The last few days have been full of new experiences. Monday evening was dominated by the two-hour performance of Madreaus, a Portuguese folk band. Comprised of a guitarist, two violinists, a cellist, keyboardist, and a vocalist, their songs were haunting and beautiful, and though I couldn't understand the language there was definitely a conveyance of love lost at sea. Still, the melodies and chord progressions were overwhelming similar from song to song, and although I can acknowledge the talent present in each member of the band, by the intermission I was ready for a nap. The ethereal, subdued textures of the music make it more of something that I would have playing while I write, as opposed to something I see again in concert.
Nothing was officially on the schedule for Tuesday, at least nothing that we had been told about. Towards the end of my Writing in The Arts course, Rachel (our resident professor/flatmate) told us she was taking us somewhere. Following her for a while, we came upon St. Pancras's church, a massive stone building. Rachel led us around to the side of the building, where deep in the maw of an open mausoleum was a short set of stairs. She told us that we had arrived at our destination, and began to head down into the dimly-lit chamber. More than a little confused, the rest of us followed, only to find that we actually were heading into a crypt -- except it was temporarily being used as an art gallery!
(Click here to see some of what I saw)
Although the handful of visitors walking through its arched passages gave the crypt a slightly more "living" energy, the macabre works of art seemed to actually be haunting the place, bringing the creepiness level back to the baseline of "Wow, I'm Surrounded By Dead People." The concept was very effective in its delivery (and just plain cool), but still unsettling enough for me to relish the sunshine and fresh air once we left the exhibition.
As per usual, yesterday was my Wandering Wednesday, so I wandered on down to Greenwich. Home of the Greenwich Observatory, and the birthplace of measured time as we know it, I was able to stand on the line that "officially" separates the east from the west.
Weird.
Besides that, I was able to visit some neat little markets, AND a genuine meat pie and eel shop. Seriously, the only thing on the menu were variations of meat pies, eels, and mashed potatoes. For the value and taste, I'd give it two thumbs up. Later on I visited the National Maritime Museum (cool ships, poor execution), and Greenwich Park, which would have been much nicer had it not been midway through preparations for the 2012 Summer Olympics Equestrian events.
Today has been a quiet day of class thus far. We're seeing some modern ballet this evening, and though it's not my forte, I'm doing my best to attend it with an open mind. One interesting experience from today, however, was my visit to an Italian barber. The entire event was quick and pleasant. Never ceasing with "yes sir," and, "of course, sir," the man somehow knew exactly how I wanted my hair, in spite of my awful ability to communicate with barbers. At the end, he offered my a warm scented towel to clean my face, trimmed the edges of my hair with a straight razor -- I immediately wondered if I was the next victim of a modern Sweeney Todd -- and applied some perfumed oil to my scalp. He even took my coat and helped me into it! Such service. . . I don't think I'll be able to get my hair cut in the States again.
Showing posts with label london. Show all posts
Showing posts with label london. Show all posts
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Monday, April 16, 2012
Everything comes together
It's been eight days since my last post, and once again I apologize for my tardiness. I know my family pretty much relies on this blog to keep tabs on me, but my excuse for this week is actually somewhat legitimate: Wireless access in the dorms was mysteriously unavailable for a few days, and after that I was spending the weekend in a hotel where the wireless cost £5 for an hour of use. However, here I am, and I'll do my best to recount the week's events.
The first major event of the week was our attendance of a concert featuring Chick Corea and Gary Burton. If you'e unfamiliar with these jazz legends, familiarize yourself with them immediately. I was never really a jazz guy before seeing this concert; I enjoyed jazz from the standpoint of a musician who understood the difficulty of composing and performing that sort of music, but would never go out of my way to listen to it. This show flipped a switch somewhere in my musical soul, and I doubt that it'll be turned off anytime soon.
Corea, for those who don't know, is a master pianist whose name appears on countless jazz records. Burton is Corea's equivalent on the vibraphone, and both have recorded two albums of duets together. I must admit that I was initially skeptical about the set up: Nothing but a pianist and a vibe player (though an alto sax did show up for the last few songs). Popular music of all sorts tends to be based on a strong presence of percussion and beat. The jazz being played that evening had nothing of the sort. The beat was an organic entity; constantly evolving, yet still following a vein-like pulse despite the polyrhythms at work. In spite of the music's relative foreigness, I still enjoyed it, and have developed a newfound interest in jazz.
The other big happening of last week was our trip to Stratford-Upon-Avon, and the subsequent performance of The Comedy of Errors by the Royal Shakespeare Company. Stratford was the perfect counter to the hustle and bustle of London. Although it was definitely a well-populated area, the atmosphere was so much more relaxed than that of London. Nestled in the English countryside on the banks of the River Avon, Stratford proved to be a nice escape from the city.
Stratford-Upon-Avon's claim to fame is its status as the birthplace (and deathplace) of William Shakespeare. The town is small enough to walk across, but packed densely enough with stores and eateries that there's little danger of a visitor running out of things to do. Additionally, the scenery on the outskirts of town is breathtaking, and well worth the visit in itself.
Stratford-Upon-Avon's claim to fame is its status as the birthplace (and deathplace) of William Shakespeare. The town is small enough to walk across, but packed densely enough with stores and eateries that there's little danger of a visitor running out of things to do. Additionally, the scenery on the outskirts of town is breathtaking, and well worth the visit in itself.
The Bard is buried here.
A key attraction of the town is, of course, the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, where we were lucky enough to have tickets to a modern envisioning of The Comedy of Errors. Another of Shakespeare's "twin plays", this version featured soldiers geared up with flak vests and assault rifles, and wealthy men dressed in street-smart suits. Although the play was entertaining, I wouldn't rank it in the same tier as She Stoops to Conquer, or A Clockwork Orange. Frankly, the modernized elements of this performance only served to convolute its theme, leading me to lose interest at several points. Even so, the visit to Stratford-Upon-Avon was fantastic, and I'd love to go back. Next time, however, I'd like to avoid taking a two-hour train ride home at midnight...
The inside of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre. That's a fish tank in the centre of the stage. I will now forever correlate aquariums with water torture.
Over the weekend I spent my time with the ever-lovely Alexandra Charavell. I showed her a few museums, took her to a couple pubs, wined and dined her with a meal we cooked together, and introduced her to our happy group. We also took a trip back to Regent's Park, where we toured the gardens, fed a friendly squirrel, and found our way to Abbey Road -- and Abbey Road Studios -- in the perfectly British rain. Escorting her to the station this morning for her departure was bittersweet; although I wish she could have stayed longer, I know she's enjoying her time in France.
In between all of this excitement has been a steady flow of classwork, socialization, and exploration. I've managed to set off on my own several times in the last week, and each time I'm able to discover some new nook of London. I visited the Tate Modern art museum on a few occasions now, and my only complaint is that too little of it is free. I've also made a short visit to the Somerset House, a mansion-esque gallery, and a couple trips to the famous British Museum. Tonight I'll be attending the performance of a Portuguese folk band. I'm not sure if it'll be up my alley, but I'm willing to try anything once -- except for cocaine, heroin, meth, escargot, haggis, and those absurd drop-towers at theme parks.
I'll post more about tonight's performance later, but until then, enjoy a bunch of pictures!
Inside the chapel housing Shakespeare's remains.
The River Avon.
A Stratford neighborhood.
Graves outside of the chapel.
The Tower of London from a couple weeks ago.
Inside the Tower walls.
A decorative arch outside of the Tower's walls.
More of the Tower.
This was inside the Tower for some reason.
A cannon inside the Tower walls.
Some of the gang hanging out.
From left to right: Corey, Sara, Luke, Nader, Rachel, Regina, Hannah
Greg, looking very relaxed.
Out at our favorite pub, The Rising Sun!
L-R: Keith, Greg (hands visible) Nader, Luke, Rachel, Christian, Regina, Hannah, Sara, Terrance.
Regent's Park, I believe.
Gates outside of Queen Mary's Gardens.
Walkway in the Gardens.
Queen Mary's Gardens.
I thought of Grandma Pestian when I saw these ducks at QMG.
...And these ones.
More of QMG.
I wish I had this in my backyard.
QMG.
QMG.
QMG.
This would also look great in my backyard...
QMG.
A house/church? behind Regent's Park.
Hyde Park was much less pretty than Regent's Park. Mostly just creepy-looking trees.
At Hyde Park. If I recall correctly, this is the monument to Princess Diana.
At the edge of the monument, bordering the Serpentine.
I pretended like I had food, and he fell for it. Eventually he found a nut, though.
The fantastic set of She Stoops to Conquer.
The Somerset House.
The interior courtyard of the Somerset House was full of these weird fake flowers.
The London skyline from Waterloo Bridge.
HMS Belfast, the largest cruiser of WWII.
The Tower of London from across the Thames.
Tower Bridge.
Greg looks tired on the train to Stratford-Upon-Avon.
Keith just looks perpetually concerned. In his defense, he probably should be (ha-ha).
Arriving at Stratford.
Yep, we went to the right one.
I'm just a faster walker than they are.
Here's where The Bard was born.
Ducks in Stratford. These are also for you, Grandma.
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