Damnit, Thomas Fariner, YOU killed the dinosaurs?!

I’m pretty obsessed with the Tube. People sprint down the escalator and freak out even though another train comes literally every three minutes. The walls of every escalator in every station are covered with playbills intermixed with report crime to your police (even though there are cameras everywhere. It’s a little creepy). There is also a designated busking spot in most stations! My favorites so far have been an accordion player and this really crazy electric guitarist. One wall was covered in little tiles with Sherlock Holmes’s profile which is what I have decided I’m going to use for the bathroom tiles in my house.
Yesterday, we went on a tour of Roman London which included the London wall and a really old temple to Mithras which is awkwardly/hilariously surrounded by an impossibly shaped office building because they had started building before they found the temple. The Museum of London I learned about the Great Fire that burnt down three quarters of London in 1666 was started in Thomas Fariner’s bakery, and from his picture I get the impression that he was one of those guys that was really friendly but didn’t take a hint. Like he probably still showed up at barbeques with a casserole after that and made people really uncomfortable. But I also feel kind of bad for him because they probably blamed him for everything after that -- kid didn't get first chair viola, fall of the British empire, Enron.

Anyway, then we went to the Royal Albert Hall to see the Czech Philharmonic orchestra, which was the best thing in the entire universe (expect Camden Town). Yes, it was a beautiful building with a FOUNTAIN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AUDIENCE, and yes, it was a beautifully performed concert complete with glorious cello features, but these are side notes to the fact that literally every time there was a pause between movements, the entire audience commenced in a fit of extremely theatrical coughing akin to the type of thing you pull on a substitute teacher in 6th grade. I tried to figure out if this was a strange British custom, everyone had swine flu, or perhaps the British people knew we were there and were pulling an elaborate hoax to mess with the boorish Americans, but I still have no idea (I'm actually pretty sure it was Thomas Fariner's fault). At intermission, some guys in the balcony screamed HEAVE and then the crew moving the piano screamed HOE, which just struck me as really hilarious because the symphony is supposed to be fancy and pretentious and crap, and I feel like the British like to screw around (I think it’s a more mass popular thing here). Also, the conductor was wearing neon yellow cuffs, which makes sense because then the musicians can see them, but now I kind of want a pair. Our seats were in the balcony and my feet were right near this thick metal cable holding up the lights, and I was fairly sure that the piano soloist (who was one of those awesome looks-like-he’s-having-a-seizure musicians. Crazy twitch musicians are my favorite. I’m pretty sure that Lady Gaga does those crazy Michael Jackson/T-Rex arms because she was classically trained.) was going to zipline down it. Or at least be raised out of the ground on a giant platform with a giant fountain spurting out on all sides.

Last night the demon clock that Connor gave me randomly went off 8 times in the middle of the night, so I took it out in the hallway and smashed it and chucked it into the trashcan and then this morning when I woke up to go the bathroom it was still beeping. I’m pretty sure if I took the battery out it would still go off (and inevitably elope with a Furby, the other automatronic demon robot of our generation).

So then today Jess (yes, I have found another Jess. But she is not shorter than me) and I went to the Nottingham Afro-Caribbean Festival and it was the best thing in the entire universe (expect the Royal Albert Hall and Camden Town). The Tube was so crowded that I had to contort myself into what I’m pretty sure is the One-Legged King Pigeon position in yoga (side note: my goateed professor is apparently certified in yoga and enjoys metal music. I don’t expect those types of hobbies from someone named Carl) in order to avoid being crushed to death. The festival itself was awesome. There was this huge parade with people in really ornate outfits and people dancing everywhere. People were selling curried goat and plantains from their porches, and we saw this one lady selling the use of her restroom for one pound. We bought a coconut and the guy that sold it to us held it up in the air and just whipped out a machete and lopped off the top (pretty badass).

I have finally found someone that is better at losing stuff than I am. One of my roommates loses her keys about every 5 minutes and gets lost everywhere we go. Also, the other night, she was eating crackers at like 3AM but I thought it was zombies eating brains because I was half asleep.

Days Oneish Two and Three

Dad was concerned that we would be late for the train if we did not arrive half an hour early as instructed by the ticket and if we did not leave an extra hour for traffic (this was actually sort of understandable because of our luck but also slightly insane in retrospect). He also worried that five hours might not be enough time to reach my airplane terminal, so I had ample time to contemplate the train conductor (who was talking about his parole officer) that sassed the crap out of the this guy in the quiet car for talking on his cell phone and the eccentric billionaire that owns the airline we flew on who is apparently building the first rocket ship for civilians. I successfully did not raise my hands in the air and shout WOO like I was on a rollercoaster when the plane took off. I thought about sleeping, but then I thought it would be a better idea to watch Shutter Island at 2 AM on a dark plane and attempt not to scream in people’s ears and piss myself. Then I realized that I would not be sleeping for another 24 hours and slept in the most comfortable position I could, head slumped on the meal tray with the words Virgin Atlantic imprinted backward on my forehead.


This entire country is built for lefties. They walk on the left side at the Tube Station, they do awkward things, it’s glorious. I have already been accosted by several people on the street and asked if I was American (I wasn’t talking or anything touristy, I swear. They can just smell you. Like a drug sniffing dog). This is wonderful, because once I have been established as an American, they can say ironic things, like how lovely the weather is (it rains a lot) and then explain the concept of irony (you see, Americans don’t have irony). They do not respond well when I call them redcoats and remind them that they lost the Revolutionary War.

Anyway, my first (technically second. My sense of the time space continuum is messed up because I only slept an hour and I’ve never been this far out of my time zone) day, I went on a quest to Camden Town, which is the greatest place in the entire universe. It’s London’s punk/goth/strange alternative music/anti-government subcultural haven, which allows me to do what I do best: creepily follow people around and take notes on them. People snog in the streets here (fun fact: snogging sounds like it involves mucus or spoiled milk, but does not, in fact). Also, the vendors use severed plastic mannequin legs with stockings on them as awnings, yessssss. Also, there are sweet double decker buses everywhere, and the graffiti in public restrooms contains political arguments rather than exclusively curse words (This is something I have to research further. Are people more likely to poo in a public restroom in England, giving them more time to formulate rebuttals? Why do so many people tinkle with markers? Do these toilet arguments affect the polls?)

The next day was more structured since assignments have actually started now and fill pretty much all our time (but no worries, they’re really cool exploring assignments). We went on a boat down the Thames today under the London Bridge. Greenwich observatory was predictably amazing, as was my conversation with the crazy hat lady at the street market later (they were like Lady Gaga hats. It was great). Then we went to the Globe Theater to see the Merry Wives of Windsor, which was really exciting although I probably should have brought a stool to stand on. Not only is it a historical sight, but it is also a site from my childhood days of playing Where in Time is Carmen San Diego (although we actually ended up at a random pub called the Globe down the road first). Sadly, I have very few pictures because I thought my camera was irreparably damaged all day since the batteries were in backward.