Marseilles, France

I'm sure it's happened to you before: like so many other resolutions they start out strong, consistent and you feel great about all you have accomplished. However, soon you let one thing go and another and another and you end up with a to do list as long as a roll of toilet paper. The first two months of blogging were great - I was able to get a couple in a week and knew that I would have these blogs to look back at years to come and it felt great. Unfortunately, after getting back from mid-semester break with over 900 pictures to go through and papers for each class staring at me in the face, I let it all go. Well blog, I'm back and ready to report on the past month and a half of adventures, beginning with the first stop of mid-semester break travels: Marseilles, France.

First trip to Europe, first time staying in a hostel, no "responsible adults" to smooth over and bumps in the road. I was ready for every minute of it. Our flight down on RyanAir was less than relaxing (though this is easily forgiven when we paid less than $15 round-trip). We arrived in Marseilles late Thursday night, taking a bus to the train station. We proceeded to spend the next hour trying to find our hostel (in the rain) that was supposed to be "right around the corner" from the station as the hostel info paper described. It in fact was, however, the corner we were dropped off at on the bus happened to be the opposite corner of the train station that the "right around the corner" directions were given from. Nevertheless, we found it: Vertigo. It was a very cute 70's hipster type hostel. We payed 23 euro a night for a comfortable room with two Asian guys, both named Jay, and a couple that didn't get in 'till 3 or 4 in the morning.

The steps of the train station we arrived at our first night in Marseilles

The view from the train station in Marseilles.

The door to our room was right down the steps to the right.

We woke up to beautiful 70 degree weather and ate our first croissant (so delicious!). We had booked a separate hostel in another part of the city for the next night because it was cheaper and we thought it would be good to see another area of town. So first thing that morning (which was actually more around noon) we went to the metro station to get to this other side of town and settle down in our hostel. Unfortunately, these directions to the hostel were not so clear. Even in asking multiple French police if we were heading in the right direction, we ended up walking in a full mile circle out of our way to find this place. Two hours later, we were in our own private room (because it was low-season for tourism) for 17 euro.

That afternoon we set out for Notre Dame de la Garde, a large cathedral on the top of a hill overlooking Marseilles. It was such a fantastic view more windy than you can imagine. My hair was standing straight up on end and all articles of clothing were being constantly ripped off by giant gushes at the top balcony of the cathedral. The inside was so ornate with gold EVERYWHERE.

After we got off the top of this hill, we were in the fancier part of Marseilles passing countless antique shops and art galleries. This soon ended when we got to the docks of Marseilles. I had been warned about Marseilles by many French friends at Newbold for being quite trashy and full of Arabs but had yet to actually run into any of this. This was soon amended when our self-guided city walking tour took us around the narrow streets on the other side of the harbor in Marseilles. Seeing Muslim propaganda on every door, hearing a foreign language (which was no French) and men

on scooters waving guns around was less than a comfortable experience.

The docks of Marseilles

We finally found our way out of this sketchy neighborhood to another Cathedral that was right on the water (nearly). We walked into this gigantic cathedral (bigger than any I think if seen in Europe, save for Notre Dame in Paris and perhaps Westminster Abbey in London) and heard what sounded like 16th century Gregorian chant by a men's choir. Upon rounding the corner, however, we found it was just one man in his private worship in a "sweet spot" of the church that amplified his voice through the whole cathedral - very cool to see!

The cathedral on the water

We then headed back towards the hostel where we had a dinner of bread and cheese (which we literally ate every evening) and went to bed early that night. The next morning, we headed back for the docks with the intent of seeing Château d'If. Château d'If is island covered with a fortress built for defense and for prisoners. It is also the setting of the prison in the popular story The Count of Monte Cristo. However, it happened to be closed that day so we instead headed for an early bus to Nice, France.

For more pictures, see: Facebook Album

Nice, France coming soon! I promise!

Off To France and Italy

I am getting ready to leave the campus in an hour for France and Italy for my mid-semester break. Didn't sleep much last night - too may dreams about gettig ripped off and not being able to communicate with anyone. Usually I am overprepared for any situation, but this trip I haven't spent hardly any time on things to do, train tickets, cultural differences - this is a true adventure.

I fly out of London Stansted at 7pm to Marseilles, France. We will stay in Marseilles 2 days, then to Nice for 3 days, the Cinque Terre for 3, Florence for 2, ending up in Pisa for the last night before we fly back to London. I'll have lots to share when I get back, and wish the best for you all over the next 11 days!

A Medley of Observations 2

Hopefully, I will be able to deliver semi-monthly some of the things I have observed about life here. So for yet another month, here are some of the things I've noticed.

It started in July when I received my first physical letter from Newbold. I had been keeping a folder with all the paperwork of applications, transcripts, and other forms. When I put this paper in, it was more narrow and a bit longer than the rest of the papers in the folder. It stuck out of the end a little. I barely thought twice about it, writing it off as just an official letterhead thing. But when I came here and began gathering school supplies: pens, binders, notebooks, it became quite apparent. Paper is a different size.

Now, this may seem quite trivial. However, what one doesn't realize is how the standard 8 1/2' x 11' has been psychologically ingrained in our minds. This paper looks different, but feels different as well. Holding it in your hand - writing on it. When taking notes I have to switch to the next line faster. I've gotten into a certain groove in my note-taking without thinking about it. I know how many words I can fit on a line, I know approximately how many seconds it takes to fill up one line before moving along to the next. While this system makes sense, like most systems of measurement outside of the states, it can be a difficult adjustment. What would happen if the states tried to adjust to this A4 standard?

When I arrived in August, one of my first purchases was a cell phone. This is essential not just for social survival, but for safety purposes as well. When I'm walking down Carnaby Street unable to find the nine other member of my group I need a cell phone. When I get back into the train station at midnight in Bracknell from a long day in London I need a cell phone so I don't have to walk the 30 minutes back to school. But the cell phone here are not average cell phones. These are equipped with super-batteries that somehow last longer. The phone I ended up purchasing can last 12 days on one charge. Are we sold inferior technological devices just to have to buy a replacement in a year or even a few months?

I knew coming to England would mean an enormous increase in the number of times I would hear the word "cheers" on a given day. It isn't as if I've never said it myself for anything, but these anythings always involved a holiday or a wedding or some kind of special event that only occurred a few times a year. After just two uses of the word, my quota of "cheers" usages is up for the year. But being here, it is rare to hear the word less than 10 times a day. A few weeks ago I was out to dinner with several friends and every time the waiter came or left the table he began, or ended his phrases with "cheers" - every time. No exceptions. The first meeting I had with my tutor (which is basically my academic advisor) he concluded each of the last few farewell phrases of our conversation (i.e. thanks for meeting with me, hope your classes work out for you, have a good day) with "cheers". But this was nothing compared to what happened a few nights ago at a young adult bible study I attended. As we were beginning the study we paused for prayer, and at the end of this prayer more than one individual ended it with and affirmative "cheers" instead of the widely accepted "amen".

While America isn't necessarily the cleanest country in the world, I have come to realize that it certainly gives every opportunity to the individual to remedy this. I've been into London several times now, walked around Bracknell and other surrounding cities, and even around campus and one thing has become quite apparent: garbage cans are no where so be found! When I go into a town, buy something to drink, food, anything with a wrapper on it, I have to explore thoroughly to find a rubbish bin to throw things away in. This turns out to be a nearly impossibly task. Incredibly enough, however, this does not mean that the street and sidewalks of the town are particularly littered. In fact, they might even be less littered than cities I've been to in the states. Why is this? I can only begin to guess...

The Musicals

Les Misérables

Perhaps I'm a terrible citizen of the world for this confession: prior to two weeks ago, I had heard absolutely nothing about Jean Valjean and his struggles for redemption during the Paris uprising of 1832. My only exposure to this renown musical was a song I was assigned to sing during a short stint of voice lessons in high school - On My Own. I had also seen the haunting face of young Cosette outside of the theater on Broadway in New York City 3 years ago.

So after listening to a lecture at the National Gallery and watching a life-size chess match in Trafalgar Square, I found myself in The Queen's Theater ready for this experience - my experience. Sitting inside the theater, I suddenly had visions of "Honey I Shrunk The Kids". It felt like I had been shrunk to about a centimeter small and placed in the inside of a tin can with tiny little velvet seats glued all around the inside - me being in the very top row and the actors on the very bottom. We sat towards the front of the highest balcony and it seemed like an 80º angle to see the stage. On top of all of this, two rows in front of me at the front of the balcony was an eastern-European family (that didn't speak English) sitting on the edge of their seats, leaning as far forward as they possibly could.

Needless to say - I didn't catch much of the first act. However, after intermission the kind gentleman sitting next to me gestured to them trying to explain that we couldn't see and for the most part, during the last half, they did so. The second act was filled with dramatic, empowering songs, soft, intimate ballads, and exciting choreography. I went home satisfied.

Wicked

This being my third Wicked experience in the past year I was incredibly excited to see the magical production again - and with accents this time around. The musical was at the Apollo theater in London previously hosting The Sound of Music and Fiddler On The Roof. We had great seats this time around. On the ground level roughly in the middle of the floor, we had nearly a clear shot to the stage in this spacious theater.

Kasyn outside the Apollo Theater

I had heard a little about the leading actors of the West End production and listened to a few clips on YouTube but nothing could have prepared me for this. Alexia Khadime held the leading role of Elphaba - the wicked witch of the west. Before this she had played Nala in The Lion King on the West End and all before she was 26 (which is fairly young in musical theater years). But the best thing she has going for her is that she's black. The songs Elphaba sings are usually very powerful, requiring an extremely talented vocalist, especially to hit the high notes in full chest voice, notes this girl was born to sing. On the loud notes, her pitch didn't waver and the softer ones only gave her more room to show off her vocal abilities with deviations from the normal melody line.

The stage

Our seats

The theater

An interesting note on the show here was that every character was overall less physically expressive. The other leading-lady, Glinda, is usually portrayed in a very physically involved way with a lot of slap-stick humor, throwing her body around the stage a little - but while her vocal performance was fantastic, her mannerisms appeared stiff. But this was a common trend among all the characters, giving a relatively reserved performance. I spoke with a few people here who have seen this show (and several others) many times and they just said that that is how the West End is done. Theater-goers aren't amused by over-expressive, physical performances.

Every song was jaw-dropping. At the end of the evening, a friend took me outside to the stage door where we met and got autographs from most of the leads.

Alexia Khadime (Elphaba) and me

I managed to record the audio of a few numbers for those interested:

No Good Deed

Defying Gravity

As Long As You're Mine

Cornwall

First let me apologize for the delay in the writing of this blog - I haven't forgot about you and want to keep you all updated! I've just been occupied with a couple of research paper outlines:

Sustainable Development: How Environmental Conditions, Pollution, and Climate Change Affect Developing Countries

Universal Expressions and Non-verbal Communication in Cultural Anthropology

Last weekend the school took a large group of students, 70 or so, to the Seventh-day Adventist camp in county of England called "Cornwall" that encompasses the whole south-west peninsula of Great Britain. The SDA camp at Cornwall is the equivalent of our summer camps in the states in that they have their kids and family camps there and in the winter they have various retreats by groups throughout the conference.

Lukas (Germany) and Clément (France) at the rest stop (anyone else think Lukas looks like Seth Meyers from SNL Weekend Update?)

[From Left: Sopia (Korea), Mara (Latvia), and Sarah (Germany) at the start of our bus ride over]

It was roughly a six hour drive in a caravan of about seven large, 14-person, white vans. I was told we would be camping, which to me meant tents. However, when I arrived at the camp the visions I had of thickly-wooded forests, meals over a fire, and sleeping on the ground was quite different than what I now saw. The grounds of the camp are essentially a rectangular grassy 50x100 yd plot of land with 15 or so trailer homes on it. There is a small meeting house/cafeteria and a basketball court and that's it as far as multi-purpose recreational facilities goes. We stayed in a "caravan" (that's what they call the trailer homes) that was about 10x25 ft and had three small rooms with 5-foot beds in them. The great thing about the camp is that you can see the ocean from the camp. It is about half a mile, or a 10 minute walk down to the beach.

The camp at Cornwall (yes, this strip of green grass and trailer homes is it)

Some ruins near the camp-site

Sitting, watching the sunset at the beach near the camp-site

Our first trip down to the beach near Cornwall

The walk down to the beach

The sunset at the beach near the camp-site

After getting over the initial shock of the English-style SDA camps, we went on a walk down to the beach and around to some of the ruins in the area - old mining buildings from the early 1900's. Saturday afternoon we got in the vans once again to spend a few hours on a nearby beach. This beach was again: not what I was expecting. It was largely covered in smooth, fine, wet sand; both the water and the beach were very clean and the water was actually blue. A group of us all got into our swim-suits and ventured out into the water. We had a great time bobbing up and down with the 5-6 foot waves. The water was icy-cold but somehow it didn't matter. After I got out, my fingers were literally numb for about two hours.

Doing a fun hand-painting activity at church

The beach we went to Saturday

Friends building a sandcastle on the beach

A 3-in-1 soap dispenser, washer, and dryer in public restrooms at the beach

Sunday, we left the camp by 10 and drove a little over an hour to Tintagel. Tintagel is the supposed birthplace of King Arthur and the town milks this legend for all it's worth! Bookstores, gift shops, and restaurants don signs referencing the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table left and right. We walked down towards the castle, watched a brief historical video on the site, and payed to go up to see the ruins of the castle. On the top of the small plateau where the castle is supposed to have sat, there are barely minor remnants indicating a fortress ever stood there. We had lunch on the edge of the cliffs on one side, feeding the flock of sea birds that were hovering around us hoping for some lunch themselves. Not long after we had fed the appetite we worked up from sitting in the car that morning, we had to climb the steep steps down and back up to the village of Tintagel.

Kasyn feeling inspired by the castle

The few remains of the castle

The coast-line at Tintagel - yes, the colors are THAT vivid

Seven hours in a van later, we finally got back to Newbold for some relaxation!

(Here's a video of Mark talking about swimming at the beach Saturday)

A video of the students at the end of our trip to Cornwall, to give you an idea of the size of the camp and the number of students that went. The man speaking is named Henrik and is head of student life at the campus.

Coming soon: The Musicals (Wicked and Les Misérables), More Observations, and a Video Campus Tour

Cookham and The Spider in My Room

For many days now I have been meaning to go somewhere with a friend. You see, since the beginning of school his car has been parked right outside my window every night, and through that deep connection we've become friends. Emanuel is a 30-some year old fashion designer and natural medicines student from Paris here for the school of English.

This Saturday evening we finally got coordinated enough to go somewhere. So we gathered some friends, hopped in his car (with the steering wheel on the correct side) and headed for Cookham. Cookham is a cute, one-street town on the Thames river about a 30 minute drive from the college. We arrived just after sunset - just late enough that the bugs were beginning to go back to hibernation for the evening. Our first sight that greeted us was The Crown, then we passed through an old graveyard/church on our way to a path that follows the river.

By this time the last trace of dusk peeking through the leafy trees was nearly gone. We stopped at several benches right along the water at took some serious, and not so serious pictures.

Esther holding Emanuel while he tries to get up on the bench to take a picture

The picture worth all the trouble

The final bench we came to and stayed a while at

[Emanuel (France), Esther (Sweden), Clément (France) and Susanne (Norway)]

Cookham is a nice town because it is close enough that it doesn't take much trouble to get to, but little-known enough that you aren't dodging fellow pedestrians on the sidewalk constantly and you can really get close to the water without stone barriers.

This last picture is of a spider that had been hanging in the exact same spot, a corner by the door, for literally three days. I thought of killing it, except that I have been killing a spider everyday here and this one didn't look as vicious. The interesting thing about this spider is that it hadn't moved a single inch in the three days that it was just hanging out there on it's string. I call it my lazy spider friend. Today, however, I woke up and it was gone - it's a sad day.

London Thames Festival

While The Mayor's Thames Festival occured last weekend, it still stands out vividly in my mind, as well as on film (digital film that is), so I will still be writing about it.

(Karlee, Julia, Me, Kasyn, Synne, Lars, and Mark who's taking the picture)

Last Sunday, a group of seven of us went in to London for the Thames Festival. It is much like Art On the Green in CDA, substituting a river for a lake of course, or any county fair really, without the greasy food, warm weather, and rides. So I suppose some would argue it's nothing like a county fair, but for the sake of comparison, we will use a county fair.

Stepping out of the Waterloo station near central London, we walked towards the sidewalk following the Thames River through the city. And though I had been in that exact same spot along the river the previous weekend, and the weekend before that, this time was very different. Booths lined the walkway on both sides full of fresh food, street performers, and all kinds of artistic creations: clothing, jewelry, photography and paintings. This time it was difficult to keep track of the group. We were in a less crowded space than we experienced at the Notting Hill Carnival but with a more rapid traffic flow.

I made the terrible mistake of wearing flats on this outing, which is curious considering I swore off wearing them while walking around town anywhere for good just the day before. In all, we walked an estimated four miles throughout the day and I came back to my room with blisters on my feet - a much more tangible reminder to never wear flats into London again.

The first sight we happened upon was a section of the beach along the river where a group of adults and kids were making portraits in the sand. This sand portrait is of Boris Johnson, the current Mayor of London and former representative Member of Parliament for Henley.

The beach was about 15 feet down behind a railing from the sidewalk and these sheets with a bucket were laid out every few feet along the railing for people to try to drop their coins into (an easy way to make money for sure!).

Next we came to the Tate Modern, the museum of modern art in London, where we went inside to sit down for a bit. When entering the building, you are almost immediately dumped into this huge commons area.

We went down at sat on those steps you see on the bottom left where these two boy (below) were running around left and right. They had no fear, running down the cement grade and in between our group on the floor. Something must have been extremely interesting in that corner that you see them in below because they kept coming back to it every minute or so a dozen times.

Just outside the Tate Modern was the Fire Garden, part of the night-time festival. I have only a few pictures of it during the day and couldn't get any good ones in at night, but the display of fire in these huge orbiting globes with hundreds of people huddling close in such a small space for warmth was spectacular. Here I am sitting in an iron chair that in the evening channeled fuel and fire to come out of those glass bulbs you see on the right side.

There was also live Big Band/Swing music with a dance floor that we spent about an hour at dancing and having an all-over good time.

The weekend before, when we were in Windsor, there was talk of going to Wagamama which is an Asian restaurant chain in England. However, at the time we decided to save it for later and went to the pub instead. Now that we were in London though, and Kasyn had been talking about it all week, it was to go. At this point we had all gotten quite hungry, all except for Mark who had had a very large, very authentic burrito, and Wagamama was on everyone's minds.

I'm sure you've all had those experiences where someone talked up a movie, a restaurant, a show, or some kind of event so much that you idealized the situation far past any real expectations and whatever it was just didn't live up to its glowing reviews. Well, this was definitely not one of those situations. Walking in, the restaurant looked much like a cafeteria with rows of long benches. I ordered the Yasai Katsu Curry which was breaded and fried slices of eggplant and sweet potato, a delicious curry over steamed rice, a salad, and desert: three scoops of the most pure coconut ice cream with a mango sauce on top. I'm not sure if it was my aching feet or my growling stomach, but it was definitely one of the best meals I've had - ever. Unfortunately I devoured the main dish before I remembered to take a picture of it so you will all have to come and try it yourself.

Bellies satisfied, we slowly made our way back to the train station, stopping by a small trailer where a band of four guys were acting as a sort of live jukebox playing everything from Elvis to Alanis Morissette. Somehow they had rigged external speakers to their equipment inside and a song selection system with letters and numbers (a donation of one pound) for quite an interesting and unique result - certainly nothing I've ever seen before.

(a short video)

... and ended the night with fireworks...