Encounters with Some British Characters

As I'm sure you all know, the Red Sox won the World Series on Sunday with a sweep of the Rockies. I made sure to stay up and watch game four (wild horses couldn't drag me away), so I took over the common room of my apartment and set up camp, complete with nacho chips. My other roommates were in there when the game started, but one by one they trickled out, no doubt due to my frenzied yelling and cursing whenever the Sox screwed up/made an awesome play.
As I mentioned in a previous post, instead of commercials between innings, the British channel over here features commentary. The commentary consists of these two guys sitting in a low-budget studio set, an American and an Englishman, ready to discuss the recent events in the game. Only this time, they had a guest sitting at the desk with them, the self-proclaimed 'Biggest Red Sox Fan in Britain'. Yeah right; I could give him a run for his money.
"What makes you the biggest sox fan in Britain?" The Englishman asked the guest.
"Well," the guest replied in his impeccable accent, "I name my cats after the players. I have a cat named Nomar, even though the real Nomar was traded, and I also had a cat named Manny, although he was run over by a car, and I have a new cat named Varitek."
I sat there in my pajamas, utterly bewildered. Since when did cat-naming get you unto a TV show as the 'Biggest Red Sox Fan in Britain?' The guy wasn't even wearing a Red Sox jersey.
The rest of the commentary was uneventful, except at one point the American host and the English host got into a fight of sorts.
"Yeah, when I was in the league, we always saw the World Series as the ultimate dream," said the American, who was a former triple-A catcher.
"Well, we actually made it to the World Series," replied the Englishman.
"But you were twelve," the American said incredulously. "That wasn't the real World Series- that was a little league thing."
"Don't poo all over my world series!" the Englishman replied, clearly offended. "Don't poo all over my world series!"
At this point I was strongly reminded that I was in another country; never on ESPN would the ex-player commentators use the word 'poo' or talk about cats.

So I stayed up until 4:45 in the morning, fully fulfilling my duty as a member of Red Sox Nation. When we won, I leaped off of the couch and was jumping up and down and shrieking for about 5 minutes, completely by myself, in the dark living room. I hope I didn't wake anyone up, but you never know.

On a different note, I saw Macbeth yesterday. This was the one I mentioned about a month ago; the one with Patrick Stewart as Macbeth. It was quite amazing, I have to say. It was set in communist Russia, which lent the entire play a bleak, gritty feel. Patrick Stewart was amazing; you actually felt sorry for him, even though his character was a greedy murderer. I could literally talk about this play for paragraphs, but I'll just mention my favorite part. The coolest scene for me was when Macbeth was having a dinner party, and his friend Banquo (who Macbeth had murdered) appears at the dinner. Banquo, who was drenched in blood, just got up and walked down the length of the table towards Macbeth, who freaked out and fell out of his chair. The entire time the lights flashed and the music crescendoed- a truly terrifying scene.
Overall, it was just cool to have watched Shakespeare in London.

Back in the Swing of Things

With my illness over and my DC trip behind me, I am now up to my old tricks back here in London. The week has revolved around my upcoming choir concert (it's in a few hours, actually). We've had a few extra rehearsals for our Bach Magnificat, and we've even started working with the orchestra, which is also made up of UCL kids. It's very exciting when you hear a piece of music finally come together and swell and take over a room. A few of my roommates are even making it out to the concert, and I'm grateful for that; an hour of classical music is not every one's bag.

My classes have been going well, too. I've started raising my hand and participating, and am no longer (slightly) intimidated by all the intelligent British accents. On Thursday in my Roman Britain class, we hiked through the rain into the Moorgate section of the city to look at the remains of the old Roman amphitheater. It was very cool, but again, you had to use your imagination; it only consisted of a few low stone walls (no more than knee height).

My favorite class is probably Cognitive Evolution and Early Technology. This class explores the development of human consciousness and cognition and tries to link this to examples in the archaeological record, such as stone tools. This is my smallest class and is gathered around a table, seminar style. I like this class because it often turns into a philosophy discussion instead of a straight lecture; we debate questions like: What is consciousness? What makes humans different from other animals? What is the mind, exactly? At no time does the discussion veer into anything theological, which I find interesting and consider more likely to occur at Fordham (not that there's anything wrong with it one way or another).

I've gone out dancing again, too. Thursday night I was dancing with an Irish guy who thought I was Irish also (I don't know why, my American accent is pretty unmistakable), and when I told him I was from New York City he promptly stopped dancing with me and left the dance floor without a word. Did I intimidate him or something? Whatever the reason, it was rude! Oh well, I recovered after about 10 seconds and continued dancing with my roommates.

Delight of delights- when I got back from the club on Thursday, I turned on the TV and saw the Red Sox/Rockies game was on! Granted, it was 1:30 am, and it had just started, but I couldn't believe my luck. One of my other roommates, a Rockies fan (and the only one I have ever met) sat down and watched the game with me. Watching baseball was great. Over here, instead of commercials, they have two commentators discuss what just happened in the inning: a British guy and an American guy. The commentary was pretty lame, I have to admit (I didn't even think the British watched baseball) but I didn't care- the Sox were on! I held out valiantly until the 7th, when by then it was about 4:00 in the morning, and I dragged myself to bed, makeup smeared all over my face.

So tonight I have my concert, then hopefully more Red Sox. I let you all know how the concert went in my next post- stay tuned!

An American Girl Comes Home (For a Weekend, Anyway)

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while, faithful readers. I've had a few adventures (as well as some misadventures) in the past couple of days.

First of all, I was pretty sick last week with a sinus infection. I knew I needed some antibiotics, so I went in search of a doctor. I went to the UCL student health center. The receptionist there informed me that as an American staying in the UK for less than 6 months, I was not allowed to see a doctor. She also told me that I couldn't even be seen by a doctor at a hospital.
"So what if I were dying or something?" I asked incredulously. "They would just turn me away?"
The receptionist sighed, exasperated. "I don't know what to tell you. You're not a citizen of the UK."
"I'm pretty sick," I said, embellishing my sinus infection for maximum pity. "I just need some antibiotics. Please, I really need your help."
She pursed her lips. "Alright. I'll let you see the doctor as a private patient. It'll cost 60 pounds."
That's $120, for you American readers. I cringed, but agreed to her offer.
I saw a doctor, but she didn't think I had a sinus infection, and so no antibiotics. Waste of time and money. Silly doctor, what does she know, anyway?

The next day (Thursday) I flew to DC for my Dad's Admiral promotion ceremony. In case you don't know, my Dad is in the Navy and recently got promoted to Admiral (a very high honor). He was set to have a big promotion ceremony at the Pentagon, and the entire extended family was going to come. I couldn't miss it, so I flew into Dulles, and arrived a very jet-lagged and cranky girl. Once there, I saw an American doctor, who gave me some antibiotics and I was
feeling much better by Friday morning.

The promotion ceremony went great. The Pentagon itself was very cool, and there were many cute Marine boys walking around (an added bonus). That night was the annual Navy birthday Ball, and my whole family got dressed up for that. We clean up very well, I have to say.

Saturday we walked around DC, first taking a tour of the Whitehouse, and then looking at all of the war memorials, as well as the Lincoln memorial. The weather was beautiful, sunny and about 75 degrees. Back here in London it's about 45 degrees and cloudy everyday, so being out in bright, warm daylight made me feel like some kind of disoriented vampire.

It was nice to see everyone in my family, and it was also comforting to see some familiar faces. In typical family fashion, we went out for beers every night (the older family members anyway), and at one point I had a Guinness with my grandfather, who was very impressed at my new drinking ability (I downed a whole pint!). I had a really good time hanging out with everybody.

I also made sure to sample some of my favorite foods that I had dearly missed across the pond, including:
Mozzarella sticks
Nerds (candy)
Soft pretzels with cheese
McDonalds Breakfast (with hashbrown!)
and of course, Red Bull
If there are any health conscious readers out there gasping in horror at my food selections, I apologize. If you had been deprived of good old greasy/perfect American food, you would have eaten all of that too.

So on Sunday night I took an overnight flight back to London. I sat next to a cute boy on the plane and talked with him for awhile, but he fell asleep with his mouth open (quite unsavory) so I didn't attempt to engage him in any further conversation.

Once back on the ground, I made my way through the maze that is Heathrow airport and managed to get on the tube; all of this was accomplished with about three hours of sleep under my belt. Once on the tube, I saw a man sipping an open can of beer at about 10:00 in the morning. Yep- I was definitely back in the UK.

Night Life

The past couple of nights have been fairly crazy. Thank god today is Sunday, a de-tox day to relax and catch up on homework/sleep. Even as a college student, I am not used to consuming so much alcohol. Before I get any condescending letters from relatives, please allow me to explain.

At about six o'clock, the city of London essentially shuts down. You can't go shopping, the museums are all closed, movie theaters aren't open, and even my favorite restaurants aren't open. This is quite jarring for any American, especially a spoiled New York girl as myself, who is used to going to the Gap at 11:00 pm, just for the hell of it. No, here in London, things wind down early. There is nothing to do once the sun sets. Except....
There are a few places that remain open come nightfall, and these are the pubs. So unless you want to stay in your flat and do homework (no thank you), you go out to a pub. In my case, I am particularly lucky; there is a pub right across the street called Crown and Anchor. I could literally fall out of the front doors of my apartment building and into the open doors of Crown and Anchor. This happens more often than I would care to admit.

If you are sick of pubs, you can go out to the clubs. This, too, happens frequently; my roommates and I often make an exodus to the local tube station and head out to a club. Personally, I find clubs more enjoyable; I love to dance. When my roommates and I tear up the dance floor, we are always the best dancers there. I'm not kidding. Back home, I am an average clubber, but here across the pond I feel like a dangerous dancing machine. The locals will often stop their sleepy gyrations and stop and watch our energetic dance moves. Plus, all the songs that clubs play over here are American, so we all belt out the tunes. We look like we were hired to dance in these clubs.

Of course, this will often bring out the English guys, drawn to our dancing like moths to a flame. They all seem to have the same pick up lines:
"Are you from the States?"
"Do you come here often?"
"I LOVE this song."
Either that, or they'll try to silently dance with us, but they usually give up and drift away, intimidated or embarrassed. Oh well- at least they still have their good looks and cute accents.

The British culture pushes one towards the consumption of alcohol. Everything shuts down at nightfall, and there is absolutely nothing to do besides go to a venue that revolves around alcohol. Even the TV stations over here are lousy, so you can't even stay in and watch the tube. Unless you want to go to bed early, you HAVE to go out- that's what all the English do (even after my choir rehearsals, the singers travel en masse to a local pub). That's all anybody does around here.

So that explains my ridiculous spike in alcohol consumption, particularly beer. If my relatives are offended, I apologize. When in Rome...

Learning about London's History

Yesterday was a memorable day. First of all, and delight of delights, the SUN came out. The sun only comes out and stays out about once a week, so the rare sunny day is special indeed. This was perfect timing, because my first archaeology field trip was also yesterday. This was for my Roman and Medieval archaeology class, and we went into the Barbican neighborhood to examine ancient Roman walls.

In case you don't know (and I didn't really up until about a week ago), the Roman establishment of Londonium was founded on the banks of the Thames about 2000 years ago. It was destroyed by the local Britons in about AD 60, but those tough Romans built the city back, complete with an imposing city wall that stretched around the settlement. By around 450-600 AD the city of Londonium was abandoned, and other people lived, fought over, and built structures on the site, including Saxons, Vikings, and the Normans. Basically London has a long and violent history; it was destroyed and rebuilt many times.

As we walked around the thoroughly modern downtown, our professor showed us the remains of some of the Roman walls of the northwest section of the old city, including the remnants of a guard tower. You kind of had to use your imagination on this field trip- for instance, all that remained of the guard tower were a few low walls about a foot high, and it was hard to believe it had once been a massive tower. The Roman wall remains were also in strange places; they were in the courtyards between apartment buildings, and one section even had been built over by a car garage. Most of these Roman walls had been revealed in the aftermath of the blitz- after a modern building would be gutted by bombs, the ancient walls could be seen underneath the rubble. Some of those gutted out buildings were still left standing as a testament to the blitz.

This is going to sound ignorant of me, but I had almost forgotten about the German blitz during World War Two. It wasn't until our professor pointed out the amount of buildings that had been rebuilt that the idea of the blitz became tangible to me. It is hard for me to imagine living in a city that would be under attack from another country- America's geographic position makes that scenario pretty difficult. But London 70 years ago was seriously affected; the remains of those attacks are seared into the framework of the city. You don't hear much about the blitz, but it left visible scars, some of which we saw first hand. Honestly, it was quite disturbing to look at some of the destroyed shells of building and imagine what it must have been like to have your city under attack.
Unfortunately we know what that is like now, after 9/11, but I digress...

So the field trip was very informative and memorable. This class has one every other week, so I am sure to gain an intimate knowledge of the history of this amazing city. I am sure to keep you all updated on whatever I find out. Until next time...

Squirrel Sighting

In an effort to counteract all the Guinness I have been consuming, I've been trying to jog regularly in Regent's park. Regent's park is a ten minute walk from the flat, and it is a gorgeous park, founded originally by Henry the Eighth as a hunting ground. It was in Regent's park on Sunday that I had my first sighting of British wildlife: a squirrel.

I don't know if I mentioned this earlier, but London is limited when it comes to the animals. You see the occasional pigeon, and even rarer still, the person walking their dog, but that's about it. I had been in London for about three weeks when I realized: hey! where are all the squirrels? I hadn't seen one yet, and as an animal lover, it was starting to bum me out that there were no animals to be seen. I asked my roommates about the lack of squirrels; they didn't care that much. I even looked it up online- yes, there are squirrels in Britain, but I just hadn't seen any yet.

So when my roommate and I jogged into Regent's park for the first time, I stopped dead in my tracks. My roommate looked back at me. "Stopping already? Man, you are out of shape."

"No Beth," I said. "Look- a squirrel."

And there it was, a squirrel, chewing on something or doing what squirrels do. My roommate rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed, but I watched it, delighted. Finally! There are animals in this city! I had missed them so much. That squirrel sighting made my day. If you are an animal lover, I'm sure you would understand. And if you don't like animals, I apologize if you found this post ridiculous.

Population of Red Sox Nation in London: 1

Good old USA. I miss the sunny skies, the warm weather, the good food and most of all....post season baseball. While I love my American flatmates, not one of them is a RedSox fan. Today, a bunch of kids from my building were all in my apartment, and I asked the group if anyone was a fan, because I needed someone to come to a bar with me and see if we could watch the game.
"I hate the Red Sox," one guy spat (A New Yorker, he had also thrown in a few words about the Sox that were blasphemous and not to be repeated here).
I looked to a girl who was wearing a Red Sox sweatshirt. "Kelly? What about you?"
"Oh, I'm not a fan," she said. "I just like this sweatshirt."
I raised my eyebrows. "Well, does anyone want to just go to a bar and watch the game anyway?"
"Why would we want to pay to watch a team we don't like?" one guy asked.

Agonized and disgusted, I left the room and searched online for British bars that might play the Sox game. I found one that sometimes played American sports and called their number.
"Hello?" a British woman picked up on other end.
"Hi, are you playing the Sox game tonight?"
"The what?"
"The Sox game. The Red Sox?"
"A baseball game?"
"Yes." I paused, feeling like I was speaking a dead language. "The Boston Red Sox and the Anaheim Angels are playing tonight at about 3:00 US Western time; are you showing that game?"
"Oh." I could hear the rustling of paper. "Yes. The match will start at 9:30 pm tonight."
"Ok thanks!" I said, and hung up. Success. However clumsy it was, I had made contact. I realized belatedly that I still had no companion to the bar; I couldn't be out by myself until one in the morning (which was when the game was likely to end). It was time for desperate action.

"Please come with me," I asked my close girl flatmates. "I can't miss this game. The Sox are up 2-0 and they might sweep the Angels tonight! Puh-leeeze come with me."
I turned to one of my roommates, who was an avid Duke basketball fan. "What if Duke had their postseason now and you needed to see it?"
"That," she said, "Is why I came abroad for the fall. I would never be abroad in the spring, so I would never have that problem."
"We would love to come with you," another roommate said sympathetically, "But I'm sorry Annie, baseball is just too long and too boring."
Aaaargggh. A knife to the heart. I could tolerate uneducated cretins badmouthing the Sox, but to denounce baseball as a whole? Painful. Just painful.
I wouldn't be surprised if I were the only Sox fan in London. The thought makes me very homesick/lonely indeed. I will still be on the lookout for a fellow fan, but the prospects seem grim. In the meantime, I am attempting to watch the games on my computer. No matter what the odds, I have to cheer on my boys. Particularly V-Tek (he is the man!!!).