You know that I'm no good

So, I didn't blog for two days in a row. I am a bad Carla.

On Saturday I had a horrible morning involving allergies, excessive clumsiness, excessively cold weather, bewildering british phone booths, and not finding Libby in spite of my best efforts. Very frustrating. However, I refused to have a bad day during my short stay in London, and I had an our and a half before I had to be at the next show (we are on an extremely brisk schedule), so I consulted my handy-dandy guide book and decided to visit the Victoria and Albert museum since it was close to where I needed to be. This was an excellent decision. Nothing so calming as the visual poetry of Rodin. I was very soothed.
Something else cool in England: I had been looking at my map, figuring out how to get to the museum from the tube, only to find several signs in the station pointing me in the right direction. Very convenient, I thought! Even more convenient than I initially realized. The signs were in fact pointing me to an underground passage that led to direct entrances to all the museums in the area. No messing with the streets, just a path right to the museum of your choice! Super cool.
Anyway, I got to the V&A even faster than I thought I would and was able to peruse their lovely statue collection, a bit of their Indian section, and took a quick tour of their highly respectable fashion exhibit (I kept thinking how much mom would like that.) Also, you are allowed to take pictures willy nilly as you will in all these English museums. They even let you use flash! I think mom is part of why I am reminded to take pictures. I'm fairly certain she would be appalled if I did not. I don't mind. It's nice to have mementos. I am never inclined to do it (with a digital camera. I feel differently when I am holding a manual) on my own, I think because I am used to letting someone else in the family do it, I usually just sit back and experience. It's good to get in the habit of doing both.
So I was soothed by the power of art and was able to go to Priory (which was funny, moving, and very well done) in much better spirits. Then we walked around that neighborhood and had dinner, then we went to Every Good Boy Deserves Favor by Tom Stoppard at the National which was beautiful and which I mostly slept through. Very annoying. I was able to take in all the lovely music and spectacle of it (which was very interesting in it's own right. I highly recommend seeing a play on the Olivier stage if you can) but I missed most of the story, which is what I care about most. Especially with Stoppard! I love Stoppard. His plays are so clever and funny and unique and poignant. He's the best.
And I slept right through it! Audrey thought it was the best thing we've seen. Lame.
But then, she missed The Waste Land. So, yeah.
Speaking of which- but no, I shall be chronological.

Then I went home and slept.

Then Sarah and I woke up far too early to catch a train to Oxford. Note to self: always, always, ALWAYS pick out your clothing the night before. I am not good at brain having in the morning. Anyway, I'm going to have to thank Roger for insisting that I use my day off to go to Oxford. It was the best part of my trip so far! You walk maybe two or three block out of the train station and suddenly find yourself amidst the most amazing melange of stylish modernity (and sometimes unstylish, but Oxford is a pretty tasteful town, even the new bits) and stately ancient architecture which reeks tantalizingly of history. I was most struck by it with this castle (edit: having down research I learned that it is in fact Oxford Castle from 1071. Go me. Good estimate, on my part, I think) at the edge of town without turrets or anything, it was just this sort of stone dome. The space around it felt quiet with age, even with the town surrounding it. It must have been a thousand years old or something. It's unlike anything I've seen in the states, except maybe the Anasazi ruins, but that's very different. Oxford has all this deep history, but it's still completely vibrant! Anyway, I looked like a proper tourist, gaping and ooh-ing and ahh-ing every which way and taking pictures of everything. I had a much easier time finding things in Oxford than in London, but then it's a lot smaller and Zach gave me a ridiculously detailed itinerary. Thanks Zach! Man, but he knows my taste in food and old geeky shit!
I went to three different cathedrals. The first was the University Church of St. Mary the Virgin which was beautiful and had that wonderful buzzing something-nothing feeling you find in old cathedrals and also in theaters. The stained glass windows were the most detailed I have ever seen. There were textiles on the fabrics. Textiles! I ask you. There were also tombs in the floor who's engravings had been completely rubbed away by footsteps over time so that I couldn't actually read them. Sarah and I each lit a candle (50p) and then we went up the tower (3lbs). It was one of those great stone turrets I've only seen in novels and films, with a spiral staircase and arrow slots and grimacing gargoyles and everything. Also, oh my god, the VIEW. You could see the whole town! It was really funny actually. Sarah and I had been trying to find the Bodlein library for a while. We figured we'd look again after we were done in the church. She went up the stairs before me, and when she got up (I was still climbing) she said, "Uh, Carla?"
"Yeah?" I replied, focusing on not tripping (old stairs were not designed for safety!)
"I found the Bodlein."
"Oh, good." I said, figuring that the good view must have mapped out the area for her. Then I got up the stairs and looked over the balcony and it was like BAM, BODLEIN. Oh, also, the enitre city of Oxford. But especially the Bodlein. It was right next to the church. *facepalm*
Then we found out way to Christ Church (a pleasant walk!), where Harry Potter is filmed. That's right, I, Carla Lerner have been in the Hogwarts main hall. Does this make me cooler or nerdier? I suppose in Potter fandom it must be like going to Mecca or something. Anyway, the Christ Church Cathedral was stunning and we were lucky enough to arrive when the orgonist was there. Now, in spite of the textiles, I think St. Mary was more simple old whereas Christ Church was grandiose, ornate old. Very awe inspiring. It blows my mind to think that men built such things. Christ Church made this old heretic envy the faithful. I may not be religious, but those spaces really do feel holy. Maybe the weight of those centuries of belief has something to do with it, the power of ritual and all that.
The third church was an impulse on the way back to the train station. I don't even remember what it was called. It was small and (surprise!) rather old lookling. It appeared to be open (they were preparing for evening mass, I think) so Sarah and I decided to poke our heads in. Good thing we did, because the choir was rehearsing. It was a small choir, maybe eight people. It's amazing what you can do with eight voices. They sang so beautifully. Sarah and I ended up staying almost half-an-hour! We wouldn't tear ourselves away. What ever else you may say of Christianity, it sure has spawed some amazing architechture and music.
Other awesome stuff in Oxford: The Ashmolean museum which is kind of disorganized, but has a really amazing collection of art and artifacts. More props to Roger for that one. I also went the the Eagle and Child (also called the Baby and Bird) where a guy called Tolkien penned a book about some rings and had a few pints with his friend C.S. Lewis. Fucking England. I wanted to go to Blackwells (the book store), but we arrived just as they were closing. So, we took another of Zach's suggestions (most of these things were suggested by Zach) and went next door to the King's Arms, my favorite pub I've been to in England so far. I had a very tasty half-pint and chatted a little with a cute Spanish guy who works there. Being trilingual is useful! He insisted that one of the deserts they were selling was apple pie. I looked at it. It appeared to be a very sad looking lemon cake. I told him that he must be mistaken. I'm American. We may not know much, but damn it, we know apple pie! He seemed unsure, but apologetic in a kindly baffled sort of way. It was cute. I didn't order any pie, but he let me taste the carrot cake, which was very nice. Yay!
Then Sarah and I went home and passed out.

Then, this morning, we met Fiona Shaw! It was amazing! She was amazing. When she came in she said "Hello. So, are you all here to pentrate my hang over, then? Good luck!" Hilarious. She then proceed to answer all our questions in an extremely intelligent, eloquent, and illucidating manner. Man. Would that we could all be that bad ass when sober. People asked mostly one or two questions each. Dave asked more. I ASKED THE MOST. I am incorrigible. Seriously though, if they weren't going to jump on the oppurtunity, well, more for me!
Then I thought I go get my phone fixed and visit the British Museum before dinner and Twelth Night. Instead I ended napping for, like, eight years. I guess I needed sleep.
I got prettied up for Twelth Night! All pearls and pretty dress and classy gloves and hair in a bun and tastefully applied makeup. I chose a good night for it. The Duke of York theater where the RSC performed was old and velvety and pretty. The perfect theater for looking like an opera goer! The performance was really nice. I was especially impressed by the Viola, Fool, and Antonio. It's not my favorite play and it's over done, but they did a lovely job with it. God thing I made it! I left a little late because I had to go back for something, so I had to find my way on my own and run in slightly uncomfortable shoes and I DID IT. Go me.

Now I am back at the apartment, up typing this far later than I should be. Good night!

Owwwww!

Getting a shard of porcelain in your thumb hurrrrrts. Hopefully this will not interfere with my ability to type.

So, I saw the Globe today. It was pretty amazing. Even though it is a modern reconstruction, I really felt like I was stepping back in time. To be in a space like that in which so many of the words that most inspire me was truly a singular experience. It felt like I was making a pilgrimage. The one damper in this whole thing: The tour guide said Macbeth in the theater! Multiple times! Gah! UNACCEPTABLE.
Anyway, it was super beautiful and awesome and I want to perform there someday. It made up for the two-hour asophogial spasm I had in the morning, all the way through the tour of the National Theater (which is awesome and makes my inner director squeal). Very unpleasant.

So, I have had very strange insomnia the past two night. I wake up at five in the morning and can't go back to sleep. Why then? Even in terms of jet lag, it makes no sense. Hopefully it will not happen tonight. If it does, I am drugging myself immediately, no waiting in hopes of falling asleep naturally.

Man, but there are a lot of beautiful people in this city! It's great, makes it even more scenic.

I think riding in the front of the second story of a bus is one of the better ways to see the city. Sarah and I did that on our way back from the globe and it was really nice. I also appreciated the break from the FUCKING FREEZING COLD. Really though, it was a nice ride and before that I had a really lovely (if chilly) stroll through central London. The light was excellent today, it brought out the beauty in everything. I love how the old and new are randomly interspersed in this city. I took lots of pictures.

I still failed to find a phone though, but not for lack of trying.

So, we saw a play called Warhorse today. The most impressive use of puppetry I think I've ever seen. Puppetry seems to be a theme nowadays. They had it in 1984 too, and people keep talking to me about it. I wonder what it means. The cool thing I am realizing about seeing so much theater in such a short period is that it allows you to feel the pulse of society. You see what sort of stories people are drawn to at the moment, what they want to say and what they want to see. It is amazing how vibrant the theater is here. There are advertisements for it everywhere, more theater advertisements than anything else. The theater is loved and respected, it is flourishing and growing. It has more support, so the companies aren't so desperate as in the states. They relish innovation and experimentation. It's very refreshing. In America it seems that people are so rarely willing to gamble on anything new or different these days.
That being said, I didn't actually like Warhorse that much. I didn't dislike it and I was certainly moved by it. The production, the puppets above all, was excellent, and the acting was fine (though there was a German soldier with a really bad German accent which made me wince a little), but it spite of all this there was something missing. I mean, it seemingly has all this heavy stuff, right? Distinct characters and scenario in WWI. But somehow, the story was lacking in substance. I didn't feel that anyone in the story changed, that there was any shift except in a literal, physical way. Nothing was illuminated. It was a story about a boy who loves a horse in a time in which a lot of horses got shafted. There you go. You know what the pay is now. Unless you are interested in seeing some really cool puppetry(I was impressed by the puppetry), there isn't really a reason to see it. Hm.
Tomorrow we are seeing two plays again, but the first one isn't until three, so maybe I'll go see Westminster Abbey or something.

I lost everyone after the show. I was putting all my coats back on (serves me right for layering so ridiculously much, I guess) and suddenly everyone was gone. I tried to find them in the lobby, but to no avail. So, I had no find my way back home on my own. And I did it! Yay! It has redoubled my resolution to find a phone anyway, though. Also, I was responsible and actually opted out of an adventure with strangers. Weird, right? I ran into a beautiful man from San Francisco with a bunch of English people on the train, and they(he) invited me to go drinking with them. I was tempted, but no one from my group knew where I was, and I figured that as a young lady of small frame in an unfamiliar country it behooves me to be careful. So I went back to the apartment (flat?) and then went with my classmates to the pub across the street and had a jolly good time.

Also: THE INDIAN FOOD IN THIS CITY IS AMAZING. I mean, I had heard that already, but experiencing it is different. I had the best samosas I have ever tasted. They were perfect.

I'm pretty sure I had more to say, but it is past my bedtime. Goodnight and stay tuned!

You just got SHAWED

Alright, so I had a full day full of wonderful English and theatrical things. However, the most important thing you must know it that I SAW FIONA SHAW PERFORM AND IT WAS A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE. Like woah. It was an interpretation of The Waste Land. I was front row center. She was five feet away from me.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

For those of you who have not heard of her, Fiona Shaw is, in the words of Dave McRee "The best actress of her generation." To an outsider, this may seem like an exaggeration. It was not. Her performance absolutely blew me out of the water. It was an extraordinarily moving of the poem (which as I think I mentioned, it had been my business to become familiar with) as well as a real life example of what I want to be. Watching her was an education. I have something to work towards. There are no words to properly describe it. She is a true master.

Ian, I am so jealous that you got to have a master class with her. That is amazing.

Other events of the day: I failed at waking up on time(Sarah's alarm clock went off twice and I slept right threw it. At ten minutes to class time she woke me up because she is a good human being), but I still successfully presented on The Waste Land; I ate a pasty for the first time and it was delicious, rode a double-decker bus for the first time, saw an interesting and well done staging of 1984(there were puppets involved) during which I had some rather tasty spiked cider, I saw the Tower of London and walked across Tower Bridge(which is awesome), talked to English people for five minutes straight and they didn't hate me even though I am American, learned that pubs serve tea, used my guidebook for the first time(it is tiny and has eleven maps!), chatted up a cute bartender who wore suspenders and a cravat and was quite cheeky but gave me a free drink, SAW FIONA SHAW PERFORM(I think I mentioned that earlier), had a delicious Belgian beer in the pub across the street from our apartment building(The Crown and Anchor. A very pubbish name. My need for stereotype is satisfied), and failed to buy a phone and groceries. Much of this in the company of Sarah, who I am very lucky to be rooming with. All in all, an excellent day.

I dig this city, even if it does have grandma hours.

Also, I fixed it so anyone can comment on the blog now. Have at it!

Why is the world a cold, damp place without sleep in it?

Guuh. California and England are far apart. Know this, if you desire to make the journey I have just made: It will be long, it will be tedious, and you will not know how to use words anymore when it is done. I was telling Audrey a story when we got to the apartments, and she had to provide every other word for me, as I had forgotten how to say the things I was talking about.

Anyway. I am in London! Woo!
I don't know that it has sunk in yet. More than it had before, at least. On the car ride, I kept thinking: It looks kind of like New York. Then we got in the more central area and it looked a little more distinct, but still, you know. Cityish. With bricks and stuff. You don't see much brick in California. Brick will always be a little other to me, I think.

Noise canceling head phones=worth every penny. Also, I like airlines better when they are English. Everything is free and they give me alcohol. It's great.

I bought eggs and beans on toast. I paid for it in pounds and the guy called me darling and was cheeky about giving me my change. England!

England. England needs to learn how to put salt on the road when it snows. Seriously guys. I'm from California, for goodness sake! I have to drive for several hours to get to snow, and I know this stuff. GET WITH THE PROGRAM.

I have not met and wizards or dashing 19th century gentlemen yet, but I have not given up hope. Fiction would not tell me things that are not true!
...

A few hours later:
So, aren't pubs supposed to be all over the place around here? Cause man, we walked around for a WHILE looking for one that fit our desire for stereotype (i.e. not a Thai place. Why were there so many Thai pubs? Not that I dislike Thai food. I love Thai food. But, you know. We wanted something traditional.) with reasonable prices and there weren't NOTHING. Well, there was one place(THE DUKE OF SUSSEX), but they stop serving food at six pm. Six! And most pubs close at, like, 10:30 apparently. London is awesome, but it is also designed for grandmas, apparently.

Why are English coins so much cooler than ours? They have dragons and shit on them, and they're different shapes and colors, and the even make a better sounds when you ching them together. I feel jipped by my country.
I still like dimes though. Dimes are where it's at.

Our talk thing we were supposed to go to was canceled. Thus the pub-quest. I was not sorry. I am not currently in a fit state to pay attention to anything for more than two minutes, much less 45.

OH MAN. So. I like sitting in the window seat in airplanes. I am a connoisseur of airplane vistas. The view when I left San Francisco this time was the most beautiful airplane vista I have seen, and that includes a lightning storm and the time I saw three shooting stars. It was all misty and pink-purple-blue, with verdant hills and the water stretching out all calm and- man, I cannot do this view justice. It transformed the bay. It was as if I was looking at some other, lusher version of the world. Fantastic.

I said I would give Danielle a shout out. I am doing so now.
HI DANIELLE. I THINK YOU'RE COOL. LET'S HANG OUT.

I also rode the underground, the tube, the... damn, I can't think of a third think they call it. The English subway? There were no tentacled monsters and no Marquis, but I did mind the gap. And there were people on the train. And you know what? They were all English! With the accents and complexions and everything! Crazy!

We will apparently be having class in the living room of the apartment I am sharing with four other girls. Dave says he chose it so that I would be able to make it in the morning. I have no right to feel anything about this other than gratitude. The only reason I made it to our afternoon meeting was because their(the men folk's) knock on the door woke me from my nap, and I had to go open it for them.
Sigh.

I think I have talked far too much already for a day in which I have not really done anything yet. I am excited for times to come.

I'm gonna go learn about T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land so I can report on it for tomorrow. We're seeing Fiona Shaw's interpretation of it and 1984(not interpreted by Fiona Shaw.)

Also, I almost got run over by a car.

K, byyyyyyyye.

The Night Before

The time: See blog title.

The place: My bedroom in California.

The mood: Sleepy. It is 3:15 am. I have to leave the house at 4:30 am. Hm. I think I will take a nap.

The blog exists. News to follow.