experiment...

So I've been trying some new things with my photos, and one of them is stitching a bunch of photos together to create a single panoramic one. I thought I'd share the results. There's some obvious flaws, especially with the Westminster one, but what the hell.

lofty art-ness

I've not been doing much noteworthy recently. Mainly it's been class and grocery shopping. Yesterday, however, I went to Camden Market and the surrounding area. It's like Willy Street back home, but less aging-hippie-ish, more urban-punk-rock-ish. I spent most of my time in Stables Market, which is (surprise) a converted stable. It seems to big to have been just a stable, so I think there used to be something else there as well. If the statues are anything to go by, there were horses and blacksmiths and stableboys, all in this one area. Really, there were horse statues everywhere. The giant disembodied horse head was a little creepy. But the whole neighborhood seemed a bit edgier, and more down to earth - almost homey.
Today I wandered around downtown. I went to St. James's Palace because I thought there was going to be a parade - there wasn't, it's tomorrow. But I walked to Buckingham Palace from there, and then to St. James's park. I then went to the Westminster Abbey/Houses of Parliament area, taking awful touristy pictures the whole way. I got bored of walking and went to the National Gallery.
Most people reading this will know I'm not a big art girl, and I get bored in museums, but I actually had fun and looked at paintings this time. I discovered I like Rubens and Cezanne. I did make sure to hit up their "must see" paintings - one of van Gogh's sunflower paintings, one of Monet's bridge+waterlilies, and the da Vincis, the Michaelangelos, and the Raphaels. To be honest, I didn't care much for the sunflowers or the waterlilies. Most of Monet's paintings just looked messy to me, and I thought some of the other van Goghs were better. I think my favorite was Samson and Delilah by Rubens. Either that, or this random Dutch painter that I had never heard of called Vilhelm Hammershoi had a painting called interior that I liked.
After that I went to the National Portrait Gallery, which was right next door. I went through the Tudor rooms and saw all those paintings that were used in my history books. It was pretty cool, but I didn't finish because I was tired and cranky. I'll probably need to go back to see the rest and fully appreciate it.
Next on my list:
Greenwich observatory
Churchill's War Rooms

Paintings I liked (if you read this far I assume you care about my opinions of art):
Rubens - Samson and Delilah
Hammershoi - Interior
van Gogh - A Wheatfield with Cypresses
Cezanne - Hillside in Provence
Pissarro - The Boulevard Montmartre at Night
Renoir - Gladioli in a Vase

"Eh" paintings
van Gogh - Sunflowers
Monet - The Water-lily Pond

Oh-My-God-I-Hate-This-Painter-And-His-Stupid-Boats-Can-We-Just-Move-On-Now Paintings:
JMW Turner - Rain, Steam and Speed - The great Western Railway
JMW Turner - The Fighting Temeraire (Don't believe them when they say it's a must. It's not.)

The Isle of Wight

Sorry I haven't written a blog for awhile, but I didn't think I had anything exciting to write about until my lovely daytrip yesterday. I decided (like Lauren) to get out of the city. But instead of going for the entire weekend and freezing my butt off in the north (although I'm sure Lauren is having a wonderful time being Cathy on the Moors), I went to an island. Not that that meant it was warm. I went to the Isle of Wight, which is an island of the southern coast of England. It is also home to Osborne House, the seaside villa of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. I am currently very much interested in these two after seeing the fantastic movie The Young Victoria (in theatres now...so go see it).

Right. So I found this place in the guidebook Mom gave me for my birthday and thought "That sounds like a perfect place for me to go." Now...how to get there. Well, first I had to see if it was open as many things close in the winter. It was open, but only for pre-booked guided tours. Ok. Called, got a tour. No problem. Next, how the hell do I get there? It's on an island. There are many options as it turns out, but the easiest one was to take a train to Southampton, catch the free city bus to the ferry, take the ferry across to East Cowes on the Isle of Wight (and the town where Osborne House is located) and then walk about 15 minutes up the road to the house. So I booked the ferry and the train online (because as I learned from travelling with my Mom, everything is cheaper when you book in advance...plus you know for sure you have a ticket) and was ready to go.

Everything went wonderfully. I only had to stop and ask for directions once when I was in East Cowes in order to double check I was going in the right direction (I was). And I got to Osborne House early and in time to go on an earlier tour, which meant I'd have more time to wander the grounds and the town after the tour.

The tour of the house was excellent. There were only 5 other people besides me on it and our tour guide lady was very enthusiastic. She thought everything from the floors to the ceilings, the paintings to the furniture was "lovely, lovely." And it was. Unfortunately, I couldn't take pictures in the house, but everything was just as beautiful as things often are in old fanc houses. Except that it only had the appearance of being fancy. When Queen Victoria came to the throne at 18, she inheritited all her uncle's debts. This meant that she was always smart about money, which is weird to think about since she was queen and all. But this meant that everything in the house looked splendid but was actually cheaper material. The two best examples of this is that the house itself was built of red brick and then painted to look the way it is now. Also, there are many rooms where the walls or columns appear to be marble but are in fact plaster or concrete painted to look like marble. The paint job is so well done that if the guide hadn't told us it was fake, I never would have guessed. The house was actually designed by the builder and Prince Albert. He had been on the Grand Tour and wanted the house to look like an Italian villa which it definitely does, so much that I occasionally forgot I was in England. Until the weather reminded me.

Since it is the winter, most of the house was closed up and all of the gardens were closed. However, there are no private tours in the summer, so I was really glad I went and got some of the backstories. I would like to go back in the summer, so hopefully I'll be around to do so. And beware to anyone who comes and visits me here that this might be somewhere I insist on dragging you to. After the tour, I walked around the grounds outside. The weather kept going back and forth about every half and hour from bright and sunny to dark and cloudy. At times it was quite pleasant, until a sea breeze hit me. I had some afternoon tea and a scone in the cafe that was really good. Then I wandered around the town, stopping in some little shops (although there weren't many), but mostly enjoying the quiet. The noise of the city doesn't bother me so much, but I forget how quiet it can be when there aren't a million people around and buses and cars. There were cars and buses on the island, but not as many as in London.

Today, I went to Portobello Road in Notting Hill. It is actually sunny here in a not a cloud in the sky kind of way. But the dusting of snow on the ground means that it is still cold, so myhands were nearly frozen as I walked along, but it was still nice to be in the sun. I almost bought several things at the market, but wasn't sure enough to buy anything except a chocolate doughtnut with the most sprinkles I have ever seen. I will definitely be going back and perhaps next time I will get something.

So a very busy weekend and more to come. I will be seeking a pub tomorrow morning to watch Britain's Andy Murray take on Federer in the Australian Open. This country will go completely insane if he wins. I will be cheering him on of course because no one would let me do otherwise. :)

Say What?!

So about a quarter of the way through my violin lesson today, Professor Azoitei breaks my intense focus with the most absurd comment. There I am, concentrating on the kajillion things he has instructed me in his heavy Romanian accent to do, all relating to the fact that my bow arm sucks...ie. "Lauren, can you hear that? You must bring your elbow into your body. Ach! No, no, no," (at this point he's cradling his head in his hands despairingly while moaning to himself), "rotate, rotate the hand! Do not wreck the bow change with too much wrist and finger movement. Suspend the bow, even the pressure, keep the speed constant and make no sudden movements!" After a while, beads of sweat breaking out on my brow as I try to simultaneously manipulate my arm, elbow, wrist, hand and fingers in all manner of foreign ways, I finally manage to do something correct as he smiles and says, "Good! You are clearly intelligent. You get what I'm saying and fix it quickly." Then here comes the craziness. "Lauren. What are your plans for graduate school?"
Me: Uhhh...I'm going to get a job after school. Maybe I'll go sometime in the future.
P.A.: (simply and conversationally) Really? Because I was thinking you go to Julliard or Curtis or even Royal Academy here for degree in Performance.
Me: (staring blankly at him before breaking out in manic laughter. Then, noting he's not joining in the chortle fest and, is in fact, looking quite confused at my reaction) Wait, you aren't serious are you?
P.A.: Uh, of course.
Me: There's no way I could get in, Professor.
P.A.: You show great potential. You work hard, you can study there.
Me: (still laughing) Uhhh...okay
P.A.: (perplexed by my hysterical hyena-like guffaws) Ok, ok, it was just an idea. Let's hear Mozart then.

So yup. That's my deranged Professor. He's crazy, but I love him. Plus, today after bemoaning the terrible edition I got of the Mozart, he rectified it by putting in (by memory) all of his teacher's (Itzhak Perlman's) bowings and fingerings. He then proceeded to share Dorthy Delay's secret on exhaling before starting a phrase rather than the customary practice of inhaling. And he wonders why I get so nervous playing for him. Huh.

On a different note, tomorrow I'm going to Haworth!!!! I am simply ecstatic, especially because after feeling ill since Monday, I am finally starting to get better. More when I get back from wandering the moors.

Adios,
Lauren

kinda back to normal...

Well, my illness(es) have mostly passed, and I just have a scratchy throat for my troubles. I'm getting thoroughly sick of art museums, or at least seeing kinda lame pictures of boats. I'd like to have a lecture about said lame boats instead. I think next week we're museum free, so that's good.
Today in Contemporary Britain we got to hear Justin (the professor) give relationship advice as it relates to the royal family - mainly, don't marry your first boyfriend. He tends to do a more free-form sort of discussion (which is how we got on to "Is Prince William going to marry Kate??!?!"), which I find I like. I didn't think I would, but I get answers to my questions instead of "see me after class and we'll talk". We also have 3 hours, which allows for a bit of digression.
Today after class I went to Platform 9 and 3/4 in King's Cross station. It's in this little side alley type thing, which means it's a pain in the tuchus to find. We did the cheesy pictures, but as we did so a queue formed behind us. I'm not sure if it's awesome or a little sad that a bunch of us, who happened to be well over 14, were lining up to take a picture with the cart sticking out of the wall. Hopefully it's an awesome thing, otherwise I'll feel like a loser.
It turns out the British Library is right next to King's Cross, so we hoofed it over and saw the exhibits. This year is the 1000 year anniversary of Beowulf (how they determine this, I don't know - carbon dating?) so it's out in a display. Normally it would be somewhere safer, but it wasn't and I got to see it! Flippin' awesome. I also saw the Lindisfarne Gospels, the Magna Carta, Jane Austen's Persuasion, and the Beatles original lyrics. I didn't really care so much about the Beatles, but my roommate was super excited to be able to listen to it and read it "In his own HAND!!!" at the same time. But they've got some beautiful illuminated manuscripts. Unfortunately to see most of the specialized things (like the Anglo-Saxon poetry I wanted to see), you have to have a reader's card, which you only get if a professor or somebody writes something saying you're doing original research, or really awesome. You can't just see it for kicks. Sad.

Even sadder: The British Library sells copies of the Twilight series in their gift shop. Personally, I don't think that drivel should be allowed to absorb the same air as the Beowulf manuscript. But clearly that's just me.

We saw the 39 Steps at the Criterion Theatre, which was rather small and intimate, and the guy behind me said it was one of the smallest in the West End. I thought it rather contributed to the overall feeling, and I had fun.
Next week we've got Twelfth Night, which the RSC is putting on. I also got some leads on other plays the RSC is doing, and they usually have a way for students to pay 5 pounds instead of, say 50. I'm interested in The Little Dog Laughed, which has an actress I like in it (as well as Keira Knightley's boyfriend), but I don't know if I want to/can pay 20 pounds for a ticket. That's with the same day student discount. Hmm. But the group organized a trip to see Six Degrees of Separation, which I know nothing about other than it's acclaimed.
Tomorrow is Screenwriting and History. We've got to have a premise done, which I'm ripping off from Kurt Vonnegut - the professor strongly recommended stealing from books - and then we're watching Little Miss Sunshine.
And then I think it's low key. I'm planning my spring break and trying to find a time and the motivation to go to Camden market.

We're a quarter or so done with the program. Scary.

"You're so Cathy on the moors!" - Maggie Karls

The poor girl had to miss the Concert by Candlelight at St. Martin's-in-the-Field, because she felt pukey. The concert itself was superb consisting of Bach, Schubert, Handel and Vivaldi's Four Seasons. The musicians were very good, although I didn't quite agree with the soloist's interpretation of Autumn. In my opinion, he took far too many liberties with tempo and articulation. However, he did have a beautiful tone which was also helped with the amazing acoustics of the church. The church itself was beautiful in the way that old architecture always is. The concert would have been made perfect if poor Maggie could have been there. And then, to add insult to injury, her flat flooded. We are going out tonight (after homeworking and practicing up a storm) to rectify the unpleasantness of the last two days with Cadbury Egg Milkshakes. It's amazing the healing powers that chocolate possesses.

And on a happier note...HOLY FREAKING TARK! I just bought my rail ticket to go to Haworth next weekend. After spending way too much money, I have a room booked for Friday and Saturday night at a B and B called The Apothecary. HOW SWEET IS THAT?!?!
For those unaware of what or where Haworth is, or are unsure of why I'd want to go to a place deprived of the excitement and enjoyments of London, I will tell you. Haworth is located in West Yorkshire, also known as Bronte Country. And here comes the collective understanding sigh from you readers followed by eye rolls and mutterings of, "Why in God's name would she want to go out to the desolate moors of West Yorkshire in January where she's sure to get stranded and then promptly catch pneumonia and die a tragic (albeit romantic) death on the heath?" Well, let me tell you why. I need to get out of the city. I love London, but I want to breathe proper, unpolluted air, and I want to walk for miles. I want to see grass and trees instead of concrete and cigarette butts. I want to be Pocahontas and feel the colors of the wind through my hair! Right, wrong continent. Anyway, as for the cold, I'm Minnesotan. I'm a hearty, onion-layering, Northerner. And Mom, I will be wearing my wool socks. Father, I will have on my hat (and a hood) and mittens. So no pneumonia for me. I promise.
In addition to the promise of seductive hiking paths, the Bronte parsonage is open as a museum for visitors, as are the ruins on the moors that critics believe inspired Wuthering Heights. ACK! I am such a nerd! But I am so ecstatic. Needless to say, I've been re-reading Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights and The Secret Garden. SO EXCITED!!!!

Ok, Lauren, breathe! Phewwwwwwwwwwww. Okay, I'm good.

Yesterday my programme took us to Windsor Castle which was also fantastic! Clearly, I need to marry Will or Harry so I can live there. The castle is absolutely ginormous and lies on top of a hill, the highest point of the village. We were so lucky to be able to see the Queen's state rooms as she wasn't there, as well as the gigantic dollhouse given to Queen Somebody in the year of Sometime. While talking to a girl beside me, we agreed that the sight of this insanely intricate, fully-furnished and plumbing-efficient mini-house made us want to play with our American Girl Dolls. Before being set loose in the town of Windsor (where Shannon and I visited 3 chocolate shops), we visited The Chapel of St. George. Alas! we were not able to take pictures of this most amazing church. The ceilings, sculpted in the "fan" style as well as the stained glass and the general air of ancient history created a most delightful atmosphere. At one point, I walked over the bones of Henry the VIII and his favourite wife, Jane Seymour. As surreal as it was, I could not help thinking in my brain, "Hah, Henry, you wicked, wicked JERKFACE! How do you like it now? I'm a little woman standing on top of you and not being respectful or subservient in the least...well at least my thoughts aren't." Pretty unreal. Before departing we took a walk down to Eton and got to view the buildings of the famous Eton College. This boarding school for boys aged 13-18, is the Alma Mater of Princes Will and Harry (otherwise known as my future husbands), and was founded in the 1500's or something ridiculous like that. Not only is the architecture seeped in history and tradition, the boys' uniforms include Edwardian collared jackets with tails. Walking down the cobble-stoned streets, past Christopher Wren's old residence and then Shakespeare's, I most definitely felt the seductive allure of living in such an interesting and idyllic community.

Alrighty. I must tear myself away from blubbering on, unless of course you want to hear all about the homework and practicing I must do this afternoon and evening? Oh, you don't? Well, another time then.

Ta!
Lauren
P.S. Dad, you have an Inn in Eton!

calamity

Well, our apartment is falling apart. A pipe has sprung a leak and is dripping all over the hall, and some of the electricity is gone - just the main hallways and rooms, though inside the rooms it's okay - we've got lamps and curling irons and such.
I have felt like I'm going to hurl since about 7:00 last night, and sleeping hasn't helped at all. And other people have felt sick or gotten sick, so there might be something going around.
And we're supposed to leave for Windsor in 40 minutes.
Crap.