a bit of this and that

I thought I should pop on here quick before this weekend begins…. I heading off to the Lakes District (specifically Keswick/West Cumbria) to hike some mountains tomorrow morning and wont be back in Chelsea until Monday night. Exciting! Yes, most definitely. I kind of wish there was someone here that enjoyed hiking as much as I do, but everyone and their mothers are going on this Iper, Belgium trip (leaving Saturday, coming back on Sunday!!)  and I would be alone no matter if I stayed here in London or went someplace. SO, hiking in the quiet space of my own mind it is. I actually like this sort of time-off, though Ive had a lot of it lately. This will be my first time out of London since Ive been here and Im excited to get a whole strange dose of new, once again.

This week has been incredibly uninteresting, though the last weekend was choc full of this and that. I visited three different markets within two days, Brixton, Clapham, and Camden, all of which are completely different and blew my mind in odd ways. Brixton was a nice change of pace, dirty, full of not-white people, moderately sketchy and very human. You dont get enough of these qualities in London for me to really consider it a city sometimes. Brixton definitely was a city. It felt like what I can only imagine Harlem feels like in NY. The market here was composed of endless fresh meat stalls, complete with hanging carcasses, flies, and lots of blood, fruit and vegetable sellers, cheap import cosmetics, handbags, clothing and watches, pirate videos and CDs, and anything else you ever thought you didnt need. It really felt like a different country, though the one bit the whole scene was poorly lacking was MUSIC. There was very little live music, I think I saw one drummer, and some crappy sound systems blasting cheese funky house and rap. This is one of the reasons I didnt stay very long here, though I felt like I had only stumbled upon a little bit of Brixton and spent 2 hours getting lost and then finding my way back again to the Tube station. I think the lack of music gave the area a slightly sinister feel as well, with people running this way and that in relative silence to other street markets I have been at.

Clapham Junction was more or less a bust, since I arrived too late for anything to be going on really. BUT I did find a Whole Foods store which absolutely made my entire week. Stocked with a vegetarian’s dream, I found things Ive been looking for since I arrived: tofu, Spirulina, organic bananas, pumpkin seeds, the list goes on…. Luckily its only a 10 minute Tube ride away and incredibly cheap. Apparently thats what happens South of the Thames – people become reasonable and slightly more human.

Camden market is coooool. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into when I stepped out of the Tube station entry way, but apparently this is the largest consistant Market in the area and full of the kind of counter-culture I had been looking for the past 3 weeks. The market plaza must have taken up a good 6 city blocks (radius) and surrounding it was a good mile of streets and alley ways with stalls and open-air shops. I spent all of Sunday afternoon here, until the sun began to set, and didnt spend a two pence on food!! I cant say I was entirely frugal though, as I stepped into two records stores (freakin sweet record stores here by the way, a complete vinyl enthusiasts paradise complete with stacks of unlisted white labels, lots of dust, and store clerks as crazy as you) and ended up (I mean I had to…..) buying two LPs and picking up a ton of flyers. I also found a store that sold only hemp clothing. If you have no idea what Im talking about, go eduacate yourself about hemp. Its not just for smoking and making bracelets. Its the miracle crop the US government wont let anyone grow and could solve so many of our domestic problems right now, its scary. But yeah, I jumped at the chance to actually try this clothing on, as I had only seen online retailers before and didnt want to spend money without knowing how everything fit. I ended up buying some really comfortable pants, almost linen-like material, forest green, and I am SO happy with my purchase. They will last me for eons and the money was probably some of the best spent yet on this crazy adventure. Hurray for hemp! (No seriously, do some research, itll blow you away).

Tonight Im off to see another play, cant remember the name. The weeks here go by so fast with only 3 days of class. I feel like Ive been here a year already (except in a year Id hope to have a few more friends). I really need to find someone that is not going on the IES trip to Scotland over fall break to join me in Amsterdam. I am so against the idea of spending another extended vacation on my own in a unknown city. BUT, everyone is lame and likes being told what to do and when to do it and I have yet to find anyone that is either not going on the trip or doesnt already have plans that dont include me. Yeah Scotland would be fun, but I really dont want to revisit all the places that defined so much of my childhood mental space along with 50 other people and a rigid events planner yelling now and then and there down my throat. I guess Amsterdam wouldnt be that bad on my own, but it sure would be quiet and slightly too introspective for me. I feel like Im becoming the exact opposite of where I was last year, not a quiet medium, where I spend so much time in my own head that I have trouble reaching out of it sometimes. Hm. I have to go to class. Enough of this. I wanted to rant about the state of underground music in America and the future of youth movements due to the class I just got out of (the future is in complete breakdown of values, and the ideas that emerge from that space – yeah is that any different from the past? YES! because we’ve never had the sort of communication we do today to facilitate ideology fast enough for the media to not catch hold. The future of the youth underground in America is a creative arts one, where we reject the money making standards and wishes/wants of our parents generation of calm acceptance of mediocracy (after all they did in the 1970’s too!!) and reform ourselves according to the creative soul that resides in everyone, including that CEO in the big suit)…. but I apparently dont ever have enough time. Till next time!

getting better…plus musings

Well, its official. People around me are starting to realize that strange empty space inside them that manifests itself once the initial excitement and adrenaline of being in a new place wears off. That, and these kids have never been able to drink legally like they’ve been doing and everyone is feeling the effects of no sleep, poor nutrition, the big city, and homesickness. I sometimes feel like I dont belong here, like I could have used all this money and time for something a lot more important and meaningful….what am I saying? I most certainly could have (music, travel, savings…et). But I have to keep telling myself, I did this for a reason (that gut feeling I get at (rare) times that when I have followed always leads to something incredible, good and bad) and keep my head out of the patterned excess so many of my cohabitants here exist within. Tonight was just another one of those nights, (wandering, wishing, wanting), though everyone was a little more hesitant than usual to do, wanting more than anything for something to happen to them. Im tired of this. If I am going to go out, from this night on, I am going to have something planned, or enough energy to get excited about something on the spot. I am definitely not going to spend any more of the precious monies I have available to me this semester on (eq.) $6 lager. Nope. I feel incredibly bad about myself having indulged as I have thus far in the sort of things that from afar (or the next day) I would never submit myself to. I am going to take account of my receipts tomorrow, and it is going to hurt. I know where I need to completely cut out spending: stupid “treats” like coffee, chocolate, ice cream – I only crave these when I feel awkward or sad (did you know that the metabolizing of simple sugars releases short bursts of serotonin and dopamine in our brains, much like small doses of opium would?), alcohol (and I dont even drink that much, or even agree to any degree with the act and needless consumption of said beverage on a routine basis), and over-expensive bulk food items (no more trendy London Metro-Mart, its off to Safeway I go!). Sugar is the main thing Ive spent stupid-money on, and I hate myself for it – things cost so much here that its not worth the momentary pick up and let down. Plus, I have a whole thing of sugar back at the dorm, a box of tea, and enough simple carbs to drown an Italian family (actually, thats another goal of mine while Im here, eat more protein – check out spirulina, I think that this might be the answer Ive been looking for so long).

Its been quite a while since I wrote on here (relatively), due to my being ridiculously out of service for the past two days with a stomach ache and the various bodily ailments that result from strange critters crawling around in your colon (gross!!). Partly my fault, and partly the legal responsibility of the little all-night convenience store across the street, I woke up Tuesday morning feeling slightly off-kilter due to the consumption of 3/4’s a container of B&J’s Toffee Crunch the night before. Now, keep in mind that this would do in the gut of any self-respecting citizen of the world, let alone me who hasnt really had milk products besides cheese in oh, say a yea.5. Heh. And so what did I do Tuesday morning? Ate the rest of the pint (under the more or less correct assumption that the faster I got rid of it the sooner I would forget the stupidity of buying it in the first place) along with the 2nd of two greasy Indian Samosa’s I bought from the sketchy store across the street. Needless to say (cliches!) my stomach grew increasingly more and more pronounced as the class-day inched onwards and by the time I had come home, I didnt really need a belt…. By midday Wednesday I was feeling absolutely horrid with cramps/bloating and all the other sorts of things you really dont want to hear about. Wednesday was rough, a good ol’ 12 hour day of class, and through it all I was 100% miserable (class from 10 – 4, 5-10 theater tour and production) That night I lost most of the water from my system (along with all the food) and got very little sleep, but still went to class on Thursday feeling (and looking) like one of the homeless people outside of Kensington Station. Felt like crap all Thursday and the greater part of today, though I took a 3 hour nap tonight and actually felt kinda normal when I woke up. I HATE BEING SICK!!! Seriously, if you really want to mess me up, give me a virus and let me deal. I am not a happy camper when the body is MIA…..

Wow, Im sure you all needed/wanted to hear that boringness. I actually did things during that period of bodily malfunction though! Wednesday night was, beside it all, a very interesting and thoroughly enjoyable time. I love the intro. theater class I am taking – each week we see a play hand picked by my teacher (tutors over here) that range from classic Shakespeare renditions to brand-new Fringe pieces. The best thing about the class is tha, despite any reservations you might have beforehand/how tired you are/how crappy you might be feeling, you still have to attend the play and end up drawn completely into the little world it creates for you and away from anything that might have been bothering you before-hand. Its nothing like a movie, where you are simply consuming more of what the people with big $$ have fed us through popular culture’s clogged filter. Theater is live, it is interactive, it works along the same concept as music or storytelling. The simple fact that you are there, in the audience, affects some small aspect/outcome of that night’s performance. Its like the dancefloor – yes, a DJ could feasibly play a bangin’ set to a crowd of 5 people in a room for 500, but with a room rammed with peoples ready to jump off the banisters…. yeah you get the idea. The traditional theater is a little less extreme, but the example works. We laugh at jokes, we might jump at sudden noises, exclaim, cry, get up and leave, etc… It is exciting because the people on stage are doing something so radically different from our every-day experience (and, gasp, train/live to do these things!) that we feel uncomfortable, slightly out-of body/mind, and ultimately more receptable to new ideas or concepts, new feelings etc…. Its just another form of group meditation. Oh the joys of intrapersonal relations!!

This week we were given an hour.5 tour of the National Theater here in London. This place is BIG, let me tell ya – 4 theaters, one of which has a 4 story rotating drum lift in the center of the stage that is roughly 30 feet in diameter and can shoot whole scenes up and down to a series of large housing spaces underneith the buidling. The fly-gallery (space above the stage for hoisting scenery backdrops, props, etc…) at this particular stage is gigantic and capable of hiding 3D objects as it uses hooks instead of rods to move things up and down. The guide said that this gallery was big enough to fly a double decker bus (!!). It was interesting to see how a large, commercially minded, theater works behind the scenes, and just how much artistry and hard work goes into each production, even at this level of professionalism. One example: all the scenes and props are made on-site in a workshop the size of a football field (maybe a little smaller, but it was pretty large) by a crew of full time artists, carpenters, and metalsmiths. Yea… The two short plays we saw after the tour were very good as well. Both dealt with issues of the burgeoning adolescent, the first with depression and the second with homosexuality. The first play was by far the better of the two and was so intensely realistic in places that I had a hard time sitting through it all. It followed the conversations of a suicidal teenage boy who turns to an internet chatroom for answers. Two people online think his issues are a big joke and encourage his suicide thoughts to a conclusion that I wont divulge (in case you ever see it – Chatroom by Edna Walsh). The main character was incredibly well-acted and there was this break-down scene where people around me were so involved and swept up in what was happening that when the lights turned on at the end of the play, I looked around to people wiping eyes, staring blankly at the stage and hurrying out of the room. It was particularly hard for me to watch, as I have personally and via so many of my friends/family dealt with varying degrees of depression, and felt a little lost and lonely afterwards. Combined with not feeling physically well and being so tired at the end of a long day, I had to step outside to breath a little and reorganize my mind before I went back to the theater. I havent felt quite that vulnerable and sad in a while…. Funny how a space can feel at once warm and welcoming, and in an instance, cold and unstable; even more interesting how those feelings can transmit to one’s mental state.

Today I spent figuring out what to do with my upcoming 5-day weekend. I had originally planned on taking one of these longer breaks to Amsterdam, as I really want to experience the city again now that I am older and more able to understand and interpret such a radically different place. BUT, all the hostels in said city are booked weekends through most of October due to the Amsterdam Dance Event, Europe’s answer to the Miami Winter Music Conference – aka the largest dance music festival/conference in the Eastern Hemisphere. Heh, yeah missed the boat on that one didnt I? Oh well. I guess its better that way since Id probably be encouraged to spend copious amounts of money on things that, in the end, dont really matter. Yay economies of excess! I love dance music, but sometimes the culture that trails its ideology makes me want to vomit. SO, after realizing that this actually sounded much more enjoyable than bumping butts with so many sweaty Euro-men in a haze of Amsterdamn expensiveness, Ive decide to take a lovely little train ride to the Lake District and go on a series of long day-hikes through the mountains, very Romantic-poet-like. I had no idea what or even where the Lakes District is, besides there being an abundance of hiking trails in the area, so I forced my nauseous self outside and took the Tube to Covent Garden where exists the COOLEST store Ive been in since Powells in Portland called Stanfords. Composed solely of travel maps, books, guides, and other such mappy-related things, Stanfords has the most insane collection of “Ordinance Survey Maps” – detailed (down to park benches!) topo maps of the entire UK continent broken into a good 500 hundred different quadrants. This is what I was after, though I ended up buying a guide to Mallorca and Minorca and almost purchasing 2 other COOL guides to this and that place in Spain. I also purchased a pair of (relatively) cheap “treking-poles”, something which every single guide book and interent site said were 100% indespensible on multi-day hiking trips. We’ll see. Im going to feel a little goofy with them for a while, but hopefully they’ll do the trick – apparently using poles transfers upwards of 20% of the weight that would normally end up on your knees to your arms and shoulders, which is good news for me and my increasingly screwy knees/lower back region. They do look a bit goofy though. Hopefully Ill fit in with all the other short shorted and high socked day-hiking veterans! The area I will be staying in is the Keswick/West Cumbria region, from Friday – Monday. :)

So in the spirit of doing things that I enjoy, and not following the crowd around like so many lost sheep-products of the post-modern age of vague purpose and too much extra cash (haha Im so optimistic tonight), I think Im going to check out SoHo tomorrow during the day and find someplace to hear some live jazz in the evening. I havent been to a jazz show in god-knows how long and am actually quite excited at the prospect, though once again itd be nice to have someone to tag along with. Most of the peoples I know are going to a Jane Eyre festival or something tomorrow in Bath…….. Blech!

More than enough for one night! Till next time….

Weekend #2

The new never ceases here in London, though I guess its a bit early to give such a bold statement on the city. This weekend I did a whole bunch of new things, and Ill start from the beginning.

Thursday and Friday night I went “out on the town,” i.e. wandered about with a group of people looking for something to entertain and ending up realizing that entertainment in London costs money and after a pint or two, you’ve already spent enough money to feed 10 families in Africa, so… back to the res hall! Yep, that pretty much summarizes Thurs and Friday night, though I did have some nice long conversations with new people – something I havent done in a very long time. Went to bed incredibly late each night, but thats what weekends are for.

Saturday afternoon I spent on Oxford street – a huge mob of people and rather expensive English big-box stores. Needless to say, I didnt end up buying any clothing (even in the UK, most stores cater about 85% to women,  10% to babies, and % to men – what gives!?), but did find the British edition of Human Traffic (a DVD) that I have been looking for so long. Bought myself a iDJ mag too, all about how to create massive BASS…. hehe. Oxford street is long and me and Stephanie (also from UPS) spent a good 3 hours walking up and down it, sadly with no real purpose. We tried to find SoHo without a map as well, ending up in Liverpool (haha, yeah I know…. what were we thinking?) eating at a place called “Naturally Fast Food” or something like that. It was an amazing cross between a Good Earth type place and (slightly) Mc Donalds – I had Moroccan fried sweet potato, some tasty coleslaw and a nut-rice mixture, topped off with ginger-mint lemonade. Deliscious! I really want/need to find out where this city hides its less commercial shopping area(s), maybe something like SF’s Haight street (though even this isnt quite as funky as history would have it these days). I came to England to get away from big-box disgustingness…. oh well. Back at home base I promtly passed out, woke up, stretched out, chugged soy milk, and headed off to Earthdance 2007.

Compared to my latter club experience in London, this was a much more fulfilling night out, though still not what I had fantasized about…. Unlike most Earthdance’s, this was not outside and therefore did not hold the same sort of peaceful/reverent vibe of last year’s party. Apparently I had not learned my lesson at fabric and got to the Scala a little before 11 PM. This meant that me, Stephanie and Rachel were one of about 20 people in the main room for upwards of an awkward, badly DJ’d hour. The main dancefloor was barren except for myself and two couples, the psy-trance room was completely barren (I felt really bad for the DJ up there, but I just dont dig psy unless Im in the right mood), and the techno bar/room sparsely composed of shifty looking individuals sipping pints of Budweiser (Im eternally baffled by how much this slosh costs here, more than a Heneiken in most places). Since I hadnt been out in WAY too long (haha, yeah like 3 weeks), I danced despite the DJ that couldnt mix to save his soul, the lack of people on the dancefloor, and the oddly bright lighting. But guess what, I had fun! Im not too sure if the people sitting behind me could say the same.

The headliner (Dreadzone) was pretty good, though I am a bad judge of live acts. I had only come across breaks remixes of their stuff before, and liked what little I heard. In reality, Dreadzone is very much a reggae/ragga group with electronic undertones, and not particularly organic/hippy either. So yeah, a couple dudes had dreads and they spoke (from what little I could understand – jamaican-British accents are like Chinese to me) about peace, etc… etc… But it was very much an act, each song about 4-5 minutes long, pre-meditated and calculated. I had fun dancing, despite a slightly upset stomach (poor choices the night before…) that eventually dissapeared, but probably wouldnt go out of my way to hear them again. As for the other acts that night, dont EVER go out of your way, actually you might want to avoid it at all costs, to see the Morrighan (sp?). I couldnt stop laughing at this group, and neither could Steph and Rachel. It was as if David Bowie and Cher started crystal worshipping and instead of disco, had come out of the trance scene of the late 90’s. Yea, terrible. And they were taking themselves (as were the paltry crowd of about 20 that stuck through their gawd awful set) so seriously! Check out some pictures of the group online. Ridiculous. The techno room was by far this party’s saving grace, though why the promoters chose to put such amazing talent in a tiny little bar area is beyond me. Chris Liberator and D.D.R. (techno god from tha day doing a live Ableton set) laid the acid techno down THICK, complete with squelchy, grab-you-by-the-balls thundering bass and just the right amount of teaser funk. The crowd, even after more people started showing up, was just not that into anything and I spent a lot of time dancing in my own space or with a couple other light-hearted souls, which while fun, would have been 10x more fun to share with a bigger crowd. I have to say that slam dancing in a huge open space with a couple other people is by far one of my favorite things to do – especially when the other guys/gals are up to your energy level and feed off one another. We ended up staying till 4:30, though I couldve stayed the night through, its been a long long time since I danced that hard to fast RPM music. If you have no idea what Im talking about, imagine “jazzersizing” (sp?) for 6 hours straight. Your body, after the first couple hours, does this amazing trance-state thing where all you want to do is move and each movement makes you feel that much better for doing so and each limb starts to move out of its normal body zone, across the dancefloor and around, up and down, and with other people in this state just about anything can happen, its excersize, meditation, and group therapy all wrapped up into one big, sweaty rave blanket…. sigh. I love dancing.

Yesterday I woke up gloriously late and refreshed and headed out to the 2nd day of the Thames Festival, another great excuse for Londoners to eat lots of food, drink lots of wine, and listen to music. This was like most street fairs Ive ever been to, though with lots more people and less obesity. We walked from Waterloo station, allllll the way down on the South side of the Thames, to Tower Bridge, took the Tube back to Waterloo and walked once again down to the London Eye to watch the fireworks at 10 PM. All in all, we spent 6 hours at the festival, watching this and that performer, browsing the usual collection of festi-wares (i.e. jewelry, bags, stuff from Africa/Asia/MiddleEast, soap, incense), and eating – burritos! I was going through a strange sort of Mexican-food withdrawl, as Mexicans dont really exist in the UK. BUT, there was a stand selling the most intense (and I mean INTENSE, bigger than Chipotle, about the size of a new born child) burritos for 5 pounds. I didnt care how much they cost, I wanted one so bad. And it was good, oh so good. As usual I ate it too fast and had to sit slightly distended for a while before I could venture onwards. Suprisingly my two companions consumed the entirity of theirs as well. I mean, we are Americans, arent we? By far the best moment of the festival, though in competition with the fireworks show at the end of the night, was hearing a man play a “hang drum”, a brand new (first made in 2000) musical instrument that looks like two woks welded together into a sort of UFO shape, played with the hands like a congo, and sounds like a cross between the gamlan, tabla, and steel drum. The hang drum has 7-9 (depending on size) notes, placed in a circle around a center “hang”, an area that sounds a bit like tabla or gong when struck. The combination of these pitches, the center hang and the manipulation of resonance and dynamics makes for an ethereal sound that cuts through air like nothing I have ever heard before. The audience around this man was completely awestruck, it was beautiful and haunting to hear something so new and otherwordly. If you get a chance, check this website out and listen for a while. It sounds so much better in an open-air space, but you can sure get an idea. If you want to be really nice and get me one for Xmas (OMG I would do anything for you!), they run around $1500, there is a year.5 waiting list, and you have to go to Bern, Switzerland to get it made and personally tuned (no online/phone/email orders) by the two men who designed it. Lame, yeah? But its so new! I understand the insanity that occurred when the piano forte was invented, or the saxaphone. New sounds are so cool. Check it out (the “New Song 2005″ and “Well Hang” are the best videos of this guy): http://www.youtube.com/user/mutlunatic

Thats about all for me today… I posted a bunch of new pictures on Facebook, including an entire album devoted to strange things Ive noticed in London. The British sure are funny folk.

More Pictures…..

So after loading a whole bunch of pictures onto this site, I realized that I only have 50 megs to use. SO, its back to good ‘ol Facebook. If you do not have a Facebook profile, you will need to get one in order to see my pictures for the remainder of my time here. Its pretty easy, you just need an email address.  Go to: http://www.facebook.com

Once you have made a profile, add me as your “friend.” To do this, search for my first and last name (I am the only one on Facebook ) and find the link that adds me as your friend. When I log on I will confirm your request and you will then be able to view my pictures via my profile page.

If all you want to do is view my pictures, dont bother making anything elaborate for your profile. People get carried away with Facebook and it can eat your life away in a jiffy…..

thursday night….which is actually friday night, but thursday night

Its going to take a long time to get used to this roommate thing. Mike sleeps right next to my desk (our rooms are about half the size of any sane American dorm) and so if he wants to go to bed early, I cant be on the computer in the room, or do much other than sleep really, when he is trying to sleep. I wanted to do laundry tonight, but got back around 11:30 and, no luck.

The last few days here have been really interesting. Tuesday was an absolutely beautiful day, clear blue skies, lots of people out, and I got out of class at 4. I had been wanting to visit Hyde park, the largest park in London, for a while and decided to do it on my own. For some reason I thought that the London Zoo was located somewhere within it there, but I was terribly wrong and found myself in one of the largest expanses of open park space I have ever seen (seriously, it is huge!). Hyde park consists of thousands of really old Aescelus hippocasteneum, a.k.a. Horse Chestnuts, lots of little ponds with fountains and people tooling around in paddle boats, ungodly amounts of pathways that make no real sense when viewed on a map, and everyone and anyone you could ever imagine doing all sorts of things. During my 2 hours wandering, I watched four guys breakdancing in a band pavilion, a man doing Tai Chi, people juggling pins, lots of lovers kissing on the grass, every sort of bicycle you could ever imagine, and all sorts of different nationalities. It was fun, just to wander and watch. I bought some pinneapple at a Tesco the stop before Hyde Park Corner and ate it in the sun, though I made the mistake of sitting down one of the millions of really comfortable looking lawn chairs placed by a particular pond. As I was just about to dig in, a man asks me fore 2.50 pounds. I ask, incredulously “To sit in the chair?” and he replied, “Yes, two pounds, fifty “p”, please.” I said, “are you serious? Well, I guess I wont sit in the chair then.” And promptly moved ten feet to the right and sat down on a park bench. Not as comfortable, but it did just fine. This is a great example of how wonderful (Hyde park, interesting people) and at the same time, terrible, this city can be. Money is the law here, and so many people have it. Strange though, that every Londoner assumes that because I am (and anyone else in this program) American, that I have more money to throw around than they do. If only they knew…. I ended up spending a little bit too long in the park, for when I got back, my nose, cheeks, and eyes (I had been wearing sunglasses all summer at work) were very sunburned and still are to some extent today. The trade off was worth it though.

Last night was interesting in a whole new manner. I was sitting in the little communal kitchen that Mike and I share with who knows how many people (I have only seen one other girl in there, three times) eating dinner, reading, and sipping a glass of wine, when the girl I had seen previously and two friends come in and start setting up a rather elaborate meal. I, being the socially inept person I am, continue to eat and read and sip as though nothing has changed, though I fear that if anyone of them talked to me I would blush profusely and not know what to do with the situation (anxiety is a wonderful thing, eh?). Luckily I was able to calm down enough to smile a bit here and there and eventually one asked me my name, and we all started talking. The girl who uses my kitchen is named Ika (I think) and is from Russia. The other two, Anna and Hannah (I think) are from Switzerland (via Croatia) and Korea respectively. It was a very interesting night, as all three are in London to learn English at a sort of 4 week intensive language program. It was fun to talk with people who were excited to use language and make conversation for conversation’s sake. I learned all sorts of things about every one of them, and they me (albeit over a bottle and a half of MY wine… sigh, thats what I get for buying it, right?) and I actually enjoyed myself. I found it interesting to here the different stages of language proficiency, as each was slightly better or worse than the other. We ended up going to a Pub down the street near S. Kensington station, which in retrospect was a very bad idea as England was playing Russia (football (ie soccer)) and every male in Chelsea was shouting and slamming beers down their throats in every bar and pub we walked into. Eventually we sat down in the least crowded one we could find and attempted to make even more strained broken English conversation over the insane noise around us. I learned that Korean English is very difficult for me to decipher, as often (especially while slightly drunk) sentence structure slips into the Korean version (I to walk go vs. I go to walk) and I have a hard time wrapping my mind in such new patterns. Anna, from Croatia, had interesting stories, having lived through the huge changes from Communism to Capitalism, as well as living for a decent chunk of her life in Switzerland. We discussed politics for a very long time (I felt like a foreign delegate for America, though I think I was a bad representative of our government….!) and I was surprised by how little all three new about the reality of the Iraq war in America. They harbored very strong stereotypical views of American politics and I think I shocked them a bit by giving them a different and more balanced story of the goings-on of the last 5 years. Hopefully I will see them again before their term ends.

Boistered from the success of actually talking with new people, today I stepped even farther out of my normal boundaries and invited a few people to join me on Saturday for Earthdance. I am always a little bit wary of inviting new people to these parties, as raves can be a little intimidating at face value. But, I believe that the spirit of being in a new place is with me and (especially at a hippified love-fest like Earthdance) everything should go just fine. London can be a bit sketchy at times, but again only in a monetary sense. If you simply understand that everyone is out to make money off of you, staying sane is an awful bit easier. That said, raving is always sketchy (and in my opinion is one of the aspects of this culture that makes it so exciting, as there are such a wide variety of people at each event, anything and everything can happen though almost always in a positive sense, or at least neutral) and full of drugs and I pray that the people I invited are not thrown off by such things and can see the true beauty behind the beast. Raving is such a great metaphor for so many things – like life, if you took the world and boiled it down to one small place, there would be a decent bit of bad, but even more good because otherwise, we wouldnt still be here, now would we? And out of that binary, pure chaotic beauty evolves – the kind that rises up during an epic breakdown, when glancing around you see every possible expression of human consciousness, sadness, joy, pure bliss, soul searching. Only in moments of temporary autonomy, when we forget that life is day-to-day and the nuerons connect just fast enough to give us a glimpse of life as it really is, do we actually feel alive. That is what raving is about, and it wouldn’t be without the human element, the uncontrollable, bad and good, element. Sigh…. Do I think/ramble about this sort of thing too much? Maybe…

So yeah, back to today. Lunch was a succes – a girl from Walla Walla is going to come with me this weekend, named Rachel. She is very much into the indy-rock scene, so hopefully she will find a corner of the electronic world to feel welcome in as well. I find that anyone that enjoys live music ends up liking these shows. It is, IMHO, the most forward thinking, genre breaking, serious music of our day (when done right). Who wouldnt dig that? After lunch I had my first day of Intro to London Theater, which was long and hot and I drew a lot of pictures… BUT we see a play every week, and tonight I saw “Elling” at the Trafalgar Studios, a play about two mental patients (nuerosis and slight retardation/nuerosis) who learn to live in a welfare house via a series of comical incidents. It was very well written, and for the most part well acted, and by the end of the play I was entirely wrapped up in each character and sad for it to end. I think that is a sign of a good play, no? Im not much of a critic, but Id give it 4 thumbs up. Afterwards I followed a group of students around Leicester Square, which was interesting if only for the sheer comedy of watching six midwestern youngin’s navigate the veritable Times Square of London, complete with club punters (so many here!! though they dont change from city to city, they just get more viscious) and sleezy Army recruits out for their last fling before they give their soul to the government. An hour, a cheap piece of pizza, an expensive beer, and too long spent in front of “Oxygen” club trying to shake the army boys AND the punters later… I left the poor naive crowd as they were cajolled into line for “Sound, London’s Premier Club Experience” or something equally inane. I know these areas like the back of my hand, know exactly how they work (ladies in fo’ free, yeah? and guys only ten quid. great deal, best club in London, mark my word. One pound fifty vodka redbulls on tha dancefloor. Here Ill give ya a deal…. – and so forth) and was not about to pay an equivilent twenty dollars just to stand awkwardly around a bar while bad techno blasts holes in my eardrums and sweaty, not very interesting men and women try to seduce each other while attempting to stand up straight and failing. Sigh… they’ll learn. Its just that these places give such a bad name to what I am most passionate about. They ruin so much of the electronic music culture for people who dont know any better. When I say techno, they think the sleezy club some guy almost raped them in dark corner at. Gross – exactly opposite! But whatever, I guess it keeps the not so great ones out and at safely contained at these sorts of places, and the people who really give a damn in.

So yeah. That was my night. And now Im waiting patiently for Heidi to get off work (Skype is very cool – you should check it out, if not to talk to me, simply because its very cool.) in the lounge on our floor watching swerving couples speaking all sorts of languages tumble out of the escalator and down the hall. Viva la Thursday night!!

Some more firsts

If I write on here everyday, does that mean I don’t have enough to do? I’m a little miffed about this whole on my own thing. IES has sufficiently “cut the ties” now, and I have so much free time I don’t know what to do with myself, especially during this limbo period before classes really begin. I wish I had a feeling for how much reading I’m going to have to do to make tha gradez. This British Women writers class is freaking me out a little, as we read a book a week (though I have read about half at least once – yay UPS gender studies!) and some of them are pretty darn long. The rhetoric that follows each book and discussion will be like eating a donut for me, or maybe tofu (I still cant find any goddamn tofu here!! They sell soy milk, cheese, yogurt, etc… etc… but no tofu) since Ive been through it all before. This is the only class that actually “matters” while I’m here, as it counts towards my grandiose English degree, so I really have to do what is required of me, no matter how teeth have to be pulled in the process. In preparation, I did the first reading today, Virginia Wolf’s “A Room of One’s Own” – all 120 pages in one sitting (coffee is a wonderful thing, eh?). It was interesting, though I cant say I would have chose it as afternoon reading material under any other circumstance. I have had quite enough early feminist theory for one lifetime, and this was just more of the same, though filtered through Wolf’s long-winded literary eye. I guess her discussion of how women’s place in society affected(s) their approach to novel writing and reality interpretation was interesting, but it wasnt a breakthrough for me by any means. I have a feeling that the remainder of this class is going to run along similar lines.

I visited a massive bookstore today, similar to Barnes and Nobles if they were situated in a 4 story Victorian mansion. Its only a five minute walk away from the class building, which rocks if I had the money to spend there. I kinda just enjoy the ambiance of these places though and over stayed my due browsing the SciFi selection (it was strange to recognize so little of the current books on display) and wandering the little nooks and crannies that made up each floor. The ultimate goal of my time there was to find the only book I have to purchase this semester (!), for British Youth Culture. Sadly, I ended up spending a grand 32.00 dollars on it (plus another 14 on a bit of guilty pleasure reading – The Child Garden by Geoff Ryman, apparently a scifi classic) – soft cover, 6 0 some odd pages long – and realized tonight over dinner (pasta with olive oil, brie, basil, and tomatoes – thanks Kerala!) that it is not very interesting. Ive noticed that anything in print here is insanely expensive – from computer paper, to the daily news, magazines, and especially books. I think it might have something to do with the lack of trees on this rather flat and mossy little chunk of land. What that has to do with tofu, Id absolutely LOVE to know.

Word to the wise – do not use iPhoto unless you are a great friend of the spinning beach ball. Gross.

There is a little space in the Picadilly subway platform here in Kensington that is reserved for various street musicians, mostly guitar and saxaphone players. Everytime I walk past and step onto the escalator I get this uncontrollable (well, controllable to some degree) urge to find a piano and spend a couple days regrouping the skills that are slowly drifting off into the universe of neglect. If only I had learned to play something portable to the same degree I can the piano. I know that when I feel lost or depressed, confused or rattled, that the only thing that really calms my nevers/mind down is improvising (and dance, but that isnt very practical anywhere, really). These last few years have felt more and more anxious, especially when I am stressed out (like now) as I havent had the chance to sit down and lay out exactly what I am feeling and work it through, and when I do get the chance, I never have quite enough time (and this point, I doubt I ever will) to regroup everything under my fingers. I wish I were like most people, able to do that sort of thing via other creative/emotional outlets. Dance has kept me more or less sane, but its not very dependable, reliant on others to channel me this way and that, and only comes in long, periodic outbursts. If I could have any one thing right now, it would be a keyboard. Im not too sure why I kept insisting on spending my monies elsewhere over the course of the last two years, possibly a sign of something unsettled deeper in me, but I know now. When I get back, its saving time. I want that side of me back about as much as Londoner’s say “Cheers”, which is to say, an awful lot.

Interesting London note of the day: British people come in one of two sorts: skinny and slightly sick looking, or fat and slightly sick looking. I think it must be the insane amount of tea and beer, not mention the beef, bad fish, and potato, these people consume, that and maybe the lack of tofu…. I was sitting on the Tube today and realized just how unhappy everyone around me looked, not only in expression, but also in the long pull of their faces, the slouch of their shoulders, the healthiness of their hair, etc… Especially in British men, though the fat British women usually (and there seem to be an abundance of these in comparison) look a degree happier/healthier, I wonder sometimes just how rough their lives must be to inhabit such droll personages. I guess if I existed on such a diet, Id probably look a little strung out as well, much like any American college student really, except that here we have an entire population of people for whom it is normal 8-5 reality to wake up, down a double expresso/cup of tea, have a pint for lunch with more tea, another tea at 3 PM, another pint after work, and some more tea after dinner (and on the weekends, a few more (a lot more) pints in the evenings). I might have a glass of wine for dinner now and then and some tea or coffee with my homework, but every 3 hours? Its a wonder these people can function all, what with all that caffeine and buzz in their system.

More to come tomorrow, Im sure. Off to mess around with my camera some more, i.e. give iPhoto its long overdue divorce papers.

1st weekend

I am a little intimitated by how much I can do in a single day here. If I keep up this pace, I probably wont be able to blog quite as much or often, but I figure once school starts, my lazy freetime will diminish considerably and I will be doing the interesting stuff less often. But for now, life is pretty darn good.

Last night I was feeling a bit stir crazy, with the majority of the people in my residence hall out drinking and carousing around London, so I decided I would suck it up and venture out on my own to see Swayzack perform live at fabric nightclub in the soho district. This meant taking the tube (complete with my very first lonely transfer!) there and the nightbus back. Sounds easy enough, right? Well, at least the way there – the Tube is built for everyone and anyone – you have to be slightly off your rocker to get confused as everything is conveniently color coded, named, and plotted out for veiwing pleasure around every turn. Sometimes the “user-friendliness” of the system becomes a bit annoying, i.e. the overly cautious women who states “please mind the gap” at each stop, as well as the male voice that simply repeats “mind the gap” over and over again when the space between the train door and the landing were particularly underestimated.

Do not. I repeat, do not go to fabric unless the line-up is so intensely out of this world that you would go to hell for not going. I can say this at least, that I have been to THE fabric, which is more than many can say, and that I have an opinion on the matter. Apparently, fabric is the second most popular tourist destination club in London, right behind the lovely Ministry of Sound (which I might add, I am not quite naive enough to enter). Situated in the bar/club heavy district of SoHo (by day this area is one giant commercial grey area, much like any region in London outside the center), fabric is a 3 room maze of brick, concrete and steel with lovely blue and red ambient lighting that makes one feel as though you’ve just entered some sort of S&M raver hell. This setting was, I must admit, very exciting as I walked in the door at (yes, please slap me now) 11:00 PM. Apparently this is VERY early in London club land. Who knew? I had the club mostly to myself, along with a few other adventurous (and obviously tourist) souls, and spent the greater part of an hour sipping terribly expensive drinks (4 pound cocktails anyone??) and listening to a certain Mike Shannon warm up the largest room (also the space with fabric’s famous sub-sonic floor – i.e. subwoofers underneath the floor boards) with some rather boring tech-house. The other two rooms differed very little, so I wandered, and drank a little more until 1:00 when suddenly there were so many people milling about that it became hard to dance, anywhere, let alone on the dancefloor. The majority of these sudden arrivals were men, mostly mid-twenties, with stripy colored shirts, tight jeans, and strange accents that pegged them as part of the tourist crowd as well. The few English I “met” (oy, ‘ave any pills mate? ‘cus Ive got a tenner ‘ere…) didnt appear very London to me either. Oh well! Musically (because thats what I came for, right?) fabric dissapointed, big time. Understanding that this was a night of exclusively tech and tech-house, I was prepared for some slow building, subtle burners, but instead got lots of boom-chic-boom-chic-boom-chic and some spacey effects. Even Swayzack, who had a decent chunk of gear on stage for their “live” set looked tired and half asleep during the half hour I caught (apparently headliners go on at 2:30 AM in London) and played around with the same layer for god knows how long. This made me particularly mad, as I love their artist albums – beautifully crafted, ethereal tech-house that bumps in any sound system and is chock full of harmony and vocal brilliance. Live? It sounded like circa 1995 style warehouse techno if the needle caught in a groove and nobody noticed. Oh well…. live and learn, right? Too bad I spent close to 25 pounds on that lesson.

And so, exiting the club at 3 AM, I was already a little ticked off and ready to get into bed and fall asleep… But first I had to navigate the nightbus. Being the resourceful person I sometimes am, prior to leaving I looked up the bus # and stop online so that in the middle of the night I would only have to walk so far alone in the middle of London. I had relatively little trouble finding the stop, though I waited (this is going to sound very familiar to anyone who knows me moderately well….) a good 20 minutes at the stop going East (I wanted West) before actually looking at the destination on the sign. Across the street I went, and waited another 15 minutes or so for the N11 to appear, only to careen past me and on into the night. A rather drunk man who was waiting with me exclaimed “Well, he looked right pissed, now didnt he?” Yeah, I guess. I think it might have had something to do with neither of us flagging him down, for when (30 minutes later) I stuck my arm out for the next N11, the driver kindly stopped and open his doors. By this time it is 4:15 AM and I am ready to collapse into a lonely pile of David in my room, warm and safe. Sadly, I was a little TOO eager, and got off at the first neighborhood that looked anything remotely like Chelsea (fogetting exactly which stop the great internet had told me to disembark). It was, fittingly, NOT Chelsea. I am still unsure of where exactly I ended up, but it was dark, empty of people, and bordering on 5 AM. Swearing to myself and on the verge of laying down right there on the sidewalk I waited, once again, another 15 minutes for the next N11 to appear, though in my disorientation trying to orientate myself I had apparently crossed the street and hailed/boarded a N11 going the wrong way. Roughly 2 miles into this version of my trip, I asked the driver if we were going towards Chelsea, and he replied with a smile “Nope”, stopped the bus and opened the doors without much of a goodbye and out I went. By this time I am no longer frustrated, but sersiouly worried about getting home, as the last night bus stops at 5:30 AM here, with a gap before the regular service begins at 8. Luckily I found a stop in time to catch the last bus and this time got off within 4 blocks of my residence hall, destroyed some leftover rice, zombily brushed my teeth and dont remember falling asleep. My roommate asked me as I climbed into bed at 6 AM, how was your night? I think I replied “crazy…”

Today I bought some things (note: do not always assume that the more expensive, larger store is better (who would, right?)) and took a very long walk down the Thames river (4 blocks away from my room) and around Battersea park, just across the Chelsea bridge. Having been in a relationship, more or less continuously, for the past 5 years (!!) I am having to relearn the strange space and time one inhabits when alone. Ive had this sort of anxiousness or restlessness around me for the past 4 days, as though when alone, I dont really know how to act or what to do in certain (most) situations. I believe this is why (partly at least) I felt so depressed after last night, having no one there to reflect my feelings of worry and aloneness instantaneously. Today I began my walk with no real destination in mind, though I realized as I walked towards the Chelsea bridge that I was moving unecessarily fast and thinking only about the end of the walk, not so much the act of walking and seeing and experiencing. It was as though I had consciously chosen to go on a walk by myself, but was subconsciously only doing it to take up idle time with myself. Once I slowed down and stopped worrying about when and where I was going to end up, the walk was so much more enjoyable. I must have walked a good 5 or 6 miles today, through Battersea, which is quite an amazing little park to have within 5 minutes notice, and back again. There was live music, a fund raiser for some sort of “children in Africa” ubiquity, a dog show (so many dogs cavorting on the paths with little blue and red show ribbons attatched to their colars), and a mini-fair, complete with fried food, carnival rides, and information booths. I spent a while listening to the live music, an acoustic guitarist who sounded a bit like a cross between Bob Dylan and Eric Clapton, while eating an overpriced (and supposedly “Italian”) ice-cream cone and sipping tea, meandered through the various botanical gardens and little pond-side paths and ended up making a complete circle back across a pink and white painted bridge, to where I began on the Kings Road (the Res Hall) side of the river. All in all, it was a very pleasant day (do I sound British yet?).

Battersea Park

Bridge Across from Chelsea Bridge

Interesting things about London, take 2: sidewalks – the majority of people walk on the left, just as they would drive on the road. This said, some people do not follow the rule and leave people such as myself in the awkward position of trying to figure out what exactly is the appropriate social norm in this and that situation. I cant tell you how many times I played the “which way are you going, oops, gotcha, wait, which way, goddamn it, pick one already!” game today with various unsuspecting Londoners. I doubt I will ever understand this aspect of British culture, as I saw no one else struggling to walk down the sidewalk, at least to degree I was.

Tea: the British will pay (converted) up to 4 dollars for a cup of plain ol’ Lipton tea. 4 dollars you ask? They must have made it for you, put fancy milk in it, or something! Right? Nope. I poured the milk, put my tea bag into the water (maybe hot water is very expensive?) and even placed a lid and a little cardboard hot-barrier-thing (?) on my cup, all by my self. I know for a fact Lipton costs about 2 cents per bag, consumer rate. Where is all my (and so many Londoner’s) money going?? We will never know…

Pictures from Friday – Saturday:

El primero

Well then…

Its the close of my third day here in London, and Im still exhausted. Not sleeping the night before my flight was possibly not a very good idea, as I didnt end up with the greatest amount of peaceful relaxation space on any of my three flights over. So far my time here has gone something like this:

11:00 AM PAC – Left Tacoma. Waited for 30 minutes on the runway as some incompetent crew attempted to fix a broken valve in the engine, which btw means no airconditioning (!?). Already sweaty by this point. Airport

Next stop, Chicago. Arrival – 45 minutes late. If you have ever been to the Chitown airport, I pity you. It is quite possibly the worst laidout airport I have ever been to. All terminals are connected by this ridiculously slow train that leaves every 15 minutes from each stop. This means, if you (like myself) are sprinting across 2 miles of airport crowdedness to catch your trans-atlantic flight, you most likely wont catch it. Luckily, it took me exactly 30 minutes to run from the terminal I was dropped off at to the Manchester flight (30 minutes!!) and they hurried me on just in time for take-off and a wonderfully uncomfortable bath in my own sweat until the seatbelt sign blinked off. Sigh…. At least United served a veggie dinner plus Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Almost made up for everything.

Manchester: What an introduction to England. Got off the plane thirsty, hungary and ungodly worn out. After meandering through customs (they really dont check anything in the UK), past numerous ATMs that bespoke in big bold letters “Exchange Euros Here”, and ultimately to my Heathrow gate, I came to 3 conclusions: Manchester is full of people who are either fat, depressed, or dressed in business suits (or, as was often the case, a combination of these three), the English dont have drinking fountains, and airport food courts are for British people only (or people with British currency…). In the end I stuck it out, thirsty, hungry, and delirious, and read some Nova while munching on my lower lip and contemplating the lack of eye contact I was recieving from just about every passerby.

LONDON: Ill make this short, or as short as I can. The flight from Manchester was only an hour, so again, no sleep for David. I arrived in a cloud of deprivation to find my bags missing and the British ATM mysteriously absent. The kind man at the BMI counter assured me that my bags would be sent to the IES building that evening, and so I left feeling a little better considering I wouldnt need to drag them across London from the airport. Took the Heathrow Express to Paddington, which I later realized is the most expensive way to reach my final destination considering the only people on it were pin-striped businessmen and Japanese tourists (note: when in London, do NOT do as the Japanese do). Grabbed a sandwich (I dont remember tasting it) and a taxi (after much confusion as to how one hails a taxi on a road less than 2 inches wide) while at Paddington station, landed at the IES doorstep smelling something close to a gym bag and ready to fall over. Instead, I was hurried through numerous peices of paper and signatures, a new phone, a floor meeting, and finally allowed some downtime at 6:30 PM (I arrived at the center around 1 PM London time). Having no food, walked down to the lovely overpriced Organic foods market and bought something I dont remember eating, walked back and passed out. Woke up the next morning at 7:30 AM. 12 hours of sleep has never felt better, EVER.

View From My Window

My Tiny Room

My roommate’s name is Michael. Mike is from Indiana, via Indiana University, likes to watch football and is into business. He is applying for one of two business internships, either with the British Green Party (though he doesnt even want to work there…) and the BBC. We have very little in common, but he was kind enough to lend me a shirt, socks, and a towel for Thursday, for which I am very grateful.

Thursday was Orientation hell, AKA 5 hours in a hot lecture room listening to various annoying high-pitched British accents and drawing pictures on my “Knowledge” packet. Lunch was interesting though – experienced my very first English pub, complete with deep fried fish nuggets, slightly dry peas, and generic chips (or fries for you Americanos). Also had a pint o’ Fosters, which in retrospect was a very bad idea for after lunch, it was back to the lecture hall for another rousing 2.5 hours of things nobody would remember during which I tried very hard to stay awake. Thursday evening I spent grocery shopping (EXPENSIVE!!!!) and (low and behold!) unpacking – so far the best moment of this trip was stepping into the lobby and seeing my bags near the front desk. Shaving never felt so good.

Today was yet another day with the IES crew – 82 of us to be exact, 18 men, 64 women. I took some melatonin last night and ended up sleeping another 11 hours – till 11:45. Rushing to eat and get dressed (in my own clothing!), I ventured onto the Tube for my first time alone. This was fun, if not a little bit stressful as I got on the train going the opposite direction and had to switch and retrace two stops. Found the IES center building just fine and in time for the “guided bus tour”. This was, just as I expected. Saw 20+ sights in just under and hour and ended up in front of the British Museum where we saw 6 sights in another hour on yet another guided tour. Luckily, the BM is less than 3 blocks away from the center, is free, and full of absolutely stunning greek, roman, egyptian, and other ancient medditerranean artifacts. In a couple months, a decent chunk of the famous Chinese terra cotta army will be shown here – though they make you pay for that sort of thing. Other attractions within a short distance of the IES center: Buckingham Palace, Picadilly Circus, Blackfriar’s, Big Ben, the London Eye, and London Bridge. Its pretty amazing just how jampacked this city is with history, and yet how modern it feels in the same instance. In one 3 block area, you might see buildings that range from the 1400’s all the way through Foster’s weird, glass futurist buildings (one of which, the London Authority HQ, has been described as “a great glass testicle”).

London Bridge & Foster Building

The Great Glass Roof at the British Museum

Westminster Abbey

The Eye

Things I have learned so far: Chelsea is rich. VERY rich. About 95% of the vehicle matter that makes so much noise against my dorm room at night are high-end Euro cars (i.e. Mercedes, BMW, Range Rover, the like) and everyone on the side walk looks like a slightly pudgier version of some Vogue or Men’s Health model. The food here is also super-pricey, though that goes for most of London. I bought food for myself, including a few kitchen necessities, and the total bill came to 70 pounds, about 140 dollars. Yeah. And I bought frugally as well, only Dinner and breakfast meals, plus cheese and PB&J for quick lunches. New: the British do not understand Mexican food. By far the staple of my diet back home, the burritos are small and stale, the salsa hidden and terrible, but the beans, oh my! SO many beans, beans, beans….. Lots of Indian food as well, which almost makes up for the lack of Mexican. Other interesting observations thus far: the Tube rocks, though Tube escalators are frighteningly steep; IES kids like to drink; IES kids are mostly Juniors who have never legally drunk before; there are 8 kids from UPS on this trip – they all stick together; driving on the left side of the street is disconcerting; do not walk near the curb when a bus is coming – it will take off your head with its mirror; there are a lot of fat people in Britain; South African accents are tight.

Tonight I had the option of seeing a one James Livesey spin at a bar called “Dogstar” in Brixton. Though I cant stop thinking about why I didnt end up going, in the end I think it was for the best as they (the fools here at IES) have us up and going, once again, at 10 AM tomorrow. I met James at Shambhala Music Festival (Canada) this summer and via a series of emails and Facebookings, decided to meet at some point, sooner rather than later, during my stay here. I am really sad that this night (his birthday nonetheless) had to come so early on in my stay. It is only 11:30 and I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone venture halfway across London on my ownsome (nobody in this program listens to techno) and take the night buses back at 2 AM. James kindly offered his floor for the morning until the Tube starts back up (8 AM), but I knew that this would only hinder my ability to survive the coming week’s worth of adrenaline fused newness. Hopefully tomorrow night I will make it out to one of the 15 clubs I have mapped….! Wish me luck! For now though it is bedtime. We are off to Greenwich village in the morning for yet another round of American tourist-ness and guides with annoying voices. But who knows, I might just LOVE it…. G’night.