Paris, Je t'aime

I know, I know, I know, it's been FOREVER since I have written! Paris kept us so busy, zooming around the city trying to see as much as possible in five days. I also did not bring my own computer and I entirely indebted to Leanne for letting me use hers so often. Way to think that through, Reeves.

We are now in Beaune, a town in Burgundy, France, and I have some nice down-time to update the blog before our next excursion.

The instant we arrived in Paris last Sunday, everyone fell in love with the place. The city is truly unparalleled in its beauty and divine in atmosphere. New York and London are fantastic and everything, but life is so hectic there while everyone in Paris is at their leisure and actually tasting their coffee instead of gulping it down from a Starbucks or Nero to-go cup. And Madrid, well, I love Madrid, but pobrecita, it's just not as guapa ou jolie as Paris.

I think since this is going to be a massive post I will have to structure by day. So here we go. Ahem.

Sunday soir (evening): We went to this really cool restaurant on the Ile san Louis that was medieval-themed. They brought out giant baskets of raw vegetables: enormous tomatoes, peppers, as well as radishes and carrots that had literally just been pulled out of the ground. Then we had pate and French bread, followed by delicious beef kebabs, prepared medium-rare. After the main course they brought a cheese plate with Camembert, brie, and others that I did not know. But the brie. Oh, the brie. It was warm, rich, and melting onto the French bread. Jessica Ryan Goodman, you would have died of happiness. The amazing chocolate mousse for dessert was just...parfait. In accordance with medieval tradition, we were given ceramic pitchers and were invited enjoy continuous refills of red wine from southern France which were being dispensed in vats by the kitchen. It was a jolly dinner to say the least. After dinner, Patrick, Justin, and Will Adams and I met my roommate Lizzie Myers and our friend Philip Devereaux-Demetriad for drinks in the Latin Quarter. Philip is studying in Paris for the semester, and is already so Parisian in nature that he fits right in, and Lizzie is studying in Aix-en-Provence for the semester and was in Paris for the weekend. I ordered a kir royale to celebrate our first night in Paris, and at 1:30 in the morning we left the cafe and returned to our hotel.

Jour (day) 1: We visited Notre Dame and Sainte-Chapelle on the Ile de la Cite in the morning. Stevens marched us around the back side of the iconic cathedral so that we could see some of its most gorgeous views. On the way, we crossed over a bridge with hundreds of little ribbons and padlocks where lovers come to "lock" their affection forever. Tres mignon, no? Anyway, the soaring flying buttresses of Notre Dame were beautiful from our vantage point. We walked around to the facade and considered the verticality of the Gothic architecture before entering the cathedral and walking around as the clergy was conducting Mass. The music and candles made such a difference as we were exploring the side aisles, ambulatory, and radiating chapels. Our next destination was Sainte-Chapelle, a reliquary chapel built by King Louis IX to house his relic, a piece of the crown of thorns. I love this building. The walls are practically made of stained glass and whatever stone buttressing there is is painted over in deep reds and blues. The ceiling is dark blue with glimmering stars representing heaven. The rich colors and translucency of the building makes me feel as though I'm standing in a jewelry box. After Sainte-Chapelle we were given the afternoon free, so I went to lunch with Philip in the Latin Quarter. Afterwards, Joanna and I went to the Opera Garnier, a beautiful Baroque building with a dome painted by Marc Chagall. It was one of my favorite places that I visited with Mom and Dad in 2006. Unfortunately, the opera house closed early on Sunday so when Joanna and I approached to see the Chagall dome we were turned away with a brusque "se firme." Disappointed, Joanna and I decided to try out the Centre Pompidou, the large museum of modern and contemporary art in Paris. I'm not normally a huge fan of contemporary art, but every so often I like to give it another chance to see if I can discern any meaning or talent in it whatsoever. Well, this proved to be a fantastic failure. After being assured that we would be granted a student discount by the man at the information desk, Joanna and I waited in an extremely long line that folded upon itself again and again in the crowded lobby. When we finally reached the ticket counter and presented our international student ID cards, we were matter-of-factly informed that only European Union students receive student discounts. Not Americans. My eyebrow raised uncontrollably, I slapped down nine euro and said "merci" with an extra throatiness hoping he understood my frustration with that ridiculous rule. The Centre Pompidou is a very ugly exoskeletal building and it's galleries are not very well-marked. After ascending five escalators through tubes on the outside of the building, Joanna and I finally reached the first floor exhibitions of contemporary. We saw videos of naked men and women doing nothing but moving "artistically" and some one was creative enough to hang white clothing against the white wall on a cord and call it art. I call that laundry. We spent nearly an hour scouring that floor trying to find work by Picasso and Kandinsky, as well as other modern artists, before we finally realized that it was showcased on the next floor up. By that point, both of us were so incensed at the pointlessness of modern art that we could barely enjoy a half hour surrounded by Picasso's, Braque's, and Kandinsky's work. I haven't disliked a museum since I was a bored pre-teen.

Jour 2: The Louvre. We went to a gallery where we studied medieval objets d'art like Gothic statuettes of the Virgin and Child as well as chalices and reliquaries. Afterwards, we saw a couple lovely examples of northern Renaissance painting by Jan van Eyck, Hans Holbein, and Albrecht Durer, followed by a visit to see Michelanglo's "Dying Slave" and Canova's "Cupid and Psyche" to see the traditions of Italian Renaissance sculpture. We were dismissed for the afternoon and Joanna and I wove our way through the enormous crowd clamoring for the smallest glimpse of the Mona Lisa, and directed our path through the Italian painting corridor ending in the Spanish painting gallery. On the way we passed the magnificent Gericault painting "Raft of the Medusa" which is one of the most impressive pieces in the collection, and ended our visit to the Louvre with Ribera, el Greco, and Murillo. We finally ascended the escalators in the lobby that deposited us outside of I.M. Pei's simple, yet lovely glass pyramid (an example of contemporary architecture that I actually like). Joanna, Mary Frances and I bought a picnic lunch which we ate in the Jardines Tuileries. From there it was a long but very straight walk across the Jardines Tuileries, across Place de la Concorde, all the way down the Champs Elysees to L'Arc de Triomphe. As we walked, we watched the Champs Elysees turn from parkland into the bustling, fashionable strip of designer shops and expensive cafes for which it is so famous. Our feet were about to fall off by the time we reached L'Arc de Triomphe so we hopped on the metro for a quick ride back to our hotel off of Rue Rivoli.

Jour 3: Chartres. We left Paris early on Tuesday morning for a day trip to study the Chartres Cathedral of Notre Dame. This cathedral was consecrated to the Virgin Mary long before the famous edifice in Paris. We were lectured to by Malcolm Miller, a British enthusiast of the cathedral. Indeed, he has been studying Chartres cathedral for almost fifty years or so and referenced his own book on the subject as he explained the stained glass windows, sculpture and the concept of exegesis. The philosophy of exegesis was to connect stories from the Old Testament to those in the New Testament like how the story of the Good Samaritan is reflective of Christ saving humankind from sins on earth. We returned to Paris in time for dinner, so Leanne and I grabbed a falafel nearby the hotel. I think packed up my journal, gluestick, scissors, and pens and walked to the Place de Vosge where I happened upon Cafe Hugo where Mom and Dad and I ate lunch after visiting the Musee Picasso on my seventeenth birthday! I ordered a kir and wrote my daily journal while listening to a cackling laugh of a woman across the restaurant and cast amused glances at the young Parisian couple making out at a sidewalk table of the cafe. Tres Francais.

Jour 4: Our only group visit this day was to the Musee de Cluny where we saw Visigothic votive crowns exactly like the ones that I saw in Toledo, Spain. In fact, they were from the same archaeological find. We also looked at examples of northern sculptures of carved wood, which are much more rigid and static than the expressive Italian sculptures of Michelangelo and Canova that we saw in the Louvre. We also saw the beautiful tapestry series of the Lady and the Unicorn. These were commissioned by a French nobleman for his daughter's marriage. Five of the six symbolize the five senses and the last represents the young lady setting aside her vanity for her moral integrity. Fun fact: unicorns represent chastity and purity. After the Musee de Cluny, Stevens walked us over to the Luxembourg gardens where we bought crepes and sat in view of the de Medici palace and the fountains. The Luxembourg gardens are something like 40 acres, partially wooded and partially elegantly designed in the typically French style of landscape. From there we walked to the Musee d'Orsay, one of my favorite museums in the world, where we saw ballet dancers by Degas, landscapes by van Gogh, and Olympia by Manet, among many other beautiful Impressionist and Post-Impressionist works. I had not yet been to the Musee Rodin, so that was next on the agenda. Auguste Rodin is one of my favorite sculptors, perhaps because he captures the movement and fluidity of Michelangelo but amps up the passion. We saw his most renowned work, "The Thinker," as well as "The Three Shades," and another one of my sculptures, "The Waltz," by his student Camille Claudel. The museum is set in Rodin's old Paris mansion and gardens on Rue Varenne near the Eiffel Tower and Les Invalides. It is a gorgeous and personal museum, comparable to the Sorolla museum in Madrid in the sense that as well as seeing the artist's works, you can to imagine his domestic life. It was a gorgeous museum, definitely equal to the d'Orsay and Sorolla on my list of favorites. We walked all the way back from Rue Varenne to our hostel near the Bastille via Saint-Germain de Pres (Champs Elysees of the left bank) and Rue Seine, stopping along the way at the famous Laduree shop on Rue Jacob for a delectable caramel macaroon. Stevens took our group to dinner at a cute little seafood restaurant next to the Seine for salad, fish, and chocolate torte. It was such a busy day that I had no time to pack or journal, so I spent my last night in Paris scribbling and folding. Don't worry, Paris, I'll be back before you know it!

Yesterday: It was up-and-at-'em to catch our 8:15 coach to Dijon to see the Chartreuse de Champmol and the Musee de Beaux Arts before arriving in Beaune. At the Musee de Beaux Arts we saw the tomb of Philip the Bold, duke of Burgundy, which was sculpted by the northern artist Claus Sluter who breaks the idealized, slender tradition of northern sculpture and fashions more rounded, portrait-like pieces. We also saw his Well of Moses at the Chartreuse de Champmol, an old monastery built as a necropolis by Philip the Bold and is now a psychiatric hospital. CREEPY.

Today we saw the Rogier van der Weyden's Beaune Altarpiece depicting the Last Judgment. We studied lots of altarpieces while in Oxford and this one was my favorite. It was great to see it in person! Next we are going to see the Autun cathedral, should be nice. Can't wait to take notes about the Gothic architecture. As William, Sally's son, says: "ABC...Another Bloody Cathedral!"

All In The Golden Afternoon

This past week was paramount of English perfection. We had just switched classes so our work load was not terribly heavy and the weather was not speciously beautiful nor was it dismally gloomy. Wednesday was one part sun and two parts cloud for our trip to the Trout for one part Pimms, two parts lemonade. Stevens led us all the way out of Oxford, through a kissing gate into the countryside where we were traipsing along the River Thames, dodging among cow patties. The further we walked, the more the sun seemed to shine, and by the time we reached the Trout we were quite out of breath beginning to break a sweat. We sat around picnic tables next to the river relaxing, and watching a single peacock strut around the lawn. The pitchers of Pimms were delicious and absolutely refreshing. It is a lovely honey colored drink made from a British liquor called "Pimms", flavored with lemonade and garnished with strawberries, oranges, cucumbers, and fresh mint. I can't wait to make it when I return home. Hopefully Pimms is sold in American liquor stores!

The Trout Inn on the River Thames

The next day, we were all welcome to a reception preceeding a talk by Shakespearean actor Patrick Knox, before High Table dinner. Mr. Knox was a very entertaining speaker who explained to us the differences between acting in modern-day theaters as we know them, and acting in an open-air theater such as The Globe in London. He invited a few of us to the front of the room to read lines and play parts as he demonstrated his points. He was a truly engaging speaker and I had the pleasure of sitting next to him at High Table that night. Prompted by my questions, he said that his favorite character to play was Puck from "A Midsummer Night's Dream" though he also enjoyed playing Hamlet very much. "Though he is so often depressing..." he added in an afterthought. I agreed and also said that I quite dislike Hamlet's whiny attitude and that if it is truly necessary for him to kill his foul uncle, it oughtn't take him a whole play to do so. Of course, Hamlet is one of my favorite plays by Shakespeare. I love it when the characters get under my skin so much. Hamlet and Macbeth. Ohhh, Macbeth, how I despise you so...We also discussed books, my English major, etc. I told him about how I've read a lot of older classics such as the Divine Comedy and Paradise Lost, and I'm looking forward to modernizing my studies in the upcoming semesters. We talked about Hardy, Conrad, and Keruoac. He had written a thesis on Keruoac! He told me about his book club and their current project: Barbara Kingsolver's The Lacuna, about Frida Kahlo, Diego Rivera, and Trotsky. Mr. Knox was rather unfamiliar with Frida Kahlo and listened as I described her horrible medical condition and agonizing emotional instability with a husband such as Rivera. It was the longest intellectual conversation I had had in awhile and my head was spinning by the end of it, but it was such fun!

We traveled by bus to London on Friday morning to spend a few hours in the city before a showing of "The Merry Wives of Windsor" that afternoon. Mary Frances Dunlap and I wandered around Burrough Market for hours sampling cheeses, and olives and just enjoying the bustling atmosphere of the market. For lunch we ate veggie burgers and salads (once again taking advantage of the plethora of available vegetables), and I also bought some olives to snack on later and some olive leaf tea to bring back home.

Produce at Burrough Market

The production at the Globe was fantastic! The wives of Windsor were very merry indeed and had the audience laughing the whole time. It was really neat to be in a bright, open-air theater, able to the audience members, the set changes, etc. The actors must really project to be heard throughout the entire theater. At one point a helicopter flew over The Globe and the players were practically shouting! At least in Shakespeare's time they did not have to worry about aviation disturbing the show. I am quite glad I invested in a cushion at the beginning of the show as three hours is a long time to sit on a hard wooden bench.

Inside Shakespeare's Globe Theatre

We returned to Lincoln College for an amazing pizza dinner in the Junior Common Room. Many of us hadn't had pizza in months and we ravenously devoured fifteen boxes of pizza in a half hour. Although it was a Friday night, some of us were not really in the mood to go out to pubs and clubs so we stayed in the JCR and watched Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck in Roman Holiday. Watching two and a half hours of the Colisseum, Mouth of Truth, and gelato made us so excited for our visit to Rome on the continental tour!

"Good Craic, Eh?"

It was another early Friday morning as we loaded onto the bus that would take us to Heathrow for our flight to Dublin, Ireland. That's pronounced "Err-lahnd," by the way, not "Eyre-land." We arrived with plenty of time for Willie, the bus driver, to take us on a quick driving tour of the city. Unfortunately, I was exhausted still from our travels in Amsterdam the previous weekend, the inordinate amounts of schoolwork we had during midterms week, and the post-dinner cocktail party with Dr. Catto in Will Finney's room the night before. This conglomeration of sleep-inducing activity plus the easy rolling of the bus allowed for the perfect mid-morning snooze causing me to miss Willie's colorful description of his native city. I awoke when the bus stopped at Phoenix Park, where we unloaded to see a large herd of deer that had been dozing in the uncommonly warm air. The deer had huge moose-like antlers and have apparently occupied the park for many years as men used to go there for stag hunting. We also passed by the President's house and the residence of the United States ambassador. Though we did not see the house, Willie says that it is beautiful and on very extensive grounds next to Phoenix Park. The property was given to the U.S. ambassador because we were the second country to acknowledge Ireland as an independent Republic, also liberated from England. Sounds like Err-lahnd caught the freedom bug!

The deer in Dublin's Phoenix Park.

After our adventures in the park, Willie dropped us off at the Guinness Storehouse for a morning tour and a tasting. Apparently, it's never too early for a Guinness. We learned all about the ingredients that make up Ireland's famous beer: barley, hops, yeast, and water. Fun fact: the first Guinness was actually a mistake! They accidentally burned the barley, unintentionally producing the signature coffee-like taste of Guinness. Lucrative oops, right? After munching on sample of burnt barley grains and admiring the advertisements designed by John Gilroy ("My Goodness, My Guinness!"), we took escalators up to the top of the world's largest pint glass (that's right, the Guinness Storehouse atrium is shaped like a pint) to enjoy a real pint at the Gravity Bar.

Gravity is right. The Gravity Bar is at the tip top of the factory and musuem and is completely glass. It's like being in a transparent bubble overlooking Dublin with a 360-degree view. I sat down next to one of the windows with some of the other girls and my purse accidentally slipped behind the chair. I quickly turned to grab it and my breath caught in my sternum as I looked down and saw the entire heighth of the Guinness museum beneath me. For one split second I was on the verge of tears thinking I had dropped my purse off the top of this huge skyscraper and I would have to run down seven flights of very elongated escalators to retrieve it before someone else did! Good Grief, Good Guinness.

You'll never find more charming advertising than that of Guinness.

The rest of the afternoon was enjoyable as well. We had no plans until dinner, so Mary Frances Dale and I wandered around the streets by Trinity College where we were staying. Our explorations were extensive and we made it back with no time to shower and change before following Stevens to Dobbins Wine Bar where we had a most delectable meal. It was difficult to choose what to eat from the menu since all of the options looked amazing. I decided on smoked haddock risotto to start, followed by a salmon tournedo with spinach, dill cream and poached egg, ending in creme brulee for dessert. All of it was to die for except I would have changed my dessert to a mixed berry pavlova that you just don't come across everyday.

A salmon tournedo. So amazing. Oh my goodness...

On Saturday we went to the National Gallery of Ireland, excuse me- Errlahnd- for lunch and a browse through the exhibits. First of all, lunch was delicious (not to mention covered by European Studies). My system feels starved of all vegetables and the nutrients they provide so I decided to take advantage of this healthy opportunity by loading my tray with vegetable soup, green salad with pesto dressing, as well as vegetable quiche. Sorry, Lincoln College, but your mysterious split pea/broccoli/cabbage/celery/spinach-green soup is dismal compared to this serving of vegetables. Completely satisfied, Cecily Millen and I explored the diverse collection in the Gallery, finding some Impressionist pieces, medieval polyptychs, and Caravaggio's renowned "Betrayal of Christ." This painting had been in the possession of a group of Jesuits in Dublin, though it had been painted over and no one realized its value. The Jesuits asked the National Gallery to restore the painting that they had and upon examination, experts at the Gallery realized it was this incredible painting by the Italian master! After this revelation, of course, it lives in the National Gallery.

Caravaggio's "Betrayal of Christ," now in the National Gallery of Ireland.

Cecily and I eventually wandered over to a nearby park where we found the statue of Oscar Wilde sitting lounging on a giant rock wearing a green and red smoking jacket and clasping a pipe. We spent a very long time reading his insightful and witty quotations that had been inscribed on a couple of pillars across the path. My favorite, I think, is "I find it harder and harder everyday to live up to my blue china." Though sounding absurd at first, I believe it encapsulates a fascinating dichotomy that though Man is capable of creating so many beautiful and seemingly perfect things, Man by nature is imperfect and will never exceed art though it is his creation. Of course, it is Oscar Wilde and I could be seriously over-interpreting it.

Oscar Wilde.

We decided to go to the elegant Shelbourne Hotel for a cocktail before our dinner on Saturday. It was outrageously priced, hence the single drink, and it was very crowded making it difficult to find service. While waiting to place our order at the bar, we met a group of middle-aged golfers from Detroit who were asking about our program and telling us about their own children who had just been accepted to college, etc. etc. etc. They were very friendly and despite our protests placed our first round of drinks on their tab.

We returned to Trinity College to meet up with Mary Frances' boyfriend's friends (whew!) from University of Dublin (he studied there for a semester) who took us out on the town. I talked to all of them, but I particularly remember a conversation with Vinny (short for Vincent) during which I told him about European Studies and where we had been so far.

"So it's been good craic, so far eh?"
"Excuse me? No, no, I don't do crack..." I feebly reply preparing to run away.
"No, no (sounds like 'nay-o'), good CRAIC ('cray-ick')! It means 'fun!'" He explained eagerly.
"Oh, right. Well then, yeah, it's been really good craic so far!"

On Sunday morning we piled back onto the bus to drive out to Glendalough (pronounced "Glenda-lock") for a tour of monastic ruins and a nice little hike around a lake. It was very foggy and drizzly but it charming as it is at Sewanee and the landscape was so vividly green that I was only more excited to be there. Mary Frances Dale and I explored the ruins and on our way around the lake we met some Irish wool vendors from who I bought an adorable driving cap and Mary Frances purchased a big comfy wool sweater that smelled like a barn so we knew it was fresh off the sheep. Afterwards, Stevens took us to a nice country hotel where we ate a huge three-course Sunday lunch. Carrie Bories and I ordered Bloody Marys to accompany our (yet again) delicious meal. I had sliced honeydew and raspberries to start, lamb and vegetables, followed by a decadent Baileys torte. [I have sat here for three minutes trying to think of synonyms for delicious, amazing, incredible, etc. and I can't find one that isn't overused or trite, but I think you understand what I mean.]

The cemetery and mountains in the fog at Glendalough.

Powerscourt Manor and lake.

After lunch the bus took us to Powerscourt a huge country estate with gorgeous gardens. It was here that part of the film "The Count of Monte Cristo" was filmed. Despite the rain, we were all so excited to tromp around the gardens that Stevens bought us tickets despite the dreary weather. There were elegant and colorful rose gardens, a lush, mossy grotto, and a charming Japanese garden. We walked around a large pond where there was a perfect view of the manor behind a majestic statue and fountain in the middle of the pond. The lawn of the house was perfectly tiered into proportionate levels like enormous green stairs. We eventually climbed back up a channel of stone stairs that cut through the green to the edge of the lake. We climbed back on the bus in good spirits and headed back to the airport after a lovely and relaxing day.

In the Japanese garden at Powerscourt.

We returned to Oxford by midnight and have now begun the second half of our term here. We are now taking a history class of Tudor England, a Renaissance art class, and a class on Shakespeare and his contemporaries. I like them all very much and look forward to the next three weeks now that I'm more in "school-mode!"





"Life is not complex. We are complex. Life is simple and the simple thing is the right thing." - Oscar Wilde

Oscar Wilde quotes: "I find it harder and harder every day to live up to my blue china," and "I have 'nothing to declare' except my genius."

"Who Would Ever Think That So Much Went On in the Soul of a Young Girl? " - Anne Frank

Our trip to Amsterdam was an absolute success! Almost everyone in the European Studies group flew to the Netherlands to spend our first three-day weekend in this wonderful city.

I basically did not go to sleep after High Table on Thursday night since I had to be up at 1:30 AM to catch the 2 AM bus to Heathrow Airport in London. Needless to say, as I stood on the corner of High Street and Queens Lane in the frigid air and dreary rain, sleep-deprived at 2 in the morning, I was hardly in the mood to go to Amsterdam. To make matters worse, our scheduled bus with our reserved seats sped by the bus stop without picking us up. We were forced to split a taxi between a group of six which was hardly cost-friendly.

It was an early Friday morning in the Heathrow Airport...

Once we arrived in Amsterdam, it took us a rather long time to figure out where our hostel was and how to get there using the tram system, but we found it eventually and were settled in in no time. Speaking of trams, I have two complaints about Amsterdam: 1) everything is ridiculously expensive. Between meals and museums, my wallet is suffering. 2) the city is full of inconsiderate bikers that will run you over before you can say "strudel." When you dodge the bikers in the bike lanes, chances are you'll jump right in front of a hurtling tram and then you're forced to duck and lunge your way across a whole street of various kinds of motor vehicles.

I AMSTERDAM in Leidesplein

Anyway, we were constantly busy this weekend, going from one museum to the next. We started at the Rijksmuseum that displays artists like Rembrandt, Vermeer, and de Hooch. It was grand collection of beautiful paintings by northern European painters. We also visited the van Gogh museum that was absolutely gorgeous. The musuem is expertly organized so you can see the progression of his style from dark, somber paintings, to the vibrant and loose masterpieces for which he is best known. The Anne Frank museum was also very striking. The story is so painful to hear and walking through the "Secret Annexe" just made it even more poignant. To be hidden indoors for such an extensive period of time and to be turned in to the gestapo by an anonymous call...such a tragic story for a girl so young and talented-- one of many, to be sure. On a sillier note, we also visited the Heineken Experience museum which was a lot of fun. There was a virtual simulation of how the beer is made, bottled, and transported. It was really neat to learn about the history and marketing of such a huge company. For dinner on Friday night. Carrie, Maggie, and I were very adventurous and tried Indonesian food (evidently it's very good in Amsterdam, compared to other places). It was delicious! Very flavorful and spicy soup, spring rolls, and meat and rice dishes. Yum! Oh! I forgot to mention that we briefly walked through the Red Light District in broad daylight (don't worry, Momma, we were quite safe). I mean briefly. It was quite possibly one of the most uncomfortable situations I've ever experienced and frankly made me feel very sad as I couldn't help but think of Fantine in Les Miserables. I hope I never find myself back there again, but I'm glad I went for the experience.

Outside the van Gogh Museum

While Amsterdam was a blast, I am so ready to curl up in my bed in my little room in Oxford and to wake up to a nice cup of tea tomorrow morning. A cup of tea that does not cost 4€.

When In Oxford...

Well, this past week has been sooo...just, "Oxford!"

Last Sunday afternoon, Stevens and Sally took a group of us to The Old Parsonage for afternoon tea and scones. We sat in a charming patio with some rather persistent yellow jackets and debated over the correct pronunciation of the word "scone." Is is "sc-OH-ne," or "sc-AH-ne"? And in what order do you spread the butter, jam, and clotted cream on top? If indeed, you use all of those toppings at all. The tea was truly delicious, even though I ordered a simple English breakfast tea-- it was certainly the best I've ever tasted.

On Tuesday, Stevens and Sally took us punting from the Cherwell boathouse. This was an adventure that we had all been anticipating for some time. I was in a boat with Margaret Garrett, Lauren Gould, and Cecily Millen with the undaunted Patrick Quinn as our captain. At first, it was a very nice day for boating, the sun was out and there was a light breeze. As we continued on our way, however, the breeze turned into strong winds blowing us into the river banks so we decided to turn back. At this point, Patrick had really mastered the punting technique and we were able to navigate back somewhat efficiently despite the wind. After treating ourselves to hot chocolate and ice cream we walked back to Lincoln College for dinner and homework. It was a very busy week academically-- no one wanted to have homeowork in Amsterdam!

Captain Patrick Quinn on our punt!

"My Professor Took Me On A Walk and Proceeded to Recite the Entire First Act of Hamlet..."

Our lengthy bus ride to Oxford was painless as we stopped twice in two hour intervals. Our second stop was at Hardwick Hall, the estate of Bess of Hardwick who was the second-wealthiest woman in England- second only to the Queen of England herself. The manor is enormous and is covered in the most elaborate and beautiful tapestries. Most of the furniture that is on display is in fact original, as well. There are some lovely manicured gardens with statues and an apple orchard as well.

A tapestry in Hardwick Hall.

Our arrival in Oxford (specifically Lincoln College) was well-anticipated and it certainly did not disappoint. We were received by Sally with refreshments and some introductory remarks before we all received our room locations and keys. I am living in a single above Grove Square, which is the lawn we are allowed to walk on and where we may play croquet. Lincoln College has the most remarkably green and manicured lawns I have ever seen. Pete, the gardener, certainly deserved the annual gold medal awarded to the Oxford college with the best lawn! The inside of my room is quite pink, possibly my least favorite color, but I think it is so charming and the perfect size. I have my own bathroom, window seat, bulletin board, not to mention the lovely view of Grove Square.

View of Grove Square from my room.

My single!

So pink! Ah!

Our first day consisted of tours around the city. Our guide, John, pointed out places of historical, practical, and, of course, Harry Potter interest! We visited New College, the church of the College of Saint Mary the Virgin, and the Bodleian Library, among other places. After our tours it was time to get ready for our European Studies 2010 picture and our first High Table dinner!

The Bridge of Sighs.

Our picture took an unbearably long time, and I cringed every time the photographer took a step as he was treading on our precious award-winning lawn (under ordinary circumstances, NO ONE except the gardeners are allowed on the lawn). Our impatience immediately subsided when we were greeted in Grove Square with champagne and sherry. Drinks in hand, in the perfectly cool evening air, we met our professors, nay, "dons," for our six weeks in Lincoln College. They were all wonderfully British, (well, one is Scottish), and very very intelligent. One even calls himself "over-educated" (jovially, of course)! We filed into the Great Hall for an amazing dinner consisting of sea bass and white wine, followed by duck, sweet peas, potatoes, and red wine, with an incredible chocolate torte for dessert. With very full bellies, and minds gauzy but bright, we listened as Dr. Masters (a former administrative of European Studies) gave a speech. It was beautifully done as he asserted that we are the masters of our education. That there is no point in liberal arts education these days, what with the internet, but the point is for us to have initiative to be inspired and to inspire others. By going to a liberal arts school, we don't attain an education, we experience one. As for technology, Google can tell us when Durham Cathedral was built and of what material. But, it can't explain the feel of the cool, rough, and porous texture of the stone columns lining the nave, nor can it capture the alarming creak of the old wood pews in the choir as you take a seat. After such a motivational speech, I'm ready to prove myself here. After all, graduate school isn't out of the question...

Enjoying sherry and champagne before High Table dinner.

Goodbye to the "Grey Towers of Durham..."

Once again, these transition days are interrupting my blog!

To catch up...

Our next excursion after Lindisfarne and Bamburgh was to a church and a couple of monasteries that date all the way back to the seventh century.

These churches (Escomb church, Hexham Abbey, and the monastery at Jarrow) were particularly notable because they had been built with stone. After the Roman Empire fell, stone was not used in construction. These churches, therefore were some of the first structures built in stone since the Roman Empire.

After visiting these historical sites, we went to Bede's World, a medieval history museum where we learned the ins and outs of monastic life of monks like the Venerable Bede. Behind the museum is a real replica of a medieval farm with snappy sheep, the most disgusting pigs, and very nosy horses. We petted and fed all the animals as if we were five-year-olds at a petting zoo before boarding the bus back to Durham.

That Thursday, we remained in Durham for a tour of the cathedral. We were all quite relieved that we didn't have to be subjected to yet another bus ride, that is, until Dr. Lomas marched us around all the nooks and crannies of Durham Cathedral until lunchtime. The beautiful lion-form knocker on the door of the cathedral is now an American replica (go U.S.A.!), but looks identical to the original; it even has the same bullet-hole in the top of its head as in the original. Apparently, anyone who was escaping persecution or justice simply had to rush into the cathedral and would be protected until he confessed his sin. When the sin was confessed, he had forty days to leave the country forever, in so doing saving his family from disgrace and disinheritance.

Dr. Lomas lecturing in front of Durham Cathedral.

After lunch, we went on another walking tour of the city to study the fortification of a medieval town. On the way to Preband Bridge we passed an intersection of wooded paths that evidently was inspiration for C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. After crossing Preband Bridge for a view of the vity, we ended the tour in the square in between the cathedral and castle of Durham.

Of course,  I had to take a picture with the lamppost where Narnia was supposedly inspired.

The following day we were back on the bus traveling to two castles to study medieval defense systems. We came first to Warwick Castle, property of the Percys, a royal family of Northumberland, followed by a trip to Edlingham Castle, of which very little remains.

Edlingham Castle ruins.

That night we all went out to a club called the Love Shack (hah.) where we all danced and indulged in various beverages. Thank goodness we had the following day off to sleep in and do whatever we wanted in Durham. Page Carpenter and I slept late and went to a cute restaurant called Vennel Cafe for quiche. Afterwards, we grabbed a couple of chai lattes to go from Caffe Nero and we browsed the outdoor market of Durham. We enjoyed a lovely farewell dinner with Dr. Lomas and his wife at a restaurant on the other side of town called Finbar's where I ordered shrimp and avocado salad, a salmon fishcake, and creme brulee. On Sunday, we boarded the bus for Oxford!

Take care, Durham..."it's been real."

The Wear River and Durham Cathedral towers from Prebands Bridge.

Let's Twirl Our Umbrellas and Sing Songs About Rain

A post from Tuesday, the 10th!

In our excursion to Lindisfarne and Bamburgh we had our first day of dreary English rain. Our excitement was not dampened, however, as many of us had been looking forward to visiting Lindisfarne for some time.

Lindisfarne, also called Holy Island, is where the renowned hermit St. Cuthbert founded a monastery and the religious center of medieval Northumbria. It was built on one of the Farne Islands, and, like Mont-Saint-Michelle in France, it is only accessible at certain times of the day because of the tide. Our tour was delayed because of lightning and thunder, but the incoming tide was encroaching upon our schedule so we decided to brave the storm in order to have as much time at the ruins as possible. The view from the heugh (meaning "high point," pronounced "yuff") was beautiful. We could see Lindisfarne Castle, the harbor of anchored sailboats, as well as Inner Farne, the island where St. Cuthbert originally began his hermitage and also where he died. We descended back down into the ruins of the monastery, where Dr. Lomas directed our attention to a well that was probably built before the church by St. Helen, the mother of the emperor Constantine.

A rainy day in the ruins of Lindisfarne!

While Lindisfarne was the ecclesiastical center of Northumberland, Bamburgh was the political capital. Dr. Lomas led us to the top of a sand dune by the North Sea with direct views of Inner Farne to the right and Lindisfarne to the left. Directly behind us was a giant rocky cliff upon which stands Bamburgh Castle. Much of it was constructed later, but the original castle keep date back to the 12th century. A long time ago, nothing stood on that cliff except for perhaps a primitive wooden wall built by the native Celts. As the Roman Empire began collapsing, however, the Angle ruler Ida invaded what is now Bamburgh from the North Sea and stormed the cliff. For the most part, Christianity disintegrated with the Roman Empire, but Irish missionaries came to Northumbria and converted pagans and faulty Christians to the true faith.

Bamburgh Castle in the storm clouds.

A huge storm followed us around all day and when we excited urged Dr. Lomas to take us up to the castle gate, the heavens opened. It was fun, and a great bonding experience, but after our little hike we were all so soaked through that we may as well have all jumped in the North Sea. Needless to say, our three and a half hour drive home in sticky wet clothes was hardly comfortable. All was fixed with a hot shower and a glass of wine!

Running Down Hadrian's Wall

I'm a bit behind schedule because for some reason the email on my iPhone is not working! This post was written on Tuesday.

Yesterday (Monday, the 9th) was our first day of class in the history department of Hatfield College, the University of Durham. Our focus for the day was on the Roman frontier. We learned about the building process of Hardian's Wall and the development of vici, or, settlements around the miles castles and forts of the wall (fun fact, "vici" is the Roman root of our word "vicinity.").

We left the University for our first excursion of our ten day itinerary in Northumbria. We went first to Roman Vindolanda, ruins of a Roman fort that are even still being excavated. There was also a nice replication of a vicus with a reconstructed pagan temple and altars. Also in the vicus was an excellent archaeological museum where we saw carefully preserved Roman tools, jewelry, and most exciting of all, writing tablets. The British Museum considers the tablets to be one of the great "treasures" of Britain. Indeed, they were captivating. We saw detailed photographs of the uncovered items with precise translations of each. Among them were grocery lists, military records, thank you notes, a birthday invitation, even a request for more beer for a military legion! The need for writing and communication was only one of many, many similarities we found between Roman culture and our own modern society.

Sarah Dickey, myself, and Page Carpenter with reproductions of pagan altars.

After a picnic lunch outside of Vindolanda, we hopped back on the bus for a quick trip up to Steel Rigg for a look at the remains of Hadrian's Wall. There is unfortunately not much left of what used to be an enormous wall that towered eighteen feet high, however, the fact that the wall remains at all is extraordinary. Dodging stinging nettles, we all jumped on top of the grass-covered structure and hiked down a hill spotted with cows, energetic with the idea that we were cavorting where Roman soldiers patrolled the barrier of their empire. The rural setting was beautiful: cattle grazing in characteristically English green fields under a cloud-streaked blue sky.

Hadrian's Wall at Steel Rigg.

From Steel Rigg we went to Chester's Fort, stopping along the way at a reproduction of an ancient Mithraic temple. The cult of Mithras, or Mithraism, was a pagan mystery religion that was very popular among Roman generals and commandants. Mithras, also known as the Unconquerable Sun, fought and killed the Heavenly Bull, bringing life to earth. According to myth, it was an arduous struggle during which he retreated to a cave to rejuvenate. He emerged powerful and triumphant, slaughtering the Bull with the help of his ever-loyal dog. His feast day was on his supposed birthday, December 25th. The great emperor Constantine made the convenient connection and conversion from the cult of Mithras, the Unconquerable Sun, to Christianity and the worship of our Unconquerable Son, Jesus. Correlations between Christianity and other mystery religions are always fascinating to explore since our major religion was greatly influenced by them as it developed into the powerful religion it is today.

We reached Chester's Fort early in the afternoon. It was another Roman fort along Hadrian's Wall, a very large compound and excellently excavated. Dr. Lomas lectured us on the structure of these forts and communal life within them. We explored the gateways, the residence of the commandant, the barracks and the bathhouse located right next to the River Tyne. Apparently, the toilets, in addition to the heated and chilled bathing waters, provided quality social time for the army. I couldn't help but imagine a bunch of Roman soldiers "poppin' a squat" in the bathhouse exchanging the day's gossip!

Dr. Lomas lecturing at Chester's Fort bathhouse.

After returning to Durham, Katherine Rogers and I went to Caffè Nero, the British and better version of Starbucks, where we wrote postcards and journal entries while enjoying a delicious cafe mocha. 

Running Down Hadrian's Wall

I'm a little bit behind schedule, so I'm writing yesterday's post today and will hopefully have time later to write about today's activities as well!

Yesterday was our first day of class in the history department of Hatfield College, the University of Durham. Our focus for the day was on the Roman frontier. We learned about the building process of Hadrian's Wall and the development of vici, or settlements around the mile castles and forts of the wall.

We left the university for our first excursion of our ten day itinerary in Northumbria. We went first to Roman Vindolanda, ruins of a Roman fort that are even still being excavated. There was also a nice replication of a vicus with a reconstructed pagan temple and altars. Also in the vicus was an excellent archaeological museum where we saw carefully preserved Roman tools, jewelry, and most exciting of all, writing tablets. The British Museum considers the tablets to be one of the great "treasures" of Britain. Indeed, they were captivating. We saw detailed photographs of the uncovered items with concise translations of each. Among them were grocery lists, military records, thank you notes, a birthday invitation, even a request for more beer from a military legion! The need for writing and communication was only one of many, many similarities we found between Roman culture and our own modern society.

After a picnic lunch outside of the Roman Vindolanda, we hopped back on the bus for a quick trip up to Steel Rigg for a look at the remains of Hadrian's Wall. There is unfortunately not much left of what used to be an enormous wall that towered eighteen feet high, however, the fact that the wall remains at all is extraordinary. Dodging stinging nettles we all jumped on top of the grass-covered structure and hiked down a hill spotted with cows, energetic with the idea that we were cavorting where Roman soldiers patrolled the barrier of their empire. The rural setting was beautiful: cattle grazing in characteristically English green fields under a cloud-streaked blue sky. The lighting was difficult for my iPhone camera, but here I am! A token picture sitting on top of Hadrian's Wall...

Baps and Tattoos

It's been so long since I last wrote, but things have been so hectic as we've been rushing around Edinburgh and traveling to and around Durham, England. This post covers Edinburgh and our first day in Durham!

Although we were only there for two days, Edinburgh was an absolute blast! I'm trying to accurately remember our activities, but the jet-lag makes everything rather hazy. After we checked into our rooms in the University of Edinburgh, Mary Frances Dale and I went out for lunch and encountered our first vocabulary obstacle. Upon ordering a sandwich we were asked if we'd like it in a wrap or a "bap." Unsure of what exactly a "bap" was, we opted for the panini variety. We learned later that a bap is a bun. Like a kaiser roll, I suppose? Later, Sally Dormer, the dean of our program, led us on a hike up Arthur's Seat for splendid views of the city and the harbor. Unfortunately, Stevens, our other director, was unable to attend as his flight from Paris had been delayed. We returned back to the dorm with time to spare for a a nap before our opening dinner in New Town, Edinburgh. We ate dinner at a grandiose restaurant called The Dome, with vaulted ceilings, low lighting, and detailed decoration. Our dinner consisted of salmon salad with asparagus to start, followed by delicious mashed potatoes, ending in a decadent chocolate mousse. The dessert was so amazing paired with the red wine; I enjoyed it so much that I sneezed twice!

Halfway up Arthur's Seat!

After dinner, many of us decided to hit the town and check out Edinburgh's nightlife. All decked out in heels and dresses, we went to a bar called The Three Sisters that had been recommended to us by previous European Studies students. It was a "hoppin'" atmosphere (as we say) with an outside bar and grill in addition to the interior bars and dance floor. Page Carpenter and I befriended the DJ by the end of the night as we requested more Lady Gaga and Shakira every half hour. Leave it to us Americans to take over anything- in the case, the dance floor. We tore it up to the latest Brit hits and popular mashups. A bachelor party with matching black shirts with nicknames on the back joined us- all I know is I danced with "The Godfather."

When our high heels were killing us, Shelby Bartlett and I decided to take a taxi back to the dorm around  midnight, but unfortunately none were available. So after about an hour of wandering around Nicolson Street barefoot (gross, I know, but as Shelby said, "just deal with it!"), we met Lawrence, a pedicab driver who agreed to pedal us home at a reduced price. We said we would tell him funny American stories, and, well, we did. I suppose the two of us were a bit of a funny story ourselves at the time.

I forced myself awake the following morning to meet Stevens and other students for a walking tour of Edinburgh. Stevens marched us through Old Town, down the Royal Mile and into the parade grounds of the castle. From there we descended into New Town, across Princess Street, all the way to the botanical gardens. Meandering through the gardens was lovely; we rested our aching feet on a bench in front of the largest hedge I've ever seen. Our group split after the gardens as some went to explore on their own while other met Sally at the National Gallery for a tour. I was in the latter group, of course, being the art nerd that I am. I found an unfamiliar painting by an artist that I have never heard of, that is now one of my new favorites! It's called "A Boy Blowing on a Firebrand to Light a Candle," by Godfried Schalcken. The lighting, chiaroscuro, if you will, is stunning.

That evening, Shelby Bartlett and I attended the military Tattoo festival (thanks to Momma for getting tickets!). I'm not sure where the name comes from, but I had to assure multiple that I was going to the Tattoo, not in fact getting a tattoo. The show was great! The uniforms, formations, and music were fantastic. It has to be so meticulous to direct so many people in such precise movements! It was very impressive. The Citadel made an appearance this year for the first time in nineteen years and they did so well! I was very proud of America and South Carolina. They had the whole crowd dancing with "Hey, Baby." After the finale, Shelby and I returned to The Three Sisters to meet our friends for a drink. A collective decision was made among some of us to order Irish car-bombs (a shot of Baileys mixed with Guinness beer), much to the chagrin of the obviously Scottish bartender. After some dancing, Shelby and I called it a night and headed back to the dorm to sleep before our early bus ride this morning.

The Citadel and British Guard in the finale of the Edinburgh Tattoo.

Everyone slept on the way to Durham today, waking up only for lunch on Almsmouth Beach. We all touched our toes to the chilly water before enjoying our chicken salad sandwiches and "crisps." Us westerners arrived in Durham in the early afternoon as the easterners continued on to York. Sally took us on a nice walking tour of Hatfield college (where we are staying in the University of Durham) and of the city. There is a pretty path alongside the Weir River that I hope to walk or jog in the morning if I don't sleep too late. Tomorrow we are studying and exploring the Roman frontier and we take an excursion to Hadrian's Wall with accompanying museum visits.

The River Weir in Durham with the Cathedral towers in the background.

More from Northumbria later this week!

Simplify, Simplify, Simplify...

Here it is: one VERY full suitcase.

First Day of School!

Thinking it was 6:30 a.m., I awoke with a start and got dressed quickly to go to the gym and work off those first-day-of-school jitters that I always get at the start of every semester. Upon arriving at the gym, which is supposed to open at 6:00 a.m., I found it closed and finally realized after some confusion that I forgot to set my phone to central time after arriving on The Mountain yesterday. Normally, I would be frustrated about this sort of careless error that deprived me of thirty minutes of sound sleep. Instead, I determined it was a good sign of what will hopefully be diligent productivity over the next semester. Well, we'll see how that goes when sleep-deprivation kicks in a couple days. 

I always hate the first day of class because of the awkward introductions everyone must go through. There's always an irksome interlude with a professor who can't understand my name until the third or fourth try, and there was even one who called me "Rat" for the first three days of class. Miraculously, this time, Dr. Gail Streete, a religious studies professor from Rhodes College, called me by my correct name the first time! This was certainly a promising start...

When the lecture started, I discovered that my note-taking skills are very rusty after two months of slow summer vacation. Trying to draw correlations between Virgil's poetry, the Pax Romana, and Christian hierarchy was just a little too much for my dusty, World Cup-absorbed brain and out-of-shape hand to take. 

Colloquium, or discussion, was a bit easier. Our class of about 30 students was divided into halves, one led by Dr. Streete and the other by Dr. Ariel Lopez, a Classics professors at Rhodes College. Dr. Streete's colloquium was very stimulating as we discussed asceticism and the validity of spiritual perfection and the means of its attainment. She also described some intriguing gospels that are not included in the Holy Bible like the Gospel of Judas and of Mary.

Currently, I am mentally preparing myself to withstand three weeks of this intensive academic ascesis. That's Greek for "training." I learned that today in colloquium. Whoa.

To avoid sounding like an intolerable nerd, this will probably be the only post about schoolwork. 

My homework...

15 Days Till I'm Back to the Books

Isn't it funny how sweltering summer days in South Carolina pass excruciatingly slowly? They seem endless from the moment you step outside and your glasses fog up to when you burn your backside on the car seat as you climb in to drive home from work. Well, now that my 21st birthday has come and gone, reuniting me with some of my best friends, I look at my calendar to find that my summer vacation is almost over. The end of June brought my book-list for European Studies, a study-abroad program organized by the University of the South, Sewanee and Rhodes College, both located in Tennessee. I will be flying across the pond along with about 30 other students to study medieval history, art history, religion, and literature at the University of Durham and Oxford (Lincoln College, specifically) as well as traipsing across Europe on a month-long tour of medieval historical centers of the Continent. After that, I hope to organize some kind of expedition into southern France and the Costa del Sol of Spain-- well, we'll see how "organized" that part is.

Anyway, as I was perusing this book-list it hit me that soon my sweltering summer lethargy would be over. Movies will be replaced with slides of medieval art and buildings, instead of checking Facebook occasionally during my internship, I'll be laboriously scribbling notes, and instead of To Kill a Mockingbird I'll be reading The Lindisfarne Gospels: A Masterpiece of Book Painting. This Janet Backhouse textbook, along with about 18 others will kill my leisure for the next few months, however, I'm strangely excited about it. It's true. I actually kind of miss planning my days around that paper-due-on-Thursday and curling up in bed to read Paradise Lost or what-have-you. It gives one a sense of purpose and achievement. So here I go. I wonder what I'll be writing after I spend $X on 18 textbooks and have a course schedule that induces permanent baggies and dark circles under my eyes. Meanwhile, the anticipation is killing me. England, here I come!

(Oh, and I'm terribly sorry about that unfortunate loss in the World Cup, mates.)

A page from the Lindisfarne Gospels depicting St. Matthew.