Of Lavishness and Laughter

So, the wonderful thing about big cities: wandering around in them leads to all sorts of exciting, unexpected adventures. Cliche? I think not. Just listen to my day today...

Jacket potatoes and paninis!

So, this morning started out pretty tame. Classes for me really haven't yet started yet for, but today was the "Freshers' Fayre", when all the UCL world's clubs' most earnest desire is to flood your inbox with enough spam to coat Mt. Rushmore. Like any activities fair, there was free stuff galore: candy, planners (or "diaries" to the British), chocolate rice krispies treats (courtesy of the Chocolate Club), stuffed animals, cans of baked beans (Christian Union), even rosaries (Catholic Club). Some of the clubs, though, would definitely not be found at a table in Dillon Gym. Take the Socialist Club, at whose table my evidently-too-trained-capitalistic-self was shocked to see so many legitimate potential participants, or the Karting Club (that's go-karts, yo), or Snooker and Pool (still not quite sure what that is), or the Jane Austen Book Club (oh yeah, you better believe I put my name on that list!). I also spent ten solid seconds screaming my head off for the chance to win a trip to someplace associated with MTV; it was rather cathartic, actually, though I have no illusions about winning. UCL bouncers made sure that you followed the "queue" and didn't try to double back to partake of more club-gazing than you should. But other than the fact that such incredible organization is utterly foreign to Americans, not all that different from good ol' U.S. of A.

From there, though, two friends from my dorm (also international students from the U.S.) and I went to Buckingham Palace. Yes, you may recall that I was planning on going there in my previous entry. Indeed, we did, and even paid the 14 pounds to get inside the special summer exhibition of the formal state rooms. I had no idea of the sumptuousity of the place! It was originally built in 1703 for the Duke of Buckingham, but it was acquired by the monarchy in 1761. Since it was built so late, relatively speaking, it benefits from all the advancements of architecture, technology, and the arts. Glorious chandeliers hang from ceilings adorned with the British royal rose as well as the emblems of England, Scotland, and Wales. I saw paintings of British monarchs over which I have poured since childhood hanging on tapestried, manicured walls in drawing rooms meticulously decorated to match such appellations as "The Green Room", "The White Room", and the "The Blue Room." George III was literally looking at me!

We have an appointment with the queen!

But these are no mean pieces in a country estate. Nothing could be farther from it! The portrait gallery houses paintings from Rembrandt, van Dyck, Rubens, and Vermeer, some of which are recognizable to the average visitor (or at least to me). Even the gold on the gates to the palace entrance are coated in 24 karat gold! And then there is the formal dining room! It was set up as it would be for a formal state dinner--each of the six glasses per place setting exactly in line, thousands of pieces of cutlery glinting underneath golden candelabras, rose blooms cascading from three-foot vases, footmen in formal red attire attending the queen's place. Each setting is even complete with gold figurines which hold salt, pepper, and condiments; the princess' set looks like a crab clinging delicately to a spiral shell, the opening of which holds the spices. Just the plate (silverware and dishes) cost Queen Victoria 80,000 pounds. My mind starts spinning when I think of the equivalent cost today; just one set or two from the 2,000 pieces of silverware could probably pay my tuition!

Even the smallest details are attended to, even now when the rooms are only occupied by visitors. When you walk into the room, you can smell the rich perfume of real lilies in the giant urns. The staff to undertake such an endeavor is enormous. It takes two days of preparation to get everything ready, and fifteen people just to wash the dishes! This is all in order, of course, that the guests, from the time they enter the room to the time they are ushered out to the strains of bagpipes, are utterly impressed with the formality and majesty of the British people and their royalty. With such incredible splendor, I don't know how they could not be.

More Buckingham (rather ominous-looking, actually)

But anyway, yes, today we went back, because we hadn't been able to see everything before we had to leave to get back to the dorm for our evening meal. Thankfully, if you have the palace staff stamp your ticket, you can come back an unlimited amount of times for one year. Alas, when we arrived this afternoon, the line for tickets was enormous. So, we decided to change our plans and head to Piccadilly Market, known for its world crafts and antiques, which we had passed on a previous day's outing.

On the way, though, who should we meet at the massive monument outside the palace but a Channel 5 camera crew! A blond woman and her entourage assailed us, pointed a microphone in my face, and said, "Hi, we're from the Wright Stuff on channel 5. Do you mind if we ask you a quick question?"

Of course, I said yes.

It was at this point that I started thanking my lucky stars that I had parents who had sought to give me such gifts as a deck of playing cards with all the British monarchs on them (this started a lifelong monarchial anglophilia, which culminated in my taking HIS 369: British history from 1688-1815). Linda Colley's teaching did not go unremembered, as the woman asked me what I thought about the prospect of a changing in the rules of dynastic succession enabling the eldest child, whether male OR female, to inherit the crown.

After recovering from a momentary stupor, I responded with something about how such a practice would have prevented many parliamentary and dynastic power struggles throughout British history, concluding with the fact that I thought the 21st century had taught us that women fully have the capacity to govern. "Good answer," the woman responded (I think sincerely), while the other blonde shoved a consent form into my hands.

So, it looks like I'm going to be on TV tomorrow morning. Who would have guessed?

Me conquering the world outside Buckingham

From there, we continued our march to Piccadilly Market, during which we stopped to try to discompose the impervious mushroom-headed palace guards. They are supposed to neither smile nor speak nor even look anywhere but straight ahead, but I had promised Katie Rodriguez that I would try and would take a picture.

Success! Not only did the guy's eyes definitely NOT stay on his compatriot, but he even said "Sure" and "You're welcome"! This is probably a case where being a young, female, and American group doesn't hurt.

From there we finally got to Piccadilly Market, where legitimate and quality jewelry, pottery, paintings, clothing, purses, and other items (including magic beans!) flowed from stall after stall in a staggering array of colors. I goggled at several items, such as Israeli pottery (we have the exact same pieces at home!!) and handmade glass jewelry, but got hopelessly entangled by a purveyer of London antiques. Mom, I found the genuine, beautiful, and working old-fashioned telephone you have been searching since we moved into our house, if you are willing to pay 95 pounds. Other items, though, were definitely more realistic price-wise, but with no less quality. Early twentieth-century compasses, astrolabes, and spyglasses imprinted with their London makers furnished more entertainment than the stall owner was feign to watch (evidently, we didn't look like street thieves).

A cool shopping place we found near Piccadilly

From there, it was back to UCL for a meeting with my English department tutor. They have a much different educational system than the U.S. does, or even, my tutor informed me, most other British universities. Instead of having each professor from every class read students' essays for their respective classes, only one professor will read all of the student's work, enabling the student to really hone a relationship with the tutor and develop individually as a writer and thinker. For me, this won't be as signficant, since I'm only here three months, which means only two meetings. Yet, I will get the opportunity to discuss each essay with the tutor after completion. Imagine: real-time, honest feedback! This is something that often is lacking at Princeton.

As of now, I have yet to have a single English class; after my meeting today, though, I already have the due date and topic for my first essay! I am going to be writing about the mature, old love in The Merry Wives of Windsor, perhaps as a parody of the young, romantic love in Romeo and Juliet.

Why this, you may ask? Well, I neglected to tell you about some of the other adventures I've been having here in London! You see, last week I waited in line with friends at the Globe Theatre--yes, SHAKESPEARE'S GLOBE THEATRE!!! (reconstructed, of course)--for five pound tickets to see what was the most amazing theatrical experience, perhaps, of my life! We decided to go "the authentic way"--i.e. standing in the yard with all the rest of the poor unfortunates.

This was by no means, though, a bad position! We were able to stand right next to the stage, enabling us to literally count the sweat drops on Mr. Ford's face as he went into paroxysms over the alleged unfaithfulness of his wife (don't worry, he was just overly insecure). Plus, there were ramps that extended the stage out into the yard around us, hemming us right into the middle of the action of the play! When Anne Page has her awkward garden interlude with Mr. Slender, we were right there, staring at the muscles in his green stockings tightening in tense anxiety and inquietude. Then we turned 180 degrees to see Mr. Fenton coming onto the scene, a much more practiced and earnest lover. It was amazing! The acting was absolutely superb! When the deserved kicking of Falstaff inside a laundry basket by the unwitting Mr. Ford is covered up by a delayed, if awkward cough from Mistress Ford, I thought the audience would never recover. The timing on the comedy was perfection itself!

And then there was the theatre! It was much more gilded and bejeweled than I had imagined, with painted flours curving up Corinthian columns and period musicians playing unfamiliar instruments from a balcony bounded by an intricate, carved wooden railing. It was perfectly round, open to the night sky but shielded from what can be biting London breezes by the height of its seated balconies. It was an experience I will never forget.

But we couldn't let our Shakespeare experiences end there! Oh no! On Tuesday we took a bus to Stratford-upon-Avon, where we gazed upon the bard's grave, enshrined in the back of a beautiful brick church surrounded by gravestones hundreds of years old.

Shakespeare's burial site in Stratford-upon-Avon

That's him!!!

We didn't succeed in getting returned tickets to the Royal Shakespeare Company's production of Hamlet, but we didn't complain, for there were plenty of other things to do. We bought a pass that enabled us to see all three of the town houses associated with Shakespeare: his birthplace, the home of his son-in-law John Hall, and that of his granddaughter. I actually stood in the room where Shakespeare was born and listened to a guide describe what life would have been like for a seven-year-old son of a glover! It was completely surreal.

The garden of Hall's Croft, the home of Shakespeare's daughter and son-in-law

A beautiful street in Elizabethan Stratford

We had also long desired to partake of the English institution of afternoon tea, so what better place to try that than at Benson's, rated one of the top 50 places in the UK! There we ordered a "cream tea"--scones served fluffy and light with jam, clotted cream, and a pot of the house English breakfast tea. Let me tell you, whenever I next go to Panera and see on of its "scones", I will laugh in utter contempt (Interesting trivia tidbit: there is a perpetual debate in England, I was told at dinner last night, over the correct pronounciation of the word "scone"; should the "o" be pronounced as a long "o" or closer to a short "u" sound? Something to ponder...).

Cream Tea! Panera, eat your heart out!

We finished off the day with a sunset 1.75 mile walk to a 19th-century Victorian mansion, the location of a YHA hostel. It was really nice, but we didn't have much time to enjoy it, as we got in at 7:30, ate dinner, planned our next British adventures, and went to bed. Then, it was up at 5 to grab our packed breakfasts (included in the cheap hostel fee!) and walk back to the bus station in order to get to London in time for our afternoon classes.

On the way to the hostel...

Thus, my fascination with Shakespeare, and the reason for my choice of essay topic. Sorry this was such a long post! There are other things I did in this past week that will have to wait for the next post (man, I can never seem to get ahead, can I?), but I don't want to be the cause of undue carpal tunnel or back-a-la-Quasimodo, so this will have to do for now.

Oh, wondering exactly what "British adventure" we were planning at the hostel? I'll give you a hint: Chaucer would be proud.