Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Paris Round 2
Photos: A small child wandered into our camp and watched in startled delight as the tower lit up. Second is a shot of the tightly packed Latin Quarter. Third, another shot of Versailles, this time a fountain. And last, the group photo!
Paris First Round
I had an amazing time getting to know Paris briefly. Here are a few shots from the day. I had an amazing list of things to do thanks to my friend Valerie, merci! The images here are: First at the Palace of Versailles I rented a bike for a few euro and toured around the gardens. This is from the far end, 2k from the palace. Second is the Eiffel Tower, Friday afternoon. Third was a great hangout near a peruvian homeless camp near the Juares stop on the metro! And finally a photo from outside the Louvre.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
A little of everything
I thought I would post a few other pictures from the past week, a potpourri of images if you will. The weather here has been incredible, I am even asking when the gloom will turn up. Everything is sunny and warm, I went and played soccer this afternoon across town. No Brits playing at all, but I met some really nice people who are here from Georgetown and they let me into their pick up game, cheers guys.
I'm going to Paris in three days, but here there are little things on the streets that I like; the way water puddles in the old cobblestone, or the light that hangs shadows on the tinged stone walls, that same sun that seems to hang in the sky far past its welcome, the small dogs running around, the quiet hum of the small cars.
Enjoy the pictures: First is the Jericho Pub during the Germany v England match, the second is a view of Christ Church, then a view of Oxford, and finally myself inside the courtyard beside Christ Church.
Books to read: Hopscotch
Music/Music Videos: My girls by animal collective, and watch the video for Dance Floor by Apples in Stereo
Sunday, July 4, 2010
About to go out and celebrate 4th of July, I'll be sure to eat some American food at least!
Earlier I ate (but it was more like lunch) at yo sushi. In the middle of England I walked into Japan. There was no ordering, one simply sits at the bar and a conveyor belt constantly brings around sushi in different coloured plates (the colour determines the price) in a constant wave of food. Everyone check it out, just google Yo Sushi.
Anyway, I thought I would share this picture I just uploaded from my camera. It dates back to the end of May when Jessie and I took a walk along to blue ridge.
Cheers
London to Dover
Friday Night I made my way into London to see a small band play in an even smaller venue. 2 songs and that was all, they were a friend of mine's band, and the experience was like being in the movie Yes Man when Jim Carry first finds Zooey DeChanel's band playing to a crowd of 8 people. After, we took the underground to Lecster Square which is a smaller version of Broadway. Walking around, we finally found the Thames River, and standing on the bridge I was confronted by a pickpocket. I caught him and after a lengthy apology from him I finally convinced him to leave. Despite this experience, the Thames was the most incredible thing to date. We all got a glass of wine and stood on the opposite bank, under the Millennium Eye, looking out towards Big Ben and company. Jazz music from a lone saxophonists seemed to be carried on the light breeze into our heads. Unfortunately I didn't have a camera to show everyone, but I will be going back soon!
The next morning: 9:00
Making our way on the bus route to Canterbury and then on to Dover we stopped at a travel station to grab some snacks. It is here that I found the closest thing the UK has to Chocolate milk, milk shaken with chocolate, which is horrible but I made the best of it.
Canterbury Cathedral was amazing, the silence of such a large place is overwhelming. I have so much to write and not much time now, so I'll let a few pictures explain. They are from Canterbury and then Dover.
Friday, July 2, 2010
10 Minutes Before Lunch
Last night, we took the Coach to Stratford upon Avon to watch a performance of Antony and Cleopatra by the Royal Shakespeare Company. The show was an amazing blend of modernism and classic Shakespeare, and a review will be included by next Wed.
What was more striking, though, happened only a half hour ago. After class I set out to buy a proper rain jacket, winding through the back streets in a collage of rain and people. After my purchase, I wandered around for a while, taking in the lack of umbrellas for the dreary day.
There is not much here, except for my walk back, about a mile, when I encountered a man face down in an alley. I walked over to him and gave him 10 lbs for some food, and he gave me a magazine (In England they have homelessness worked down to a corporate science, and all homeless people have nice dogs and sell magazines). I guess I found a unique glimpse of humanity in those seconds, and his face stays with me now.
For Danny
In the Rain on St Johns St.
I crushed a butterfly, flattened him orange
into the stone. And there, looking down
an alleyway, tucked against a dog, I saw
a shivering blueprint of a man
designed to be dust.
What was more striking, though, happened only a half hour ago. After class I set out to buy a proper rain jacket, winding through the back streets in a collage of rain and people. After my purchase, I wandered around for a while, taking in the lack of umbrellas for the dreary day.
There is not much here, except for my walk back, about a mile, when I encountered a man face down in an alley. I walked over to him and gave him 10 lbs for some food, and he gave me a magazine (In England they have homelessness worked down to a corporate science, and all homeless people have nice dogs and sell magazines). I guess I found a unique glimpse of humanity in those seconds, and his face stays with me now.
For Danny
In the Rain on St Johns St.
I crushed a butterfly, flattened him orange
into the stone. And there, looking down
an alleyway, tucked against a dog, I saw
a shivering blueprint of a man
designed to be dust.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
From My Room
On the other side of
my window there is a magpie.
Lonely at 2:20 p.m. Walking through shaded grass
with fleet feet, he is the early night
in this place where the sun laments.
A body of softness, black as granite,
pillowed plume of snow, holy beneath his neck.
His side is
ripped in reflecting blue,
and I am the ghost moving towards him,
as we live between these four walls.
Never with a whisper have I heard him.
I strain to see those wings
darting between two lamp posts,
the grace and the ruse
spent on the film of my eyes.
The plane tree is there, too.
A canvas of leaves, and the
poem finding its way
along covered branches, as they
converse jealously in the wind.
In my four walls, within the four walls
the fan worships my skin, the curtains
shutter, this desk creeks
under the weight of fingers
and words,
while outside
the sky
waits for a cloud.
my window there is a magpie.
Lonely at 2:20 p.m. Walking through shaded grass
with fleet feet, he is the early night
in this place where the sun laments.
A body of softness, black as granite,
pillowed plume of snow, holy beneath his neck.
His side is
ripped in reflecting blue,
and I am the ghost moving towards him,
as we live between these four walls.
Never with a whisper have I heard him.
I strain to see those wings
darting between two lamp posts,
the grace and the ruse
spent on the film of my eyes.
The plane tree is there, too.
A canvas of leaves, and the
poem finding its way
along covered branches, as they
converse jealously in the wind.
In my four walls, within the four walls
the fan worships my skin, the curtains
shutter, this desk creeks
under the weight of fingers
and words,
while outside
the sky
waits for a cloud.
Day 3
First day of class: art history and Shakespeare. I'll have to write more about it all later, but for now enjoy a few pictures of the sheep, Blenheim Palace. We also toured the town of Woodstock and pub crawled until the Spain v Portugal game
Day 2
We toured around all day, and then went to the Turf pub, where I met some cool Brits and enjoyed myself a little too much. This is Kashmir, a blurry tribute to a new friend.
Day 1
Leaving the States a little disheartened by the Ghana, US match, I found relief in the flight. Despite the 7 hours, the abhorrent food AA decides to call dinner, the flight itself was smooth and relaxing.
Arriving in London around 6:30 in the morning my day had just begun. Standing in the customs line I attempted to take a picture, forgetting the auto focus, it blurred everything into an Escher like tessellation. A man standing behind me, short wearing a black suit spoke up "They don't fancy pictures too much here in customs, it makes them nervous." His voice, the first British accent I had encountered here, as the airport could have been anywhere America, made it all the more exciting. I never got his name, but he was just in from Sydney and headed to Gibraltar. I asked him if he had ever been to the States and he said New York, but never the Carolinas, although he wanted to go to Savannah.
The maze of Heathrow is overwhelming. Baggage claim lead to a train transfer to terminal five and then outside to the bus station. Along the way, it was surreal to encounter a Krispy Kreme kiosk. From bus station 11 we waited for the Oxford Shuttle, as behind us Epcot-esque fountains burst alive in the morning light, the water waving goodbye as we boarded the bus, 20 pounds and a disgruntled driver. The steering wheel on the left side, I settled in at the very back against the window and dozed off while pastures moved away on the other side of the window; waking to intricate stonework and scenes that could only remind a tourist as myself of Harry Potter.
Everywhere all around was beautiful, from the bus station the half mile walk to Somerville College collapsed around me in a haze, and only now can I take it all in. The lively streets, the smells of the bakeries, the heroin addict strung out with his two black dogs, dreaming on the corner. Even now as I write it floods me.
The college itself is a fortress of Victorian Art. One must pass through a gate to gain entrance, and the whole of the place is encompassed by walls, and gardens. Ravens gather in the quad between the dorms, and as I stare out my window now one is perched in the distance atop a sign I know reads "way out".
My room is large for a dorm, old wood, older smells. I wonder who has sat at this very desk peered through the window onto the green lawn, seen the oak tree conversing with itself in the wind, against the blue sky?
Before writing this I had come from the Oak Pub, where a young man about my age suggested I try the cider because of the warm weather. It was a treat to say the least. I stumbled across this pub on my way out to explore, running into Professor Barnhardt who was on his way back into the college. He turned right around and directed a small group of us to the Oak. Talking with Professor Barnhardt I admit I got a little carried away and ordered what I am deeming one of the greatest beers ever created: Leffe. One sip is like christmas, the hoppy flavor lingers in the mouth and dances sweetly into the stomach. Only after standing up did I realize that a pint of this beer was truly 3 pints back in the states, but for 2 pounds I couldn't resist.
At 2:30 our Grand Tour De Oxford was postponed for the England v Germany game. Myself and 4 others made our way down to the very crowded, very lively Jericho Bar. Inside the room was thick, the English not yet understanding the concept of air conditioning, and the building was packed to the teeth. Flies buzzed like static during the entire match, darting in front of the screen as the crowd grew more disheartened with each second.
After the loss, we darted back through a small hole in the wall that surrounds Somerville, the door being hobbit sized and locking from the inside to meet for dinner. And upon concluding the meal, the twenty of us seemingly solitary in the grand dining hall, we walked back into the courtyard where a Magpie was chirping at the high sun (which as I write this at 10 o'clock is still fairly bright in the sky).
Then it was back to another pub for Argentina v Mexico. Not much to say there, a great game. Now I am sitting in my room about to fall asleep, I have been up now for 32 hours and am dead tired. More to see tomorrow!
Arriving in London around 6:30 in the morning my day had just begun. Standing in the customs line I attempted to take a picture, forgetting the auto focus, it blurred everything into an Escher like tessellation. A man standing behind me, short wearing a black suit spoke up "They don't fancy pictures too much here in customs, it makes them nervous." His voice, the first British accent I had encountered here, as the airport could have been anywhere America, made it all the more exciting. I never got his name, but he was just in from Sydney and headed to Gibraltar. I asked him if he had ever been to the States and he said New York, but never the Carolinas, although he wanted to go to Savannah.
The maze of Heathrow is overwhelming. Baggage claim lead to a train transfer to terminal five and then outside to the bus station. Along the way, it was surreal to encounter a Krispy Kreme kiosk. From bus station 11 we waited for the Oxford Shuttle, as behind us Epcot-esque fountains burst alive in the morning light, the water waving goodbye as we boarded the bus, 20 pounds and a disgruntled driver. The steering wheel on the left side, I settled in at the very back against the window and dozed off while pastures moved away on the other side of the window; waking to intricate stonework and scenes that could only remind a tourist as myself of Harry Potter.
Everywhere all around was beautiful, from the bus station the half mile walk to Somerville College collapsed around me in a haze, and only now can I take it all in. The lively streets, the smells of the bakeries, the heroin addict strung out with his two black dogs, dreaming on the corner. Even now as I write it floods me.
The college itself is a fortress of Victorian Art. One must pass through a gate to gain entrance, and the whole of the place is encompassed by walls, and gardens. Ravens gather in the quad between the dorms, and as I stare out my window now one is perched in the distance atop a sign I know reads "way out".
My room is large for a dorm, old wood, older smells. I wonder who has sat at this very desk peered through the window onto the green lawn, seen the oak tree conversing with itself in the wind, against the blue sky?
Before writing this I had come from the Oak Pub, where a young man about my age suggested I try the cider because of the warm weather. It was a treat to say the least. I stumbled across this pub on my way out to explore, running into Professor Barnhardt who was on his way back into the college. He turned right around and directed a small group of us to the Oak. Talking with Professor Barnhardt I admit I got a little carried away and ordered what I am deeming one of the greatest beers ever created: Leffe. One sip is like christmas, the hoppy flavor lingers in the mouth and dances sweetly into the stomach. Only after standing up did I realize that a pint of this beer was truly 3 pints back in the states, but for 2 pounds I couldn't resist.
At 2:30 our Grand Tour De Oxford was postponed for the England v Germany game. Myself and 4 others made our way down to the very crowded, very lively Jericho Bar. Inside the room was thick, the English not yet understanding the concept of air conditioning, and the building was packed to the teeth. Flies buzzed like static during the entire match, darting in front of the screen as the crowd grew more disheartened with each second.
After the loss, we darted back through a small hole in the wall that surrounds Somerville, the door being hobbit sized and locking from the inside to meet for dinner. And upon concluding the meal, the twenty of us seemingly solitary in the grand dining hall, we walked back into the courtyard where a Magpie was chirping at the high sun (which as I write this at 10 o'clock is still fairly bright in the sky).
Then it was back to another pub for Argentina v Mexico. Not much to say there, a great game. Now I am sitting in my room about to fall asleep, I have been up now for 32 hours and am dead tired. More to see tomorrow!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Tomorrow
Tomorrow I board a flight, buckle in and head off to the UK; where the bitterness of a draw in the World Cup may still be heavy in the air. Granted no volcano erupts in the middle of Iceland, I should arrive around 6am UK time, or 1 in the morning anywhere along the East Coast. For now, I'm packing before I enjoy my last American evening for a month.
Stay tuned.
"Out here I can say anything."
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