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!