicy beef deux
i have about ten minutes between now and when i should be tubing it to greenwood and bluewater. for market research. i think it freaks people out. those crazy americans, they say. the brits were always fairly descriptive with names.
i think i left off somewhere on saturday. laws hall-ers were to take a proper double-decker bus tour of london that afternoon, so allie and i decided that it would be better to sit on the open-aired top to get the full experience. sadly, we didn't factor in that it might be chilly. i still don't have circulation in my fingers.
after the numbing two-hour tour, it was off to pizza express. don't let the name decieve you, it was a classy establishment. all 50 or so of LHA was in the basement of the resaurant and ravenous. and so, they fed us bread.
twenty courses of bread.
there was circular garlic bread, and then little bread dots with garlic butter, and finally the actual pizza. the waitresses kept bringing out "aaa-spiiiiiiicy beeeef!" which, unfortunately, i declined with slight gag reflex. jason ate the spicy beef like a champ.
i intended it to be a quiet night - i hadn't gotten more than 5 hours of sleep a night since i've been in london towne, and my body (and liver) was starting to hate me. but, little beknowst to me, i was later to be dragged to the most hip, most happenin' dance club, tiger tiger (or is it tigre? i just called it T2) long story short, about 3280923 european men (and no prince william) tried to get in my pants. it 's a glorified brick street. but funny, nonetheless.
market research again.
i'm cold.
quote of the day: "you can plan a pretty picnic but you can't predict the weather."
cheerio!
i think i left off somewhere on saturday. laws hall-ers were to take a proper double-decker bus tour of london that afternoon, so allie and i decided that it would be better to sit on the open-aired top to get the full experience. sadly, we didn't factor in that it might be chilly. i still don't have circulation in my fingers.
after the numbing two-hour tour, it was off to pizza express. don't let the name decieve you, it was a classy establishment. all 50 or so of LHA was in the basement of the resaurant and ravenous. and so, they fed us bread.
twenty courses of bread.
there was circular garlic bread, and then little bread dots with garlic butter, and finally the actual pizza. the waitresses kept bringing out "aaa-spiiiiiiicy beeeef!" which, unfortunately, i declined with slight gag reflex. jason ate the spicy beef like a champ.
i intended it to be a quiet night - i hadn't gotten more than 5 hours of sleep a night since i've been in london towne, and my body (and liver) was starting to hate me. but, little beknowst to me, i was later to be dragged to the most hip, most happenin' dance club, tiger tiger (or is it tigre? i just called it T2) long story short, about 3280923 european men (and no prince william) tried to get in my pants. it 's a glorified brick street. but funny, nonetheless.
market research again.
i'm cold.
quote of the day: "you can plan a pretty picnic but you can't predict the weather."
cheerio!
Monday, May 14, 2007
spicy beef
***to note, the @ sign is not where it should be (above the 2), but instead over where the quote marks are. and the £ is right over the 3.
i've lost a lot of £'s in london so far.
already, i have let down the 2.6 people who might actually read this blog, and have updated all of once, in the wyndham hotel (aka wyndham hostel).
so i'll do my best to sparknote the majority of my (mis)adventures in london thus far.
let's see.
well, there could be the part about friday night - the night where i went to the tube station to buy my oyster pass and ended up ... well, i'll tell the story in narrative structure. i'm sure my creative writing professors would appreciate that more.
it was a dark and stormy afternoon, and some fellow group C-ers and i needed to go to the underground to purchase oyster passes. it's like a passkey to go on any zone 1 and zone 2 on the underground - all of central london and a few peripheral districts. unfortunately, no one really knew how to actually buy one for six weeks. so the group marches up to the station, only to be handed an elaborate pamphlet demanding address, name, password, mother's maiden name, and other various bits of information you don't expect to use when wanting to get from point a to point b. long story short and £127.00 later (RIP OFFFFFFF!!!!!) we decided, "hey, we just spent $300. let's use it somehow." which meant team C was off to picadilly circus for a joyride.
once we got to picadilly (the times square of london, so they say), we realized we were quite peckish. there was a restaurant called 'the crooked surgeon,; but that was sadly over-crowded. so instead, t.C. trooped over to a pub called o'neils, and discovered strombow, which tastes deliciously like apple cider, but has the frightful affects on mind and liver as beer. go figure. long story short, angie and i ended up at a pub called the volunteer talking to some brits about how american we were.
"you say 'like' way too much," my new chum rupert said.
"like, i do not!" i said. as i said, strombow = delicious but deadly.
then, they invited us to a party in soho. note, this was our first night, and i had way too much s.b. so we politely declined (angie said no and i just smiled a lot) and tried to figure out where regent's was. i had no idea, and neither did angie, so i hailed a cab. "regents park?" he said. "that's a block away, are you daft?" i didn't know how to respond, and i think i tried to get out, but he drove around 6 blocks and charged me £5.
it would've been a 3 minute walk.
the next day, part of my group did field research on regents and oxford street. these are the chic, happenin' places to shop, but sadly foot locker is neither chic nor happenin'. to say that it rains constantly is an understatment. to say that it rains non-stop is missing the mark. speaking of mark, mark, the receptionist at reid says that it 'spittles,' which is also an understatment. let me put it this way: all of my 4 pairs of jeans are still soggy, my trainers are mildewy, and my closet smells like a wet dog decided to move in.
and on that slighly gross note, i'm off to chinatown for some lo-mein and illegal asian prostitution. i'll continue this later.
quote of the day: "you want ze spicy beeeeeef?"
cheerio!
i've lost a lot of £'s in london so far.
already, i have let down the 2.6 people who might actually read this blog, and have updated all of once, in the wyndham hotel (aka wyndham hostel).
so i'll do my best to sparknote the majority of my (mis)adventures in london thus far.
let's see.
well, there could be the part about friday night - the night where i went to the tube station to buy my oyster pass and ended up ... well, i'll tell the story in narrative structure. i'm sure my creative writing professors would appreciate that more.
it was a dark and stormy afternoon, and some fellow group C-ers and i needed to go to the underground to purchase oyster passes. it's like a passkey to go on any zone 1 and zone 2 on the underground - all of central london and a few peripheral districts. unfortunately, no one really knew how to actually buy one for six weeks. so the group marches up to the station, only to be handed an elaborate pamphlet demanding address, name, password, mother's maiden name, and other various bits of information you don't expect to use when wanting to get from point a to point b. long story short and £127.00 later (RIP OFFFFFFF!!!!!) we decided, "hey, we just spent $300. let's use it somehow." which meant team C was off to picadilly circus for a joyride.
once we got to picadilly (the times square of london, so they say), we realized we were quite peckish. there was a restaurant called 'the crooked surgeon,; but that was sadly over-crowded. so instead, t.C. trooped over to a pub called o'neils, and discovered strombow, which tastes deliciously like apple cider, but has the frightful affects on mind and liver as beer. go figure. long story short, angie and i ended up at a pub called the volunteer talking to some brits about how american we were.
"you say 'like' way too much," my new chum rupert said.
"like, i do not!" i said. as i said, strombow = delicious but deadly.
then, they invited us to a party in soho. note, this was our first night, and i had way too much s.b. so we politely declined (angie said no and i just smiled a lot) and tried to figure out where regent's was. i had no idea, and neither did angie, so i hailed a cab. "regents park?" he said. "that's a block away, are you daft?" i didn't know how to respond, and i think i tried to get out, but he drove around 6 blocks and charged me £5.
it would've been a 3 minute walk.
the next day, part of my group did field research on regents and oxford street. these are the chic, happenin' places to shop, but sadly foot locker is neither chic nor happenin'. to say that it rains constantly is an understatment. to say that it rains non-stop is missing the mark. speaking of mark, mark, the receptionist at reid says that it 'spittles,' which is also an understatment. let me put it this way: all of my 4 pairs of jeans are still soggy, my trainers are mildewy, and my closet smells like a wet dog decided to move in.
and on that slighly gross note, i'm off to chinatown for some lo-mein and illegal asian prostitution. i'll continue this later.
quote of the day: "you want ze spicy beeeeeef?"
cheerio!
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
london calling deux
london.
i
want
to
live
here
like
whoah.
so megan and i got here alright, although we're slightly sleep deprived. let me tell you the story.
the flight left around 7:30 tuesday night. i tried to get some sleep on the flight, but it only worked in 15 minute increments, so after a few tries, i gave up and started reading my book (gotta love that dave eggers) they served dinner (chicken parma, or something resembling chicken parma) and breakfast - fruit and a warm croissant. as soon as they said we were approaching gatwick, i looked out the window to see nothing but clouds and fog. go figure.
gatwick was enormous but the directions were clear enough: customs one way, baggage claim another. for being one of the most heavy-hit airports of the modern world, it seemed a little ... dingy, almost. there were a lot of florescent lights, a lack of air conditioning, etc. it only took me a few seconds to get through customs - after the never-ending line, that is. the man asked me where i was going and how long i was intending to stay, and if i was planning on working. and that was that. megan was next to me in another line, and i didn't think she'd take that much longer to meet me. but a few minutes later, she wasn't there. she came out and told me that the customs woman asked: where she was going, how long she planned to stay, etc. but then, when megan told her regents, the woman asked a load of questions: are you studying AT regents, or IN regents, and how much was tuition, etc.
but crisis averted, megan and i got through alright and then proceeded to stand in the next line (or queue, in britspeak) for the train from gatwick to victoria station. and from there, we then had to claim our luggage. as a classic beth maneuver, i packed waaaaaay too much, including a huge backpack and a 48.7 pound suitcase. megan was no better - she was sporting two behemoth suitcases herself. so, in good brittish fashion, i got a trolly to roll our goods on - honest to goodness, it was a trolly right out of harry potter. i was disappointed i didn't have an owl to put on top.
our next duty was to find the gatwick express train and get our 39082 lbs. of luggage on and off without absolute chaos. it was adorable - everything had proper names - platform 1, platform 6. (no platform 9 3/4, sadly). BUT we couldn't take the trolly's down to the station. but a lovely lad with amazing blue eyes ( haha ) offered to put our copious amounts of luggage on a cart and tote it down the elevator, or lift. he even put it on the train for us. megan and i didn't know if we had to pay him or not - england for dummies said nothing about cartmen at airports. i had a five pound note at the ready, but he just said, "you girls be careful in london, not everyone's as nice as i."
feeling slightly guilty and INCREDIBLY sleep deprived, we took the half-hour train ride to victoria station. megan and i both started zoning out, but were determined to stay awake. it felt like the hogwarts express, and they had the snack witch with refreshments. alas, no licorice wands.
victoria station was busier than any subway station in new york city - and factor in two gigantic pieces of luggage and a carry on, and two girls light on muscle-mass, and it was even worse. luckily, they had announced on the train that taxi service was right upstairs, and the escalator was literally right outside the train. but the wait for the taxi was a good 20 minutes. you'd think they would realize that business booms around train stations. alas.
our cabbie was an experience in itself. a true east-ender, the cabbie knew every tidbit about every landmark we passed. he told us where the walls to buckingham palace were, hyde park, (the prince starts his stroll monday and gets back friday, it's so big! d'yunno what i mean?) and where michael jackson goes on holiday when he comes. megan and i just let him talk, but mostly because we were finding it hard on so few hours of sleep to understand east-end britspeak. we mostly nodded and smiled, and i once commented on museums, and he went to town on that.
the windham hotel is, oddly enough, on windham street, a little sidestreet off of a slightly larger street, of which i'll learn the name eventually. it's a converted house, so it doesn't have the "look" of a hotel. it looked like a door from notting hill, and the doorknobs are in the middle, just like in j. r. r. tolkein. when the cabbie dropped us off, he helped put our luggage inside the foyer of the windham, but the hostess looked doubting at all of it. "i don't think it'll all fit in your room," she said. "i can leave it in the lobby, or lock it up in a closet." eventually, megan and i decided to take up everything except two suitcases.
ah, but the room. i had a flashback to freshman year at grove city. megan and i debated what the room used to be. "servant's quarters," megan suggested. "a broom closet," i said. in the room, there are the following things: a sink, a radiator, two twin beds (that are very short), a telly, really cheap ikea furniture, and a shower. the shower overlooks a large window, which in turn, overlooks the quiet street. it's cozy - very, very cozy, but the room serves its purpose. the bathroom (or loo) is actually on the mezzanine, and is quite possibly the smallest loo i've ever seen in my life. it's not a hostel, but it's not a hotel either. i'd call it a pension. but it serves its purpose.
once megan and i got situated, we had to fight the temptation not to just sleep all afternoon. it was around 11 by the time we got settled, and we decided to go down to baker street and buy an "oyster:" - no, not the delicious bi-shelled sea-dwelling creature, but a pass to the underground. unfortunately, there was a lot of bureaucratic paperwork we had to fill out, and we didn't have every bit (address, telephone, color of the sky last thursday). we decided that we were a bit peckish (hungry) and looked for a place to eat. baker street is kind of like broadway in new york - double lanes of traffic separated by a divide. except that traffic goes the "wrong way" and i found myself looking to the wrong side of the road anytime i wanted to cross. i think there are only two rules for pedestrians:
1. walk when there isn't a car coming. read: if a car isn't going to hit you in the time you're going to cross the street, cross the street. it helps if you jog.
2. if a large group is crossing the street, cross the street, reguardless of traffic patterns. it's herd mentality.
in any case, the globe, a pub recommended by the cabbie, was across the street from the baker street tube stop, so we decided to go there. unfortunately, they were still serving brunch, as it was only 11 o'clock, so we walked, dejected and hungry, to find the next nearest place to eat. we had three options:
-pizza hut.
-micky d's
-quizno's
go figure that our first meal in london was at an american chain.
after lunch, we came back to the windham to get the information for the oyster. megan wanted to call her parents, but couldn't until she had the internet password, which would be in an hour, since the hostess was out to lunch. we decided to take an hour nap so that we wouldn't be complete zombies. unfortunately, bargin hotels are bargan for a reason, and the alarm didn't go off. we woke up from our nap four hours later.
so now, here we are.
and i need to figure out a better way of staying awake.
au revoir!
beth
quote of the day: "saifhwiejojas" - some guy from somalia on the victoria train.
i
want
to
live
here
like
whoah.
so megan and i got here alright, although we're slightly sleep deprived. let me tell you the story.
the flight left around 7:30 tuesday night. i tried to get some sleep on the flight, but it only worked in 15 minute increments, so after a few tries, i gave up and started reading my book (gotta love that dave eggers) they served dinner (chicken parma, or something resembling chicken parma) and breakfast - fruit and a warm croissant. as soon as they said we were approaching gatwick, i looked out the window to see nothing but clouds and fog. go figure.
gatwick was enormous but the directions were clear enough: customs one way, baggage claim another. for being one of the most heavy-hit airports of the modern world, it seemed a little ... dingy, almost. there were a lot of florescent lights, a lack of air conditioning, etc. it only took me a few seconds to get through customs - after the never-ending line, that is. the man asked me where i was going and how long i was intending to stay, and if i was planning on working. and that was that. megan was next to me in another line, and i didn't think she'd take that much longer to meet me. but a few minutes later, she wasn't there. she came out and told me that the customs woman asked: where she was going, how long she planned to stay, etc. but then, when megan told her regents, the woman asked a load of questions: are you studying AT regents, or IN regents, and how much was tuition, etc.
but crisis averted, megan and i got through alright and then proceeded to stand in the next line (or queue, in britspeak) for the train from gatwick to victoria station. and from there, we then had to claim our luggage. as a classic beth maneuver, i packed waaaaaay too much, including a huge backpack and a 48.7 pound suitcase. megan was no better - she was sporting two behemoth suitcases herself. so, in good brittish fashion, i got a trolly to roll our goods on - honest to goodness, it was a trolly right out of harry potter. i was disappointed i didn't have an owl to put on top.
our next duty was to find the gatwick express train and get our 39082 lbs. of luggage on and off without absolute chaos. it was adorable - everything had proper names - platform 1, platform 6. (no platform 9 3/4, sadly). BUT we couldn't take the trolly's down to the station. but a lovely lad with amazing blue eyes ( haha ) offered to put our copious amounts of luggage on a cart and tote it down the elevator, or lift. he even put it on the train for us. megan and i didn't know if we had to pay him or not - england for dummies said nothing about cartmen at airports. i had a five pound note at the ready, but he just said, "you girls be careful in london, not everyone's as nice as i."
feeling slightly guilty and INCREDIBLY sleep deprived, we took the half-hour train ride to victoria station. megan and i both started zoning out, but were determined to stay awake. it felt like the hogwarts express, and they had the snack witch with refreshments. alas, no licorice wands.
victoria station was busier than any subway station in new york city - and factor in two gigantic pieces of luggage and a carry on, and two girls light on muscle-mass, and it was even worse. luckily, they had announced on the train that taxi service was right upstairs, and the escalator was literally right outside the train. but the wait for the taxi was a good 20 minutes. you'd think they would realize that business booms around train stations. alas.
our cabbie was an experience in itself. a true east-ender, the cabbie knew every tidbit about every landmark we passed. he told us where the walls to buckingham palace were, hyde park, (the prince starts his stroll monday and gets back friday, it's so big! d'yunno what i mean?) and where michael jackson goes on holiday when he comes. megan and i just let him talk, but mostly because we were finding it hard on so few hours of sleep to understand east-end britspeak. we mostly nodded and smiled, and i once commented on museums, and he went to town on that.
the windham hotel is, oddly enough, on windham street, a little sidestreet off of a slightly larger street, of which i'll learn the name eventually. it's a converted house, so it doesn't have the "look" of a hotel. it looked like a door from notting hill, and the doorknobs are in the middle, just like in j. r. r. tolkein. when the cabbie dropped us off, he helped put our luggage inside the foyer of the windham, but the hostess looked doubting at all of it. "i don't think it'll all fit in your room," she said. "i can leave it in the lobby, or lock it up in a closet." eventually, megan and i decided to take up everything except two suitcases.
ah, but the room. i had a flashback to freshman year at grove city. megan and i debated what the room used to be. "servant's quarters," megan suggested. "a broom closet," i said. in the room, there are the following things: a sink, a radiator, two twin beds (that are very short), a telly, really cheap ikea furniture, and a shower. the shower overlooks a large window, which in turn, overlooks the quiet street. it's cozy - very, very cozy, but the room serves its purpose. the bathroom (or loo) is actually on the mezzanine, and is quite possibly the smallest loo i've ever seen in my life. it's not a hostel, but it's not a hotel either. i'd call it a pension. but it serves its purpose.
once megan and i got situated, we had to fight the temptation not to just sleep all afternoon. it was around 11 by the time we got settled, and we decided to go down to baker street and buy an "oyster:" - no, not the delicious bi-shelled sea-dwelling creature, but a pass to the underground. unfortunately, there was a lot of bureaucratic paperwork we had to fill out, and we didn't have every bit (address, telephone, color of the sky last thursday). we decided that we were a bit peckish (hungry) and looked for a place to eat. baker street is kind of like broadway in new york - double lanes of traffic separated by a divide. except that traffic goes the "wrong way" and i found myself looking to the wrong side of the road anytime i wanted to cross. i think there are only two rules for pedestrians:
1. walk when there isn't a car coming. read: if a car isn't going to hit you in the time you're going to cross the street, cross the street. it helps if you jog.
2. if a large group is crossing the street, cross the street, reguardless of traffic patterns. it's herd mentality.
in any case, the globe, a pub recommended by the cabbie, was across the street from the baker street tube stop, so we decided to go there. unfortunately, they were still serving brunch, as it was only 11 o'clock, so we walked, dejected and hungry, to find the next nearest place to eat. we had three options:
-pizza hut.
-micky d's
-quizno's
go figure that our first meal in london was at an american chain.
after lunch, we came back to the windham to get the information for the oyster. megan wanted to call her parents, but couldn't until she had the internet password, which would be in an hour, since the hostess was out to lunch. we decided to take an hour nap so that we wouldn't be complete zombies. unfortunately, bargin hotels are bargan for a reason, and the alarm didn't go off. we woke up from our nap four hours later.
so now, here we are.
and i need to figure out a better way of staying awake.
au revoir!
beth
quote of the day: "saifhwiejojas" - some guy from somalia on the victoria train.
Monday, May 7, 2007
london calling
i can't believe a lot of things:
-that paris hilton is actually going to jail.
-that cookie dough has no calories if not baked into actual cookies.
-that i got an A on my portfolio.
-that it's not butter.
-that i'll be on another continent 24 hours from now.
with all the preparation and ballyhoo and running around and buying everything from bras to backpacks to benedryl, i really haven't had that much time to just sit back and think about the social and emotional implications this trip and london will have on me. when i step off the plane a little more than eight weeks from now, i will be a different person. hopefully a more cultured one, but probably one with sore feet, sleep deprivation, and a liver that hates me.
tomorrow, i'm going to LONDON!
megan and i are taking an evening flight and landing in gatwick somewhere around 1pm the next day. (see also: extreme tiredness, nappage, narcolepsy.) i'm not sure what we'll end up doing, but it probably involves seeing platform 9 3/4, seeing picadilly circus, or going to a pub or two. a little shopping couldn't hurt either.
i'll be sure to post more, but now i have to deal with a mountain of luggage to pack, and a way to get all the books i want to read over there and still manage to pack all the clothes i need.
au revoir!
quote of the day: "writing is like prostitution. first, you do it for the love of it. then you do it for a few friends, and finally, you do it for the money."
-that paris hilton is actually going to jail.
-that cookie dough has no calories if not baked into actual cookies.
-that i got an A on my portfolio.
-that it's not butter.
-that i'll be on another continent 24 hours from now.
with all the preparation and ballyhoo and running around and buying everything from bras to backpacks to benedryl, i really haven't had that much time to just sit back and think about the social and emotional implications this trip and london will have on me. when i step off the plane a little more than eight weeks from now, i will be a different person. hopefully a more cultured one, but probably one with sore feet, sleep deprivation, and a liver that hates me.
tomorrow, i'm going to LONDON!
megan and i are taking an evening flight and landing in gatwick somewhere around 1pm the next day. (see also: extreme tiredness, nappage, narcolepsy.) i'm not sure what we'll end up doing, but it probably involves seeing platform 9 3/4, seeing picadilly circus, or going to a pub or two. a little shopping couldn't hurt either.
i'll be sure to post more, but now i have to deal with a mountain of luggage to pack, and a way to get all the books i want to read over there and still manage to pack all the clothes i need.
au revoir!
quote of the day: "writing is like prostitution. first, you do it for the love of it. then you do it for a few friends, and finally, you do it for the money."
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