Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.
Refrain
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!
Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.
Refrain
Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!
Refrain
This morning we sang this hymn at the ladies luncheon at church. Miss Iowa (Olivia Meyers) spoke and a mother/daughter led a music time. It was a wonderful chance to get to know a few ladies better and to hear some encouraging words from a young woman who had accomplished much in the pageant world.
But as we sang this song, "Great is Thy Faithfulness", I found myself reflecting on my previous summer in London. "Morning by morning new mercies I see" probably tipped me off. You see, every morning as I woke to a cheery London sun at 6AM, I met with God. I knew I could have woken at 7AM and still have made it to work on time, but I wanted the extra time to spend with my Father, alone and focused. Every morning, I thanked Him for bringing me through another day; I couldn't do much more than that-- take the months one 24 hour block at a time. But in those mornings, I did see new mercies, day after day. He allowed me to mature as a Christian, to grow in my faith in Him. By simply waking up, I knew He had given me whatever I needed to make it through the previous day, which was a special mercy in itself.
Each morning was a reminder of His faithfulness. As my class, Katie Beth, touring, and my job came and went, He did not change. He was constant. Dependable, secure. The only thing that really remained unchanging, really. Perhaps why I could truly see my dependence on God so clearly during that time was because His unwavering stability was so obvious. Everything else was changing-- Ben was graduating, Grandma and Grandpa were having their 50th wedding anniversary, I was moving off campus and becoming a junior. Plus, there was all the new London stuff-- friends, flat, internship, food, church, Tube, the list goes on and on and on and on. With just about everything in flux, I could see and firmly grab on to whatever wasn't changing.
I know I've mentioned it before, but I basically try to resist change. I operate very well with things I know, though I often I grow bored with them. New things are...well, new. I don't know them, nor do I have any way to understand them. As I've discovered, I often don't realize that I've adjust to change until a new change comes along-- just as when I didn't like beginning to work because it was a change from going to class, which I previously didn't like. "Didn't like" isn't really the right phrase, though. "Uncomfortable" would be more appropriate.
Strange, I can't place exactly why I'm usually uncomfortable with change. Probably because it's a very core motivation, discovery of which will require digging past layers and layers of other, auxillary motivations. Hm, that means I can't jump straight to it and may have to link a few motivations before arriving at the end. Perhaps a car ride to talk it over with myself would help.
In any case, back to the hymn. The first two verses reminded me of God's faithfulness while in London, but the last two verses rang so true for the past school year. Nothing has gone wrong. Sure, there were a few rough patches with friends or school, but they were transient and overcome with a little hardwork.
I look at my life and I see nothing to be sad about, nothing big really. I've never attended a family member's funeral (well, when I was two for my great-grandma, but I don't remember it or her).
"Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!"
I could never count how God has blessed me this past year. His provisions have been innumerable, really. He's allowed me success in so many things, and I don't honestly understand why. I'll often ask Him why He has chosen to give me these things; I know I do nothing to deserve them. I'm a big believer in equity-- you are awarded appropriately for your work. But on the spiritual level this approach is does not fly with God's system. Well, I guess it kinda does Old Testament style (even then an individual cannot outweigh their bad with their good), but with Jesus's death and resurrection equity is completely out of the picture.
"To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love."
My job is simply to use what He has given me now and in the future to glorify Him. It's not really necessary, then, to understand precisely why and how God gives- except perhaps to understand that what He provides is designed to provide the maximum amount of glory to God, and at that moment, having bunches of blessings is how He has planned it to be. The blessings are not about me, so the question of why I receive them is irrelevent. In fact, putting myself in the picture is almost presumptous. My role is to use what God provides, as He provides it, to glorify Him, to follow His will.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Sorting and Savoring
I really like dark chocolate, especially that 90% cocoa stuff. I like it because it’s bitter, but the sweet parts round out the flavor enough to make it one of the most pleasurable food experiences I can think of. Savoring a piece of dark chocolate is an exercise in appreciation. The lower the sugar content, the more you have to dig deep into the bitter flavors to get to the rich undertones. Appreciating the fullness of the chocolate requires a taster to exchange her desire for the fleeting taste of sugar for the lasting richness of cocoa. And so it was with London. That city and the summer I spent there was 90% cocoa. The experiences were rich and deep, but there was little sugar to counter the initial bitterness. I’m still savoring. What can I say? I took a pretty big bite. ;)
One day near the end of last semester, I was walking along with Hanna and expressed a strange feeling that had come up at times over the previous few weeks. I wanted to go back. I wanted to be there, in my flat, my church, my grocery store, my Tube station, everywhere. I longed to be there and walk the streets again just to remember. I think about Sainsbury’s now and mentally walk through each aisle, knowing where everything is from the British beef to the four pound Hagen-Daaz chocolate ice creams. It’s all so vivid.
Hanna called me a battered woman. From what I do know about those women, which is pitifully little, they are hurt by their husbands but, for whatever reason, go back to them. Perhaps I feel a fraction of what they experience. It’s so weird. As much as I know London was difficult and hard and all manner of things complex, I want to be there. Not working there or even touring (I actually visited every place I wanted to see in London), just going back through the places where my feet, or the Tube, took me months ago.
I remember a phrase from some fiction book I read a while back. In it, the character has moved around a lot and has just arrived at a new place. But it doesn’t feel right. She longs for home, but home is really a jumble of many experiences. Home becomes a strange amalgamation of things, none that really fit. Parents, siblings, two dogs, a queen-size bed. Two roommates, a duplex, a twin bed. Four roommates and seven million people, a flat, and a bunk bed. What is home? Is home a place where you stay long enough to be comfortable and familiar with your surroundings? Is it the people or the things that make home?
Yes, I know I’ve written about it before, but to emphasize this point further I’ll keep harping on it: one of the ways I dealt with London was by creating structure. My first day in the flat, I picked out a cup, drank some water with it, and set it behind the drying rack near the sink. That was cup that I used every single day for the rest of the summer. I considered bringing it home at the end but decided I didn’t really want too many intimate reminders of the summer. My shampoo and conditioner faced exactly the same way in the shower, and every evening after work I would have a glass of my sparking apple juice. In the morning, I’d get up at 6 every day and prepare a breakfast of two pieces of toast- one cream cheese with raspberry jelly, one with peanut butter, fruit- usually a clementine, a glass of milk, and a cup of Taylors of Harrogate English breakfast tea. During breakfast I’d read a chapter from my Bible and journal and afterwards make my lunch of a sandwich (one third of a one pound baguette with lettuce, meat, and whatever cheese I had chosen that week), some sort of fruit or vegetable, and a digestive or two. (You’d think I would have lost weight eating healthy like that, but alas, I did not) I’d leave the flat at 7:45 AM and return at 6:15 PM, every day. I’ve probably written about this already in this blog but doing so again is letting me relive those days.
Anyway, so I created structure. That’s apparently how I deal with life when put in chaotic situations—I superstructurize everything. Everything is set and very, very predictable. I can take comfort in the order. That said, if I’m comfortable, the need for structure diminishes. For example, this past semester my life was atypically unstructured. I was incredibly secure, especially after the stress that was London. Life was grand. My friends were great, I had an AMAZING duplex, my room fit my tastes exactly. I could leisurely spend many a Monday afternoon working on some recipe I was trying out for supper. Classes were busy, but I knew people in them and was comfortable as a junior at Truman State University. I’m quite positive I didn’t have a single productive weekend.
But there was very little order. I never did figure out what to have for breakfast every day and often resorted to bacon, egg, and cheese toaster pastries. Even my attempts at packing lunches for my 10:30AM-4:30PM classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays were erratic at best. I didn’t need the security afforded by order. Now, I want to impose some order on this coming semester not because I need life to be organized but rather to make better use of my time.
I’ve also discovered a startling tendency. In the world of insecurity there in London, there was little push to pursue the darker things I’d like to have. I was more obedient to my Father. But when comfortable and quite secure, I find myself falling prey to temptations. It’s so much easier for me to disregard my relationship with God when I’m surrounded by things and people I love and care about. Perhaps the safety distracts me. I don’t feel like I need anything. And yet I do, more than ever. Perhaps it’s just easier to see when the security is ripped away, leaving me bare to stare dumbly at the absolute need there. Remember when I typed “a beautiful sort of pain”? That’s what it is. To realize that you’re nothing without your Savior. It’s painful. You have nothing to claim as your own, nothing to count in your favor. In fact, what you do have, that is sin, is revolting to the Father you so very much want to be near. But from that realization comes another—that you really can, only through no effort of your own. In fact, the effort is entirely out of your hands. The effort was in the nail-pierced hands and feet of one Jewish man two thousand years ago. That man, Jesus, died for me, for us. His, and only his, sacrifice can bring us to God. That is beautiful.
On the surface of reflections, I had to lean on God to provide for me and I can rattle on for pages about that, but now that I’m savoring, making my way to the rich waves of flavor, I’m relating the experience back to salvation. It’s an interesting way of looking at it, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around even the smallest conclusions. There are so many directions.
Why does order provide security? Because order causes things to become familiar.
Why does familiarity breed security? Because familiar things are predictable and can be relied upon.
Laura Beth, should you rely upon things? No.
Why not? Because they’re transitory and never guaranteed.
Why is that? Because they’re earthly.
So then what should you rely on? God.
Ok, so why did you encounter such problems when you went to London? Because I relied on things for comfort.
Are you relying on things now? Yes.
Why? It’s easy, especially when they’re right there.
That was the skeleton of one of the thought processes. They take about half of a second and much after that they’re shooting off in so many directions I can’t keep track. Even in the nine questions above I can take off on any number of discussions (hence the skeletal descriptor). That’s why this London savoring business takes so long. There are so many paths, so many undertones, to explore. Last night I listened to the Wicked soundtrack the whole way through. I’d listen to it on my 45 minute commute every day. As I lay on my bed following every tune, I opened those places closed off for months now. The music brought back a tenth of the feelings, but even that was enough for discomfort. I kept a tight hold on the spigot threatening to gush.
It helps that the flow is controllable. In fact, I sometimes enjoy rolling the feelings around. The experience is...interesting. I like to process things, events, emotions, and whathaveyou internally. The interconnections are fascinating to follow.
I’ve got more to write, so there will be additional blog entries. Not sure when they’ll come, but there’s still a bit more stewin’ up there in the ‘ol brain.
One day near the end of last semester, I was walking along with Hanna and expressed a strange feeling that had come up at times over the previous few weeks. I wanted to go back. I wanted to be there, in my flat, my church, my grocery store, my Tube station, everywhere. I longed to be there and walk the streets again just to remember. I think about Sainsbury’s now and mentally walk through each aisle, knowing where everything is from the British beef to the four pound Hagen-Daaz chocolate ice creams. It’s all so vivid.
Hanna called me a battered woman. From what I do know about those women, which is pitifully little, they are hurt by their husbands but, for whatever reason, go back to them. Perhaps I feel a fraction of what they experience. It’s so weird. As much as I know London was difficult and hard and all manner of things complex, I want to be there. Not working there or even touring (I actually visited every place I wanted to see in London), just going back through the places where my feet, or the Tube, took me months ago.
I remember a phrase from some fiction book I read a while back. In it, the character has moved around a lot and has just arrived at a new place. But it doesn’t feel right. She longs for home, but home is really a jumble of many experiences. Home becomes a strange amalgamation of things, none that really fit. Parents, siblings, two dogs, a queen-size bed. Two roommates, a duplex, a twin bed. Four roommates and seven million people, a flat, and a bunk bed. What is home? Is home a place where you stay long enough to be comfortable and familiar with your surroundings? Is it the people or the things that make home?
Yes, I know I’ve written about it before, but to emphasize this point further I’ll keep harping on it: one of the ways I dealt with London was by creating structure. My first day in the flat, I picked out a cup, drank some water with it, and set it behind the drying rack near the sink. That was cup that I used every single day for the rest of the summer. I considered bringing it home at the end but decided I didn’t really want too many intimate reminders of the summer. My shampoo and conditioner faced exactly the same way in the shower, and every evening after work I would have a glass of my sparking apple juice. In the morning, I’d get up at 6 every day and prepare a breakfast of two pieces of toast- one cream cheese with raspberry jelly, one with peanut butter, fruit- usually a clementine, a glass of milk, and a cup of Taylors of Harrogate English breakfast tea. During breakfast I’d read a chapter from my Bible and journal and afterwards make my lunch of a sandwich (one third of a one pound baguette with lettuce, meat, and whatever cheese I had chosen that week), some sort of fruit or vegetable, and a digestive or two. (You’d think I would have lost weight eating healthy like that, but alas, I did not) I’d leave the flat at 7:45 AM and return at 6:15 PM, every day. I’ve probably written about this already in this blog but doing so again is letting me relive those days.
Anyway, so I created structure. That’s apparently how I deal with life when put in chaotic situations—I superstructurize everything. Everything is set and very, very predictable. I can take comfort in the order. That said, if I’m comfortable, the need for structure diminishes. For example, this past semester my life was atypically unstructured. I was incredibly secure, especially after the stress that was London. Life was grand. My friends were great, I had an AMAZING duplex, my room fit my tastes exactly. I could leisurely spend many a Monday afternoon working on some recipe I was trying out for supper. Classes were busy, but I knew people in them and was comfortable as a junior at Truman State University. I’m quite positive I didn’t have a single productive weekend.
But there was very little order. I never did figure out what to have for breakfast every day and often resorted to bacon, egg, and cheese toaster pastries. Even my attempts at packing lunches for my 10:30AM-4:30PM classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays were erratic at best. I didn’t need the security afforded by order. Now, I want to impose some order on this coming semester not because I need life to be organized but rather to make better use of my time.
I’ve also discovered a startling tendency. In the world of insecurity there in London, there was little push to pursue the darker things I’d like to have. I was more obedient to my Father. But when comfortable and quite secure, I find myself falling prey to temptations. It’s so much easier for me to disregard my relationship with God when I’m surrounded by things and people I love and care about. Perhaps the safety distracts me. I don’t feel like I need anything. And yet I do, more than ever. Perhaps it’s just easier to see when the security is ripped away, leaving me bare to stare dumbly at the absolute need there. Remember when I typed “a beautiful sort of pain”? That’s what it is. To realize that you’re nothing without your Savior. It’s painful. You have nothing to claim as your own, nothing to count in your favor. In fact, what you do have, that is sin, is revolting to the Father you so very much want to be near. But from that realization comes another—that you really can, only through no effort of your own. In fact, the effort is entirely out of your hands. The effort was in the nail-pierced hands and feet of one Jewish man two thousand years ago. That man, Jesus, died for me, for us. His, and only his, sacrifice can bring us to God. That is beautiful.
On the surface of reflections, I had to lean on God to provide for me and I can rattle on for pages about that, but now that I’m savoring, making my way to the rich waves of flavor, I’m relating the experience back to salvation. It’s an interesting way of looking at it, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around even the smallest conclusions. There are so many directions.
Why does order provide security? Because order causes things to become familiar.
Why does familiarity breed security? Because familiar things are predictable and can be relied upon.
Laura Beth, should you rely upon things? No.
Why not? Because they’re transitory and never guaranteed.
Why is that? Because they’re earthly.
So then what should you rely on? God.
Ok, so why did you encounter such problems when you went to London? Because I relied on things for comfort.
Are you relying on things now? Yes.
Why? It’s easy, especially when they’re right there.
That was the skeleton of one of the thought processes. They take about half of a second and much after that they’re shooting off in so many directions I can’t keep track. Even in the nine questions above I can take off on any number of discussions (hence the skeletal descriptor). That’s why this London savoring business takes so long. There are so many paths, so many undertones, to explore. Last night I listened to the Wicked soundtrack the whole way through. I’d listen to it on my 45 minute commute every day. As I lay on my bed following every tune, I opened those places closed off for months now. The music brought back a tenth of the feelings, but even that was enough for discomfort. I kept a tight hold on the spigot threatening to gush.
It helps that the flow is controllable. In fact, I sometimes enjoy rolling the feelings around. The experience is...interesting. I like to process things, events, emotions, and whathaveyou internally. The interconnections are fascinating to follow.
I’ve got more to write, so there will be additional blog entries. Not sure when they’ll come, but there’s still a bit more stewin’ up there in the ‘ol brain.
At Long Last, My Country
Oh my, so here we are, months after my last update and I’m still presumably in London since this blog never recorded the trip home. I’m not entirely sure what happened—I got home, and then it was a rush to make up lost time with the fam before Ben left for school a week later and then it was off to school with me a week after that. But I’m getting ahead of myself, let’s go back to Friday, August 9, 2008.
On that Friday, the day before we were to fly home, I ran around finishing up my souvenir-buying in a typical London mist (although I didn’t really think London was terribly rainy during my three months there). I had been extraordinarily diligent in visiting the places I planned earlier in the summer on my “To see in London” list, so while a few of my flatmates were hurridly finishing up their sight-seeing I could relax and pack leisurely.
And then it came, Saturday morning, the day I had imagined for three months. Unfortunately, we weren’t to leave until 11AM (our flight was in the mid-afternoon), so we were stuck in the flat for a few hours, none of us able to sleep any later than 8AM (especially me after getting up at 6AM for the previous two months!). With my bags packed and ready to go, I settled down onto the flat’s computer to kill time while Maneeza tried to get Emily to play act through some of Shakespeare’s plays.
I know I’ve mentioned this a few times, but do you remember the cup that I would always drink out of? It had a special place in the kitchen behind the drainage rack where no one would bother it. I like to keep things like that for memory’s sake (for example, I have all the blue pens I’ve ever used since 9th grade. I take notes in class with nothing else.), but I had decided early on that that cup would be staying in London. Its memories were a little too painful, and I wasn’t quite up to such a tangible reminder of my summer. That glass, from the local Sainsbury’s and clouded with three months of hard water deposits, embodied my obsession with order throughout the summer. I had to see and experience the same things day after day to feel some sort of security in my surroundings.
But back to Saturday… When 10:45 rolled around (the bus was leaving at 11, we were to meet at 10:45), my flatmates and I hauled our luggage down the steps and rolled over to the Knaresborough residence—to find ourselves the first ones there. Before leaving, I did one final sweep through all of our flat just to have a look at it all before I left forever. There it was again—that uncomfortable feeling of leaving behind something familiar. Even though I disliked living there, it had become familiar, which was, in my book, a very good thing.
As we got on the bus, we all sat up front knowing that the engine was in the back and would make those seats unbearably hot (something you learn after more than a few bus tours). Only the interns who stayed the whole summer were left, so we all got our own seats, which was nice. As we drove along M6 (one of the main “highways”…M is for motorway, I believe), I watched the cars zooming by in the lane across from us. For some reason, the vividness of this memory would cause a bit of trouble when I got back to the States and had to think about things like driving on the right side of the road.
We arrived at the airport only to find that because our flight was for much later Air India wasn’t even checking in yet. *sigh* So we rolled our baggage carts (I pushed and then jumped on mine more than a few times) outside and settled in for about 2.5 hours. I had some yeast rolls filled with coconut I had purchased from a Philippine shop near our flat (wish I would have checked out these places more often—I think they had pretty good food. Except for the array of weird, dried seafood), so I munched on those while reading about management consulting from a booklet Ray had helped me print off. But that got boring, so I moved on to my English history book, and then finally decided to snooze a little. The weather was nice and alternated between cloudy and partly cloudy.
Eventually it was time to head back in, and I happened to be first in line to check in. I think one of my bags was overweight, but the lady didn’t charge me, which was nice. Once past security (aside: As she predicted, Maneeza was redirected for “extra” screening.), we still had some time, so we decided to grab some lunch. As we wandered around our terminal, it seemed oddly familiar. The layout, the seating, even the laptop ‘hotspot’. I think we went through that terminal when returning from our high school France/Spain trip. In any case, Maneeza, Emily, Kelsey, and I went off to “pub” which was really more of a bar and restaurant with pub food. AND I GOT TO HAVE STEAK AND GUINNESS PIE!!!! That was by far my favorite meal in London. The pie with sides of potatoes, vegetables, and a tall glass of tap water is simply amazing.
After lunch we found that it was just about time to go, so we went off for our gate. Within half an hour, the little room was packed, PACKED with people, mostly Indians, but we had arrived early enough to get seats in the room. After a bit of waiting it was time to board, and I ended up sitting just one row in front of Kelsey. I had a lot of things to occupy my time on board the flight, but mostly I just watched out the window until they asked us to close them. Why people would want to sleep is beyond me because we were flying into a time zone earlier in the day.
Most memorable story from the flight:
Big-mamma-Indian-flight-attendant: “Your ordered special meal?” *shoves a golden wrapped box at me*
Me: “Uhh, no?”
Big-mamma-Indian-flight-attendant: “You want special meal?”
Me: “Uhh, sure. Thank you.”
Me, to myself: Baked chicken and steamed veggies!! Something I can eat!
Apparently about half of our group received these random ‘special meals’. We’re not sure if the IE staff had anything to do with it, but I was appreciative.
The flight was relatively uneventful except for when an older man starting having seizures. That was intense. On a flight full of Indians (BTW, the plan was full, and by full I mean every seat was filled. I’ve never seen that in my life) doctors were plentiful, so I think they got him taken care of.
While we weren’t flying through the night, our window shades had to be closed, so there wasn’t much chance to gaze out at the ocean. Even then I might not have wanted to because, as I found out with Dad while working on the barn, I’m slightly afraid of heights. Didn’t know that. Anyways, we didn’t see much land until we were flying over Michigan. Kelsey and I had our noses pressed to the window (after making sure the other folks next to us didn’t want to look out), gazing down at Lake Michigan. As we flew into Chicago, Kelsey recognized her high school, subdivision, and a golf course where she played a lot during high school. The landing was uneventful, as was going through customs. In fact, my baggage wasn’t even inspected.
Speaking of baggage, it took FOREVER for it to arrive. With literally hundreds of people on board, I imagine there were mountains of baggage to send from the plane. It did take over an hour, and even then we had to comb through the bags coming out. By the end of the waiting we were all getting a little testy, but I was just ecstatic to be back. My mom and sisters were just beyond the doors a little ways away, and every time the doors would open for people with their luggage I’d strain to see them.
Finally my time came. There was my bag! I grabbed it, loaded it on my trolley, and rolled down the corridor with my now ex-flatmates to those blessed doors. Passing through, I saw them, my family. Katie and Ellen were holding up a welcome home sign while Mom smiled and waved as I came closer. Even though it was 1AM London time, I rushed over with newfound energy. Hugs and kisses all around, I could hardly believe there were right there, in front of me! So long, so long I had envisioned that meeting. It was everything I wanted, right then.
We hopped in the car (actually Katie’s. She started driving by herself over the summer) and drove up to my grandparents’ house in Kenosha, Wisconsin. I was assaulted with questions, but Grandma mercifully told everyone I needed my sleep since it was now 3AM in London. So, I was trundled off to bed in the basement. As I lay down on the couch, I thanked God. For bringing me home safely, for the end of the summer, for the experiences I had. Praying, I drifted off to sleep.
And that was it, ladies and gents, that was my summer. Over the past six months I’ve been reflecting and processing, but I’m sure I’m not finished. My next post (which I did write over Christmas break) will follow with a few reflections. If you’re reading this, thanks for sticking with me. The blog’s purpose was to record my experiences, but it also turned into an outlet for what was happening. It’s allowed a closer look into me than what I would normally share, but I suppose online written communication is far less scary than face-to-face. I honestly don’t know who all has read it—turns out I even had a blog stalker!—but I appreciate y’all taking the time to read this bit about me. If you get a chance, drop me a line about what you thought, or hey, the honesty box works well too.
Cheers!
On that Friday, the day before we were to fly home, I ran around finishing up my souvenir-buying in a typical London mist (although I didn’t really think London was terribly rainy during my three months there). I had been extraordinarily diligent in visiting the places I planned earlier in the summer on my “To see in London” list, so while a few of my flatmates were hurridly finishing up their sight-seeing I could relax and pack leisurely.
And then it came, Saturday morning, the day I had imagined for three months. Unfortunately, we weren’t to leave until 11AM (our flight was in the mid-afternoon), so we were stuck in the flat for a few hours, none of us able to sleep any later than 8AM (especially me after getting up at 6AM for the previous two months!). With my bags packed and ready to go, I settled down onto the flat’s computer to kill time while Maneeza tried to get Emily to play act through some of Shakespeare’s plays.
I know I’ve mentioned this a few times, but do you remember the cup that I would always drink out of? It had a special place in the kitchen behind the drainage rack where no one would bother it. I like to keep things like that for memory’s sake (for example, I have all the blue pens I’ve ever used since 9th grade. I take notes in class with nothing else.), but I had decided early on that that cup would be staying in London. Its memories were a little too painful, and I wasn’t quite up to such a tangible reminder of my summer. That glass, from the local Sainsbury’s and clouded with three months of hard water deposits, embodied my obsession with order throughout the summer. I had to see and experience the same things day after day to feel some sort of security in my surroundings.
But back to Saturday… When 10:45 rolled around (the bus was leaving at 11, we were to meet at 10:45), my flatmates and I hauled our luggage down the steps and rolled over to the Knaresborough residence—to find ourselves the first ones there. Before leaving, I did one final sweep through all of our flat just to have a look at it all before I left forever. There it was again—that uncomfortable feeling of leaving behind something familiar. Even though I disliked living there, it had become familiar, which was, in my book, a very good thing.
As we got on the bus, we all sat up front knowing that the engine was in the back and would make those seats unbearably hot (something you learn after more than a few bus tours). Only the interns who stayed the whole summer were left, so we all got our own seats, which was nice. As we drove along M6 (one of the main “highways”…M is for motorway, I believe), I watched the cars zooming by in the lane across from us. For some reason, the vividness of this memory would cause a bit of trouble when I got back to the States and had to think about things like driving on the right side of the road.
We arrived at the airport only to find that because our flight was for much later Air India wasn’t even checking in yet. *sigh* So we rolled our baggage carts (I pushed and then jumped on mine more than a few times) outside and settled in for about 2.5 hours. I had some yeast rolls filled with coconut I had purchased from a Philippine shop near our flat (wish I would have checked out these places more often—I think they had pretty good food. Except for the array of weird, dried seafood), so I munched on those while reading about management consulting from a booklet Ray had helped me print off. But that got boring, so I moved on to my English history book, and then finally decided to snooze a little. The weather was nice and alternated between cloudy and partly cloudy.
Eventually it was time to head back in, and I happened to be first in line to check in. I think one of my bags was overweight, but the lady didn’t charge me, which was nice. Once past security (aside: As she predicted, Maneeza was redirected for “extra” screening.), we still had some time, so we decided to grab some lunch. As we wandered around our terminal, it seemed oddly familiar. The layout, the seating, even the laptop ‘hotspot’. I think we went through that terminal when returning from our high school France/Spain trip. In any case, Maneeza, Emily, Kelsey, and I went off to “pub” which was really more of a bar and restaurant with pub food. AND I GOT TO HAVE STEAK AND GUINNESS PIE!!!! That was by far my favorite meal in London. The pie with sides of potatoes, vegetables, and a tall glass of tap water is simply amazing.
After lunch we found that it was just about time to go, so we went off for our gate. Within half an hour, the little room was packed, PACKED with people, mostly Indians, but we had arrived early enough to get seats in the room. After a bit of waiting it was time to board, and I ended up sitting just one row in front of Kelsey. I had a lot of things to occupy my time on board the flight, but mostly I just watched out the window until they asked us to close them. Why people would want to sleep is beyond me because we were flying into a time zone earlier in the day.
Most memorable story from the flight:
Big-mamma-Indian-flight-attendant: “Your ordered special meal?” *shoves a golden wrapped box at me*
Me: “Uhh, no?”
Big-mamma-Indian-flight-attendant: “You want special meal?”
Me: “Uhh, sure. Thank you.”
Me, to myself: Baked chicken and steamed veggies!! Something I can eat!
Apparently about half of our group received these random ‘special meals’. We’re not sure if the IE staff had anything to do with it, but I was appreciative.
The flight was relatively uneventful except for when an older man starting having seizures. That was intense. On a flight full of Indians (BTW, the plan was full, and by full I mean every seat was filled. I’ve never seen that in my life) doctors were plentiful, so I think they got him taken care of.
While we weren’t flying through the night, our window shades had to be closed, so there wasn’t much chance to gaze out at the ocean. Even then I might not have wanted to because, as I found out with Dad while working on the barn, I’m slightly afraid of heights. Didn’t know that. Anyways, we didn’t see much land until we were flying over Michigan. Kelsey and I had our noses pressed to the window (after making sure the other folks next to us didn’t want to look out), gazing down at Lake Michigan. As we flew into Chicago, Kelsey recognized her high school, subdivision, and a golf course where she played a lot during high school. The landing was uneventful, as was going through customs. In fact, my baggage wasn’t even inspected.
Speaking of baggage, it took FOREVER for it to arrive. With literally hundreds of people on board, I imagine there were mountains of baggage to send from the plane. It did take over an hour, and even then we had to comb through the bags coming out. By the end of the waiting we were all getting a little testy, but I was just ecstatic to be back. My mom and sisters were just beyond the doors a little ways away, and every time the doors would open for people with their luggage I’d strain to see them.
Finally my time came. There was my bag! I grabbed it, loaded it on my trolley, and rolled down the corridor with my now ex-flatmates to those blessed doors. Passing through, I saw them, my family. Katie and Ellen were holding up a welcome home sign while Mom smiled and waved as I came closer. Even though it was 1AM London time, I rushed over with newfound energy. Hugs and kisses all around, I could hardly believe there were right there, in front of me! So long, so long I had envisioned that meeting. It was everything I wanted, right then.
We hopped in the car (actually Katie’s. She started driving by herself over the summer) and drove up to my grandparents’ house in Kenosha, Wisconsin. I was assaulted with questions, but Grandma mercifully told everyone I needed my sleep since it was now 3AM in London. So, I was trundled off to bed in the basement. As I lay down on the couch, I thanked God. For bringing me home safely, for the end of the summer, for the experiences I had. Praying, I drifted off to sleep.
And that was it, ladies and gents, that was my summer. Over the past six months I’ve been reflecting and processing, but I’m sure I’m not finished. My next post (which I did write over Christmas break) will follow with a few reflections. If you’re reading this, thanks for sticking with me. The blog’s purpose was to record my experiences, but it also turned into an outlet for what was happening. It’s allowed a closer look into me than what I would normally share, but I suppose online written communication is far less scary than face-to-face. I honestly don’t know who all has read it—turns out I even had a blog stalker!—but I appreciate y’all taking the time to read this bit about me. If you get a chance, drop me a line about what you thought, or hey, the honesty box works well too.
Cheers!
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Homestretch
My last full weekend in London behind me, I set off for my remaining four days of work. For some reason, my program had us not working on Friday-- we didn't actually have exit interviews. Regardless, I was super excited as a walked/rode to work on Monday. Seriously, this was it! Last Monday I was incredibly antsy the entire day knowing that I was close but not nearly close enough. Now I was close.
The work week passed very quickly, for which I'm thankful. Tuesday night I went to see Pygmalion after work. The musical My Fair Lady was based on Pygmalion, so I've always wanted to see it since I really like the musical (and even have the soundtrack! But not with me, currently, more on that later....). Strangely, the play was much better than the musical at least plot-wise. The characters are more robust and there's a much clearer view of how the plot develops. Comparing the two, the musical seems quite shallow.
For example, in both the play and musical Eliza Doolittle makes clear to Professor Higgins that she intends to have only proper English lessons for she is "good girl she is" and will have nothing damaging her reputation. Although she is obviously lower class and clearly "dirty", she has managed to maintain a rare purity.
However, once she has mastered the art of being a lady, she wonders, while quite, understandably, exasperated, to Professor Higgins what she is good for now. The mannerisms he has taught her make her unfit to work in a flower shop yet because she is a "good girl" she can't sell her body in marriage or otherwise, though that seems all she has left to contribute as a pseudo-member of the upper class. Her realisation can be taken both as a remark on her as an individual and on the role of women in the upper class.
Oh my goodness, even as I write this I'm running through various other occurrences from the play. It was a fantastic commentary on class structure of the early 1900s in London. Its angles just keep going, and going, and going. But anyway, now that I've turned this blog into a discourse on comparative literature and theater, let me steer away a bit. (Though, if expanded, I imagine I could write a decent paper on Eliza's final realisation. C'mon guys, I'm trying to get into school mode again!)
On Wednesday night, I went to church for my final Wednesday night service. We'd been working on Psalm 18 since probably the third week of June and finally tied it all together this past Wednesday. The previous Wednesday, Pastor Jared had given us the divisions for the verses, and we were to find the connections and study the chapter as a whole. It was neat to see the chapter put together when we had just been studying it in chunks for the past 1.5 months. I've got a few pages scribbled with barely intelligible notes that I'll hopefully be able to decipher later on.
And then it came, that glorious final day of work! August 7th, the last day I would work at Pro Capital, Ltd. Finally. I sent a few emails in the morning and piddled around in the afternoon a little, but that was seriously about it. During the last two hours I just wanted to get out of there! I went out to my lunch park for the last time, taking with me my standard lunch of baguette sandwich, carrots, and a banana. But, I did buy a tippin bar (chocolate cookie bar type thing) to celebrate. After work, Oliver took us out for drinks which I thought would be insanely awkward but ended up being not too bad. He got us a plate of nachos to work on, which was nice. I've never had lime in my Coke before, but I couldn't really taste it. I think I might like to have lemon in Coke regularly. Hm, maybe I'll do some experimenting when we get back to the States.
We said our good-byes and Una (Oliver's assistant) and I walked to the Tube station together. I had to top up, so we exchanged our final well-wishes to each other. Suddenly, she was pulling me close to her side. "Uh, what are we doing?" I mentally asked. She pulled me to her other side. "Oh! That's what we're doing. European-style good-bye with a fake kiss to each side. Gotcha." Hm, I'll probably need to practice that a few more times before being comfortable to do it naturally. But, no chance now what with our flight taking off tomorrow afternoon (!!!).
As I rode down the escalator, I was a little sad. Strange, huh? The job I had waited to end was finally over yet there was a very weird part of me wanting it to remain. I think that's mostly because ending the internship meant the end of a certain amount of structure and security. You see, the internship had become normal. As much as it felt incredibly off during my first few weeks, I grew to be comfortable with it. Getting up at 6 AM every morning, eating my breakfast of tea, milk, two pieces of toast (one with cream cheese and raspberry jam, the other with peanut butter), and a clementine, riding the Tube while listening to my Mp3 player, going to the lunch park, coming back to the flat and having a glass of sparkling apple juice every evening. It was normal, it was structured.
But now that's all ending. My bags are packed, my carry on is ready, I'm all set to head out the door tomorrow morning never to return to this flat. Leaving will, however, be the end of a structure I have gotten used to. Some moments I'm sad to leave, some I'm ecstatic. On the culture adjustment cycle I think I'm bobbling between two states.
We all went out for Chinese at the place Katie Beth and I went to weeks ago. It's probably the only place where I've consistently gotten the same thing. Usually I like to try lots of different things, but at this particular place I found an item I liked and stuck with it. That item happened to be roast belly pork with egg fried rice. I've even eaten the entire meal with chopsticks all three times and have upped my skill level from laughably horrible to decently adequate. I found myself rather naturally picking up rice, pork, and cooked cabbage. The next time I have Chinese I want to eat it all with chopsticks.
Tonight, I went and bought a pasty from Baker's Oven and in just a few hours I'll head out and get chocolate ice cream. You see, Melissa, Katie Beth, and I got ice cream at that same place after returning from The Merry Wives of Windsor the night before KB was to leave. I promised myself that the night before I left I would get some more of that very same ice cream.
When Melissa left she had compiled a list of things she liked and disliked about London. A week or so before that, I had the idea to do something similar right before I left too. And my, was it going to be a list. I'd include good things and bad to have some balance, and it would stretch out for a long while. But see, a funny thing happened. I can't tell anymore what I like and dislike. London is...London. I haven't needed to 'escape the city' like I did when Katie Beth was here. I'm used to the whizzing cars, the lights, and the throngs of people. Every day I hear at least four languages and that would be a culturally relatively boring day.
Here's the kicker: I think in pounds, not dollars. It's been quite a while since I converted to dollars all the time. The conversion is ridiculous, always, so I just stopped and tried to spend money relatively well as best I could. I wonder if when going back to the States I'll be amazed at the 'cheap' prices.
It's weird. I don't know what I like and dislike anymore. It's all just there. I live in it. While this has been fantastic to adjusting to living here, I imagine returning might be slightly more difficult that I expect. Ever since early summer I've been watching my progress through the "cultural adjustment cycle." Boy, that thing is surprisingly accurate. We've all gone through the cycle at various times, but it has certainly happened to all of us. Perhaps during my five hours at the airport tomorrow or eight hours on the plane I'll draw up a graph to post on here. Or maybe Excel once I get back, we'll see.
And that's it folks, we leave the flats at 11 AM tomorrow for our flight at 4:10 PM. We land in Chicago at 6:45 PM, and from there my mom and sisters will pick me up. We'll spend the night at my grandparents house and then drive back to Burlington on Monday. I've got more to write, but I'm getting a bit tired (even though it's not even 9...) and a little antsy to be in the plane finally headed home. It's coming, tomorrow, it's coming. Wow, thank You Lord.
The work week passed very quickly, for which I'm thankful. Tuesday night I went to see Pygmalion after work. The musical My Fair Lady was based on Pygmalion, so I've always wanted to see it since I really like the musical (and even have the soundtrack! But not with me, currently, more on that later....). Strangely, the play was much better than the musical at least plot-wise. The characters are more robust and there's a much clearer view of how the plot develops. Comparing the two, the musical seems quite shallow.
For example, in both the play and musical Eliza Doolittle makes clear to Professor Higgins that she intends to have only proper English lessons for she is "good girl she is" and will have nothing damaging her reputation. Although she is obviously lower class and clearly "dirty", she has managed to maintain a rare purity.
However, once she has mastered the art of being a lady, she wonders, while quite, understandably, exasperated, to Professor Higgins what she is good for now. The mannerisms he has taught her make her unfit to work in a flower shop yet because she is a "good girl" she can't sell her body in marriage or otherwise, though that seems all she has left to contribute as a pseudo-member of the upper class. Her realisation can be taken both as a remark on her as an individual and on the role of women in the upper class.
Oh my goodness, even as I write this I'm running through various other occurrences from the play. It was a fantastic commentary on class structure of the early 1900s in London. Its angles just keep going, and going, and going. But anyway, now that I've turned this blog into a discourse on comparative literature and theater, let me steer away a bit. (Though, if expanded, I imagine I could write a decent paper on Eliza's final realisation. C'mon guys, I'm trying to get into school mode again!)
On Wednesday night, I went to church for my final Wednesday night service. We'd been working on Psalm 18 since probably the third week of June and finally tied it all together this past Wednesday. The previous Wednesday, Pastor Jared had given us the divisions for the verses, and we were to find the connections and study the chapter as a whole. It was neat to see the chapter put together when we had just been studying it in chunks for the past 1.5 months. I've got a few pages scribbled with barely intelligible notes that I'll hopefully be able to decipher later on.
And then it came, that glorious final day of work! August 7th, the last day I would work at Pro Capital, Ltd. Finally. I sent a few emails in the morning and piddled around in the afternoon a little, but that was seriously about it. During the last two hours I just wanted to get out of there! I went out to my lunch park for the last time, taking with me my standard lunch of baguette sandwich, carrots, and a banana. But, I did buy a tippin bar (chocolate cookie bar type thing) to celebrate. After work, Oliver took us out for drinks which I thought would be insanely awkward but ended up being not too bad. He got us a plate of nachos to work on, which was nice. I've never had lime in my Coke before, but I couldn't really taste it. I think I might like to have lemon in Coke regularly. Hm, maybe I'll do some experimenting when we get back to the States.
We said our good-byes and Una (Oliver's assistant) and I walked to the Tube station together. I had to top up, so we exchanged our final well-wishes to each other. Suddenly, she was pulling me close to her side. "Uh, what are we doing?" I mentally asked. She pulled me to her other side. "Oh! That's what we're doing. European-style good-bye with a fake kiss to each side. Gotcha." Hm, I'll probably need to practice that a few more times before being comfortable to do it naturally. But, no chance now what with our flight taking off tomorrow afternoon (!!!).
As I rode down the escalator, I was a little sad. Strange, huh? The job I had waited to end was finally over yet there was a very weird part of me wanting it to remain. I think that's mostly because ending the internship meant the end of a certain amount of structure and security. You see, the internship had become normal. As much as it felt incredibly off during my first few weeks, I grew to be comfortable with it. Getting up at 6 AM every morning, eating my breakfast of tea, milk, two pieces of toast (one with cream cheese and raspberry jam, the other with peanut butter), and a clementine, riding the Tube while listening to my Mp3 player, going to the lunch park, coming back to the flat and having a glass of sparkling apple juice every evening. It was normal, it was structured.
But now that's all ending. My bags are packed, my carry on is ready, I'm all set to head out the door tomorrow morning never to return to this flat. Leaving will, however, be the end of a structure I have gotten used to. Some moments I'm sad to leave, some I'm ecstatic. On the culture adjustment cycle I think I'm bobbling between two states.
We all went out for Chinese at the place Katie Beth and I went to weeks ago. It's probably the only place where I've consistently gotten the same thing. Usually I like to try lots of different things, but at this particular place I found an item I liked and stuck with it. That item happened to be roast belly pork with egg fried rice. I've even eaten the entire meal with chopsticks all three times and have upped my skill level from laughably horrible to decently adequate. I found myself rather naturally picking up rice, pork, and cooked cabbage. The next time I have Chinese I want to eat it all with chopsticks.
Tonight, I went and bought a pasty from Baker's Oven and in just a few hours I'll head out and get chocolate ice cream. You see, Melissa, Katie Beth, and I got ice cream at that same place after returning from The Merry Wives of Windsor the night before KB was to leave. I promised myself that the night before I left I would get some more of that very same ice cream.
When Melissa left she had compiled a list of things she liked and disliked about London. A week or so before that, I had the idea to do something similar right before I left too. And my, was it going to be a list. I'd include good things and bad to have some balance, and it would stretch out for a long while. But see, a funny thing happened. I can't tell anymore what I like and dislike. London is...London. I haven't needed to 'escape the city' like I did when Katie Beth was here. I'm used to the whizzing cars, the lights, and the throngs of people. Every day I hear at least four languages and that would be a culturally relatively boring day.
Here's the kicker: I think in pounds, not dollars. It's been quite a while since I converted to dollars all the time. The conversion is ridiculous, always, so I just stopped and tried to spend money relatively well as best I could. I wonder if when going back to the States I'll be amazed at the 'cheap' prices.
It's weird. I don't know what I like and dislike anymore. It's all just there. I live in it. While this has been fantastic to adjusting to living here, I imagine returning might be slightly more difficult that I expect. Ever since early summer I've been watching my progress through the "cultural adjustment cycle." Boy, that thing is surprisingly accurate. We've all gone through the cycle at various times, but it has certainly happened to all of us. Perhaps during my five hours at the airport tomorrow or eight hours on the plane I'll draw up a graph to post on here. Or maybe Excel once I get back, we'll see.
And that's it folks, we leave the flats at 11 AM tomorrow for our flight at 4:10 PM. We land in Chicago at 6:45 PM, and from there my mom and sisters will pick me up. We'll spend the night at my grandparents house and then drive back to Burlington on Monday. I've got more to write, but I'm getting a bit tired (even though it's not even 9...) and a little antsy to be in the plane finally headed home. It's coming, tomorrow, it's coming. Wow, thank You Lord.
Friday, August 8, 2008
The End of Touring
Hello, folks! Long time, no see! Well, that's really my fault more than anything, but, as I mentioned previously (a week ago...), I'm tired of just being on the computer! Goodness, this little Londoner needs some good 'ol big screen TV in her life.
Let's start with a quick recap on the past weekend:
I took off last Friday, August 1, because my program lets me have five days off total. That, and I really didn't want to work any more full weeks at Pro Capital. Anyways, that morning I went off to Alfie's Antiques Market just to look around. I kinda like looking at old stuff-- but I realized that each decade accumulates a lot of 'junk' that dealers try to pass off as collectible. Really, it's just out-of-date junk. Some of the stuff was neat but very much out of my price range. While walking back to the Tube station, I passed through a small street market and went in a fabric store to look around. My, it was a designer fabric store what with prices easily around £100 for a meter of fabric (3.28ish feet). In another small shop, I found a very classy set of slingback teal pumps for £15 but decided against them because I didn't really need them.
After the antiques market, I rode the Tube to Trafalgar Square and went up inside St. Martin-in-the-Fields (crazy long names...) to attend one of their free lunchtime concerts, which was a piano and violin duet. I really enjoy these types of sitdown performances and plan on going to lots of senior recitals at Truman this coming year.
From the church, I took the Tube up to Charles Dickens's house. Goodness, I've been trying to go there since early June and finally made it! My favourite part of the house was the curved wall and door in the dining room. It was neat to see some of the furniture saved from when Dickens lived there.
To round out the day, I headed over to Harrods for a final look around and a few pictures. Funny thing about that place, you've got the tourists and the shoppers. The tourists just gawk at everything while the shoppers plan to spend money. I saw a lot of Middle Eastern women decked out in bling-tastic burkahs ready to spend from their rich husbands' wallet.
On Saturday, August 2, Emily and I went off to Madame Tussaud's which is the original wax museum founded by, guess who, Madam Tussaud. It was neat to talk around the A-list celebrity hall not really knowing where the wax models were because they were usually not up on platforms. That way, you could stand next to them and feel like they were actually right there. I remember walking by a bald guy, doing a double take, and realizing it was Patrick Stewart. George Clooney, Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt, Daniel Radcliffe, Miley Cyrus, Orlando Bloom, Johnny Depp, the Beckams, Will Smith, John Wayne, Alfred Hitchcock.......The next room had sports, literature, and royalty folks such as Tiger Woods, Lance Armstrong, Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawking, the child Mozart, the Queen, Prince Charles, Princess Diana, King Henry VIII, Queen Victoria.........later on was the world leaders room with Nelson Mandela, Saddam Hussein, Yasar Arafat, Adolf Hitler, Tony Blair, George W. Bush, the Pope, the Reagans, Nixon, Kennedy.........(this list is mostly so I can remember years from now)
Some models seemed more accurate and life-like than others. For example, the President Bush one did not at all look like him, well, except for the cowboy boots. Visitors could go up to most of the models to pose with them- even so far as to touch them, it was expected.
Because I'm a wimp, I could muster the courage to go through the SCREAM! part of the gallery. It was basically meant to scare you, a lot, with screaming, a lot of screaming. Eheh. So, we moved on and went on a small ride they've made near the end of the tour. It's something like the Epcot ride in the middle of the Epcot ball. You ride in a mini London cab fashioned with two seats and go through the history of England...except that the history starts in the Middle Ages. The history book I bought early this summer says otherwise.
After finishing up at Madame Tussaud's, we walked through Regent's Park. London does have very good parks; it's been nice to explore a few. Finished with that, we went over to the Covent Garden market for a look around. But first, food! I requested a pub so we could get pub food, which is one of my new favourite types of food. And, very typically, I got fish and chips, mostly because I didn't know if I would have them again before leaving (which I haven't, and probably won't).
We then explored the craft section of the market. I had a headache (from caffeine withdrawl, though I don't know why. I hadn't consumed any more than normal), so I bought a Coke for £1 (good price). We wandered a bit and had some fun seeing the neat things the vendors had. I like markets; they're much more personal than a store.
On Sunday, August 3, I made my traditional (at least for the summer, anyway) pancakes. Before they left, Katie Beth and her flatmates gave me a lot of their extra food. One of the items was a bottle of syrup though it's not really maple-flavoured syrup. I'd say it's a little more like Golden Eagle. Anyways, I always put a bit of that and some raspberry jam on my pancakes. At home, I eat them plain with butter. After breakfast, I went off to church and spent my last Sunday at Bethesday. :(
Pastor Jared didn't finish until 12:45 PM (service starts at 11) and afterwards the church had prepared a lunch to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. Interesting note: My first and last Sundays at Bethesda were on the first Sundays of the month, and, thus, each had meals. I left around 2 but because I was meeting Jenni and Emily to go to Buckingham Palace at 2:45 PM I couldn't go get my hair cut as I was planning.
From the flat we went over to the Palace, got our advanced tickets for 3:45 PM, and got in line to enter. All of the tickets are by timed entry, so there were basically giant groups of people being herded about. We even had to go through security! In any case, the Palace was gorgeous. I think I liked it better than Windsor because Buckingham is where the Queen holds state dinners. Since her reign began ('52 or 53'?), the only US presidents to have one for them were Presidents Reagan and Bush (current). During our visit, they had the grand dining hall set up for a state dinner exactly as it would appear. All the plates and cutlery are measured so they are absolutely in line when looking down the table.
The drawing rooms are so incredibly ornate. I still wonder why one would need so many, in essence, humongous living rooms, but hey, it's a palace. Also, the Palace has 72 bathrooms and over 200 bedrooms! Even with all those bathrooms, we had to use the temporary ones outside the Palace. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to take pictures, so I caved and bought a £4 booklet of postcards.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the end of Laura Beth's touring in London. I made a list early this summer of all the places I wanted to visit. Then, I filled out my weekends with what I would see when, highlighting each item in my list with yellow once I had set a time for it. When I went to the place I wanted to see, I highlighted it in green. My list is now completely green. Wow.
Let's start with a quick recap on the past weekend:
I took off last Friday, August 1, because my program lets me have five days off total. That, and I really didn't want to work any more full weeks at Pro Capital. Anyways, that morning I went off to Alfie's Antiques Market just to look around. I kinda like looking at old stuff-- but I realized that each decade accumulates a lot of 'junk' that dealers try to pass off as collectible. Really, it's just out-of-date junk. Some of the stuff was neat but very much out of my price range. While walking back to the Tube station, I passed through a small street market and went in a fabric store to look around. My, it was a designer fabric store what with prices easily around £100 for a meter of fabric (3.28ish feet). In another small shop, I found a very classy set of slingback teal pumps for £15 but decided against them because I didn't really need them.
After the antiques market, I rode the Tube to Trafalgar Square and went up inside St. Martin-in-the-Fields (crazy long names...) to attend one of their free lunchtime concerts, which was a piano and violin duet. I really enjoy these types of sitdown performances and plan on going to lots of senior recitals at Truman this coming year.
From the church, I took the Tube up to Charles Dickens's house. Goodness, I've been trying to go there since early June and finally made it! My favourite part of the house was the curved wall and door in the dining room. It was neat to see some of the furniture saved from when Dickens lived there.
To round out the day, I headed over to Harrods for a final look around and a few pictures. Funny thing about that place, you've got the tourists and the shoppers. The tourists just gawk at everything while the shoppers plan to spend money. I saw a lot of Middle Eastern women decked out in bling-tastic burkahs ready to spend from their rich husbands' wallet.
On Saturday, August 2, Emily and I went off to Madame Tussaud's which is the original wax museum founded by, guess who, Madam Tussaud. It was neat to talk around the A-list celebrity hall not really knowing where the wax models were because they were usually not up on platforms. That way, you could stand next to them and feel like they were actually right there. I remember walking by a bald guy, doing a double take, and realizing it was Patrick Stewart. George Clooney, Angelina Jolie/Brad Pitt, Daniel Radcliffe, Miley Cyrus, Orlando Bloom, Johnny Depp, the Beckams, Will Smith, John Wayne, Alfred Hitchcock.......The next room had sports, literature, and royalty folks such as Tiger Woods, Lance Armstrong, Isaac Newton, Albert Einstein, Stephen Hawking, the child Mozart, the Queen, Prince Charles, Princess Diana, King Henry VIII, Queen Victoria.........later on was the world leaders room with Nelson Mandela, Saddam Hussein, Yasar Arafat, Adolf Hitler, Tony Blair, George W. Bush, the Pope, the Reagans, Nixon, Kennedy.........(this list is mostly so I can remember years from now)
Some models seemed more accurate and life-like than others. For example, the President Bush one did not at all look like him, well, except for the cowboy boots. Visitors could go up to most of the models to pose with them- even so far as to touch them, it was expected.
Because I'm a wimp, I could muster the courage to go through the SCREAM! part of the gallery. It was basically meant to scare you, a lot, with screaming, a lot of screaming. Eheh. So, we moved on and went on a small ride they've made near the end of the tour. It's something like the Epcot ride in the middle of the Epcot ball. You ride in a mini London cab fashioned with two seats and go through the history of England...except that the history starts in the Middle Ages. The history book I bought early this summer says otherwise.
After finishing up at Madame Tussaud's, we walked through Regent's Park. London does have very good parks; it's been nice to explore a few. Finished with that, we went over to the Covent Garden market for a look around. But first, food! I requested a pub so we could get pub food, which is one of my new favourite types of food. And, very typically, I got fish and chips, mostly because I didn't know if I would have them again before leaving (which I haven't, and probably won't).
We then explored the craft section of the market. I had a headache (from caffeine withdrawl, though I don't know why. I hadn't consumed any more than normal), so I bought a Coke for £1 (good price). We wandered a bit and had some fun seeing the neat things the vendors had. I like markets; they're much more personal than a store.
On Sunday, August 3, I made my traditional (at least for the summer, anyway) pancakes. Before they left, Katie Beth and her flatmates gave me a lot of their extra food. One of the items was a bottle of syrup though it's not really maple-flavoured syrup. I'd say it's a little more like Golden Eagle. Anyways, I always put a bit of that and some raspberry jam on my pancakes. At home, I eat them plain with butter. After breakfast, I went off to church and spent my last Sunday at Bethesday. :(
Pastor Jared didn't finish until 12:45 PM (service starts at 11) and afterwards the church had prepared a lunch to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. Interesting note: My first and last Sundays at Bethesda were on the first Sundays of the month, and, thus, each had meals. I left around 2 but because I was meeting Jenni and Emily to go to Buckingham Palace at 2:45 PM I couldn't go get my hair cut as I was planning.
From the flat we went over to the Palace, got our advanced tickets for 3:45 PM, and got in line to enter. All of the tickets are by timed entry, so there were basically giant groups of people being herded about. We even had to go through security! In any case, the Palace was gorgeous. I think I liked it better than Windsor because Buckingham is where the Queen holds state dinners. Since her reign began ('52 or 53'?), the only US presidents to have one for them were Presidents Reagan and Bush (current). During our visit, they had the grand dining hall set up for a state dinner exactly as it would appear. All the plates and cutlery are measured so they are absolutely in line when looking down the table.
The drawing rooms are so incredibly ornate. I still wonder why one would need so many, in essence, humongous living rooms, but hey, it's a palace. Also, the Palace has 72 bathrooms and over 200 bedrooms! Even with all those bathrooms, we had to use the temporary ones outside the Palace. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to take pictures, so I caved and bought a £4 booklet of postcards.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the end of Laura Beth's touring in London. I made a list early this summer of all the places I wanted to visit. Then, I filled out my weekends with what I would see when, highlighting each item in my list with yellow once I had set a time for it. When I went to the place I wanted to see, I highlighted it in green. My list is now completely green. Wow.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
On Holiday in London: Part 3
Getting tired of this yet? No worries, there's just a bit more. Well, a few more days any way. Long weekends do end eventually, which is sad, but their end means I'm ever closer to coming home.
In any case, on Saturday morning at 9:30 I met up with Melissa and we headed over to the Imperial War Museum, which is a giant (and free) collection of all things war concerning Great Britain. In the main room, they've got tanks, submarines, and planes, and the surrounding halls and floors have various exhibits on war-- mostly WWI and WWII. Over the summer, I'd noticed that Brits and Europeans in general have a very intense fixation with WWII. I never knew why since the war ended over sixty years ago, most of them weren't alive then. But then I found out. The War pervaded so much of their life and left them reeling for years and years afterward. It's effects are still very readily felt today. The Museum was extremely well put-together, and I really enjoyed walking through the 'Children's War' exhibit that showcased how the War affected children in Great Britain.
Finished there, we took the Tube to London Bridge and found the Bramah Tea & Coffee Museum, one that I had tried to see earlier this summer. Unfortunately, it was still undergoing renovation. But, since it was lunch time we grabbed kebabs and took them over to Southwark Cathedral, a church I had toured back in early June. There was a market going on behind us, so after finishing eating, we wandered around and split a giant, delicious £2 brownie. Yum! Melissa headed back while I called Emily to meet up with her for our next grand adventure.
And where was that adventure to take us? Well, back up near Highgate Cemetery is a giant park called Hampstead Heath which contains a large hill called Parliament Hill overlooking London. After getting off the Tube, we hiked around for a while trying to find the Hill and finally did after much path guessing. We even saw some crazy loons and ducks and what we thought was a gypsy camp of trailers. We walked down Parliament Hill and even though our view was obscured by leafy trees, it was still very neat. At the bottom, we had to figure out how to get back to the station, though, because we had just walked across half the 720 acre park, so we hopped on a bus-- my first public transit bus in London!-- to get to the station. Back at the flat, we just sat around after walking all afternoon.
That night, we took Lacey, a gal we all met during Session I, out to eat at the Chinese place Katie Beth and I had gone to in the last week of June because she was set to leave with the other non-interns on Tuesday the 29th. I got in some more chopstick practice, but I'm afraid my skills are still pretty abysmal. I really like the food there.
The next morning, I met up with Melissa and we headed out for church, her last time at Bethesda. Before the sermon, Pastor Jared was talking about a few people getting ready to leave-- one of them being Melissa, leaving Laura Beth 'the regular.' Did you hear that?! He called me a regular!! I do come whenever I can and that's been going on since late May. I'm so thankful for the people there.
After church, we came back and Emily asked if I'd like to go to Henley, a giant, multi-floor, iconic toy store in London. Me, being not terribly intelligent, said yes and proceeded to spend the next hour traveling for a total of three minutes in the store. Why, you ask? I had to be back for afternoon tea at 3:30 with Melissa and company. Silly Tube, never seems to be on time when you need it.
Anyways, I got back huffing and puffing after a brief sprint down Hogarth Road over to the Knaresborough residence to find Melissa, Erika, and Emily waiting to head out. Seven minutes late, that's not too bad, right? We hiked it over to Hyde Park and then past Kensington Palace to The Orangery, a fancy tea room. The line was pretty long, so while Erika and Melissa held our spots Emily and I went to find some water. On returning we waited just a few minutes and were seated under an umbrella on the front patio. And it was perfect weather for tea! We all ordered Orangery Tea for £12.50 which included tea, cucumber sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam, and Orangery cake. We each got our own teapot, and the waiter brought out our food items in courses! Oh man, it was so amazing! I've decided Katie Beth and I are going to have real tea back in Kirksville, like with sandwiches and cakes and things. Now I just need a real teapot...(maybe find one at the antiques market I'm going to tomorrow?)
We got back to the flats, and I met up with Emily because we were heading out to the London Eye in the evening. The London Eye is a giant, slow-moving (i.e. 1 revolution takes 30 minutes) Ferris wheel that was erected in 2001 (I believe). We chose to go at night to see London from above with all its lights ablaze- plus, we'd seen London from above during the day from St. Paul's Cathedral. About thirty people are in each pod and during our 'flight' (yes, it's called a flight) we all scrambled around to get pictures and look at everything. The neatest part was seeing Parliament from above. At 9 PM, the Parliament/Big Ben lights turned on-- very, very cool.
And that was that; we went back to the flat to get ready for work on Monday. Wow, what an amazing four-day weekend! I thoroughly enjoyed each and every day- it was so much fun to explore this grand city. Seeing so many amazing sights, experiencing so many amazing things. Sometimes I can't believe it all, and after I get back I hope I'll look on these times with absolute amazement. It is so incredibly amazing to be here, no matter how many rough spots have come along.
I would also like to put into writing a very historic fact: I wore a skirt all of Sunday. Literally, all Sunday from church to London Eye. I don't think I've done that in the past decade, at least! It really wasn't too bad besides the blisters from my flats...ah well.
In any case, on Saturday morning at 9:30 I met up with Melissa and we headed over to the Imperial War Museum, which is a giant (and free) collection of all things war concerning Great Britain. In the main room, they've got tanks, submarines, and planes, and the surrounding halls and floors have various exhibits on war-- mostly WWI and WWII. Over the summer, I'd noticed that Brits and Europeans in general have a very intense fixation with WWII. I never knew why since the war ended over sixty years ago, most of them weren't alive then. But then I found out. The War pervaded so much of their life and left them reeling for years and years afterward. It's effects are still very readily felt today. The Museum was extremely well put-together, and I really enjoyed walking through the 'Children's War' exhibit that showcased how the War affected children in Great Britain.
Finished there, we took the Tube to London Bridge and found the Bramah Tea & Coffee Museum, one that I had tried to see earlier this summer. Unfortunately, it was still undergoing renovation. But, since it was lunch time we grabbed kebabs and took them over to Southwark Cathedral, a church I had toured back in early June. There was a market going on behind us, so after finishing eating, we wandered around and split a giant, delicious £2 brownie. Yum! Melissa headed back while I called Emily to meet up with her for our next grand adventure.
And where was that adventure to take us? Well, back up near Highgate Cemetery is a giant park called Hampstead Heath which contains a large hill called Parliament Hill overlooking London. After getting off the Tube, we hiked around for a while trying to find the Hill and finally did after much path guessing. We even saw some crazy loons and ducks and what we thought was a gypsy camp of trailers. We walked down Parliament Hill and even though our view was obscured by leafy trees, it was still very neat. At the bottom, we had to figure out how to get back to the station, though, because we had just walked across half the 720 acre park, so we hopped on a bus-- my first public transit bus in London!-- to get to the station. Back at the flat, we just sat around after walking all afternoon.
That night, we took Lacey, a gal we all met during Session I, out to eat at the Chinese place Katie Beth and I had gone to in the last week of June because she was set to leave with the other non-interns on Tuesday the 29th. I got in some more chopstick practice, but I'm afraid my skills are still pretty abysmal. I really like the food there.
The next morning, I met up with Melissa and we headed out for church, her last time at Bethesda. Before the sermon, Pastor Jared was talking about a few people getting ready to leave-- one of them being Melissa, leaving Laura Beth 'the regular.' Did you hear that?! He called me a regular!! I do come whenever I can and that's been going on since late May. I'm so thankful for the people there.
After church, we came back and Emily asked if I'd like to go to Henley, a giant, multi-floor, iconic toy store in London. Me, being not terribly intelligent, said yes and proceeded to spend the next hour traveling for a total of three minutes in the store. Why, you ask? I had to be back for afternoon tea at 3:30 with Melissa and company. Silly Tube, never seems to be on time when you need it.
Anyways, I got back huffing and puffing after a brief sprint down Hogarth Road over to the Knaresborough residence to find Melissa, Erika, and Emily waiting to head out. Seven minutes late, that's not too bad, right? We hiked it over to Hyde Park and then past Kensington Palace to The Orangery, a fancy tea room. The line was pretty long, so while Erika and Melissa held our spots Emily and I went to find some water. On returning we waited just a few minutes and were seated under an umbrella on the front patio. And it was perfect weather for tea! We all ordered Orangery Tea for £12.50 which included tea, cucumber sandwiches, scones with clotted cream and jam, and Orangery cake. We each got our own teapot, and the waiter brought out our food items in courses! Oh man, it was so amazing! I've decided Katie Beth and I are going to have real tea back in Kirksville, like with sandwiches and cakes and things. Now I just need a real teapot...(maybe find one at the antiques market I'm going to tomorrow?)
We got back to the flats, and I met up with Emily because we were heading out to the London Eye in the evening. The London Eye is a giant, slow-moving (i.e. 1 revolution takes 30 minutes) Ferris wheel that was erected in 2001 (I believe). We chose to go at night to see London from above with all its lights ablaze- plus, we'd seen London from above during the day from St. Paul's Cathedral. About thirty people are in each pod and during our 'flight' (yes, it's called a flight) we all scrambled around to get pictures and look at everything. The neatest part was seeing Parliament from above. At 9 PM, the Parliament/Big Ben lights turned on-- very, very cool.
And that was that; we went back to the flat to get ready for work on Monday. Wow, what an amazing four-day weekend! I thoroughly enjoyed each and every day- it was so much fun to explore this grand city. Seeing so many amazing sights, experiencing so many amazing things. Sometimes I can't believe it all, and after I get back I hope I'll look on these times with absolute amazement. It is so incredibly amazing to be here, no matter how many rough spots have come along.
I would also like to put into writing a very historic fact: I wore a skirt all of Sunday. Literally, all Sunday from church to London Eye. I don't think I've done that in the past decade, at least! It really wasn't too bad besides the blisters from my flats...ah well.
On Holiday in London: Part 2
So that was Thursday the 24th, now for Friday the 25th:
Friday was another day scheduled for some intense sight-seeing. As I found out, I managed to cram quite a bit into Thursday and Friday, thus allowing a little flexibility for my later days. Anyways, I began the day with a tour of Westminster Abbey. While I was there the previous night, I thought it would be a little cheap just to look at the graves inside the Abbey as I was walking out plus I wanted to go on the much-lauded audio tour. Gotta love ISIC cards (International Student Identity Card [Wait, it seems redundant to say 'ISIC card'...]) getting student discounts!
The audio guide really was fantastic- it included organ and choir music and even had some video (imagine that- my audio guide had video! Sweet!). For the next 1.5 hours, I wandered around the Abbey looking at truly amazing things like the tombs of kings from the 11th Century, the grave of William Cromwell/various poets (Lord Byron, Tennyson, etc.)/Handel/Isaac Newton/Darwin, and the coronation chair where every English monarch since the 1000s has been crowned. Wow. Near the exit, I bought tickets for a summer organ festival performance for the next Tuesday (the 29th)-- I like organs.
After the Abbey, I met up with Melissa at St. James's Church near Piccadilly Circus to attend a free lunch time concert. Wow, those performers were amazing! The two young women studied at the Royal College of Music, the place housing the museum I toured the day before. One played the violin while the other played the piano. The concert was about an hour, and the music they performed near the end I thought could only be done with computers-- how could humans move that fast for that long? Anyways, I'd been looking forward to these concerts because I had hoped to hear some classical music sometime this summer.
Finishing up with the concert, Melissa and I went over to the British Library to look at their collection of ancient/important documents. Oh my. I have never seen so many neat docs! I can't even remember all of them-- one of the original 180 Gutenberg Bible, Jane Austen's writing desk/her notes for 'Persuasion', a letter from John Maynard Keynes, hand-written lyrics by the Beetles, Mozart, and Purcell, and, get this, the MAGNA CARTA (one of the four copies)!
The documents are stored in a large, darkened room ringed with greenish-blue fluorescent light strips. Melissa and I wandered around at our own pace, quietly containing our outbursts at each passing document. That is, until I watched a swarm, literally swarm, of young leadership high schoolers descend upon Melissa on their way to the Magna Carta. Run, Melissa, run! The quiet room was suddenly abuzz with the furtive whisperings of young tourists. My decision? See the Magna Carta and then get out! Turns out they were part of a rather giant group from somewhere in the Southern US-- a few from churches.
After the Library, Melissa went on back to the flats while I continued on to the British Museum. And then the craziest thing happened. While approaching the entrance, I saw some terribly familiar ties, dress shirts, and dresses. Hm. AHHH!! They have the same lanyards! Oh no, these are the same people who overtook the British Library!! Impossible! I hurried on up ahead so I wouldn't get caught behind them...
For me, the main draw of the Museum was the Rosetta Stone. Yes, the Rosetta Stone, the one used to crack Egyptian hieroglyphics, the same stone I remember, down to the page, learning about in 6th Grade social studies. It was something like seeing the Mona Lisa in the Louvre-- everyone is pushing and shoving to get a good pic, so there isn't much time to look at the thing itself. But, unlike the Mona Lissa, the Rosetta Stone is quite big. I wandered around a bit of the rest of the Museum, stopping at things like Greek Parthenon sculpture and Aztec ruins. It's strange to see North American artefacts here in London.
And so ended another glorious holiday in London. I'm terribly enjoying these days spent exploring the city! It's nice to be a tourist, not a student nor an intern, just a tourist out for fun.
Friday was another day scheduled for some intense sight-seeing. As I found out, I managed to cram quite a bit into Thursday and Friday, thus allowing a little flexibility for my later days. Anyways, I began the day with a tour of Westminster Abbey. While I was there the previous night, I thought it would be a little cheap just to look at the graves inside the Abbey as I was walking out plus I wanted to go on the much-lauded audio tour. Gotta love ISIC cards (International Student Identity Card [Wait, it seems redundant to say 'ISIC card'...]) getting student discounts!
The audio guide really was fantastic- it included organ and choir music and even had some video (imagine that- my audio guide had video! Sweet!). For the next 1.5 hours, I wandered around the Abbey looking at truly amazing things like the tombs of kings from the 11th Century, the grave of William Cromwell/various poets (Lord Byron, Tennyson, etc.)/Handel/Isaac Newton/Darwin, and the coronation chair where every English monarch since the 1000s has been crowned. Wow. Near the exit, I bought tickets for a summer organ festival performance for the next Tuesday (the 29th)-- I like organs.
After the Abbey, I met up with Melissa at St. James's Church near Piccadilly Circus to attend a free lunch time concert. Wow, those performers were amazing! The two young women studied at the Royal College of Music, the place housing the museum I toured the day before. One played the violin while the other played the piano. The concert was about an hour, and the music they performed near the end I thought could only be done with computers-- how could humans move that fast for that long? Anyways, I'd been looking forward to these concerts because I had hoped to hear some classical music sometime this summer.
Finishing up with the concert, Melissa and I went over to the British Library to look at their collection of ancient/important documents. Oh my. I have never seen so many neat docs! I can't even remember all of them-- one of the original 180 Gutenberg Bible, Jane Austen's writing desk/her notes for 'Persuasion', a letter from John Maynard Keynes, hand-written lyrics by the Beetles, Mozart, and Purcell, and, get this, the MAGNA CARTA (one of the four copies)!
The documents are stored in a large, darkened room ringed with greenish-blue fluorescent light strips. Melissa and I wandered around at our own pace, quietly containing our outbursts at each passing document. That is, until I watched a swarm, literally swarm, of young leadership high schoolers descend upon Melissa on their way to the Magna Carta. Run, Melissa, run! The quiet room was suddenly abuzz with the furtive whisperings of young tourists. My decision? See the Magna Carta and then get out! Turns out they were part of a rather giant group from somewhere in the Southern US-- a few from churches.
After the Library, Melissa went on back to the flats while I continued on to the British Museum. And then the craziest thing happened. While approaching the entrance, I saw some terribly familiar ties, dress shirts, and dresses. Hm. AHHH!! They have the same lanyards! Oh no, these are the same people who overtook the British Library!! Impossible! I hurried on up ahead so I wouldn't get caught behind them...
For me, the main draw of the Museum was the Rosetta Stone. Yes, the Rosetta Stone, the one used to crack Egyptian hieroglyphics, the same stone I remember, down to the page, learning about in 6th Grade social studies. It was something like seeing the Mona Lisa in the Louvre-- everyone is pushing and shoving to get a good pic, so there isn't much time to look at the thing itself. But, unlike the Mona Lissa, the Rosetta Stone is quite big. I wandered around a bit of the rest of the Museum, stopping at things like Greek Parthenon sculpture and Aztec ruins. It's strange to see North American artefacts here in London.
And so ended another glorious holiday in London. I'm terribly enjoying these days spent exploring the city! It's nice to be a tourist, not a student nor an intern, just a tourist out for fun.
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