When in Rome!

I suppose to start my reading break adventures properly, I must start with London. After our night at the youth hostel, we went to the Globe theatre as our last planned trip with the group. That was Thurday. In my mind, Thursday was 'tube' day. I know the tube is handy for travelling long distances, but there comes a point when efficiency just doesn't measure up. I felt like a sewer rat, peeping my head above the ground to catch a glimpse of St. Paul's Cathedral, then Buckingham, then Westminster... then slinking back into the dark abyss of the London metro system, which contrary to popular belief, is not as simple as people make it out to be. Moving on. That's exactly what we did. After crashing on Buckinham's steps from sheer exhaustion with Laura, Jodi, and Sharon, and sharing my musings that James, being a young and aspiring scientist, should attempt to liquify himself and then evaporate so he could then become a cloud, and maybe visit me on the steps of Buckingham. If any of you are moaning because you think that's lame, just picture 4 girls lying on their backs under the stars at the queen's palace, laughing their heads off with every passing cloud. Ya-- London was good.
After our two, possibly most glorious, hours spent at McDonalds at the Termina, where we got a free mcflurry because we stayed so long, we said our goodbyes to Sharon and Jodi, then caught our bus to Louton airport. The bus driver was a funny man, but an hour late in getting us there. Not that we were in a hurry or anything, having 5 hours to kill before our flight left. SO, I found us the most remote corner, set up my pashmina as a tent and Laura and I had our first snuggle. I felt homeless. It was great.
When we could finally board, we were a bit worried about the plane. It looked like blue and yellow plastic wind up toy. But I just got on, fell asleep, woke up to see the Alps, and two hours later we were in Rome!
We found our hostel no problem.. but finding the place wasn't the problem. I don't know if any other place can properly describe "sketch", being in some sort of ghetto.. but I will save those details till I'm home, so nobody needs to worry.
Today was fabulous! We checked out, stocked up on free breakfast, and started the day by trying to find our new hostel, "ciau bella". That was an adventure. After discovering 157, our hostel number, was a local mini mart, we got a little worried. Luckily Laura spotted the hostel two doors down. Phew. We checked in, and started the day off by hopping onto the tour bus and getting off at the Colosseums. The details of this experience can wait, mostly because I feel my lousy words are inadequate. The fact that those stones have been standing since before Christ just blows my mind.
Next was the Vatican, home of 147 dead popes, including St. Peter. We arrived just after the pope gave his speech at 12, which was unfortunate. We thought today everything was free, only to discover that deal ended at noon. Again, unfortunate. We also missed the Sistene Chapel. Woops-- but tomorrow is another day.
We did quite a hike along the Tiber River, where we encountered hundreds of cheap knock off sunglasses and name brand hand bags. Lame. Then we met the 'wailing lady' who was not quite right in the head, and would wail consistently at 5 second intervals. The best part was when she started chasing a tourist, sporadically smacking her on the head as she ran. Of course the lady was spazzing out, and from close range, you can see why that would be a bit entertaining. Moving on.
After walking for a very long time at this point, Laura started to droop, and I realized two very important things. If she is dehydrated, or unable to releive herself, she simply cannot go on. But, find her a bathroom, where one can refill a water bottle and drink as much as you like, and she's instantly alive again. She's like some sort of daisy. So, with renewed vigour we attempted about a thousand stairs to get to the Villa Borghesa, for one incredible view of the city. There was also a little carnival going on at the top of this hill, something like kid heaven. I had envious feelings.

Making our way back to the main street we were stopped by an Italion father and his guitar playing son. Clearly this was a case of "oh- you are northamerican, you can help my son become famous". We were amused, so we spoke to them for awhile, until we realized this probobly wasn't his son, and he was trying to get us to go out for dinner with him. Weird. We ran away.

Back at Ciau Bella we met Alicia, another traveller, and the three of us had dinner then sat on the Spanish Steps, where we were serenaded by 4 very talented musicians. They sang "more than words" which warmed my heart, and soon they had a whole crowd singing along, which started with us three girls. We were also sitting by one hilarious group of Indonesians, who spoke perfect English, and were studying in the Netherlands. Don't be suprised if you see some very funny pictures of us and our friends from Italy pop up on facebook. That might just have been my highlight of the night. Speaking of night, it is passed 11, which means the hostel has entered "quiet hour" which nobody seems to care about here anyways.
The man who runs this place speaks spanish, and he thinks I do too, which is hilarious, but I'm giving it my best shot. Why not??
When in Rome..!!

Break

I am writing this from our youth hostel in London, and I have 7 minutes left of prepaid internet. So forgive me if this is brief. Today we toured the house of commons, and the house of lords, then had lunch with a few of the MP's.. (Doug, Dave, Dad and grandpa- I thought of you) It was interesting when the question was posed - how we canadians view Americans. Their was a lot of anti-American sentiment, which I tried to even out with a comment on how we should appreciate them a bit more, considering the size of our military forces. I mean- I think the US has some vested interest in protecting us. I was practically laughed out of the room.
From there I went on to explore the national art gallery, Buckingham Palace, and a mexican restaurant. All of which proved a good time.
Tomorrow we tour a bit more, then at 11:40 pm, Laura and I catch a bus for two pounds to Louton airport, sleep at this airport, hop on a plane at 6:30 am, and make our way to Rome!
If you don't hear from me in the next 10 days, that's where I'll be.
Cheers!

wake up call

I wake up every morning to a symphony. A rare assortment of ‘things’ that blend their voices at the crack of dawn- long before my poor alarm clock has the chance to join the choir. The punctuality of this group amazes me. I have been here for a solid month, and without fail the music greets me. I am not impressed with their overall attitude, finding it quite all right to snag me in my dreams. Of course- they are pushy- and once they find me, set to work on nudging me out of my bubble of sleep so I can hear the prelude.

I am convinced there is a wolf living next door. His howl slices the silence in my room, more importantly in my head, and forces me to pay attention. I’m telling you, this is a pushy group. After about three or four mournful calls, the choir is properly assembled. Tiger carries the base line- usually around the time the milkman comes and clinks his bottles onto the front steps. I’m assuming the deep throaty growl means he’s pissed off. For the time being, I can rejoice in his arthritic legs. He can’t climb the stairs.

I am also convinced Bethoven lives upstairs- one room over, in the attached house. The staccato notes pumped out of the piano feel no need to reside in their own home, but play around in my bed instead. No real winters make for paper thin walls- which are great if an orchestra is trying to get through to you. The piano to my left is matched with the sweet soprano of the shower to my right. Beccy is up, and the Tiger is now happy. His base line jumps an octave- resembling excited barks. Bear in mind the choir is keeping impeccable timing to the lone wolf’s incessant call. He’s got stamina. At this point, the sun has decided to peep up and join the action. It’s a silent accomplice to the symphony, operating on my eyes while my ears are kept busy. Kind of insensitive- to try to blind someone in their sleep. I am convinced the sun has special powers. I can’t ignore it. Once the sun gets involved, colours start changing, the birds get excited, the church bells start singing, and I’m done. There is no nudging your way back into sleep. The bubble is popped.

After all this, this repeated ritual, the continual practice or performance (there is no difference) that has been going on for roughly a month, it just makes me wonder- why the heck do I keep setting my alarm clock? I’m sure it’s depressed with its constant failure to start my day.

Bring it on

Plays we've read in the past 31/2 weeks

Oedipus Rex
The Bacchae
Everyman
Mankind
Dr. Faustus
Volpone
Richard II
Henry IV
Henry V
Macbeth
Othello
Antony and Cleopatra
The Kite Runner ( not a play, but a must read!)

I don't mean to brag, but that's an aweful lot of reading material to accomplish in just over three weeks. Not to mention they are plays written in Old English. But the end is near- with our schedule looking something like this

Today- over
Thursday- research, lunch at the college, class from 2-4, then a Valentine's day bash with the Charlbury community- which reminds me, Tim and I are supposed to sing a song...and we haven't practiced.
Friday- Exam day
Saturday- more exam day, Lewis and Tolkien tour with Dr. Loney, a pizza party with the group, then another play to watch in Oxford
Sunday- church and hopefully no schoolwork
Monday-Wednesday- time to come up with two 10 page papers, and three shorter assignments.

That- my friends, will mark the end of the first term. After that, we head to London, watch a show, have a slumber party in our first hostel, then we all head off to our spring break destinations. Ahhh.. when in Rome

But let me bring you back to today. There is something slightly unnerving about taking your prof head on when he begins his class by openly ridiculing the absurdity of Calvinism, and the notion of predestination. Now, I recognize this is an issue even among fellow brothers and sisters in Christ, mostly because it is incredibly difficult to wrap your head around free will, and predestination. And so a part of me was thinking- wow- are we really going to get into this? Should I get into this? (Academics and laziness can often go hand in hand- don't be fooled) But as the initial introductory remarks turned into open hostility-- I resolved to be bold.

I opened my mouth- and we had ourselves one heck of an intense discussion for the next two hours.

I just wrote all about it, and then the internet cut out, and it deleted- without saving. Rather than recap the whole thing, we'll call it providence, and leave it at that.

Cheers!

Stratford

Today we explored the birthplace of a man that has become an increasing source of pain for me over the past few weeks. Now, it's not that I don't like Shakespeare, because I do. The man is brilliant. But having to read Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, and Macbeth in one night has this way of getting extremely tedious. Then to discuss Shakespeare for four straight hours on a sunny spring day!! Painful. But I do have to say that Rupert Arrowsmith not only has a great name, but a great passion for William Shakespeare, and a way of unlocking the mysteries of his tragedies in such a way that makes the whole experience more enjoyable than I had initially anticipated.

That being said, Stratford was a treat. I woke up to see the sun shining, sang my way to the baptist church, did a little dance because of the weather, and then hopped into Madelaine's car with Laura, Sharon, and Heather. I think half the excitement for me is the drive through the countryside. I love road trips. And when they are in England- wow. Just that much better. We started off the day with a tour through the home of Anne Hathaway- wife of Shakespeare. Our tour guide was border-line scary, which made things very amusing. She was one of those ladies who would gladly devote 4 hours of her time to discuss the finer details of when Shakespeare most likely went to the bathroom, or what spoon he may have used to eat his custard. A die hard. She also had this crazy tendency of introducing every new thought with a question, which she would immediately answer herself. For all that, I liked her. She was quirky.

After that we headed into the heart of Stratford, split into groups, and went on to see the birth place of Shakespeare, Nash's house ( home of his daughter and son-in law) and the church where he was buried. The man is an icon.

As fascinating as the houses were, I really enjoyed walking through the town, our picnic lunch along the Avon, and our pit stop at the mini- stone henge. Just for the record, there are exactly 72 stones arranged in a massive circle. I know this, because I counted. Marion tried to tell us that part of the mystery/magic of the stones is that 1) they don't know how they got there, or for what purpose, and 2) you will never count the same number of stones twice.
Both of which, I disproved. Mark and I both counted 72 stones, and they were placed there for time travel. It's true- just ask Dianna Gabaldon, author of Outlander (a great historical fiction)

When we got home, I met up with Beccy walking Tiger and so I joined them for a walk, just in time to catch one brilliant sunset. Then I ate a sandwich. Heather called about 5 minutes later, and said she was going for a walk. I joined her for the tale end of the beforementioned brilliant sunset- and then I resolved to be productive and actually do some research for my upcoming paper on the maintenance of monarchical authority in Henry V, and Richard II. That lasted about one hour, until I had to come down and say hi to Beccy. Now we are having a glass of wine, eating toasted hot cross buns with butter, and waiting to watch a good chick flick that starts at 9:00.

What else can I say? Life is good.

Tag

Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more.
Find Page 123.
Find the first 5 sentences.
Post the next 3 sentences.

The gun roared. 'It's done, then. I'm eighteen and all alone.'
Kite Runner

I think posting this may have ruined the story for a few people. Woops. But in my defence, I was tagged and so you see, I had no choice. Thanks Brian. I also feel like I should have had a book nearby that actually pertained to my studies, like Shakespeare. James and Brian both do. But it's weird. I have three plays to read for tomorrow, and I can't put down "the Kite Runner"
Oh well, what can you do. Classes are cancelled for the day, and so I've got all day to read. Ha. Not true.
I'm going to London!

Warwick Castle

We couldn't have asked for a better day to spend at Warwick Castle. There's something quite beautiful about the sun beating down on stones that have been stacked on top of eachother for hundreds and hundreds of years. The history of this place had me amazed. The original portraits, fancy dining halls, weaponry room, dungeons, ghost towers, knights in shining armour- (oh wait, James wasn't there :) But really, this castle had me quite fascinated.

Laura- as light as a feather

Trying out the stocks. I can imagine that would have really sucked.

I seriously think these hats should find there way back into women's fashion.

Heather. A very fun girl, and clearly quite excited with the scenery.

Mark. Staying warm.

Part of my fascination with these castles is getting my head around the fact that they had to walk up and down a pile of stairs just to get around the place. Being a tad claustrophobic-- I would definately opt for a room at ground level. But if you want a view, nothing quite compares to what you'll see from the top of a castle.

Tim and I skipping down "the Mound" - (see the picture below)

Sir Oliver Cromwell's helmet!!

They did an incredible job with the set- playing medieval music, and re-enacting the castle life through various life-size characters throughout the castle. Heather and I had a great time cruising through this part :)