In case you didn't get the reference.
I’ve passed a lot of personal milestones in the last two-ish months. I’ve seen more carved testicles in that time than I had in the previous 20 years. I’ve spent more time away from my parents than ever before. I’ve eaten more Cornish pasties than I thought I ever would (truth be told, I had no idea what a Cornish pasty was 3 months ago). And I’ve more than doubled my total number of countries visited since September.
I’d traveled a fair bit before that, mostly on family visits, and thought I was pretty well experienced at it (little did I know you can go for 7 days with one backpacks worth of clothing). I was certainly under the impression that if you were going to be traveling, you were going to be cramped in a car and take a long while to get a long way, or you were going to be cramped in a plane, subjected to the indignity of airport security, and pay a lot to get a long way in a short time. Transportation meant discomfort, basically.
As much as I hate to come across as the snobbish North American who has been to Europe, I’ve got to say that I’ve become convinced this semester that trains are the most civilized way to travel. I use that word civilized pretty deliberately. On a train, you can stand up and move. You aren’t confined to your little space. It’s easy to have a conversation. There’s usually a place to buy food, and you can always bring in your own food. All in all, you feel like you’re actually treated like a human being when you take a train, especially in comparison with flying, where you’re treated like a potential terrorist, then the object of some kind of scam, then a piece of cargo.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Monday, November 23, 2009
Museophilia
There really is a lot to do in London. It’s not that I disbelieved that when people told me, and it feels kind of trite to say it, but it’s true.
Forgetting for a moment the allures of theatre, pubs, clubs, restaurants, live music, shopping, and all the other lovely things London offers; solely focusing on the museums, there’s enough to keep you occupied for months. I’ve been to the British Museum three times thus far (and seen the Rosetta stone all three times) and I’ve only seen a fraction of what’s in there. I still have no clue what’s in the circular thing in the middle of the building. If they allowed you to sleep there, you could spend a solid week living there, and you might be able to see everything and pay good attention to all of it.
It’s free too, as are the National Gallery, the National Portrait gallery, the Tate Modern, and the Tate Britain. I’ve managed to get to each of them once (except the Tate Britain, which I got lost trying to find, and ended up leaving to go see Jim Carrey light the Christmas lights on Oxford St), and I believe each could take up a solid day if you really paid attention to them.
Then there are the legions of smaller museums, ranging from the Freud house to the Brahmah coffee and tea museum to the Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms, all of which seem fascinating, but many of which I’m not going to get to go to, or don’t want to pay to get into.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I think the size of London is overwhelming, in the best possible way.
Forgetting for a moment the allures of theatre, pubs, clubs, restaurants, live music, shopping, and all the other lovely things London offers; solely focusing on the museums, there’s enough to keep you occupied for months. I’ve been to the British Museum three times thus far (and seen the Rosetta stone all three times) and I’ve only seen a fraction of what’s in there. I still have no clue what’s in the circular thing in the middle of the building. If they allowed you to sleep there, you could spend a solid week living there, and you might be able to see everything and pay good attention to all of it.
It’s free too, as are the National Gallery, the National Portrait gallery, the Tate Modern, and the Tate Britain. I’ve managed to get to each of them once (except the Tate Britain, which I got lost trying to find, and ended up leaving to go see Jim Carrey light the Christmas lights on Oxford St), and I believe each could take up a solid day if you really paid attention to them.
Then there are the legions of smaller museums, ranging from the Freud house to the Brahmah coffee and tea museum to the Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms, all of which seem fascinating, but many of which I’m not going to get to go to, or don’t want to pay to get into.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I think the size of London is overwhelming, in the best possible way.
Take III…
So, I kind of suck at this blogging thing.
From here on out, I’m going to try and simply narrate what I’ve done, not sit around and wait for some kind of profound thought to come and beat me around the head. I like stories more than statements anyway.
Hopefully, if I get motivated, I will produce entries on the travel I’ve done in England, my classes, some of the stuff I’ve done in London, and my European adventure over reading week in the near future. Someone hold me to that.
From here on out, I’m going to try and simply narrate what I’ve done, not sit around and wait for some kind of profound thought to come and beat me around the head. I like stories more than statements anyway.
Hopefully, if I get motivated, I will produce entries on the travel I’ve done in England, my classes, some of the stuff I’ve done in London, and my European adventure over reading week in the near future. Someone hold me to that.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Amsterdam and Art
Since my last post, I finally made it to the European continent, spending a weekend in Amsterdam. I discovered that Amsterdam is a city that it’s really easy to get lost in, and had many adventures because of it. (I don’t really want to post most of those adventures, but if you want to hear more about them, shoot me an email.)
I also discovered that Amsterdam is full of small beautiful things. Lovely houses and lots of canals, but also small striking statues perched on lots of buildings and interesting graffiti in unexpected places. My adventures took me into the Artis Zoo, for one, and in addition to the fun of seeing lions and camels and pelicans and cow-like-things-with-giant-horns, but walking around the zoo (which was founded in 1838) was an aesthetic experience in and of itself. Or, in the words of the Artis website, visitors “enjoy the 19th-century atmosphere of the gardens: the winding paths, majestic trees, the fascinating sculptures and the monumental historical buildings.” I also had a borderline religious experience involving a Buddha statue in the zoo, but that’s another story.
Back in London, I finally walked over to an installation under a bridge of mosaics based on poems and etchings by William Blake and these sound boxes that played readings of his poems. Blake lived for 10 years not far from where I’m living at the moment, and these installations seem to me to serve both as a public commemoration to his work, and works of art in their own right. Some of the mosaics were quite striking, and listening to the lines “O I am nothing: and to nothing must return again:/ If thou withdraw thy breath. Behold I am oblivion,” while trains rumbled overhead was downright creepy.
I really appreciate the positioning of art in a public place, whether it’s the gargoyles or the graffiti of Amsterdam or the installation to honor Blake. I think putting art in a public place, for lack of a more exact phrase, is good for the soul. I’m willing to bet very few people go out of their way to see the Blake installation like I did, but I don’t think that’s the point of it being there, or the point of the small beautiful things in Amsterdam. Coming into contact with the beautiful and the weird unexpectedly jars us, and puts us on the plane of really being human, rather than just running around like machines fulfilling obligations or animals satisfying needs.
A Statue (is that the right word?)
A Stencil
No pics of Blake, I forgot my camera...
I also discovered that Amsterdam is full of small beautiful things. Lovely houses and lots of canals, but also small striking statues perched on lots of buildings and interesting graffiti in unexpected places. My adventures took me into the Artis Zoo, for one, and in addition to the fun of seeing lions and camels and pelicans and cow-like-things-with-giant-horns, but walking around the zoo (which was founded in 1838) was an aesthetic experience in and of itself. Or, in the words of the Artis website, visitors “enjoy the 19th-century atmosphere of the gardens: the winding paths, majestic trees, the fascinating sculptures and the monumental historical buildings.” I also had a borderline religious experience involving a Buddha statue in the zoo, but that’s another story.
Back in London, I finally walked over to an installation under a bridge of mosaics based on poems and etchings by William Blake and these sound boxes that played readings of his poems. Blake lived for 10 years not far from where I’m living at the moment, and these installations seem to me to serve both as a public commemoration to his work, and works of art in their own right. Some of the mosaics were quite striking, and listening to the lines “O I am nothing: and to nothing must return again:/ If thou withdraw thy breath. Behold I am oblivion,” while trains rumbled overhead was downright creepy.
I really appreciate the positioning of art in a public place, whether it’s the gargoyles or the graffiti of Amsterdam or the installation to honor Blake. I think putting art in a public place, for lack of a more exact phrase, is good for the soul. I’m willing to bet very few people go out of their way to see the Blake installation like I did, but I don’t think that’s the point of it being there, or the point of the small beautiful things in Amsterdam. Coming into contact with the beautiful and the weird unexpectedly jars us, and puts us on the plane of really being human, rather than just running around like machines fulfilling obligations or animals satisfying needs.
A Statue (is that the right word?)
A Stencil
No pics of Blake, I forgot my camera...
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
My first few days in London, I noticed I was thinking about living in the city almost the same way I think about a book I've just started. I was paying really close attention to everything I could, trying to absorb anything that could potentially become important.
What I've learned at roughly 3 weeks in is...
The things that make the some of best stories (like the fact that I see Big Ben on my walk to class every day) don't really have much impact on my quality of life.
The things that you don't think about (like the fact that my room is just above the gym that regularly plays loud electronic workout music) do impact what your life is like.
What I've learned at roughly 3 weeks in is...
The things that make the some of best stories (like the fact that I see Big Ben on my walk to class every day) don't really have much impact on my quality of life.
The things that you don't think about (like the fact that my room is just above the gym that regularly plays loud electronic workout music) do impact what your life is like.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
7 Lessons from 7 Days in London
1. A neon sign does not necessarily indicate cheap Indian food.
2. Waiters with thick accents may bully you into buying rice.
3. Pubs close at 11 on weekdays.
4. The British Museum is one of the coolest places on the planet.
5. The view walking north over the Millennium Bridge at night is one of the most spectacular I’ve ever seen.
6. Not only did Desmond Tutu go to Kings, but they named the club in their student union after him.
7. You can walk almost anywhere.
And here's the obligatory pictures, one landmark and one random piece of what may have been art.
Thoughts with a higher degree of narration and metaphor to follow.
2. Waiters with thick accents may bully you into buying rice.
3. Pubs close at 11 on weekdays.
4. The British Museum is one of the coolest places on the planet.
5. The view walking north over the Millennium Bridge at night is one of the most spectacular I’ve ever seen.
6. Not only did Desmond Tutu go to Kings, but they named the club in their student union after him.
7. You can walk almost anywhere.
And here's the obligatory pictures, one landmark and one random piece of what may have been art.
Thoughts with a higher degree of narration and metaphor to follow.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Cartography
“The key assumption of our course has been that the sense of place can be narrated.”
-Dr. Zoran Kuzmanovich, Final Exam for “The City Novel”
I’ve realized recently that I put a lot of importance on that sense of place Dr Kuzmanovich was talking about. I feel most at home in a place when I know how to navigate it, both physically and (for lack of a better word) socially. Or, to push the metaphor in a slightly different direction, I want to know the both actual landscape and the human landscape of a place as well as I can.
My work this summer put me in much better touch with those landscapes in Davidson and the larger Lake Norman Region. I will, with slight embarrassment, admit that six months ago I still struggled to remember whether it was Mooresville or Huntersville to the north, and my major landmark in that direction was the Cookout at Exit 36 (but truth be told, that’s still my most frequent destination in Mooresville). Four months ago, if I got stuck in traffic at Exit 33 or 25, I would have to wait in the deadlock, but now I’m liberated from 77 (or as liberated as one can be from the Interstate in Davidson). After two years in and around Davidson, I finally feel like I know the landscape.
Being a Bonner has always given me a view of our area bigger than that of Davidson Bubble, but this summers work made me much more aware of the connections between the organizations and the kinds of problems they face. I’m convinced that nothing but graduation can break that bubble, and my work this summer didn’t put me outside the bubble in the visceral way that actually working with those in need often can. Even so, my work expanded the map in my head of the world of non-profits in and around Davidson beyond Ada Jenkins and the Davidson Housing Coalition, and gave me a much better sense of the challenges those nonprofits face. So maybe the better map metaphor here is that my map of Davidson is now more intricately shaded with the successes and challenges of the groups that try to help those in need, rather than that my map actually encompasses a greater area.
These musings on place seem particularly appropriate as I sit perched on the edge of departure to a place that is completely new to me, and where I will only be staying for three months. No one needs to reiterate the benefits of study abroad to me, and (discounting my paranoia that my passport or some other crucial piece of documentation will disappear in the next 36 hours) I’m more excited about this semester than sixth-grade James was about a new Star Wars movie. But I will admit that there was a part of me that felt like I was leaving behind a set of responsibilities when my job ended and I disappeared at the end of August. Or, to put it another way, this coming semester creates a conflict between the Wendell Berry in me and the Lord Byron in me. We’ll see who wins.
-Dr. Zoran Kuzmanovich, Final Exam for “The City Novel”
I’ve realized recently that I put a lot of importance on that sense of place Dr Kuzmanovich was talking about. I feel most at home in a place when I know how to navigate it, both physically and (for lack of a better word) socially. Or, to push the metaphor in a slightly different direction, I want to know the both actual landscape and the human landscape of a place as well as I can.
My work this summer put me in much better touch with those landscapes in Davidson and the larger Lake Norman Region. I will, with slight embarrassment, admit that six months ago I still struggled to remember whether it was Mooresville or Huntersville to the north, and my major landmark in that direction was the Cookout at Exit 36 (but truth be told, that’s still my most frequent destination in Mooresville). Four months ago, if I got stuck in traffic at Exit 33 or 25, I would have to wait in the deadlock, but now I’m liberated from 77 (or as liberated as one can be from the Interstate in Davidson). After two years in and around Davidson, I finally feel like I know the landscape.
Being a Bonner has always given me a view of our area bigger than that of Davidson Bubble, but this summers work made me much more aware of the connections between the organizations and the kinds of problems they face. I’m convinced that nothing but graduation can break that bubble, and my work this summer didn’t put me outside the bubble in the visceral way that actually working with those in need often can. Even so, my work expanded the map in my head of the world of non-profits in and around Davidson beyond Ada Jenkins and the Davidson Housing Coalition, and gave me a much better sense of the challenges those nonprofits face. So maybe the better map metaphor here is that my map of Davidson is now more intricately shaded with the successes and challenges of the groups that try to help those in need, rather than that my map actually encompasses a greater area.
These musings on place seem particularly appropriate as I sit perched on the edge of departure to a place that is completely new to me, and where I will only be staying for three months. No one needs to reiterate the benefits of study abroad to me, and (discounting my paranoia that my passport or some other crucial piece of documentation will disappear in the next 36 hours) I’m more excited about this semester than sixth-grade James was about a new Star Wars movie. But I will admit that there was a part of me that felt like I was leaving behind a set of responsibilities when my job ended and I disappeared at the end of August. Or, to put it another way, this coming semester creates a conflict between the Wendell Berry in me and the Lord Byron in me. We’ll see who wins.
Back from the depths of the Internet
So, I'm resuscitating this blog to chronicle my adventures in London and wherever my will and wallet can take me over the next three months. I learned last summer that trying to keep myself to a regular schedule of posting is near futile, and that I shouldn't expect myself to keep writing after my adventures conclude. However, if I don't post for a while, smack me (physically or digitally, whichever is easier) and remind me there are people I should be updating. I'm going to start off with something I wrote for and about my Bonner Summer of Service, because it seems like an appropriate starting place for two reasons. One, this blog started as a reflection for and about my last Summer of Service, so it seems like a nicely symbolic transition to have it be revived by more reflection. Two, the piece is about the sense of place, something I've been thinking about a good bit recently (but don't articulate as well as I like), and the whole idea of study abroad brings up some questions I have about the importance of place. So, as a little bit of context, I did web-related work for a grassroots group of non-profits in and around the town Davidson. If you want to hear more about it, let me know.
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