Through the Looking Glass and What I Found There

Just arrived back from an amazing journey to England where I presented a paper as part of the Alice Through the Ages conference at Homerton College, University of Cambridge.

The conference was absolutely amazing.  I heard so many good papers, and so many of them left my mind ruminating over the ideas and ready to explore more.  The three plenary sessions inspired me, especially.  All three were incredible, but the last-- on Alice and Fashion from 1865-1901-- helped me to view Tenniel's illustrations and the popular culture surrounding Alice in entirely new ways.  In addition to the academics, the conference-organizers put together a beautiful "Looking Glass Banquet" in the Great Hall at Homerton on Wednesday night.  The Great Hall was lit entirely by candlelight, huge Alice-inspired props decorated the main dias (including a giant chess board and a huge blue caterpillar with light-up eyes and a hookah), and we ate "Mock Mock Turtle Soup" (French onion), pork chops with vanilla-apple sauce, and a lovely chocolate-strawberry-mousse heart-shaped dessert.

By the time of the banquet, I had also met three incredible women from three different countries, and, summer-camp-like, within three days we were inseparable.  We supported each other in our paper sessions, we took tea together during the breaks, and we marveled at the beauty of the banquet side-by-side.  I fondly hope that these friendships will continue to grow and develop-- and perhaps lead to new intellectual pursuits and travels. 

Cambridge itself was lovely, too.  After the conference officially ended, we spent a few more days exploring the city.  We attended a "Fantastical Victorians" exhibit in the reading room at the Fitzwilliam Museum, and concluded the week with a lovely Mad Tea Party at Homerton College.


Here are a few more pictures of Cambridge and my adventures there!

The Cheshire Cat in a tree at Homerton College. This was just one of the many beautiful decorations spread throughout the grounds and halls of Homerton during the conference.

 A view of punters on the River Cam. We did not go punting, but I must say, I quite envied the people on the boats with their Saturday morning bottles of champagne.

 Mathematician's Bridge. I thought this was an appropriate picture to take, given that Charles Dodgson (better known as Lewis Carroll) was a mathematician.

 Cakes and scones at the Mad Tea Party finale to Wonderland Week and the conference.

Almond Custard, Like Macarons

Today, I shall tell you about Almond Custard from Hannah Glasse's cookbook!  Don't confuse this one with her Almond Creams (which I'm sure are quite good, but these were magnificent).  The recipe reads, "To Make Almond Custards: Take a pint of cream, blanch and beat a quarter of a pound of almonds fine, with two spoonfuls of rose-water; sweeten it to your palate, beat up the yolks of four eggs, stir all together one way over the fire til it is thick, then pour it out into cups; or you may bake it in little china cups."  It's really quite simple.  The recipe is pretty straightforward.

First, you need to powder almonds, add in some rose water (let's say two tablespoons), about a half cup of sugar (more or less, depending on how you like it-- feel free to taste test), and a pint of cream.  The longest part was powdering the almonds into a flour, but nowadays you can actually buy almond flour/almond meal, and that will save you about two hours of time.  After you've mixed together your powdered almonds, rose water, sugar, and cream, put in the beaten yolks of two or three modern eggs (Hannah Glasse's eggs were smaller than ours), mix altogether, and set it in a sauce pan over a low heat.  Stir constantly, but don't whisk in air (which is, I think, what she means by "stir one way"-- don't beat in air, just stir in even circles).  Because you have egg in this, if you don't stir constantly you might end up with lumps of scrambled egg.  It will bubble a very little around the sides when it's hot, and that's when you must start stirring.  It will thicken, too, but not to a pudding consistency.  The spoon will begin to pull slightly as you stir; no more.  It will be liquidy after you take it off the stove, though it will set a little in a glass or if you put it in your fridge.  Still not quite pudding-like.  I've not tried baking, but I imagine it would be at a very low heat and very tasty.  I think this could also be a custard for an ice cream, if you like making ice creams.

To enjoy this custard, you must like rose-flavored dishes: I do.  To me, this custard tasted like the cream inside a rose macaron from Laduree.  It tasted like Covent Garden, sitting and watching the street performers.  If you don't like rose-flavored dishes, I suggest substituting orange-blossom water for the rose-water, perhaps, or use a few drops of lemon extract.  Get creative!  Word of caution: be careful when using extract, as it's extremely potent.  If you do substitute extract for rose/orange-blossom water, DO NOT use two tablespoons.  Taste test as you go along to see if you want more of the flavor.  Remember, you can always add more, but can't take any out.  Also, rose-water might be difficult to find.  If you do find it, make sure it's edible.  They do make skin-toner rose-water that is inedible.  You should be able to find it at specialty food stores, and it's a popular ingredient in Middle Eastern cooking.  If you're really adventurous, you can make your own with rose petals!

I just love this custard, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Other Possibilities

Well, my first grad school rejection arrived yesterday.  Hopefully my only rejection, but based on Evidence and Feelings, I am fully expecting a second rejection to arrive on Monday.  How am I feeling?  Okay.  The rejection that came was from a school I wanted to go to (obviously, I applied to schools I want to go to), but not one of my top tier choices.  It would have been nice to have it as an option, though.  It was my top choice in the south, and I kind of wanted to stay this side of the Mason-Dixon line.  Plus, I have a friend currently working on his dissertation there, and it would have been nice to join a program that a friend has nearly completed and loved.

Ah, well.  The thing is, this rejection and the one I sense is impending have made me think.  What if I don't get into any schools?  I've always recognized this as a possibility, but the waiting to hear back seemed to take so long I didn't really think about it.  I've loosely planned-- move to Richmond or D.C., look for history-based jobs.  But, I feel like maybe not. What do I want to do if I don't get into any of my top choices?  I feel like so many people know what they want from life.  Several of my friends know they want to be writers, some are certain they want to be filmmakers, others know they belong on the stage.  Others felt certain about law school and a career in that field.  Some know they belong in politics.  What do I want to do?  If I can't do material textuality, what then?

The possibilities are, I suppose, endless.  Part of me wants to become a dollmaker.  I know that sounds silly, but I think opening an etsy shop would be really fun.  I like creating things, tangible things.  Part of me wants to move to England-- to do what, I do not know, but the one thing I do know is that I belong in England.  It might be the one thing I know for certain about myself.  I've never felt that artistic drive that others talk about in terms of novel writing or theater.  I wish I could.  But I feel, oddly, like being in England feels as certain to me as the fine arts do to others.  That's one reason I study early modern and eighteenth-century England.  The place calls to me. 

But what do I want to do?  Besides literary theory, history/book history, and early modern England, what drives me?  What do I feel passionate about?  What could I see myself doing day in and day out?  From what work might I derive joy?  I feel now, more than ever, that I need to really confront these questions and work them out for myself.  It's a daunting task.

London Memories: Book Maze

Southwark Centre, just down the Thames from Shakespeare's Globe, the Tate Modern, and Borough Market, had a very interesting art installation this summer.  aMAZE Me!  A Book Maze.  Like a classic English hedge maze, except indoors and made from 250,000 books-- novels, manifestos, fiction, non-fiction, plays, children's books, romance novels, good books, bad books, cookbooks, gardening books, everything.  You can read the books, too, the ones on the top layer of the maze, as long as you put them back when you're done.  You walk through the books, rising higher and higher on all sides of you until you reach the center, and you're completely surrounded by books piled so high you can't see over them.  It's an awed feeling-- all that people have written, all that people have read, all that knowledge and all those stories and you standing in the middle of it all.

Even Joss Whedon is represented!  Yay, Angel novelization! ;)

*All photos by me; please do not repost without credit.

London Memories: Borough Market

I wrote about London's Borough Market and Monmouth Coffee after we went the first time, I know, but I'm not sure I got across how wonderful it was.  Nor did I have pictures.  So here, I present you with images of Borough Market: the beautiful stalls with cheese and fruit and piles of delicate meringue, the people who seem so satisfied with life and so perfectly happy that I'm considering running to London to work in the tea stall, the intense smells and the sounds of bartering and free samples to taste.  If I could make a living working at Borough Market (or on a farm outside the city, then sell my goods on the weekends in London), I would seriously consider it. 

(All photos mine, please do not repost without credit)

Macarons

Before we left for London I told my mother that I wanted to be sure to visit Harrods.  I'm sure she was taken aback: we never go to Harrods.  But I had discovered that Harrods was home to a London branch of the Parisian pastry-shop Laduree.  I wanted macarons.

As it turned out, on our first full day in London, we walked by a second Ladurée shop-- this one much closer to our hotel-- in Covent Garden.  Ladurée created the double-decker macaron.  Macarons are delectable.  Unlike the American conception of a coconut-y hard cookie, French macarons are two slightly crunchy cookie shells with a layer of flavorful ganache in the middle.

I think I first had macarons at Alex in Las Vegas.  The hostess handed Emily and me some pastry-cookies in a package on our way the door, but we were too stuffed to take much notice.  I opened mine later, at the Vegas airport, and was suddenly wafted away to food heaven.  Since then, I've longed for a good macaron.  I've tried a few here and there, but they've never been quite the same.  So I figured, why not go to the creator of the macaron?  So, Ladurée.  Now, had I known, there was a Ladurée in New York City I could've visited, but I didn't know.  Thus, London!

Shall I describe the taste of a vanilla macaron or a rose petal macaron?  Each is incredibly delicate-- the vanilla is soft and sweet, like the best Italian gelato you've ever tasted with a slight crunchy texture.  The rose petal tastes just like England-- despite the fact that it's a French dessert.  It tastes like afternoon tea and delicate floral china.  The orange blossom, too, and the violet each have their charms.  By the end of the trip, even my mother couldn't get enough of macarons.

So if you ever come across a Ladurée, or a small French pastry shop that you know does amazing food (because macarons are very hard to make well), I suggest you try one, just a bite.  You might never want a pie or cupcake again.

(This is not a sponsored post.  Ladurée doesn't know me and I paid for all my macarons.  Photo found here.)

The Week in Brief

Puddle-jumped and now I'm back in the USA.  Leaving London felt too sad-- still so many things I wanted to see and do, and I had so hoped to make it to Cornwall this trip but it just didn't happen unfortunately.  I didn't even make it out to Bath.  But I did do so many other things and I feel that I can't adequately describe them all in a single post, and I want to start posting about life back in the USA.  Thus, I think little bits of England will come flitting in and out of future posts for quite awhile.

But just a brief overview of Monday to Sunday-- I got to meet my scholar in Oxford, I read The Paris Wife, I went shopping on the high street and bought two dresses that make me feel like Kate Middleton, we ate at a restaurant called Eyre Brothers in Shoreditch and I've never been so full and happy, I had amazing drinks at Callooh Callay and at Jamie's Italian (Earl Grey martini anyone?), I walked the length of Portobello Road and we had lunch at a great pizza place called Pizza East, I toured Kensington Palace and stood in the hall where Victoria and Albert first met, I had rose petal and vanilla macarons at night while watching buskers in Covent Garden, and I visited the aMAZEme book maze installation at the Southbank Centre.  I stood on Millennium Bridge and looked across to the Olympic rings on Tower Bridge.  Overall, a fantastic week in England.  Who could ask for better?

But returning to the States has so far been equally exciting.  Only moments after returning home, I jumped onto the metro and headed into the city to meet up with my best friends from college.  We met at Chinatown, then had dinner at an Italian restaurant... yes, seriously.  But it was a really good Italian restaurant and had unlimited refills on soda which I think was the only thing that kept me propped up until after midnight-- jet-lag and all!  We recalled old times and talked about new times and then headed to Northeast to play Cards Against Humanity with yet more friends.  Best game ever.  Like Apples to Apples, but for terrible people, which of course we are (for example: prompt card-- What ended the orgy?  Winning card-- The Care Bear Stare).  I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life, though being delirious with sleeplessness probably added to the effect.

I wish I could explain how much that night meant to me.  Sitting with Brian, Kay, Mike, Josh, Kelsey, Davia, and Dan, with the wine pouring (though not for me, as I feared it would put me to sleep) and random donuts and feeling young and happy and all the stress melting away.  We have a "five year plan" to live in the same place again and I would give almost anything if it actually happened.  We could have so much fun all together.

Then yesterday, Zan!  Finally!  We headed to Staunton for a "launch party" for Zan and his sister, Lys', film The Garment.  It also served, I think, as a miniature engagement party for Lys and her now fiance Zach!  So many congratulations to the happy couple!  They got engaged last week at the beach and I really, really couldn't be more excited for them.  I had a wonderful talk at the party with Marlena, one that really bolstered my resolve and esteem.  I got to see Rick Blunt and his fiance, Bridget, who I know from working with the touring troupe last summer.  All in all, a happy, warm, loving evening.  Great food, friends, and film.

And now, I suppose, you're all caught up!  Hopefully soon I can get a bit more in depth with different adventures, but I wanted to get them down, at least in this small sketch, so that I wouldn't forget.  Life is moving very quickly these days and summer already seems to be fast coming to a close.

Spice Up Your Life!

(Pre-Closing Ceremony Going Live)

The crowning moment of the weekend was, of course, the Olympics Closing Ceremony.  I got a last minute ticket through Visa, and I couldn't have been more excited.  The day began with the British Museum and the exhibits described in the post below, then back to the hotel around noon so my parents could catch a bus to the men's basketball game final.  We had a quick lunch, then they were off near one o'clock.  I spent my time showering, catching up on e-mails, and FaceTiming with Zan.  A good use of an afternoon, I think.

At three forty-five I, too, made my way to a bus.  From the hotel to the Olympic Park took about an hour through the thick London traffic.  We made our way through White Chapel, past Victorian-esque buildings and roads lined with Indian restaurants, and stopped in the North Lot of the Olympic Park.  After a long walk, I made it to the Visa Hospitality place where I awaited my parents arrival.  There, I had goat cheese and fig salad, black bean and beef stew, two kinds of sushi, and some pork and potatoes.  Yum.  Then I got my program for the Closing Ceremony and walked to the Stadium.

Inside, magic was already underway.  The center of the stadium had been transformed into London, with the London Eye at the center, Tower Bridge, Big Ben, and the Gherkin, which was on its way up... quite humorous to watch, given the shape of the Gherkin ;).  An Emcee came out and instructed us about how to act once the Closing Ceremony went live.  We practiced our responses to Russell Brand's rendition of "I Am The Walrus" and a few other odds and ends.  Then he had us all take out our camera phones and take a picture at once.  A collective gasp arose from the crowd.  It had been beautiful, thousands and thousands of little flashing lights like stars.  I think that was honestly prettier than anything else that night.  Just all of us gathered together sharing a moment, or should I say creating a moment.  For, after all, the moment could only be created by our willing participation.  Such a very, very simple thing.  Sometimes humans are magical.

Then the Emcee told us there would be pyrotechnics and anyone wearing Primark clothes in the front row better be careful (Primark clothes are mostly cheap synthetics, thus, highly flammable).  We all laughed.

Before I knew it, Big Ben chimed 9:00 and the ceremony began!  I'm sure you all watched it, so I probably don't actually need to describe much to you.  But, being there felt vibrant.  Prince Harry came out with Kate beside him (Wills was called off on RAF duty).  Real cabs and trucks began circling the stadium as "London" came to life.  A plethora of musical acts.  And the athletes!  They came running right down our aisle!  We saw Belgian athletes, and Australian, and others I couldn't even tell from where as it wasn't written big enough on their uniforms!  They all looked so excited and happy and so many had cameras and were giving high fives.  It was a really, really thrilling moment for us all, I think.  Once they had entered the stadium these people in what I call "TARDIS" outfits (blue jacket and shorts and a blue hat with a little light on top) kept them in their designated areas.  They conducted the Men's Marathon Medal Ceremony (go Uganda!)--

(The Tardis People Awaiting the Athletes as the Flags Advance Across the Stadium)

Then the real music began.  I'm sure you all saw it.  George Michael, Russell Brand... but the real fun started with Jessie J, Tinie Tempah, and Taio Cruz.  Suddenly everyone was on their feet dancing and singing and I felt incredibly thankful for all that time I spent listening to BBC Radio 1.

THEN-- THE SPICE GIRLS!  Need I say more?  AH-MAZING!  My elementary school self was in total awe, and so was my twenty-five year old self.  Gah, The Spice Girls!  I went a little crazy screaming and dancing and singing along, but so did everyone else in the crowd so it felt alright.  And now, I think, my life has been made.  Seeing all five of The Spice Girls together.  They could've just made the Closing Ceremony a Spice Girl's Concert and I think that would've been fine with just about everyone there.  The true highlight of the night (minus the camera phone bit). 

Overall, a magical, wonderful, evening celebrating the best of Britain... and now, my friends, it seems that the entire city of London has Post-Olympic Depression.  We keep saying it's not really over because we still have the Paralympics, but the energy has definitely changed a little bit.  The good news is, after the Olympics ended the shopping sales began... ;)

Stay tuned for Oxford: Round Two, dresses fit for a princess, a trip to Notting Hill, and more!

At the Museum

So the exhibit I mentioned at the British Museum? Living and Dying-- it's about how people from across the world make sense of their lives and their mortality. How they face it, deal with, try to prevent it, accept it. How they relate to ancestors, or animals, or God. How they use shamans, Western medicine, and prayers to prevent death or predict life. Very, very interesting. I felt absolutely connected in that exhibition hall. Everyone everywhere deals with so much of the same things, and we all-- in some way-- deal with it. And all those varying methods somehow seem exactly the same.

And the Picasso exhibit-- just pen and ink sketches but so moving. The Vollard Suite. Gorgeous.

Be sure to check out my morning post about the Banqueting House, below, if you missed it.

Banquet in the Banqueting House

I woke up uncharacteristically late on Saturday morning. 11:00 AM.  That, my friends, is what the British might call quite the lie-in (pronounced like "lion," which can be very confusing if you don't know that's how they say "sleeping in."  Example: "Our schedule is very full, but we get a lie-in on Sunday morning."  A what???!!!  Really??!!!).  

Anyway, when I did finally decide to climb out of bed my parents had just returned from a tour of the Houses of Parliament.  We walked around Covent Gardens/Seven Dials and settled for lunch at an Italian place in the area.  Then we got macarons at Laduree in Covent Garden, before stopping to listen to a busking group of young musicians called ClassyCool, who played classical music on strings while dancing around.  They were very fun and very funny.  A little girl was dancing to their music, so they got her to sell CDs for them :).  It was hilarious.  Then I got a migraine, and the rest of the afternoon was pretty much shot as I spent it in my darkened room trying to drown out the pain.

But that evening was magical!  My migraine dissipated and my parents and I had a banquet to attend at the Banqueting House.  They had had the banquet scheduled for days and I had been trying figure out what to do while they were at the Banqueting House.  I refused to eat at the nearby pub while they feasted under the Rubens paintings.  But in the end, I ended up getting to go, too, and I'm so glad I did.  For those who don't know, the Banqueting House is the only remaining part of Whitehall Palace, which used to be a massive residence for the Tudor and Stuart monarchs.  The incredibly large room played host to many of the Stuart Court masques devised by Ben Jonson and Inigo Jones.  The grand ceiling has the painting series The Apotheosis of James I by Rubens.  Most tragically, Charles I walked out of the Banqueting House onto the specially prepared scaffold on the day of his beheading.  All of the history in the room!  In my mind I pictured cloud machines and lavish costumes and music and perspective scenery from all of the masques, and people twirling around drunkenly, laughing, dancing.

Our banquet was much more subdued than a Stuart Court masque, though still quite fun.  It was catered by the same group that catered the Royal Wedding (!), with steaks so good you could cut them with a butter knife.  We sat next to British luge athlete and two time Olympian Mark Hatton and his wife, and they were both incredibly lovely and charming.  At the end of the evening, four former/current Summer Olympians from the USA, Britain, Australia, and New Zealand gave a panel speech about their Olympic experiences.  Then we were free to walk around, take pictures, get autographs, etc.  I tried to climb behind the paneling to see out the window they made Charles I walk through to his death, but couldn't really get behind all of the lighting and sound equipment used for the Olympian talk.  Oh well.

In the end, I just stood under the Rubens, looking at the tables being cleared, the half-drunk glasses of wine that had been refilled countless times, the people wandering about laughing and talking, and couldn't help but feel that history continues ever swiftly on, and it should.  All that happened in the room centuries past now only exists in whispers, unimportant to most of the people excitedly waiting to get their picture with an Olympian.  New dreams, new goals, very real, living people on a continuous spectrum and the Banqueting House has seen them all. 

Oxford: Round One

The next day I took the train to Oxford.  I was hoping to see my former tutor from my time studying abroad and to meet a scholar I admire.  The scholar and I had been e-mailing, but we hadn't set a firm time to meet.  I thought perhaps I could just drop in on her, as per the advice of a professor from back home.  I put on a nice outfit, took a taxi to Paddington Station, and bought a same-day return ticket to Oxford.  In short order I found myself passing the smokestacks of Didcot Parkway and veering right towards the spires of Oxford.  Everything is just the same as four years ago.  Stepping off the train I made my way towards the high street, passing familiar shops and buildings.  I think perhaps the name of the pub by the canal has changed, but that's only superficial.  It was very hot, so I stopped in at the Pret on Cornmarket Street for water.  Then I headed towards the college.  Neither my tutor nor the scholar were there.  Back out on the street, I wondered what to do with my day in Oxford.

In the end, it went quite well.  I surprised myself by how much I remembered of Oxford.  I walked back up the road and turned down the street towards Christ's Church College.  I stopped in at the Alice Shop-- where Alice "in Wonderland" Liddell used to buy her sweets as a child, and which now sells only Alice in Wonderland themed merchandise-- and then up to George & Danvers for some ice cream.  I then wandered down Cornmarket Street and stopped in at a few shops.  I ended up with an adorable new red jumper, a pair of tan flats, and a pair of sea-green cropped pants.  Then I walked up to Blackwell's and restrained myself from buying books-- two for the price of one on all classics!  I have too many books that I need to read already.

I ended by trying the porter at the college again to see if either my tutor or the scholar were in.  Success-- my tutor had popped in for lunch!  I had a lovely couple of minutes talking with him about where I was now, and he told me he was going on a cruise down the Adriatic the next week.  What a wonderful man.  I absolutely adored him at the time, and I daresay he looks even better now than he did four years ago when I was his pupil.  Feeling at last as if something had been accomplished by the coming to Oxford unannounced, I bought a Cornish pasty for lunch and made my way back to the train station, and soon found myself again in London.

As my parents were out on their Olympics Package, I decided to walk up to the British Museum to have a look around.  They just installed a Shakespeare exhibit, but unfortunately it was the only exhibit to cost money.  After looking through the exhibition book, I decided I didn't absolutely have to see it.  Instead, I wandered through their world-famous Egyptology sections, seeing ancient statuary and mummies (!), I browsed some Greek and Roman statuary, and then somehow found myself in their new Picasso exhibit-- which was really fantastic!  I ended, finally, in an exhibit called Living and Dying, which intrigued me so much that I returned to it less than forty-eight hours later.  Afterwards, I took to the nearby pub for some fish and chips and communal watching of the Olympic track and field events before turning in early to read.

Stay tuned for continuing adventures at the British Museum, Covent Gardens, the Banqueting House, the Olympics Closing Ceremony, and Oxford: Round Two!!!

What I'm Up To in London

As the whole world knows, the 2012 Summer Olympics are happening in London this year.  That's why we're here-- my dad got an Olympics package (that I'm not actually on, so I didn't get to see any of the sporting events).  So, while my parents have been doing their Olympics package thing, I made my own fun in London!  One of the first days here, while my dad was in a business meeting (part of why he has an Olympics package), my mom and I headed over to Boroughs Market on the advice of my neighbor, Dan.  I'd never been before, but now I want to go all the time.  We had flat whites and an almond croissant at Monmouth Coffee right outside the market, bought six perfect macarons at a stall in the market, then we admired the meringues, pies, ostrich meat (seriously!), cheeses, spices, ice creams, vegetables, etc. available at the different stalls.  If I lived in London I might actually do all my shopping here.  I do have a few pictures of the market and of Monmouth Coffee, but I don't have a camera cord connector, so I'll just do a nice big picture post at the end of this English Adventure.  Walking towards St. Pauls from the market we took a few back roads and found the foundations of the original Globe theater (marked by a plaque, built over with apartments) and the Rose Theater.  We also walked down a street called something like "Bear Baiting Way."  Wonder what could have possibly happened there back in the day ;).

That afternoon I got lunch with my friend Alex, who I met in Taming of the Shrew my freshman year of undergrad.  She was Kate, I was Bianca.  She was an exchange student from Exeter College, so she came back to the UK following the play.  We haven't seen each other literally since then, so we had lots to catch up on.  She's a barrister now!  How exciting!  Really a perfect day.  I suppose here I should take a moment to thank Mike Johnson for making me try out for Taming.  Life-changing.

I'll pause here-- but let me tell you there's lots of good stuff to come.  Stay tuned for stories from Oxford, the British Museum, and a very special evening at the Banqueting House (which is even more special if you're super into British history like I am, or art history).  Also, I just might have some Olympics stories to report, too... think Spice Girls.  Because really, that's what it's all about.

Why History? Part 3

When I was fifteen, I went to London for the first time. This was a huge moment for me. London had been the center of my universe since the day I began to learn about the Tudors (Elizabeth I in particular) and Shakespeare. It also had the pros of being the city of Charles Dicken’s A Christmas Carol, and James Barrie’s Peter Pan. Since this time, London has only grown more important in my life; I’ve found a thousand other books, movies, and historical figures that lived there who I have come to idolize. It features quite prominently in my thesis, to the point that I’ve looked up things in archives there. Not just London, but all of England has captured my heart—especially Bath and Oxford— as well as parts of Scotland and Wales. But when I was fifteen, London made an indelible impression.

Perhaps the most important moment in my historical education up to that point occurred in London. Before this moment, history had been a subject in school—one that I enjoyed, but nothing more. That, or it had been not history but historical fiction. Felicity Merriman wasn’t real, nor were the girls in the Dear America series. Even the movies I watched fictionalized reality—Evita, Elizabeth, etc. These people had been real and logically I knew this, but their lives were stories; they were portrayed by actors. In a way, history was nothing more than pretty costumes and an “A” on my report card.

So what happened?

Within the Tower of London, there is a tower called the Beauchamp tower, and here is where Robert Dudley, later Earl of Leicester, was kept imprisoned during part of the reign of Mary Tudor. While there, he carved his name into the stone of his room, as well as an oak tree. As I stood staring at the carved words “Robart Dudley” my dad said, “Just think, all that separates us from him is time. He stood right here, he touched this wall. If we could turn back time we would be standing right next to him.”

This concept floored me. It was as if I was just a little late to meet him. It was the same thing as missing someone by five minutes because you’re running a bit late. That person exists, you just missed them. Robert Dudley had existed, I just missed him. Suddenly, history came alive in a way that it never had before, even through listening to my dad talk about the Civil War battles or watching a movie. History existed personally. These people had all walked, and talked, and felt the sun just as I was doing (it was exceptionally good weather in London that trip). They had good days, bad days, cried, caught colds, laughed, danced, sang, felt embarrassed, felt exhilarated, felt scared, felt comforted, fell in love, fell out of love, slept, ate, drank, everything! They had friends, they had enemies, and they had their side of the story. And I didn’t see it happen to them because I was just a little too late.

Before I had been infatuated with history; now I was falling in love.

Just our hands clasped so tight

The image of clasped hands can mean so much. The clasped hands of a nervous girl waiting for her entrance in a play two years ago; the clasped hands of a girl in a theatre, waiting with excitement for a much-anticipated show; the clasped hands of that same girl yearning with all she has to be a part of what she sees in a theatre in Stratford-Upon-Avon. And more: the clasped hands of lovers, meeting and parting again and again; their clasped hands as they embark together into the dark.

What can I say of Stratford-Upon-Avon and the RSC? To me, this is everything I want. This small English town, full of life, energy, shops, history, and above all, Shakespeare. Being here again I feel the same emotions I felt nearly two and a half years ago when I saw the Henry VI Trilogy— such an intense knowing that here is where I want to be, that this type of theatre is what I want to help create. I’ve been, in small ways, beginning to inch towards that goal, but it is still so distant. But being here I remember again how certain I am that I know what I want in life, and I remember why I tell people that I want to be a dramaturg, or to some a literary manager, or an artistic director—whatever words they can best understand my dreams. It’s not some abstract thing to tell people so they won’t question me further about my plans after graduate school: these are my plans.

In the past two days, I have seen both King Lear and Antony and Cleopatra. King Lear was flawless, and Antony and Cleopatra striking. The RSC is… beautiful. I am perfectly convinced that they can make me love any Shakespeare play; I was lukewarm towards King Lear before, but now! The image of Lear standing in the rain with his fool is one I will never forget. And Antony and Cleopatra—watching this show was sheer joy. At times I could still mouth along with the lines.

When we bought our tickets for 1 Henry IV, an Englishman in front of us said he had seen a crap version of A&C at the Globe, but that the one at the RSC was quite good. When we asked him what was wrong with it he said, “Antony is supposed to be a colossus and they played him as if he were a bank manger, while they played Cleopatra like a tart.” He continued, “They are both supposed to be majestic, and the power struggle between them makes the play dynamic.”

How incredibly accurate. Of course, in the play, each is a little proud and a little crazy, and the politics of the world barge in on their happy harmony causing rather terrible rows, but that makes the play fun to watch. What’s theatre without some conflict?

But these are not two hormonal teenagers like Romeo and Juliet, nor is this the superficial love of Miranda and Ferdinand. Antony and Cleopatra are both older, they know their own hearts and minds, they have both had past relationships (Antony with Fulvia, Cleopatra with Caesar), and while those loves were not untrue, what they have for each other is so certain as to cause them to follow each other into the dark.

Today my mother and I went to the Shakespeare birthplace, and in one of the several introductory rooms, the film narrator said, “No other playwright has so impacted our lives like William Shakespeare.” I thought to myself, “Some lives more than others.” For without Shakespeare—and the subsequent club Shakespeare in the Dark (to which my dear friend Mike Johnson inadvertently introduced me before we even knew each others names), my dreams of working at a Shakespearean theatre, the hours spent both with my books in academic study and in the playhouse itself—my life would be a much lonelier, poorer place. Here’s to the Bard.

For the lad of all lads was a Warwickshire lad!
~Ode to Shakespeare, David Garrick, 1769

Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere

I have noticed that people fall on one side or the other: Prince Hal or Hotspur. They are passionately devoted to one while being lukewarm towards the other. Truly, as Hal says, "two stars keep not their motion in one sphere."

I am now a Prince Hal girl. After six years of being pro-Hotspur, my mind has been completely changed in the course of an afternoon. I've always liked Hal, but been a die-hard fan of Hotspur. Today's performance of 1 Henry IV at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London has changed all of that.

But to begin at the beginning! The past two days have been incredibly fun. Yesterday my parents and I went to Cardiff, Wales, to see the Doctor Who Exhibit and to visit places where both Doctor Who and Torchwood were filmed. The Doctor Who Exhibit was lovely-- I got to see Daleks, Cybermen, Clockwork Men, a Weeping Angel, costumes worn by David Tennent, John Barrowman, Billie Piper, Freema Agyeman, Kylie Minogue and Catherine Tate, plus about a thousand different props. Then, just a short walk from the exhibit, was TORCHWOOD TOWER! It was covered in strawberries to advertise some festival or other, but there it was! We took obligatory pictures, then headed down to Mermaid Quay to see the restaurant where Owen and Diane had their first date in an episode, and we ourselves ate lunch at a Cafe Rouge (one of my favorites from my days in Bath). Just after lunch, we found Ianto's Door, the true entrance to the hub, where Gwen delivers the pizza in the episode "Everything Changes." We also noticed that the entire area was called Roald Dahl Plass, which made me very happy since I love Roald Dahl's stories.

After spending time Doctor Who-ing it up, we took a bus to Cardiff City Center to take a look at Cardiff Castle and walk the grounds. So full of history-- they had this fantastically creative film that used no words, but depicted the past 2000 years through the journal of a girl from 2010. It's a bit difficult to explain, but it was awesome. It ended with the screen rising, giving the audience a view of the Keep, and the last thing to become visible was the Welsh Flag flying proudly in the blue sky. I almost cried, it was so beautiful.

We finished up the day back in London with dinner at this great Indian place called Punjab.

Today was spent in London. My dad had to go back home today, sadly, but my mom and I still had a good time. I got to see Garrick's Theatre Royal Drury Lane (yes, the real one, except it was rebuilt in 1812) though we didn't get a chance to take the tour, we visited Platform 9 and 3/4ths at King's Cross Station, we walked around Kensington, and, most importantly we saw 1 Henry IV at the Globe.

1 Henry IV has been my favorite Shakespeare play since I was seventeen years old and still in high school. It perfectly combines comedy, drama, and history, and effortlessly switches between the two, even within the same scene. It's a gorgeous play. So, you can imagine how excited I was to see that it was playing at the Globe! As we bought our tickets I excitedly quoted to my mother lines such as The Douglas killing the King's wardrobe piece by piece, Glendower and his spirits in the vasty deep, and, most importantly, told my mom about the wonders of Hotspur.

But then! Oh then-- Hal. In almost a flash, my love of Hotspur faded as the actor playing Prince Hal began to shine (as brightly as the sun, some might say). The actor playing Hotspur was fine, but either he didn't get very good direction or I just didn't like his interpretation of the role, whereas Prince Hal-- I have no words. He was superb, sublime, everything you could want in the wayward, noble Prince of Wales. His charisma stole every scene, and his interactions with Falstaff-- well, goodness! Falstaff was played by Roger Allam, so of course he was the creme de la creme, as well. I seriously have never loved Prince Hal more, whether on the stage or on the page. A thoroughly captivating three hours.

And the Globe! After my independent study in Renaissance Performance, seeing a play at the Recreated Globe Theatre just made my day. We bought food outside and took it in, we sat in the middle gallery (my mom refused to be a groundling, and given all the schoolgroups in the yard I'd say it was a good choice), and guh. The staging, the jig, the music, the cannon, everything! While it wasn't quite Andrew Gurr's The Shakespearean Stage come to life, it very nearly approximated it.

We ended the day at pub called The Prince of Wales (I joked that it was in honor of Prince Hal) with a Steak and Ale Pie and mash. How wonderfully English! And tomorrow it's off to even more the Bard-- Stratford-Upon-Avon, where they joke that they have one industry: Shakespeare!