mind the gap

thistle do nicely

2011-08-12T01:10:00.010+01:00

Our final day in Scotland was a decent mix of relaxation and panic. Relaxation, because the rain was incessant and we stayed inside, and panic, because we are all leaving tomorrow. I always feel a sense of urgency; like I need to do something that will make me feel like I've truly enjoyed Edinburgh. And I have enjoyed it, but I have to remind myself that I can enjoy it from my dry hotel room and not feel like I have to be out in it.

We had our final performance of What the Moon Saw today, and I was so proud of the students. They did a beautiful job with a really creative and inventive piece. They seemed proud of their work, and I could tell that the audiences loved and appreciated it as well. They quickly dismantled the set and we were out of the space in fifteen minutes. Amazing how much work goes into something that comes apart in just a quarter of an hour. I guess that's the way theatre works. Part of the magic, I suppose.

There wasn't much action on the Royal Mile today. The rain had sort of driven everyone indoors. But I was approached by a guy wearing a poncho, desperate to give me a flier advertising his sketch comedy show. I politely said "no thanks," and he replied "But it's free! Lunchtime comedy! Please! I'm wearin' a bag!"

I saw a production of Steven Berkoff's Oedipus today. Steven himself was supposed to be in it, but he was "indisposed," so we got an understudy. Steven Berkoff is a big name in theatre - he's sort of a revolutionary. I saw his production of On the Waterfront a year or two ago. I liked it. He's very into physical movement and storytelling. This production followed those same lines. There was an all male chorus, and they were sort of dressed like 1920's hobos. They did a lot of slo-mo stuff, and created theatrical shapes and pictures, which they impressively held for a long time. I thought that was great. But the show was really long. I don't really love Greco-Roman theatre, to be honest. So much talking, and always about the same dumb story. Yes, you killed your father! Yes, you married your mother! Get on with it. I'm always leery of shows without intermissions, too, especially if they are over 90 minutes. It sometimes means the producers are afraid people will leave at intermission. I probably would have. The show was artfully done, just kind of boring. And the curtain call went on forever. The people who seemed to enjoy the performance the most were the cast. So this one didn't do much for me.

More interesting, however, was the Royal Military Tattoo, which we all saw tonight! This is my fourth time at the Tattoo, but it's different every year. So it's fun to track that. This year I had to sit by complete strangers, which was an adventure in itself. The old lady next to me took the Tattoo VERY SERIOUSLY and she did not like the Spanish people behind us who kept talking. Also, she sang all the songs with the marching bands. And she held my hands and sang "Auld Lang Syne" right into my face at the end of the show.

The Tattoo is always really special, and I mean that honestly and also facetiously. There were some really weird elements this year. For one thing, they did this odd pirate segment. They were trying to show how the Scottish military combats pirates in the Indian Ocean, and they did this demonstration. But the pirates were just girls in denim jackets with bandannas over their faces. And then some Jack Sparrow-type pirates came out as well. And then these fake helicopters showed up and a bunch of security guys popped out of the audience with guns.

Another weird moment was when the Bavarian Military band came out, wearing what looked like green Nazi uniforms and following a banner with a giant gold eagle on it. And they were doing goosesteps. It felt weird to me. And then some guys in lederhosen came out and chopped at a giant log.

Also, some Scottish girls came out and did a fish dance. Some guys tried to catch them with a big green net, but they got away! And then they danced around with big plastic crates of dead fish.

I did like this part, when some Naval officers had a race to see how quickly they could assemble a canon:

I always like the marching bagpipes:

And best of all, the return of Anne - my very special usher from two years ago! It was fun to watch her again. She really, really loves the Tattoo. Even more than the old lady next to me, AND THAT'S SAYING A LOT. Here is a clip of Anne singing along to some Scottish song that only she knows. Pardon the froggy throat!

And with the signal of the lone bagpipe, high on the castle walls, the Tattoo was over. But the lone bagpipe has come to mean more than that to me. It's also the end of our studies abroad. I always feel a little melancholy. So excited to go home, but always a little sad to leave this great experience.

by the sea

2011-08-11T12:40:00.012+01:00

Well, they weren't kidding about that storm. It blew in sometime last night and I could hear rain pummelling off of the roof of the church outside my window. It's one of those storms that settles in and sits, and the sky is just a giant pale blank. It's Edinburgh, though, and you have to expect that. It just means you need an umbrella and a plucky attitude. I've got an umbrella! It also means that nobody's going to the theatre, especially at 10:30 am, so our numbers were fewer today for the show. But still we had an audience - so that's great. Nice of them to brave the tempest.

I bypassed touring the Edinburgh Castle today, even though I love visiting there. I've just been a few times and I wanted to see something new. So I walked down to the Haymarket and had some lunch down there while I waited the storm out a little. It was nice to read some more Treasure Island and relax inside where it was warm. I did this throughout the day. I also spent the day reminding myself that, yes, it's truly August 10th. People are wearing parkas! Of course, we're at roughly the same latitude as Anchorage, so it shouldn't be a surprise. I'm just glad I brought sweaters.

I did a little hat shopping. Not for myself. I was scouting some hats for My Fair Lady, which I'm directing at Hale West Valley this Fall (plug) and they asked me to find a couple of Trilby hats for Henry Higgins. Normally I wouldn't be caught dead in a shop called "Fabhatrix" but I was on an errand. I found a few - but so expensive! I also browsed for some in Armstrong & Sons, and that place is always wacky. I contemplated buying a kilt (I didn't.)

I spent a little time in the National Museum of Scotland, but probably not enough. I wanted to go in because the architecture is really cool. But it was full of kids and really noisy and people taking pictures of everything, so I got out of there. I needed a break from the city. So I walked to the train station, and went to North Berwick.

North Berwick is about 30 minutes east of Edinburgh, perched on a coast overlooking the North Sea. I had read about it somewhere - on the tube in London, actually - and vowed that I would get out there at some point. It was fantastic for clearing my head. The train ride was smooth and there was so much to see out the window. I walked along the beach and listened to my music. It wasn't beach weather - it was gray and foggy, but it was what you would hope a Scottish beach would look like. Rocky islands and bobbing boats. I threw some rocks and watched some birds. Then I went into town. I ducked into a little cafe for dinner and had some sacrelicious mushroom soup. And then the rain hit again, dang it, so I was forced to stay inside the diner and read about 10 chapters of Treasure Island! Poor me, I know. When the rain let up I headed back to the train station and had a quiet, smooth trip back into Edinburgh. The whole trip was really nice. And I have a feeling that when I'm home and faced with work and rehearsals and school again, North Berwick - and the quality alone time I had there - might be something I'll look back and miss.

I saw a late show tonight called The Boy James. It was produced by the Belt Up theatre company - they are famous for taking literary characters and exploring new and different facets of their stories. The Boy James was basically Peter Pan. It was really, really cool. You sat on couches and pillows in this attic space that had been decorated like a Kensington Nursery. An actor acted like a little boy, and he had us play tag and make fart sounds and do silly things. Then older James, who we eventually realize is J.M. Barrie, comes in and tells Little James it's time to grow up. It's actually a really sad ending. But throughout there are flashes of Peter Pan: Indian Dances, ticking clocks, flying, and even a Wendy character who bosses Little James around. I thought it was really clever and touching.

The only awkward thing, and it was kind of funny, happened at the end. Little James was crying and he hugged an audience member and, whispering in her ear, asked her if she would organize the audience into a single file and take them out of the theatre. But she was German and had no idea what he was saying. And none of us knew what he had whispered to her. So we sat there for like five minutes while Little James cried and this German lady sat there panicking. It was kind of funny. Eventually we all just got up and walked out.

view from the top

2011-08-11T00:34:00.010+01:00

Thanks to good word of mouth and a lot of flirting to converting, we had the biggest audience ever for a UVU Fringe show this morning. It was fun to see the show in a theatre full of families and patrons of all ages. It's tricky for us in many ways; most shows here at the festival play for 2-3 weeks. We're here for four days. So we have to build audiences fast. But word of mouth also helps and that, I think, was another element of today's success. I hope, anyway. They've worked hard on this show, and it needs to be seen.

We had been warned several times that today would be the end of the good weather in Edinburgh. Somehow everyone knows that a terrible storm is coming, and it's all anybody talks about. Riots, shmiots. There's a storm a-brewin'! I assume they all watch the weather on the news, unlike Lisa and I, who just bleep-bloop through the weather when we watch the news on our DVR. So, the point of all this is that we needed to be outside today. The students spent time busking on the Royal Mile again - and it was literally packed:

It gets to the point where you can barely manage to walk up it. You get pretty well pamphletized and bullied and forcibly entertained. I often pretend I'm on my cell phone so that nobody sells me their show. But that's because I'm cranky and old. And I'm also learning to use side streets to get around Edinburgh. However the vibe of the festival, despite my grouchypants, is creative and electric.

I went with several of the students to see Anton's Uncles, a deconstruction of Chekhov's Uncle Vanya created by the LA company Theatre Movement Bazaar. It's been all the rage at UVU since my students saw it at KCACTF last year. I can see why they loved it; it's funny, it's thoughtful, it's original, and it's got great dancing. I couldn't help but feel it was a little tired - this cast has been performing since 2009 - so I can't blame them. And it's a little played out. I'd love to see what TMB can do with a new piece. But it's still incredibly fun and I laughed a lot. They even pulled Aubrie onstage and vied for her love. She handled it well. It was great to finally see this show.

Afterwards we had a quick pint of Diet Coke at Frankenstein's pub and then I hustled out to catch a performance of Orlando, performed by the Cryptic Theatre Company and based on Virginia Woolf's novel. It was a one woman show, and the actress played two genders and four time periods with lots of enthusiasm and commitment. From what I can remember. I was asleep in minutes. It wasn't her fault. It's just hard when it's 4 in the afternoon and you just had a baguette and they are playing cool but mellow music and this lady is literally rolling on the floor in slow motion. I am as artsy as the next guy, but I also, as you probably know, need my naps. So I apologize that I can't give much of a review to Orlando. I liked the lasers!

To take full advantage of the nice weather before Hurricane Macbeth blew in we decided to hike Arthur's Seat. I did this a few years ago with my friend Kekoa, but this was the first time I'd taken students up. It's steeper than it looks, but so worth the hike. Along the way we stopped at the remains of a castle, where an impromptu battle broke out:

The best part of that is when Greg throws the soda can and the wind blows it right back at him.

We pushed up, onward and upward until we reached the top. And it was pretty glorious. The wind was crazy, and picked up even more while we were up there, but there was something really amazing about seeing the city of Edinburgh stretched along a hill as the sun was going down. I lay on the grass and listened to some music and pondered the view. It was amazing from every angle. So glad we did this.

Afterwards we hiked down and into town and had dinner at The Tass pub. I had fish and chips for, believe it or not, the first time this entire trip. We had a great talk at dinner and played with the wax from the candle. In the background, a troupe of fiddlers played some Scottish tunes. We leave in two days, and this is the kind of stuff I'll miss.

what the moon saw

2011-08-08T22:20:00.000+01:00

We were up early today to get to our technical rehearsal which the venue, St. Augustine's, graciously scheduled for us since we missed our tech rehearsal yesterday. Not that it was difficult to wake up. The Edinburgh seagulls have a habit of screaming in your window. You go to sleep to yelling drunks, awake to screaming gulls, and smell malt all day: it's the Edinburgh style! You sort of grow to like it.

Our first performance of What the Moon Saw went really well. This show was directed and adapted by Cherie Julander, who's on the trip with us. It's a Hans Christian Anderson story about how the moon inspires a melancholy painter by telling him stories of what she sees as she passes through the sky. It has a lot of beautiful mixed media that Jaron and Casey put together; the show is cool to look at and great for kids. One of the families in the audience today was Danish, but the Mom had gone to high school as a foreign exchange student at Olympus High School in SLC. It was fun to talk to her, and fun to have them there. I was proud of how everyone did, and excited to have a solid start to the run of our show at the festival.

Joe Fox and his wife Suzy were there to greet us this morning; Joe is here to help with the technical aspects of the show. Afterwards, Joe and Suzy and I went to lunch. It was great to catch up, and we had a lot to talk about. Joe and I have worked together at UVU for six years and he's become a good friend and colleague. I'm sad he won't be there in the Fall. I appreciate him and his creativity and his love and passion for working with students. I look at the students he's mentored and it inspires me to be a better mentor myself. The only problem I have with him is his love for Haggis, which is what he ordered at Deacon Brody's Tavern. Suzy and I stuck with chicken options. We opted out of the sheep innards.

I met up with the students next to do some busking. This is where you join 4,000 other people on the Royal Mile and try to build an audience for your show. You pass out fliers, you sign, you dance, you run around, and you - as I put it - "flirt to convert." Anything you can do to get butts in seats, you basically do. It's a little overwhelming and it's invigorating at the same time. There is so much noise and so much color and so much energy. I don't know how to describe the mayhem unless you've been here. But I will try by showing you:

an Asian gentleman dressed as a cigarette:

a mermaid with scary sharp teeth:

After the busking I went into St Giles Cathedral and read my kindle. I ran out of Peeta and I can't download any more books outside of the US. So luckily there was a free copy of Treasure Island already downloaded, which I read a few chapters of. I've never read that! I like books about old pirates and ominous figures with peg legs showing up in sea shanty public houses. Read that sentence twenty times, I dare you. Anyway, after that I visited the Edinburgh library, which was doing an exhibit on banned books. It was free, and you get what you pay for. There was nothing really revelatory there; Huck Finn was banned? Wha-wha-wha-WHAT? So I headed back to St. Giles and there met up with Joe and Suzy and a handful of the students. Joe gave us a wonderful tour of the cathedral, and took us into the Thistle Chapel, which is the chapel of The Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, Scotland's foremost Order of Chivalry - something I just cut and pasted directly from Wikipedia. Anyway, I thought it was fascinating.

Then we moved off the Royal Mile and went to the Scottish Portrait Gallery. I've been looking at a lot of museums lately, so I seem now to only focus on quirky and weird paintings. Otherwise, it's a blur. But I really liked:

Three Oncologists, by Ken Currie

The Twins Clara and Aelbert de Bray, by Salomon de Bray

The Reverend Robert Walker Skating, by Sir Henry Raeburn

Lady Agnew, by John Singer Sargent

After lots of portraiture and gallery gazing, we were hungry as a pack of monkeys. So we went to City Restaurant, my favorite little joint in town. Not so little anymore, however! They've added a second floor! This will be great news to any of you who have sweated it out in a tiny table next to the pizza oven, as I have many times. The second floor is spacious and roomy and looks out over the University and the Festival Theatre. We had a nice chat there, and it felt good to eat. As it generally does.

Tonight I went by myself to see Coal Head, Toadstool Mouth, and Other Stories. It's four actors who are basically marionettes. Of course it is, as you can tell from the description, strictly for drama nerds. They act out several different stories, and they play many different characters. It really grew on me. It felt too familiar at first. People as puppets? I've seen that. But they had some really cool and interesting forms of storytelling, and I always dig that.

On my way home tonight I stopped and had a chicken kebab. Does it seem like I'm always eating? You are right!!! I am constantly eating.

how we got here

2011-08-07T12:27:00.001+01:00

I'm not sure how to describe today accurately, except to say it turned out completely different than I expected and that I was, in the end, ok with that.

No doubt you've heard about the riots in London. If so, you probably know more than we did. In retrospect, the late taxis and the stalled trains were sort of a tip-off that something was up; but we live in Kensington, which is not really a hotbed for looting. I did see a giant group mob a Kensington KFC once, but they were my students. Just super hungry. Anyway, this rioting happened overnight. It started as a response to some police shooting following a soccer match, but that excuse lasted about 10 minutes and then it became about breaking into store windows to steal Wii systems and ipads. Pretty pathetic. And, like I say, we didn't see or hear any of it. So we're safe. Unfortunately, however, all of these delays added up, making us about 3 minutes late to check in for our flight to Edinburgh.

So that's a challenge. 15 people, flying as a group, stranded at Gatwick. Best laid plans, right? So here's what happened next:

1. The BA ticket agent was awesome. It took him an hour (literally) but he got us all new flights. The only problem is that they were...

2. In four separate travel groups

3. Flying out of a different airport (Heathrow)

4. Flying into Glasgow, not Edinburgh.

5. We got everyone back into riotous, burning London by the Gatwick Express, then to Heathrow terminal 5 by the Tube.

5.5 I'm exaggerating. We didn't see any riots or burning.

6. We split into four groups. Each group left about two hours after the last one.

7. Our plane to Glasgow was delayed two hours, but it gave me plenty of time to watch Donatella Versace clomp around the airport. (Yes, really her. TERRIFYING. I kept hoping it was Maya Rudolph.)

8. After landing, we took a bus to the Glasgow train station. We ate at Burger King there, which is punishment enough.

9. We took a train from Glasgow to Edinburgh. It was beautiful - lots of heather (the plant)

10. We took cabs from the station to the hotel in Edinburgh.

10.5 We crashed upon arrival.

This should have been incredibly stressful, and it started out that way, but this group of students are so positive and delightful that it actually turned out to be fun in some ways. They played games and joked and napped and I didn't hear a single complaint - NOT A SINGLE COMPLAINT - the entire day. I was impressed and so grateful. It's not easy moving a group from place to place, and whining never helps. When everyone stays chipper and works as a team, well, that's awesome. And now we're in Edinburgh for the week - even more awesome! I love this place. So excited to see our show at the Fringe Festival.

Side note, which isn't really a side note and may be the best thing that happened all day. Robbie Coltrane, who plays Hagrid in the Harry Potter movies, was on our flight. We thought he looked really grouchy, so nobody approached him. While waiting for luggage in Glasgow I could see him watching us interact and joke, and eventually he came over and stood right next to us. Then, he casually asked Josh if he could see his guitar. He told us he'd been taking lessons. Josh obliged, and then, at Robbie's request, sang him a song he wrote! It was such a thrill. Singing for Hagrid in the middle of the baggage claim. He couldn't have been friendlier.

an end to the west end

2011-08-06T12:03:00.000+01:00

There’s always a sense of slight anxiety for me on the last day in London. It’s not that I worry about the Scotland trip, necessarily, as much as I worry that I didn’t do everything I wanted to do in London; that I missed something I love to do, or that I forgot one thing I promised I would try this year. There were entire neighborhoods I didn’t even get to this summer, but of course it’s the same way every year. Each trip has it’s own flavor and personality, which are associated with the places we spent our time.

Anyway. A group of us got up early to snag play tickets. It’s a great day to finally see the stuff we’ve been hearing about, though that generally means that everyone else has heard how great these shows are as well. So you have to get up early. Dan and his cohort went to the Donmar to get tickets to Jude Law’s Anna Christie, while Cherie, Zoe, and I went to the National to get tickets to One Man, Two Guv’nors, which is the hot ticket there. When we got to the theatre there were already 25 people ahead of us, which shouldn’t have surprised me, but sort of did. A lot of them were old! We were all prepared to wait three hours. I got a little breakfast and then settled in for the duration.

Once the tickets were in hand, we went our ways. I headed up to Kensington High Street on bike, stopping at Hornets. Hornets is a "gentleman's shop" for English hunting jackets and hats and it's known for it's eccentric service. For example, the greeter is a dog. I liked all the tweed and twill hats and cuff links, though they were oddly both too fancy and too second-hand for me to seriously consider buying anything. I liked the feel of Hornets, though. It’s old England, it’s proper, and it’s sort of costumy. Nobody really dresses like that.

We had lunch at the Kensington Creperie, since that’s where we started our trip. I branched out and got a crepe that had one different ingredient than the crepe I usually get: potatoes. It was delicious! Aren’t you glad I wrote about that? Following this delicious potato crepe, I rode my bike back up to Hyde Park and snapped a few pictures of the Serpentine Gallery. Every year the Gallery brings in a different artist to recreate the pavilion. This year it was Peter Zumthor, who created something called Hortus Conclusus. It’s basically a giant black box that looks like this:

But on the inside….surprise! A flower garden!

One Man, Two Guv’nors was fantastic. It’s a modern telling of Goldoni’s Servant of Two Masters, set in 1960’s England. Every scene break gets live music from an early Beatles-esque pop band in skinny suits , and the whole thing is really commedia. All of the stock characters are there, falling down stairs, switching genders, making fart jokes, and pulling people out of the audience to do horrible and embarrassing things. The lead actor, James Corden, was absolutely amazing. Comic timing better than anyone I’ve ever seen – every line was funny, and he found humor in everything. I could watch that show over and over and still learn more about comedy. It was an absolute blast. Another audience member who enjoyed it was Dustin Hoffman, who sat right in front of me. Tootsie’s looking old.

Then I had dinner again with Peter White, who I met up with last week. I would introduce Peter as Jenny Latimer’s boyfriend, but he’s really my friend now and I think we can leave Jenny out of it. We had some Indian food in Covent Garden, and it was delicious despite the fact that neither of us could understand our waitress and we didn’t know what we ordered. We resolved to eat whatever showed up. Risky, but worth it. And great to see Peter.

And tonight we got to see Jude Law in Eugene O’Neill’s Anna Christie. I’ve never seen the play, or read it, or knew much about it. But it’s basically about the immigrant fishing community in Boston with specific focus on Anna, who was abandoned by her father after her mothers’ death and has come looking for him. Jude didn’t show up until about 30 minutes into it, but he made up for lost time by ambling around without his shirt on and making all the men in the audience feel like giant blobs. Meanwhile, the ladies among us started to invoke, yet again, Surprise Party Sue (“I didn’t know this was gonna HAPPEN!”) But of course it’s demeaning to relegate a great actor to his abs, especially in this case, when the actor gives such an inspiring and daring performance. The whole show was engaging and beautiful and sad. And a perfect ending to three invigorating weeks on the West End.

castles and kings

2011-08-05T23:32:00.000+01:00

We awoke in Stratford to sunshine and a great breakfast at Tim and Kate’s Victoria Lodge. It’s always a tasty breakfast there: the beans on toast, the sausages and tomatoes. The ham. I don’t know why the English breakfast is uniquely English; we have all the same ingredients in the US. It’s mostly just a deconstructed omelet. But we just eat differently. Everyone was up and we had a nice talk about the ghost in Greg and Bonnie’s room, and everyone made fun of Tony’s snoring, which was audible throughout the hallways.

We spent the morning in Stratford doing the usual Stratfordian things: I like the Shakespeare Trust and they do a great job of maintaining the birthplace and keeping everything nicely Tudor. There’s a fancy introductory exhibit – not new, it was there last year – at the entrance of the birthplace where you move from room to room as Ian McKellan and Juliet Stevens narrate Shakespeare’s life and random things light up. Then some doors open and you progress through the exhibit that way. Every time the door opened we would mutter “oohhhhh…..my……gooooosh…..” like Surprise Party Sue.

We went into the “New Place Dig” for the first time. It wasn’t open to the public last year. I thought it was really interesting. When Shakespeare retired to Stratford after a long career in London he bought the second largest house in town. It had 22 rooms and was situated right next to the town hall. It got knocked down in 1759 because the owner was tired of dealing with tourists, but now archaeologists are digging up the foundations. What they plan to do next I don’t know, but it’s fun to watch them being Jacobean/Jurassic. And there’s a really nice set of gardens in the back.

I didn’t go inside Holy Trinity Church because the day was too nice and I wanted to sit on a bench and look at the River Avon. Before I knew it I was covered with ladybugs. I don’t know why this was. I never found out. It was an aphid-friendly bench.

We all met up at 1 (AUBRIE?) to meet Tony and the bus. Most of us had some lunch at Gregs.’ And we boarded again for Warwick Castle.

I spent the day at the castle like a boring old dad; I waved hello at the students as they did fun and exciting things, and sat under a tree reading and nodding off. I was not bored, oddly enough. It was great to just chill out by the peacock park and read some Peeta. All those P things. After a while I wandered out of the Castle and into the town, where I had a little Subway Sandwich. It was a really fancy day for me. I like Warwick, the town. The High Street is charming and there’s always a delicious SubClub to be eaten.

Tony took us all home, stopping briefly to let everyone grab dinner. He had a firm policy that there would be no food on the bus, but of course he let everyone eat on the bus anyway, since we’re all so nice and he had a little crush on a few of the girls. That’s the way of the world.

Finally we were back home, and we called it an early night. We did laundry, we wrote emails, we tagged photos. It’s odd how “home” has become “home.” You long for your “own” bed, even though it’s a crappy little dorm thing on wheels. We’re more adaptable than we think.

wet and dry in warwickshire

2011-08-04T23:56:00.001+01:00

Woke up this morning to dribbling rain outside my window, which I hoped would have been a fleeting thing. Turns out, it wasn't. A big gray front had parked itself over London, and that usually means it's here to stay. For some reason, I love rainstorms in Utah but I hate them here. In Utah it rains in a big way, and then it's done. Here it just sort of drizzles on and off all day. And we are so busy that we are always going in and out of the rain. Today was our trip to Stratford-upon-Avon, and I wanted some good weather. But I'm not in charge of that.

We all hopped on a coach, which was big and beautiful and clean, and our bus driver was Tony, who we immediately liked. Lots of personality. Lots of jokes on the intercom. He also turned out to be an epic snorer, but more on that later. Tony was awesome.

Oxford was beautiful as it always is, but just super wet. Something about wet Oxford makes it even more beautiful, but you don't want to spend as much time looking at it. We sort of breezed through town and nominally saw the sights. Just to say we were there. I was a bad tour guide, or a good tour guide, depending on your definition. Hard to focus on the Bodlein Library when your feet are wet. So I let everyone do their own thing. Some went to the Oxford Market, some found food, and I hid out in the second story window of a Waterstone's bookstore. I read the opening pages of Brideshead Revisited, and then shifted to a parenting manual which succeeded in making me feel like the world's worst father.

At noon I met up with a pack of students at the Eagle & Child pub, where we all had a great lunch. I had my usual sausage and mash, and it was so nice to be warm and dry and fed, even though they only had Pepsi on tap. You know that feeling. Also, we played a few rounds of "Old Peter" again, and the losers were Daniel and Zoe:

By the time we got back on the bus the rain had stopped, and a little sun threatened to shine through. This boded well. By the time we hit Mary Arden's farm the rain had closed in again, which is not the best thing to walk around a working Tudor farm in. But everybody made lots of jokes and kept their spirits up, and all these positive vibes flew to heaven and stopped the rain for good. I'm convinced. We did the kids crafts (they were INSIDE) and made fun of the ladies who were so terrible on the recorders. We studied the apothecary plants. And then it was time for the falcon show, where Bonnie and Greg were flown over by a beautiful white owl. This means, apparently, that they will have six kids. Those are lucky kids.

Next up was Anne Hathaway's cottage, which also looked beautiful after all the rain. Our tour guide was the guy from last year who performed outside on Shakespeare's patio. He was a little less excited about being a tour guide than he was performing, but he did a nice job.

After dinner at the Dirty Duck we walked to the RSC to see A Midsummer Night's Dream. The RSC renovation is finally done, and the new theatre is awesome. It looks just like the Courtyard, but it doesn't feel temporary like the Courtyard always did. It's big and it's all glass and chrome outside, Elizabethan inside. I was impressed. I also liked the show! I had read that it was a really angry punk, screechy version, but I was pleasantly surprised that it was not. I loved the staging of it - lots of found space objects and colorful lighting (reminded me a lot of my Macbeth for Utah Shakespeare Fest...a lot of the same type of looks) and it was innovative in a lot of ways. The actors were, at first, a little boring. But they grew on me. Bottom was fantastic, and we loved Snug the joiner. He had a squeaky shoe that was hilarious.

After the show we made our traditional visit to Shakespeare's burial church by night. But tonight we had a lot of energy, so we did what anyone would do: played Ghosts in the Graveyard. In an actual graveyard. It was a riot. So, so scary. So dark. But fun. Robbie won the first round, but Josh did pretty well also. There's something really exciting about hiding behind tombstones from the 17th century. You know how I am about ghosts. And then we sat and told scary stories under the spires of Holy Trinity. I think Shakespeare would have loved that.

glorious summer by this son of york

2011-08-03T21:47:00.000+01:00

Today we had the Globe tour, which is actually not the Globe tour, but technically the Rose tour. The Globe tour takes you through the Globe theatre and shows you rehearsal rooms and stuff like that. But since we've already seen two shows in the Globe and the rehearsal rooms are about as exciting as our rehearsal rooms at UVU, I prefer the Rose tour. In the Rose tour you walk through the streets of Southwark and see where things actually were: the bearbaiting, the original Globe, the ferryman...and the Rose Theatre itself, which was where Shakespeare first saw Hamlet, Macbeth, and King Lear performed. Some heavy hitters. And you can actually go inside a building and see the remains of the Rose foundation. It's pretty cool. Our tour guide was Kitty, and she was spunky and used lots of inflections. We liked her.

After this we all split up for lunch. I went with Heather, Dan, Zoe, Jaron, and Casey to Pizza Express, where we played a few rounds of "Old Peter." What's "Old Peter?" I will tell you. We were bored waiting for our food, and Pizza Express had these promotional cards for some American Idol-type contest they are doing. The cards have pictures of five different people playing musical instruments, and they gave their names and music preferences, etc. They looked like this:

We basically divided the cards up and used them like Old Maid. Except our Old Maid was Peter, an old dude who plays the trumpet. It was an exciting game and eventually our pizza showed up. And if our waiter is reading this, sorry again about all the credit cards.

After this we went to the Tate Modern for a bit. Stuff I liked included:

Lost Mine, by Peter Lanyon

Untitled (Bacchus), by Cy Twombly (a whole room of these - amazing!!!)

Meryon, by Franz Kline

And to pre-empt any possible comment on this art, no, your kid couldn't do that.

Despite a very sweaty tube (hot today! Well, London hot) we made it on time to see the matinee of Betrayal, a Harold Pinter play that unfolds backwards. I liked it a lot, even though the theatre was sweltering in afternoon heat. This play starred the wonderful Kristen Scott Thomas from the English Patient and Gosford Park, and Ben Miles, who was on the BBC show Coupling. I got to meet Ben afterwards, and he was friendly. He also wears giant earphones and doesn't apologize, so I felt great about that.

I also got to meet this gentleman, whose name I don't know and was too embarrassed to ask. He played the waiter, very briefly, in Betrayal. He is also an American, which came as a bit of a surprise. And he's done a lot of work in Utah, so we know many of the same people. He was really fun to talk to. He had nice things to say about Mormon audiences, and said Utah women are the best looking in the world, which I wholeheartedly agree with.

Josh and I, against all odds, rode bikes home during rush hour. This put us in the middle of Piccadilly Circus, where a bus driver swore at me and I narrowly avoided a collision with another bike because we were riding the wrong way. We rode past Buckingham Palace and six lanes of traffic, through Victoria, Chelsea, and finally home. It was fun. And hot, so we were sweaty. But it felt great to get some exercise. I've been a huge lump since I've been here.

And tonight we saw Kevin Spacey in Richard III. This is the hot ticket in London right now, and I can see why. He's mesmerizing. He captured the audience right from the start and nothing, and nobody, could pull focus away from him. The concept was very modern -they used projections and multimedia, and sometimes the direction was a little too flashy, but Spacey...oh, man. Spacey, along with Stanley Tucci and Ed Harris, is in my trifecta of actors. Seeing him on stage was electric.

wizards and watercolors

2011-08-02T12:36:00.000+01:00

The students have been calling this "Harry Potter Day" and I suppose that's what it was. We met our guide, Andrew, downtown city London at the Bank, and he took us for the next two hours through the streets of London, giving us factual history and Harry Potter trivia throughout. I thought a lot of it was fascinating, though the Harry Potter stuff I could have taken or left. Oddly, I felt like the students only cared about the Harry Potter stuff, and were thoroughly bored by the London history. So it was possibly a tough crowd for poor Andrew. But he did well. We saw the churchyard where Scrooge heard the Christmas bells ringing. We passed through the tight little backstreet which inspired Diagon Alley:

We saw amazing architecture. London's great gerkin standing directly next to Shakespeare's first London church:

The amazing inside-out structuring of Lloyd's of London:

We passed through Leadenhall Market, where Harry stopped at the Leaky Cauldron pub in the movies:

And then back over the river where finished at Borough Market, which looked dingy but smelled incredible. So much fresh food, and so much to look at. But that describes half of London.

A handful of the students wanted to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows, Part 2 - it came out in the states while we were here in the UK, so many of them hadn't seen it yet. So we walked down to the Chelsea Odeon and they brought their Harry Potter day full circle. I, on the other hand, can wait to see HPatDHp2 when I get back home, so I went with Jaron to the Tate Britain to see the Watercolor exhibit, which to be fair to the English, is called the "Watercoulour" exhibit. We took bikes there, wish was a nice ride through Chelsea.

Jaron is doing research for Eurydice, a show he's lighting and I'm acting in at UVU this Fall. He was furiously scribbling notes here and there as he studied the watercolors, and I took my time looking and finding some of my own favorites:

The Blue Rigi, by JW Turner

Edinburgh Castle, by Thomas Hearne

Bean, by Rachel Pedder-Smith

Fetges, by Charles Rennie Mackintosh

Entymologist's Dream, by Edmund Dulac

After the museum closed and they sort of booted us, we walked into town past Westminster Abbey, which was lit in some crazy amazing light. The weather is finally summertime here in London, and we felt it today. But evening was perfect.

Jaron and I finished the evening watching Tree of Life at a cinema in Leicester Square; it's a movie I had seen with Lisa back in the states and loved. I loved it just as much the second time, and maybe even understood it better. I have difficulty recommending it to people, because invariably people think it's too long, too aimless, and too artsy. It probably is all those things. But for me, it's spiritual and honest and one of the most - if not the most - beautiful things I've seen on film. Give it a chance. But if you do, you have to think of it as a poem, or a scripture, or a watercolor. Or even a watercolour. It's more than a movie. It's a testimony.

poor, provincial town

2011-08-01T18:23:00.000+01:00

We had to say goodbye to Avignon today - just one day there, I know, it's tragic - but we had enough time this morning to have some breakfast at the hotel (and then everyone suddenly had "errands" to run, which really just meant H&M.) The weather was really warm, and it was hard to think about sitting on a train all day. But we left knowing we had been to paradise (but had we ever been to ME?)

While waiting in the Avignon train station we played an entertaining game with those little rubber sticky hand toys that kids play with. I guess they came with some box lunches the students bought. We fought over a pastry box and it became very competitive. This led to a series of games like "I'm going to the moon," "BOMB" and the infamous "number game." These games continued onto the train, and kept us awake and engaged as we crossed straight through the heart of France.

Every once in a while we would look out the window and see little villages whiz by. Josh said it looked like Beauty and the Beast. I thought more of Chocolat. But it was such beautiful scenery, and so green. I'm sure we idealize it - there were probably lots of flies out there, and those villages are probably pretty boring - but it's hard to see the French countryside and not associate it with all of the stories you grew up with.

We were prepared for a mad dash at the Paris Gare de Lyon station - we only had an hour to get to Gare de Nord - but the group stayed focused and we got there pretty smoothly. I only had two awkward encounters. The girl at the ticket booth at Gare de Lyon told me emphatically that she did not speak English, though I know she has to in order to work there. She was just being a big jerk. Luckily I can manage in French just fine, but then she wouldn't speak English to the Japanese kids behind me so I had to stay and translate for them as well. Dear friends in France: WE KNOW YOU SPEAK ENGLISH. THE JIG IS UP.

But it wasn't just the French I struggled with! At the UK border I encountered Madam McGrouchyslacks who grilled me about "why" I needed to be travelling with the students (because I'm their professor?) and then refused to admit Casey because he didn't have a letter stating he was a student from UVU. We have these letters when the students arrive at Heathrow, but I have never, in four years, been asked to show these letters at the train station. She swore that they "always" asked for them, and in the meantime her colleague next to her was letting half of our students through with, sure enough, no mention of the letters. We had some tense moments, she and I, as she basically called me a liar and then tried to pin me down as a dumb American who thought "England and France were just different states." If there's one thing I hate, it's being treated as a dumb American. But I held my temper. You would have been proud. She was three times the jerk that French shrew at the train station ever was.

But once we were all on board we settled in for more games, more naps, and more philosophical talks. And the sun went down around the time we hit the Chunnel. And then we were back in London. Quiet, clean, London.

sur le pont d"Avignon

2011-07-31T08:11:00.000+01:00

Another early up and at ‘em – we had to check out by 6:00 am. This group is a dream. Everyone was ready to go at 5:55, well most of them (HEATHER) and we bid a fine farewell to our friends at the Ajiel, possibly stealing some bread rolls and Nutella surreptitiously to eat on the train. Catching the train was a little crunch – the metros don’t run really frequently until about 8, but we all made it aboard the TGV to Avignon.
I’ve never brought any of the groups to Avignon, a city in Southern France just miles from the Mediterranean. We went this year for the Avignon Festival, which I’m hoping to book a UVU performance into next year. This was a research trip, though nobody complained about spending a couple of days in the south of France. The Avignon festival is one of the largest theatre performing festivals in the world, second only to Edinburgh, where we’re headed in a month.

Avignon is incredible. The old city is surrounded by a Roman Wall, and inside feels like Italy and Greece and, as Robbie put it, “the French Quarter of Disneyland.” The streets are narrow and feel aimless, but you don’t mind wandering aimlessly because every corner reveals a little bistro, a yogurt shop, or a band of wandering circus performers on horses (more on them later.)

We had lunch first because everyone was starving from the long train ride. So after eating at a place that starts with an M and rhymes with HackDonalds we felt in the mood to explore. Within minutes we were at the top of the Palace of the Popes, where several popes lived from the 1300's to the mid-15th century. There is a beautiful garden there that looks out over the Rhone River and has a spectacular view of the famous Pont D’Avignon bridge. The sun was out but there was a wonderful breeze and it was kind of heaven. Everyone crashed under a tree, but only fell asleep after Greg suggested the ladies play the “imagination game” (everyone imagines something and nobody talks.) I explored the town a little on my own, eventually winding down old staircases until I got to the bridge, and remembered the ‘Sur l’pont d’Avignon” song and my beautiful daughter Phoebe who sings it.

For dinner we found a place called Art & Gourmet in the middle of a beautiful series of winding back alleys. We were attracted to it at first because someone was sitting at a table outside dressed like a ninja turtle. Why would you not want to eat there? We approached the staff and a young man told us to go away – they didn’t feel like making any more food. Was he kidding? He was not. I showed him that we were a party of fifteen and asked if he would like our money. I was really nice about it. He said he did not. But then a young lady stepped in and sat us. So then this really surly new guy comes over and takes our order, and it was like Eeyore’s birthday. Until I made it my goal to make friends with the guy who had refused us. And it only took a few minutes before I had a new buddy. He came and talked with us and joked and helped me translate something and was, in the end, a really cool guy. The entire staff seemed to lighten up. This is because we are so magical and charismatic; mostly me.

I think I mentioned a Pony Circus show? Yes. We got tickets to that. It’s a no brainer. On our way to it we ran into some missionaries, who we surprised by singing “Called to Serve” while they were crossing a street. They were a bit shocked to see a gaggle of Mormons, but relieved to see friendly faces and hear the language of home. I remember that feeling. One was from Vegas, and another was from Orem. One of them, I can’t remember which, was named Meservy. If you know their families – tell them they are healthy and happy and have strange accents.

So this pony show was awesome. It was actually a circus where people rode horses in a circle and did crazy stunts. It was held in a large tent just off the banks of the river, and we had to cross on the free ferry to get there and walk a little into the woods. It was a little mind game: you felt like you were going back in time. Somehow a family of riding circus performers feels a little 1930’s or something. Anyway, we enjoyed the show. There were a lot of dangerous things they did, and a lady who spun way up high on a rope, and a live band, and cool lighting, and ponies, ponies, and more ponies! (And by that I mean horses. But there was one pony, who made a loop halfway through the show while a lady played a kazoo.)

We ended the night on a ferris wheel, which also seems a little depression-era, and I forgot that ferris wheels are kind of scary. They make rickety noises and they swing a lot when you get to the top. But they are also fun, and make for great photo ops unless your Android takes terrible pictures at night. But maybe it was better to put the camera down and just enjoy an ancient city, lit up for the evening. So that's what I did.

thirty-nine

2011-07-30T23:00:00.002+01:00

Daniel was the first one to wish me Happy Birthday, though it was at 12:20 last night. My birthday actually started with a Happy Birthday rap that Zoe wrote and performed for me right in the middle of the hotel lobby:

I told the groups that for my birthday Daddy needs a “time out,” so after buying them museum passes we all split and went our separate ways. Some went to the Musee D’Orsay, some went to the Catacombs, and I went to Beauberg/Les Halles. This is the area just north of the river, probably most famous for the Centre Pompidou. I’ve been to the Pompidou plenty of times, but never really explored the area around it. So that’s what I did. It’s definitely old city: lots of thin alleys and winding streets. I hung out for a bit at the Stravinsky fountain, which I’ve seen in movies but never live. It’s really kooky! I liked the snake.

I ate lunch at the Cafe Beaubourg. It’s a really cool piece of art deco design, and was very quiet inside. I ate a meal alone, and I really enjoyed that. I’m sure my waiter thought I was really lonely. But I just ate my croque madame and read some Peeta and had a nice time. Outside was so busy and crazy, and this was the perfect little respite.

After that I made my way through streets of bookshops, streets of shoes shops, and lots of t-shirts claiming to be vintage. None of them were, unless you count Spongebob as vintage. The Les Halles shopping center is going through a major reconstruction, so I only went in there briefly to see what all the fuss was about. There’s no fuss. Just a lot of Gaps. Some great statues outside, though, including Pygmalian, by Julio Silva:
I rested for a few minutes at the Fontaine des Innocents. I listened to my ipod and did some people watching. I'm beyond the point now where I worry if people are laughing at my giant green skullcandy earphones. I love them!

And then I was sort of done with markets and people so I went inside St-Eustache church and sat down. I listened to some more music and took the church in. Nobody complained about me wearing giant green earphones in there, so I guess they are pretty allowing. The church is beautiful; very, very tall, and so quiet. The grounds outside were beautiful, and I took a nap under a tree. A nap you say? Happy Birthday! It was hard to sleep, though, with this thing staring at me:

Next up I went to the Forum des Images, a museum for French films, because I love French movies. I had to learn to love them as part of my initiation into the exclusive Club du Pretension. The museum is free to the public, and you are assigned a carrel with a beautiful big screen and a sound system and encouraged to watch any movie you want. The only stipulation is that they have to be French, or filmed in France. So I went with What’s New Pussycat, the Peter Sellars/Woody Allen/Peter O’Toole comedy which I have never seen. It’s wacky! Filmed entirely in Paris.
I met back up with the group for dinner at Crepes a Gogo. There was no birthday monkey business like there was last year. I was relieved, to be honest. We just had good crepes. And then we hustled back to the Eiffel Tower to catch the Fat Tire Evening Bike Tour.

We did the Fat Tire day tour last year and loved it. I daresay the night tour is even better. You stop less, and it’s more about seeing the city than learning about it. The fifteen of us had our own guide: Billy, from California. Billy was entertaining and funny and he encouraged us to boldly dominate the streets, which we quickly learned to do. I think the Fat Tire tours are the best thing a tourist in Paris can do. So fun. We rode to the Sacre Couer, and over to ice cream island (where the students pitched in to buy me a quadruple!) and then onto the grounds of the Louvre, where we had free reign to ride as much as we liked just as the sun was setting. This was surreal to me. This amazing sense of freedom to ride and ride around the pyramids, and the eternal joy I get from getting into people’s photographs who I don’t know.
The bike tour basically ends with a trip up the Seine on a boat. Billy serves wine, but I warned him that we were a giant pack of Mormons so he came prepared with Cokes and Oranginas. Somehow Greg, Billy, and Jaron coerced the entire back of the boat to sing Happy Birthday to me, and it was very awesome and sounded mostly asian.
One last thing: Billy encouraged us to stay for the 1:00 am Eiffel Tower twinkle. Something amazing happens, he said. So we did. And he was right. I won’t tell you what it is, but it’s worth staying up for.

Paris, je T'aime

2011-07-29T23:51:00.002+01:00

We always seem to leave for Paris at the crack of dawn, but this year it was the crack of pre-dawn, and maybe earlier than that. Thankfully everyone was ready on time and the Green Tomato taxi company (sweet silver Priuses!) had four cars lined up outside to get us to St. Pancras. Many things after that are now a blur. We were very sleepy. I remember eating a breakfast something. I remember a security checkpoint. I remember singing “I’m gonna sit right down and bake myself a muffin” in a stupor. But somehow we got on that train. And the train went fast, and the fields were misty, and my eyes were heavy, and we went under the chunnel and boom! We were in Paris.

Paris was not very welcoming at first. It was cold, and I had promised the students it would be warm. It was cloudy and windy when we got to the hotel, but then everyone conked out in their rooms and when we woke up the sun was out. And we had great weather all day.

First order of business was food – I’m a big believer in that whole Maslow thing – so we went to the Carrefour grocery store and everybody got big sandwiches and chips and went into the Georges Brassens Square to eat them. We were surrounded by a murder of crows but we seemed to escape. Greg made up terrible and inaccurate histories of Paris. We debated our chips. And then we headed to the Eiffel Tower, which was a big hit. I never know; sometimes my students don’t like Paris. This group loved it. Loved just about everything about it. Emily was so excited to film the Eiffel Tower from the overground metro that she accidentally filmed everything except it. We walked from the Trocodero to the base of the tower, and the fountains turned on as we passed. I’ve never seen them in action. Impressive water pressure!

Next we went to the St. Michel fountain, where we talked about the Les Mis student uprisings and listened to the soothing saxophone of a gentleman with a mullet. Following this, we dropped in on Shakespeare & Co, which was a little more packed than usual. There was, as always, some piano hog upstairs who kept playing and singing in English – but we met him and his wife outside after and, sure enough, they were BYU Cougars. Then we crossed the river to Notre Dame. Which the students went in, but I did not. I’ve been there many times, and I needed to wait in a 15 minute restroom line monitored by a terrifying woman with a mop.

After this we walked across the bridge to Ile Saint-Louis, which we now call “ice cream island.” This came from last year, when some of the students were looking at a Paris map and saw a giant ice cream cone sign over Ile Saint-Louis. They called it ice cream island, and now we all do. And sure enough, we had ice cream! I had rhubarb, which I know sounds gross. While on ice cream island we also had dinner at a creperie, and were served by this insane but hilarious woman named Mina. She told me to “stop speak,” and she kissed Greg on his ear, and she told Josh he was fat because he asked for ketchup. Every time she brought in food she said “teet teet teet teet!” like some kind of robot. We loved her and feared her.

And then the sun started going down and we went climbed through Montmartre until we reached the steps of the Sacre Couer, solely because it’s the best place to play “your girlfriend/your boyfriend,” a game too complicated to explain here. Just never wear bright colored trousers or crazy hats to the Sacre Couer and you don’t need to worry about being pulled into this game. We also explored the art shops at the top of Montmartre, and nobody bought art but everybody bought gelato. Josh and I had an uncomfortable encounter in the public toilets, which makes two in one day for me. Despite this, I love Montmartre. My favorite part of Paris.

We ended the day as we usually do, watching the Eiffel Tower twinkle. I love hearing the students gasp the first time the twinkles start up. I always gasp a little bit myself. The Eiffel Tower is one of the few world landmarks that is actually larger and more impressive when you see it. You sort of have to remind yourself that you are actually there.

man is a giddy thing

2011-07-28T12:02:00.000+01:00

My students last year responded so well to Hampton Court that I decided to bring the group this year as well. Sometimes I feel like I’m “auditioning” certain places to see if they’ll go into the study abroad roation. So congrats, Hampton Court, you just got called back!

The train ride to Hampton was really fun. The students were in good spirits, which is not unusual for this particular group. I love that. Robbie and Greg kept us entertained on the train, and I appreciate the fact that I can always count on them to do so. I tried to teach Greg how to be a good husband, now that his wife Bonnie is here with us. He didn’t respond very well to my advice. He has a lot to learn. Bonnie is great. She is in remarkably good spirits for someone who just made a huge cross-Atlantic flight and arrived to find her luggage gone. She’s wearing outfits culled together by other girls in the program and is handling that with a lot of positive spirit and patience. I’m impressed. If I got stuck wearing, say, Daniel’s shorts for days and days I would not be so amiable.

Hampton Court has a special theme every day. It’s a piece of history from the day in the life of Henry VIII. Last year, for example, Henry was getting married to his sixth and final wife, Catherine Parr. Today things were not so rosy. Henry was suspecting the very same Catherine Parr of being a supporter of Catholicism. And since he has a history of killing wives, she, and we, were understandably nervous. So you follow these actors from room to room in the palace as they act out a little piece of history. These shows might actually be for kids, I’m not totally sure, but I love it. At one point the king took all the men into another room as his privy council, and he asked us for advice. Nobody really spoke up, so I suggested we “burn her at the stake” and Greg suggested she be drawn and quartered. The dangerous Earl of Wriothesley agreed with us. He liked our statements. In general, we participated so vocally and with such commitment that they started basically acting to us. Which just fanned the flame. Later, the queen was found innocent and we were acquitted for condemning her prematurely, even though we would have probably had our heads chopped off in 1546. The queen gave a lovely speech in which she assured us that she has “no opinions.”

Later I was walking through the royal bedchambers and the man next to me, looking at Henry's giant four-poster, said "I bet that could tell a story or two." And then he moved on.

The train coming home was mysteriously slow, and kept slowing and stopping randomly. The conductor tried to explain what was happening to us, but the intercom made him sound basically like Charlie Brown’s teacher. So we never figured out why it took so long. But we made the best of it. It made for a close shave getting to the show, but we all made it. I even had time to change into a spiffy shirt and re-apply some deoderant. I like being all fancy.

Tonight we saw Much Ado About Nothing with David Tennant and Catherine Tate. David Tennant is famous for being Doctor Who, and Catherine Tate has her own sketch comedy show in the UK, though Americans don’t really know her. She was on an episode of The Office, though. She was interviewing for Michael’s position and kept changing her strategy and opinions to get the job. This production of Much Ado, was, for no good reason, set in the 80’s, and everyone was coming back from the Faulklands War. So there was a lot of George Michael outfits and Footloose-type music. And I didn’t really like it. I wanted to like it, it was high on my hope list, but it just felt really slow and indulgent to me. There were funny bits, but most of it was really scattered and poorly directed. Easily the worst show this year. For me. A lot of the students really loved it. So I’m glad for that. Can’t love them all. But next time don’t change time periods just so people can wear hot pants, and don’t have Claudio run around the stage crying and putting a gun in his mouth. That was so nerdy.

to war!

2011-07-27T14:05:00.001+01:00

If you want to get to see a show at the Donmar Warehouse you have to be really lucky, really famous, or you have to line up at 7:00 am and hope to grab a ticket when they open the box office at 10:30. Since I am neither lucky or famous (Stalking Santa is not the phenomenon here that it is in the US) I took the 7 am option and was the first guy in line! Seats assured! Now just for the 3 ½ hour wait. Luckily, the next customer was Eri Manor, who showed up at 7:40. At first I was planning to just sit quietly and read Peeta, which is my name for The Hunger Games, because I can never remember that name. I was just planning to read m' Peeta and wait it out, but turns out Eri, an Israeli who runs the Tel Aviv film festival, was fascinating. We talked film and politics for a few hours and the time flew by. I was grateful he was there. Sometimes I need to be reminded that there are fascinating people all around me, and I can’t close myself off to them just because it’s easier to stay in my comfort zone. Besides, I’m on book two of Peeta and I don’t really love it. Some of the writing is so cheesy. Here’s an actual line:

“everything will just get more complicated and I really can’t think about kissing when I’ve got a rebellion to incite.”

Gah

We hit two war museums today: the Imperial War Museum and the Churchill War Rooms. I’ve been to the Imperial several times, and I always love it. They had a special exhibit on about children’s war literature, but I didn’t go. I saved that money and had some lunch in the café. And then I had a nap outside under a huge tree. Are you sensing a theme in this trip? Bikes and naps?

The War Rooms I have never been to. I was inspired to make today a “war” theme, since the students are seeing War Horse tonight. But I was also encouraged to go to the War Rooms because my mom told me to. She’s on a Churchill kick, she tells me, and I need to check this thing out. So I did! It was really cool – fun to be in a museum that doesn’t just tell you about the war rooms, but actually was the war rooms. It was fun to wander the halls – it’s this large series of bunkers under Whitehall palace – and think about how many decisions were made down there that shaped the face of WWII. Some of the people who worked there had to live and breathe down there for weeks at a time. I thought it was so incredible, and I learned a lot about Wintston Churchill the man. What a guy.

Walked home through St. James’ Park today. It was full of people and the weather was balmy. Perfect day to be in the park. I wish I could be there with my family! Sometimes homesickness hits me when I’m not prepared for it.

I had a great dinner with Peter White, who is dating my good friend Jenny Latimer. Jenny is like a younger sister to me, so I needed to meet this lad and give him the once over. Which he passed with flying colors. Great guy. Jenny and Peter met while he was music directing the tour of Les Miserables, where she plays Cosette. Peter is English, and we had a great talk about the British/American relationship over dinner at Covent Garden. We also shared audition horror stories, which I especially liked. And we talked about Jenny and all the things we hate about her.

Thanks to my early morning efforts, I got great tickets tonight to see Luise Miller at the Donmar, starring a bunch of people but especially Alex Kingston from ER! I sat by Eri and his wife Ruth, and I loved the show. I love any show at the Donmar, because it’s so intimate. Another person who loved it was Ben Whishaw, who sat right behind me. I’ve never seen this play – it’s 230 years old but you would ever know it. Amazing how good actors can transform old pieces into new ones. I’m always inspired by new visions and new stories, but new visions of old stories are maybe even more exciting.

animals

2011-07-26T23:03:00.000+01:00

Our first order of the day was to celebrate Emily Smith's birthday at Nando's Chicken Factory. The Brazilian music was pumpin for da party, as this video clearly shows:

Then we took off for a tour around the neighborhood. We spend so much time in the West End or South Bank that we sort of miss the fact that we live a block away from two major museums (the Natural History Museum and the V&A) an incredibly ornate and impressive catholic church (the Brompton oratory) and Harrods - which is like nothing else. So that's where we went today. To our own backyard.

Of course we all got separated in Harrods, but I was counting on that. As long as everyone finds something shiny to look at, we're good. I always like looking at the furniture. And I found a very special corduroy armchair. Comfort, with a touch of bemusement.

Jaron and Zoe and I, an hour or so later, fled the tourists (we pretend we aren't tourists) and hit the bikes. I learned today that these bikes are called Boris bikes, named after the mayor who promoted them (thanks, Kate.) We hired a few Boris' and sped through South Kensington. We dominate the streets. We fear nothing (except errant scooters.) Eventually we found Battersea Park, and had a really nice bike ride through it. Jaron and Zoe were impressed by the randomness of Battersea - what? a Buddhist temple? - and I like all the big trees lining the bike path. It was really great.

On our way back we stopped and took a picture of the Battersea Power Station, made famous for being on the cover of Pink Floyd's Animals album with a giant inflatable pig. I didn't know any of this, but Jaron did. So I took this picture completely out of peer pressure.

Tonight's show, Roadshow, was at the Menier Chocolate Factory. I love seeing musicals there. You are right up just feet away from the actors. And the actors are always so energetic and committed at the Menier. Fun to watch. Roadshow is a Steven Sondheim piece that has had countless revisions and has still never had a Broadway premiere. This production was actually the first in Europe. I'm not sure why. It's an interesting story and the music, while it borrows really heavily from Into the Woods and Sunday in the Park with George, was beautiful and really well sung. I enjoyed it a lot. Even though I sat on the front row and got hit with fake money about 12 times. That's show biz!

PS. Before the show started I had to use the bathroom, and there was a little bit of a wait at the urinals. Long story short, a really creepy middle aged man came in, took his shirt off and wet it in the sink, and proceeded to wipe his chest and hairy back with it. Then he pulled another shirt out of a sack and put it on. Then he watched the show. Why two shirts? Why the bath in the middle of this crowded restroom? So many questions.

city portraits

2011-07-25T00:11:00.000+01:00

After class this morning I was going to have a little nap. Teaching wears me out, and I look forward to not talking for a little while after two hours of doing it. Plus, I really wanted to eat this donut I had purchased earlier. But then Daniel texted "bike ride?" and I remembered the lesson London always teaches me: I can sleep when I'm dead. So we went on a bike ride.

The Barclay's Bikes are my new London find. They are the best. You pay a pound and you ride basically anywhere you need to go on these really comfortable beach cruisers. And there are docking stations all over town, so you can ride where you need to, park where you need to, and get places faster. Plus, it's so fun. The only downside is that every time I ride these bikes, now, I can't stop singing that muppet "Why Shouldn't We Ride?" song in my head. Thanks, Robbie! But as a downside, it's not that bad. Another downside: you have to ride on the road and the taxis get really close. But it's all part of the excitement!

Dan and Heather and I rode to Holland Park, a really nice place just northwest of where we live. I haven't been to Holland Park for a few years, and it was good to get back. Always nice landscaping and beautiful gardens, and I get to see some of my special friends. Including this guy, who takes his shirt off and sits in a chair.
But as I mentioned, Holland Park is really nice. So great to just sit on a bench for a few minutes and think. I liked that a lot. And I think I mentioned it, but I'm a little obsessed with the Barclay's Bikes.

The group convened and we departed for Westminster Abbey, but wouldn't you know it? When we got there we found 40 million people had the same idea. I've never seen a line like that at the Abbey. Oh, Kate Middleton. What hath she wrought? So we changed plans and walked through St. James to the National Gallery. Actually, I went to the National Portrait Gallery, my favorite art gallery in London. I saw some great pics of people I admire:

Bill Nighy, an actor from I Capture the Castle, Love Actually, and the Harry Potter movies.

Christopher Nolan, director of Inception and The Dark Knight.
And I always like to see the BP Portrait Award winners. Here are two I really liked:

After this we wandered over to Covent Garden. Well, first we spent some time in Neals Yard, where Greg narrated Cherie's documentary with all kinds of false information about Neals Yard.

Then we visited the always pungent Neals Yard cheese shop, and had samples and smelled cheese.
Then we laid on the grass of the actors church and I don't know what everyone else did then, because I fell asleep. I know everybody ate. When we woke up I saw this:
And then we saw a bum fight, and then we saw a man on stilts in his underpants, and then we saw those naked baby globes again, and then we saw a girl singing opera, and then we saw a lady with an incredibly foul mouth in the Covent Garden tube station lift. We saw lots of things, none of which I took pictures of, because sometimes I just need to process them. There was a lot to process.

Tonight we saw Lend Me a Tenor, a fantastic musical written by my good friend Peter Sham. It's crazy and exciting to see my friends working in the West End, and I'm proud of Peter for getting a show into the Gielgud Theatre on Shaftesbury Avenue. That's the big time! It was a fantastic show. So funny, so tight, and so cleverly staged. The singing was incredible, and the pacing was perfect. I really loved it, and I was proud to drop Peter's name.
A spooky thing happened at intermission, and I would be remiss if I didn't mention it. Greg and I were wandering the theatre looking for a famous painting of a cat - it's hidden somewhere in the theatre. While we were looking an old creaky door swung open on it's own, just feet away from us. We approached it. By this time another student, Morgan Fenner, had joined us. Since I faithfully watch Ghost Hunters I've learned to address whatever it was directly:

"Hello," I said. "I noticed you opened that door. Could you do it again?" Immediately, the door cracked open.

"Great. Thank you. Could you do it again for me?" Immediately, another crack open.

We waited a bit and didn't say anything. Nothing happened. Then Greg said "I bet it won't happen again." And immediately it cracked open again.

We left, but came back to the doors a few minutes later. We were too curious and had to make sure it wasn't just air pressure or coincidence.

"Are you a boy?" I asked. The door opened about an inch.

"If you are a boy, could you do that again?" The door opened about three inches.

That was it. It was so awesome! I love ghosts and yes, I believe in them. Life's too short not to. Especially in creepy old theatres. And trust me, this was not air pressure. We checked everything.

But back to the show. Afterwards the stage manager, thanks to my good friend Peter again, took us all onto the stage and back behind the scenes. It was exciting to be up there and see how everything operates. It made the West End feel even more tangible, and you realize that it's not all that different from the work we do back home. And then the three male leads, Matthew Kelly, Damian Humbley, and Michael Matus came out and talked with us for a good half hour. They were so gracious and kind to the students. They gave wonderful advice and had solid insights that I think my students needed to hear. It was just a really great evening, and gave us all a sense of excitement and a burst of creative encouragement.

sensory sunday

2011-07-24T23:13:00.002+01:00

I went to church this morning - the Mormon kind - though it was the singles ward. I feel weird going to the singles ward, for obvious reasons, but the family ward didn't start until 1, and I got stuff to do. Anyway, I was only there for sacrament meeting and there isn't any kind of pre-marital checkpoint before you can get in, so it was fine. Oddly, nobody mentioned pioneers or sang any pioneer hymns. On the 24th of July. Is that just a Utah thing?

We went to church twice today. The second time was at St. Augustine's Church, which is just around the corner from our flats. Some of the students had never been to a non-LDS service, and I heard the bells ringing and smelled the incense, so we went right in. There was a small four person choir who sounded like twenty people - they sang a Mozart mass and it was really beautiful. The church had more people in it than I expected, and the pastor gave a really nice sermon about understanding your calling. He probably wouldn't understand my calling, but most people don't. So two church services, and both inspiring in different ways.

We walked to Hyde Park afterwards and had tea in the Kensington Orangery. It's sort of a Sunday tradition, though we're not huge tea drinkers. You go to the Orangery mostly for ambiance. The food is good but not great, and the service is slow. But it feels like an age gone by, and it somehow manages to be refined and relaxed at the same time. I once went there alone and read an entire newspaper. I had a nice chicken breast which, sadly, had been topped with anchovy skins. NOT ON THE MENU

On our way there we looked at Diana's sunken gardens (NOT A EUPHEMISM) and several schoolchildren had written their wishes down on paper and hung them inside these red glass balls. It was really cool. Some of them were funny, and some of them were kind of poignant. I liked this one:

It reminded me of another little girl who wants to be a cat:

After lunch Zoe, Casey, Dan, Heather and I went to the Dennis Severs house in the old city. This place was pretty incredible. It's an old house - a few hundred years - and it's about 6 stories tall. The idea of the Severs House is that it's a full sensory experience. Every room is decorated in a historical style - it's sort of a time capsule - but it's supposed to feel lived in. The idea is that the family just left the room as you entered - so candles are lit, food is on the table, and beds are messy. Things have been dropped on the floor, and a cat is prowling around. You hear voices talking in the next room and carriages outside, but you never see them. And rooms smell like firewood or coal or oil or any number of things. And you aren't allowed to talk inside at all. You walk around in silence and listen. It's really amazing. I loved it. It's the closest you will ever get to living in the past.

We stopped so we could rest, and talk, at the Water Poet pub. It's right across from the Severs House, but is far more lively, obviously. We had diet cokes and then headed further into Hoxton to find Ryantown, a cool little shop where artist Rob Ryan hand makes these cool cut prints:

After this we were tired of walking, and tired of markets, and tired of the city, so we went to Hampstead. I spent a Sunday in Hampstead last year, and it was maybe my favorite thing I did last year. This year I had company and I was excited to show it off a little. The first thing you notice about Hampstead is how quiet it is. You forget, in London, that life exists without the constant noise of the city. We had dinner at Pizza Express - we sat by an open window and that was awesome. It was a warm day, but then evening hit and everything was kind of perfect. We walked through town - the most amazing little houses here - and into the Heath. I turned on some Bon Iver and had a great little nap in the middle of the park until Daniel's dive-bomb woke me up and scared the crap out of me.
And then the sun went down and we explored the Vale of Health, and just took time to enjoy the quiet. It was just what we all needed. That, and some fries from McDonald's! Not going to lie about that. Thanks, Hampstead McDonalds for being just the perfect crispy and salty!!

stuff we saw

2011-07-23T23:21:00.000+01:00

It's Saturday and we had every intention of doing a breakfast in Hyde Park, but I think everyone was so knackered from our double header yesterday that we all decided to sleep in. That was fantastic. I get to the point where people are shouting on the porch outside my window - London is crazy noisy - and I sleep through it. Thanks, sleeping pills! I promise not to abuse you.

The students went on a National Theatre tour today at noon, but again I opted out, as I've been through the National Theatre now four times. Instead, Daniel, Heather, Jaron and I went next door to the Hayward Gallery. In the past the Hayward Gallery was a really fun art instillation where one might encounter exploding houses, or giant rooms filled with stretchy fabric to explore. What lay in store for us today? Tracey Emin: Love Is What You Want, an exhibit wherein Tracey Emin filled floor after floor of cat-scratch drawings of herself naked. Were we prepared for that? We were not. Were we delighted by this? We were not. We were depressed and got out of there. I did enjoy some of her neon signs, but that was about it. There was also a video of her asking a dog if he thought she was attractive, and another one where she danced around a room to some 90's music. Thanks for sharing, Tracey!

We spent lunch erasing Ms. Emin's netherworld from our mind by grabbing some Greggs sandwiches and eating at Somerset House. I learned about Somerset House from watching Last Chance Harvey with Emma Thompson and Dustin Hoffman. They met there at one point and I remember thinking that I had no idea where it was, but that it looked really cool. So I looked it up, and vowed I would go. It really is a nice square. It was full of jetting fountains today, and it was really fun to watch a band of little girls playing in it. I thought of Phoebe and Margaret, of course, and it was a nice little reminder that there are children in London. You sort of get used to not seeing any. Next we went to H&M, because that's what you do here. We went to the one in Knightsbridge even though there was a terrifying Anti-Fur lady demonstrating in front of it. Then I took Jaron to Harrods which, on a Saturday, is packed. But always impressive. Is there anything like it in the world? It's overwhelming and fascinating at the same time. I love the food galleries. Rows and rows of meat, cheese, and produce arranged like an art exhibit. And I like the free cologne samples in the bathroom. Harrod's does not like you to sit in their windowsills, but that doesn't stop me.

Tonight we gussied up and headed back to the National for the final show we're seeing there: Emperor and Galilean. This play is by Henrik Ibsen, who also wrote A Doll's House. But it's nothing like A Doll's House. It's about the Emperor Julian, who attempted to return Rome to it's pagan state. It was 3 1/2 hours of that, and that's the edited version. But I actually really liked it. Or I really admired it. It's a tough play - and the first time it's ever been staged in Britain. But that's what you get at the National: a lot of tough plays done really well. And it co-starred Emperor Palpatine. It's always nice when he turns up. It was also really bloody. I thought it was a fascinating look at Christianity, and the pride cycle in man. Julian started out as such a nice guy, but power corrupts. Same thing happened to me as soon as I got into the Order of the Arrow.

There was such a beautiful sunset at intermission.

towers, devils, and nooses

2011-07-22T16:51:00.000+01:00

We left early for the Tower of London today. Just a few hundred years ago we would have left early for the Tower because we wanted to see some beheadings. Today we leave early to beat giant Austrian school groups. It was a nice day for the Tower - good weather, and the promise of some kind of stuffed lion exhibit inside. But I rarely go to the Tower with the group anymore; I've been there several times and I don't want to be the guy who hustles everyone through it too quickly, or complains about how the royal jewels are fake, or whispers the punchlines to jokes the Beefeaters are about to make on the tour. So I went out to take care of some errands, and Cherie and Daniel, also Tower vets, went with me.

We started in Piccadilly and took care of some play ticket switchings. Then we headed to "the City" to look for a museum I had read about. I put quotes around "the City" because "the City" of London is really tiny. The Roman wall tells us so. Everything not downtown is not, actually, London. It's Westminster, or Kensington, or any other number of places. And to be honest, "the City" is mostly a business district - so we don't go there much. But the architecture is amazing. It's these incredibly inventive modern structures interspersed with dour Victorian tenements. It's really fascinating. This area was heavily bombed in the war - but London re-emerged with some pretty amazing design.

On our way to the tube stop we ran into Josh and Greg, who had left the Tower and started walking to the Globe for our matinee. Unfortunately they were walking in the wrong direction. They told me that they would have eventually found it, and I agreed - once they had crossed Eastern Europe, Asia, the Pacific Ocean, and the US. They would, eventually find it. But the miracle of it is that we ran into them at all. On a street downtown we never go to, in a neighborhood I don't really know, in a city of 8 million people, we all managed to find each other. And then have a Whopper.

We met up as a group today at the Globe for the matinee of Doctor Faustus. Even though it's by Christopher Marlowe, it's a perfect play for Shakespeare's Globe. While waiting in line for the show to start, we listened to this man (behind Daniel) talk a lot about Richard III.

And Casey and Heather tickled Zoe.

And I did a special trick with my camera inside the Globe.

This production was unlike anything I had seen there. It was full of movement and puppetry and magic. The costumes and design was spectacular. And the show was funny, wicked, and surprising. One of the best things I've ever seen there. I wish I could tell you what they put into this show, but it would be a giant spoiler, and it would also make my mother blush. The end scene shows Doctor Faustus being dragged to Hell, and Hell, as it turns out, is full of babies made from intestines who sing like a perky Tim Burton chorus. It was horrible and funny at the same time, and Arthur Darvill's performance as Mephistopheles was mesmerizing. I can't say enough about this show. A complete inspiration for me as a director. Here's a trailer for it, if that helps. Click here.
It's tough to follow that, which was clearly proved by the lecture we next attended at the National Theatre. I took the students there in preparation for Emperor and Galilean, which we are seeing tomorrow night. Its a doozy of a play, and I thought the lecture might be enlightening. Instead, it was super boring! It was just this frizzy haired Scandinavian woman who basically read from her notes. Luckily, just a half hour long.

And then we ate at EAT, the best name ever for a deli. And then it was time, again, for Regent's Park. We made it there in fine time, having travelled the same path last night. The weather threatened rain, but it held up for a while. The Beggar's Opera is a light opera written by John Gay. It was written in 1728, and it's one of those plays where characters stop and sing little ditties that have nothing to do with the plot. This production was fairly wacky. There were a lot of prostitutes and people swinging from nooses. At one point, Captain Macheath got his foot accidentally caught in a bedskirt. It took the actors a while to get him loose, and it was very funny. It was just a boisterous and bizarre production, and I'm still deciding whether I liked it. It didn't bore me, that's for sure. And Greg giggled through it, which made me laugh a lot. But our group seemed to be the only ones laughing at anything. A midget with a mask and a feather whip ran around stage and nobody even cracked a smile. What does it take, people? When the rain hit we just put up our umbrellas, which is technically against the rules of the theatre, but everyone did it. Mob rule! And it was fun to finish the show under umbrage. And with some hot chocolate. And a lot of bustiers on stage. Yikes!

rain and regents

2011-07-21T17:09:00.000+01:00

Today was particularly rainy. I don't know what's going on in London this year, except that it's London and it's supposed to be rainy. But it's more rainy than usual. El Nino? Today was drizzly and then it was really wet and then it was drizzly again. I don't mind it, and some of the students love it, but I can't handle it longer than a few days. I got stuff to see, yo.

We met up with Mark Oram at Nando's Chicken Factory on Gloucester road. It's a restaurant, not an actual chicken factory. Mark is a former student who is now studying at my alma mater, Exeter. He's in London working with his theatre company, Grassroots Shakespeare UK. I'm proud of how much he's done and I'm impressed with his vision and ambition. He's coming back to Utah this Fall and I think he's going to be a great asset to our local theatre community. We broke bread together, or, in this case, broke chicken together. And we had a good talk.

Next we all went to see Being Shakespeare at the Trafalgar Theatre. This is a one man show that takes the famous "seven ages of men" speech from As You Like It, and breaks down Shakespeare's life into these seven ages. It's very clever. It's also a little pedantic, and tough to stay awake through if you're well fed and at a matinee. Simon Callow is amazing. My chief memory of him is his skinny dip in A Room with a View, but turns out he's been in more than that. He's an incredibly talented actor. As he moved through Shakespeare's life he also morphed in and out of several characters from Shakespeare's plays. It was really an impressive performance.

I know it's probably inappropriate to put pictures of other people's kids on the internet, but I walked behind this baby for about a half mile on my way to the theatre. And I want to eat it! I want to eat this baby!

I said a few furtive prayers that the rain would let up in time for us to have dinner in Regent's Park, and the Heavens obeyed. The rain stopped and everything in Regent's Park was green and moist. That's right, I said moist. I was going to say "lush," but who uses that word? Anyway. We all ate our sack dinners around the Triton Fountain and played our traditional game of Silent Football. Greg was the captain, and he was fair and judicial. He also pulled no punches, and I appreciate that in a captain. I tried to sabotage Daniel, but it didn't work. And Zoe almost lost for just being Zoe. In the end, Josh lost and had to ask a stranger how to get to Regent's Park, even though we were standing in the middle of it. Josh took his punishments.

Also, a madman with a wandering eye attacked me while I was having a nice conversation with Robbie.

And later we stumbed across....A MURDER!

We realized, just before entering the theatre, that we had tickets for Friday's performance at Regent's Park instead of Thursday, a small detail that I hadn't bother to check on the tickets. Whoops. Never done that before. So suddenly our evening was wide open. Our solution was to rent bikes near our flat and pedal through Hyde Park at dusk. Which turned out to be so much fun, and such an adventure, that I don't know why we've never done that before. There we were, a group of thirteen on flashing beach cruisers, dominating the bike paths and circling the lakes. We took a break at the Serpentine and told funny stories, and then finished a loop around the park just as it was getting dark. Really a fun and memorable night. Robbie said it reminded him of this.

all's well that ends well

2011-07-20T00:05:00.000+01:00

We started our day with a matinee of All's Well that Ends Well at the Globe. Actually, we started the day with class. But mostly class is me talking and balancing my laptop on a narrow television while the students eat cocoa puffs and pretend to listen. Hard as I try, there's not a lot of exciting things about class, except every once in a while someone confesses a deep and terrible secret, or Daniel tells us about ice skating disasters. But back to All's Well.

This is a really tough play. I saw it a few years back at the National, and I admired it then. It's hardly ever performed because it's basically about a really awesome girl who spends five acts chasing around this total tool she has a crush on. So it's tough for the audience, because you want her to move on to somebody a little more her equal. Someone who will actually love her back. But she doesn't. And then she tricks him into marrying her, and tricks him into sleeping with her, and tricks him into giving her a ring. Romeo and Juliet it ain't. But the National seemed to pull it off, and this year the Globe did as well. Somehow they made us care about this relationship between a charismatic, intelligent young woman and this frat bro she's stuck on. The play was funny, fresh, and surprising. And it's always wonderful to watch plays at the Globe, especially when you can lean up on the stage. Half the fun is the audience. There was a woman who kept flashing her underwear (don't ask - she was old) and a bunch of English schoolkids in uniforms that I accused of being from Hogwarts. Also there was a lady in the audience who looked like a ghost, except for her blood red eyes! I wish I had a picture so bad. You'd see what I mean. Spooky! And funny.

We had dinner afterwards at Leon. They make really great box meals for folks on the go. We weren't really on the go, but we had box meals anyway.

Our next destination was the National Theatre to watch a show called The Mill which was described as a "mind-boggling show performed entirely in a giant revolving wheel suspended above the ground." Sound exciting? I'm sure it would have been! It was rained out. But our sadness turned into sheer joy as we realized we were 25 feet away from the premiere of Horrible Bosses, the new film starring Jason Bateman, Jennifer Aniston, and Jason Sudeikis. All of whom we saw in incredibly close proximity. I don't think I'm all that giddy about stars generally, but whoo boy. I sort of freaked out. Bateman sped by, all 98 lbs of him, but Sudeikis came over for a little chat and took a picture with Morgan. Aniston got by far the loudest cheers, and they whisked her by us pretty quickly, but she was kind and said hello while we jumped up and down like frantic monkeys. This is London. Something falls through, something else pops up. In this case, A-listers. (Look closely. In the crowd behind her are Jaron and Cherie!)
This was proved a second time tonight as seven of us headed to Holborn Station to catch the Richard III ghost tour. When we made it to the station it was raining out of control. Pelting rain. We waited for Richard under awnings and watched people slip and slide all over the streets. Kind of fun, actually. I also had a great chat with Jaron Hermanson, a student I've always liked but never known really well. We sat under a Costa Coffee overhang and talked about life. In the end, Richard III never turned up, though he claimed later that he did. But we were determined to do a ghost walk, so I led one of my own. More of a ghost pub crawl, but whatever works.

Here at the Two Chairmen pub outside Trafalgar we took our phones with ghost apps into the supposedly haunted bathrooms. I didn't get much, except sweet relief at the urinal. We felt that the ghosts may have been uncommunicative due to the Michael Jackson loop on the jukebox.

Darkness had settled in by the time we hit the Silver Cross in Whitehall. We gathered in a back corner table and avoided the waitstaff. We weren't really buying drinks and the kitchen was closed. So we were basically squatters. We huddled around a big oak table and told stories of dark shadows, cackling laughs, and spooky basements.

We ended the night at the Patisserie Pompidou just up from Embankment. I had a pizza. Everyone else had hamburgers or crepes or basic varieties of pompidou. That's code for "I can't remember what other people ate." We found the restrooms here to be spooky as well. Greg and I heard a mysterious beeping! But the scariest story at this stop came from Aubrie, who told us of a terrifying female coworker in sweatpants and frizzy hair who wrote love poems to her and loved slasher movies and bought her a teddy bear dressed like a soccer player. That story took about 45 minutes, but was worth it! And was clearly the scariest of the night.

theatre history

2011-07-19T12:05:00.000+01:00

Today was a reunion of sorts with Richard III, who led us on our ghost tour three years ago. I didn't specifically book Richard for our theatreland walking tour today, but we were assigned him and I was thrilled by that. Richard is pretty amazing as tour guides go. He's funny and dramatic and knows how to tell a story. Nobody can punctuate a legend the way he does, and nobody else has the same talent with pause and effect. He's awesome. So funny. Richard walked us around the West End and gave us London Theatre History 101. We learned about fires, Shakespeare, ghosts, and Nell Gwynn, King Charles II's mistress who called herself the "Protestant whore." Richard, if pressed, will tell you what he thinks of current plays running (hint: he hates most of them) and will do impressions of the leading actors. He loves to go to the opera, but hates all the operas he goes to. He's in a perpetual state of curiosity and snark, and there's nobody quite like him if you want to walk around Covent Garden. We had a great time.

After this we were left to our own devices. Many of us headed back to Covent Garden, since Parliament was covered by a mass of international media for the grilling of Rupert Murdoch. It was exciting to be just blocks away from where Rupy was getting a pie in the face. London is never boring.

We stopped first at the Angel & Crown pub, one of my favorites. I had my traditional bangers & mash, though most of the students opted for a half plate of fish and chips. Greg ordered a "full man" plate, and proudly ate it. Zoe, as you can see, is suitably impressed.

After lunch we headed back to Covent Gardens and went our separate ways. Greg and I visited Benjamin Pollack's toyshop, a non-stop source of inspiration for me as a director. I love toy theatres, and I really love Punch and Judys. But today we were fascinated with these snow globes with naked babies in them. Naked babies standing up. I wondered if, when you shook the globe, the babies put some clothes on, but the salesman reassured me that they didn't. They just stand naked in the snow. He then took the globes out of the case and told us all about them, explained why they are such big sellers, and informed us that they carry white babies and black babies and (in a whisper) "we've got a couple of Chinese ones." We also had this conversation:

Me: But naked baby snow globes are so creepy!

Him: Yes. Creepy sells.

Me: It looks like the baby is about to walk.

Him: Yes! They are full of potential.

Tonight we saw The Cherry Orchard at the National Theatre. This is the second time I've seen The Cherry Orchard over here, and my hat is off to anyone who attempts Chekhov. People always say that Shakespeare is the Olympics of acting, but I think it might actually be Russian realism. It's so talky, and there's no action, and everybody talks about going to Moscow but nobody ever goes to Moscow. That's a giant preface for me telling you that this was a fantastic Cherry Orchard. It was a new adaptation by Andrew Upton, Mr. Cate Blanchett himself, and it was so funny and thoughtful and sad. They hooked me from the beginning and held me - I didn't even notice the interminable discussions. I was really amazed that Chekhov could be this interesting, this fresh, and this beautiful. Kudos to Zoe Wanamaker, Claudie Blakley, and Conleth Hill for their fantastic performances.
To balance out our evening of high art, we all took the tube to the High Street Kensington McDonald's. And no one apologized for it! The best part of this meal was that the ice cream machine went on the fritz and soft serve kept coming and coming. They couldn't shut it off! It was exciting to watch. Also, we caught the "murder" tube home. But that's a story for another time.

woke up in london yesterday

2011-07-18T00:11:00.000+01:00

Everyone showed up just fine today, so you can breathe easy. I certainly did. I always spend the first half of day one anxiously watching my phone and craning my ear to the window for any sound of luggage rolling and thumping down Manson Place. I check murder reports and kidnapping files. I eagerly rotate through airline websites for any news of disappearing planes. But there was no need for that. Everyone showed up at various levels of grogginess, and they settled into Flat 15 with relative ease. Once everyone had unpacked we trekked around the corner to the fancy new Waitrose grocery store, which now eliminates the need for that crappy old Tescos with their gross sandwiches and their outdated credit card machines. We've moved on, Old Brompton Road Tesco!!! We ate our lunch on the steps of Flat 15, and at one point Zoe confessed her feelings for Casey just as he emerged from the front door.

Today is twofold: get to know your hood, and stay awake. Both involve walking. It wasn't long into our walk that the drizzle hit. We ducked into many doorways and stoops, but eventually crawled our way through South Kensington. Past the museums, past the LDS church, through Hyde Park, on the #9 bus to the High Street, and onto the tube to Gloucester Road. With a less enthusiastic and peppy group a little drizzle might be a challenge, but this group seems determined to enjoy everything, including their umbrellas. And the drizzle comes and goes, so it's not too bad. At least Hyde Park is bright green this year and the flowers are incredible. This is why.

We broke for lunch and I had a traumatic dinner experience at Cafe Nero. I went in to get a quick panini, and I grabbed a ham and cheddar. It took a while to grill up, but i didn't mind because it's always worth it. Unless you accidentally grab a fish sandwich instead! Which is what I did. Which is what I basically choked down. I know it seems ungrateful when so many people are starving, etc. But seriously. Fish sandwiches? So gross. I got past it. It was my mistake.

We reconvened as a group and walked through downtown London, and everyone came with their second wind. The light rain had made the Millenium Bridge slippery, which the group took nice advantage of.

Sadly, we found a dead pigeon near St. Paul's.

But on a lighter note, Daniel rescued a dying pigeon near the Tate! It's the circle of life.

We took a little break at the Founder's Arms pub and had hot chocolate, and then we moved on down the river. The river walk was fairly quiet tonight, which made our walk even better. We could spread out a little, stop for pictures, and there was no competition for the giant green furniture at the National. Trafalgar Square was similarly empty, which is really a nice surprise. That place is usually a madhouse. So we had a really pleasant walkthrough. We stopped at the haunted spot in St. James park and you better believe I pulled out my Android ghost tracking app! We huddled under a tree and communicated with a ghost called "Fred" who didn't have much else to say. I bet you think I'm kidding about all this.

And then I realized I had done my job. I kept them awake. They were joking and having fun. But most importantly they were alive and in the most amazing city in the world. We came home and everybody crashed. I assume. I didn't see it. They are probably all still awake over there, chatting on facebook and eating gummi worms.

ships ahoy!

2011-07-17T11:25:00.000+01:00

There's not a lot to report about the Gatwick Express, except that it seamlessly takes you from Gatwick to Victoria station, and everybody falls asleep on it. It's a smooth ride and you are only disturbed once by the ticket taker, who, in this particular case, was the skinniest, creepiest Filipino on record. I made it safely to Manson Place - my third year staying here - and set up my space in Flat 2. I've stayed in this flat before - it has a very Hobbit kitchen.

I was preceded in London by Daniel Whiting, Casey Price, Jaron Hermanson, Robbie Pierce, and Heather Murdock. They were eagerly awaiting me next door in Flat 15. And by eager I mean their eyes were closed and they were in bed. But eventually Daniel roused them for a day of adventure. My goal is always to fight jetlag by staying constantly busy. It's an uphill battle. We didn't have anything planned so I presented three options:

1. We could go see Pericles in the park.

2. We could go look at some shops I read about where you can buy stuffed zebras and grand pianos. In the same shop! Real zebras!

3. We could go to Greenwich.

Everybody picked Greenwich. I was fine with that, since it has been over five years since I've been there, and I've always wondered why it wasn't very exciting the first time. But first we stopped at the Kensington Creperie, since it's the best creperie of all time and I'm not exaggerating. And we had some amazing food and some awkward service, but you always do there. They do not split checks, fyi, unless you want to split it for them. And you have to use your cell phone because they do not have a calculator. But you don't care about the hassle of the bill, because man - those crepes are amazing. We headed next to Westminster and jumped on the riverboat. I suspected it might be one of those giant floating barges packed with tourists and a guy telling canned jokes with a portable microphone. I was correct! But what I didn't know was that it would also be a Poseidon Adventure! A major storm hit just as we embarked and we feared a) capsizing and b) brief hail. While the rest of the tourists stampeded down below for shelter, the six of crammed under four umbrellas and toughed it out. Possibly the hardest I have laughed in a long time. Something else we weathered was this belligerent Russian man who wore a yellow poncho and found his way into many of our pictures:

90 minutes later we hit Greenwich and disembarked with our sea legs. The weather had cleared and we hit the outdoor market. Mostly it just made us all hungry, but luckily we found the local Greggs - a shop that sells fresh baked goods until they sell out, at which time they just close up shop. We ate baguettes and some donuts called "Yum Yums" under nearby St. Alfege church. Then we headed up a tree-lined walkway to the Greenwich Royal Observatory, a place that Dan claimed was "where time was invented." There's a median line there where you can put one foot in the eastern hemisphere and one in the western hemisphere. It's great, except you have to pay to do that. But then we found ANOTHER secret line which you don't have to pay for. It's less fancy. So it's basically the meridian line for poor people. We then visited the Queen's House and the National Maritime Museum. Here's a photo of me enjoying myself there:When we returned to the boat it had mysteriously already set sail, even though we were right on time. We were not the only ones in that predicament. There were probably about one hundred other people, including a really grouchy lady named Roberta, but we were the only smart ones who ran to get refunds from the ticket booth before they ran out of cash to give back. Thus began an adventure wherein we took a bus. Here's Jaron and me really enjoying that bus ride:

But with the refunds we got from the HMS Titanic we had money to go to Wagamamas, which you better believe we did! And then we walked through town, snapping pictures at and above Trafalgar Square, and riding in a swanky elevator that felt like a nightclub.

there and back again

2011-07-16T23:47:00.000+01:00

I always like to start another year of mind the gap, though it's difficult when you have nothing exciting to report. I actually have a lot to report, but most of it is fraught with anxiety and includes a lot of reports about meals and airport shuttles. Don't worry, I'm not sick. I'm just in Denver. Exciting Denver, one state over. By the way, anybody else get the creeps at the Denver airport? Here's why.

The day began at the Provo Airport, which I was more excited about than the actual flight to London. Lisa dropped me off just fifteen minutes away from my own doorstep. The check in line was ridiculously short, and the security was quick and breezy. I could get used to this! But sadly I don't think I'll ever getting used to de-planing because one of the jet's engines wouldn't start. And then waiting two hours so some fix-it man could drive down from Salt Lake. So I missed my connecting flight in Denver, and was forced to stay a reasonably comfortable night at the Country Inns & Suites near the airport. It was not too bad, really, though full of junior high school girls on some kind of soccer team. They were drawing Harry Potter tattoos all over themselves in the lobby. I tried to swim in the pool, but turns out swimming by yourself is super boring!

I escaped hotel ennui for a bit at a nearby Outback Steakhouse. Turns out, eating by yourself is super boring! But I kept myself amused by reading The Hunger Games on my kindle. I may be the last person to read these books. But I like them. I liked eating a big steak and thinking about Katniss & crew starving. I didn't find it ironic at all! Mostly tasty. On my walk back to the hotel an incredibly powerful lightning storm hit. I watched it out my hotel window and talked to my mom on the phone. A few hours after this phone call my grandfather and namesake, Layton Byron Jones, passed away in Washington State. He was 98 and pretty sick, so we saw it coming. But I can't help but think that the lightning storm was his way of telling me goodbye.

recap '10

2010-09-13T17:13:00.007+01:00

I really enjoyed study abroad this year. It was a year of discovery for me - I tried to find new places to see, new things to experience, and new enjoyment in the familiar. The group was terrific: fun, pliable, positive, offbeat, and willing to try everything. I loved that.

A couple of details about the trip, more for me to remember than anyone else:

The Group: Cherie Julander, Alex Ungerman, Kristi Summers, Rachel Cox, Brozin Mottaghian, Jacob Porter, Scott and Alta Stringham, Daniel Whiting, Katie Sullivan, Becca Ingram, Jessamyn Svensson, and Nicholas Grossaint.

I read: The Lonely Polygamist, by Brady Udall. Barrel Fever: Stories and Essays, by David Sedaris.

2010 playlist:

Killed Myself When I Was Young - A.A. Bondy
That Beep - Architecture in Helsinki
Fire - Augustana
The Cult of Karl - Chris Merritt
Any Fun - Coconut Records
We Used to Vacation - Cold War Kids
Believe E.S.P. - Deerhoof
Sailing by Night - Department of Eagles
Light a Roman Candle With Me - Fun.
Driveway - Great Northern
Switched On - Islands
Go Do - Jonsi
Good Day - Jukebox the Ghost
World News - Local Natives
Come Ye Children of the Lord - The Lower Lights
Love for Granted - Phoenix
Pretend - Shark Speed
Oh Mandy - The Spinto Band
Something Good Can Work - Two Door Cinema

People: Anastasia B, the awesome front desk crew at Queen's Gate, The Great Gandinis, magenta bonnet, Gillian Chadwick, Sam Wills, bizarre muttering Indian Tour guide at Sherlock Holmes, The Seeleys and the Tates, Nick at the Globe, The Hampton Court reveler, super encouraging Globe usher/midget, Charlie Cox & Ian McDiarmid, Trilby Cope, Kate & Amelia Ngai, the good staff at the Everyman, guy on the lawn outside Keats' house, Mark & Stephanie Oram, Mark Rylance, David Suchet & Zoe Wanamaker, the nice kids from U of Southern Miss, Jo Breslin & Jill Cowley, Christina Gutekunst, Alta's boob friend, slowly internally dying Thai waitress, the creepy line butter, Jamie Parker & Roger Allam, Borzin's train seatmates, Percy at Ajiel, The kissing staff at Cafe a Gogo, butterfly pin guy in Paris, The good folks at Kok Ping, Kiwi Karl, piano hog at Shakespeare & Co, the American lady on the train who hates Paris, drunk Germans on the tube, Gwin, the guy at the Dirty Duck who dislikes credit cards, Sir Toby & Andrew at Shakespeare's house, flaming Hall's Croft tour guide, angry guard at John Soane's, my seatmate at Into the Woods who hated it, Dominic Rowan & Amanda Lawrence, Benedict Cumberbatch & Nancy Carroll, the old lady I got in a fight with at the National, our irrepressible National tour guide, the awkward aquarium guy, the special kew garden lady on the bench, fancy french waiter at Ma Cuisine with his surly teen busboy, cockney bus driver lady, naked Philip Herbert, James and Colleen Arrington, Frank at the Edinburgh Castle, Ricardo & Paty & Leo, Miguel & Pedro & Sandra, Senior Nevua 1 & 2, Anxious Spanish hot tubbers, everyone at the Avioso, Jackson on the plane

Quote to remember: "Walking skeletons, what do you think? Now my monkey will pour you a drink!"

My favorite shows: After the Dance, Henry IV 1 & 2, Tabu, The Prince of Homburg, The War Horse

Thoroughly enjoyed: Naked Splendour, Keepers, The Winter's Tale, All My Sons, La Bete, The Comedy of Errors, Love Never Dies, The Habit of Art, Carmen Funebre, The Great Gandini's

Meh: Henry VIII, Aspects of Love, Enron, Eonnagata, Danton's Death, Billy Elliot, The Late Middle Classes

Avoid at all costs: Into the Woods

Movies I watched: Inception

I want to say a special thank you to my new friends in Portugal. The four days I spent with you in Geres will always be some of my favorite memories. Especially thank you to Ricardo, a great friend who accommodated me and made me feel welcome, even when turning cows.

I think this completes my account. This was a wonderful trip. If you would like to come with us next year, please consider it. I would love to talk to you more about coming. You can contact me at clarkch@uvu.edu.

Cheers!

Portugal

2010-08-16T21:56:00.015+01:00

I spent the tail end of my trip abroad in the Geres National Forest of Northeast Portugal. It was pretty amazing. My host was Ricardo Pinheiro, a good friend I met at the IUGTA Conference in Austria last May. Ricardo was here with his wife, Paty, and their son, Leo, as well as his extended family and friends. This was their vacation, and they graciously let me crash four days of it. Nothing like the ugly American showing up just when you think you are safely ensconced in a fishing village high in the mountains of Portugal! We have our ways of finding you, and then eating your stuff.

I thought I would combine all of my thoughts into one LONG entry replete with photos. Let them tell you about this amazing experience.

These are grape vines at the Avioso Inn, where we stayed. The proprietors, Senior and Gloria Nevua, make their own wine!

This was my bed. I felt protected from the undead. My room was at the top of the Inn. You opened these little shutters over the window at night and the stars shown in. Yes, just like in Pinocchio!
The view from my bedroom. Every morning I was awakened by a rooster that shrieked "Cock-a-DOO-doo!" I can still hear him in my head. I hope I eat him.
The other view from the Inn. This is the Canicada Dam. We did much jet skiing, water skiing, and swimming. Also, there were dogs.
A delicious plate of cod at Dinner in Santa Maria do Bouro (Minho). Wow.
Some delicious pork interspersed with some not so delicious liver.
This is the Cathedral of Santa Maria do Bouro, and it's like a thousand years old. And it's also a hotel. It was beautiful, all lit up.
Interior of the cathedral slash hotel.
Outside the cathedral, with lime trees lit up.
Weird lighting effects and my crappy camera do little to affect the admirable attractiveness of the Pinheiro family.
Senior Nevua's wine casketry. This whole "wine" issue caused some awkward moments down the line for me. That story, however, is better in person.

The border of Portugal and Spain. I guess you can just come and go; and feel free to spray paint the name of your favorite soccer team!
Here is a group of us hiking in the early morning to some springs. The trails were dusty but the weather was fantastic and the wild flowers and grasses were so impressive.
This trail was actually created by Germans in World War II. A lot of work culminating in a big international spanking!
The springs - with incredibly clear water.

The second coldest water I've ever been in. Maybe third, counting the avuntos in Finland. The coldest water I've been in was a waterfall I swam in at Capitol Reef this past June. This was a season of cold water for me.

This is a natural hot spring in Fondevila, Spain. It was hot, but not that hot. I went in and swam around and put my head under the water. There were some Spanish swimmers there that acted like I was crazy. At one point this fat guy told me to basically get out. He was worried.
From the window of Ricardo's car.
Geres, Portugal. Windy roads, but how's that for a view?
Here I am, proudly waving my Portugese flag towel
Lunchtime at the Avioso!

Pedro and Ricardo on the jet ski. I drove that thing as well. I got it going about 90, and then I remembered all of my children and then slowed down.
Senor Nevua: Inn owner, Wine maker, Shepherd, Renaissance Man.
Everyone talked Portugese the whole time. Sometimes they would translate for me. I didn't mind - I would hate to constantly be translating for someone. They were really nice about it. Mostly I just watched their expressions and listened to their tones and I could sort of understand what they were talking about. But sometimes I thought they were fighting, and I asked Ricardo what they were fighting about. He laughed and said "We're not fighting. We're latin."
The Avioso Inn. Are you getting an idea of how awesome this place was?

Early the next morning we hiked into the mountains to locate, and turn, Senior Nevua's 50 plus cows. It's kind of a crap shoot, since you don't know where in the mountains the cows are going to be. You might find them in minutes, or it could take twelve hours. For us it took about four hours to find them, thanks to Senior Nevua making mysterious cow calls.
Wild horses...couldn't drag me away....
This is called a shepherd's oven. It's where the shepherd's crash - and the mountains are dotted with them. I actually snoozed in this one for about an hour.

Later, Senior Nevua and his brother-in-law, also named Senior Nevua, force-fed me veal that they were cooking over a fire. More veal than I have ever had in my life. More veal than any human being has ever eaten since, oh, Caligula or some other glutton. I was exhausted from eating veal. So I fell asleep right on the ground, nestled among cow pies. Ricardo's cousin Pedro took this picture.

Here they are! Cows.

We felt like conquering heroes, even though none of actually helped much. But hiking is a lot of work! And so is eating veal and telling scary stories about wolves. Pictured is Ricardo, Paty, and Pedro, in various states of excitement.
A final parting shot of Portugal. Such a beautiful country, and such warm and gracious people. I am so incredibly grateful to everyone who showed me such kindness during my four days there. I want to go back.

should old acquaintance be forgot

2010-08-12T23:34:00.017+01:00

Here it is. Our last day for the program. I can never believe how quickly it comes. Suddenly time is up and you vaguely remember doing a million things but still somehow wonder how it all happened so quickly. Best not to dwell upon it. Nothing gold can stay, quoth Robert Frost. I'm actually headed to Portugal tomorrow for a few days with a good friend of mine. It's mostly R&R before I head home and start the school season. I'm looking forward to it. And I'm incredibly excited to see my family in a few days! I've missed them. But I will also miss the little family that I made over here. They have been a really fun group: energetic, gracious, and adventurous. Today on the streets of Edinburgh they gave me a thank you card and a really awesome vinyl Big Ben to put in my office. I started to cry. It was embarrassing. I just felt really touched by that.

Today was the final performance of Rappaccini's Daughter. The show was the best it's been. After the performance was over I heard a gentleman talking about how much he loved it, so I invited him to talk to the cast. He told them how much he loved the energy, the creativity, the sounds, and said it was "just magical." I was glad that they got to hear that. They've worked so hard on this show and deserved to get some praise.

We spent some time at the Edinburgh castle this afternoon. I always like taking the guided tours because the jokes are so so good. I can never remember them afterwards, which is great because then they are brand new to me every year. Our guide this year was Frank, who was so determined that there would be sunshine during our tour that he took off his jacket and threw it to the ground in a heap. Frank was mostly right. As we hit the cannon hill we saw a dark cloud moving over the North Sea and we knew we were in for it. It hit just as our tour ended at the top of castle hill. It was ominous to watch it coming. It was also really beautiful.

When we dried off a little I showed Daniel, Cherie, and Becca the Armstrong and Co thrift shop, which may be the most eclectic thrift shop in the entirety of the UK. It's full of everything you can think of, and then everything you would probably never think of. I've been promising Cherie and Becca for weeks that I would show them some thrifting. So I turned them loose in there, and then headed out for a bit on my own.

This afternoon I saw Keepers, a really interesting two man show about Welsh lightkeepers. They created a lighthouse out of a few chairs and a ladder; everything else was accomplished with sheer physicality and movement. I thought it was really fascinating to watch. To the side of the stage they had a DJ providing all the sound effects: rags on a window, roaring waves, sea gulls, as well as musical accompaniment. It was really creative and interesting, and the story was sad and funny and sweet. James and Colleen were there as well. We agreed that the physicality and the storytelling were amazing, but the sound effects stole the show.

I had one more meal at the Edinburgh City Restaurant, not just because the food is basically American, but because there's just so much of it. I had a 12" Hawaiian pizza and felt, for a few minutes, that I was back at Brick Oven. If Brick Oven were under a perpetual thundercloud, smelled remotely like cigarettes, and looked like Hogwarts.

Lastly, tonight was the Edinburgh Military Tattoo. Pronounced "ta-TOO." This is my third time at the Tattoo, but I think tonight was my favorite. Not only did we have the money seats (Thanks, Grant!) on the front row dead center, but the bands were particularly great and the feats were exciting. Here's what I saw:

Lots of bagpipes. Seriously, if you don't like bagpipes you SHOULD NOT go to the Tattoo.
One super awesome mustache!
A group of motorcycle daredevils aged 14 and under. They did some amazing feats, and a little three year old in a sidecar squirted us with watergun.
I don't know who these guys are - some kind of military troupe in white shorts? - but they did some sweet trampoline stunts!

Afterwards we didn't want to go to bed yet - everyone is trying to stave off the inevitable plane rides home tomorrow - so we stopped at The Piemakers, which was open just late enough to make us a few more Apple Blackcurrent pies. Not sure if it was a fitting goodbye to Scotland, or if there even is a fitting goodbye to Great Britain, but it was nice to spend a few last minutes together before we all head our separate ways.

the fire of images

2010-08-11T23:53:00.014+01:00

Today was the second performance of Rappaccini's Daughter. I am amazed at how hard the students are working to build an audience. It's not easy work, and it's certainly not something they are used to having to do. All the same, it's impressive to see them up on the Royal Mile, posing for pictures, handing out fliers, and doing their thing. It's fun to watch them in action.

I stopped for a bit this morning at Gladstone's Land. It's an original house from the 1500's that hasn't changed much in 500 years. The floorboards still creak, the stairs are uneven and narrow, and the ceilings are high and painted with flowers and fruit. I think houses like this are fascinating. I know it's hard to trust how accurate they really are, but I easily suspend my disbelief. I try to imagine people living and working in these rooms. I wonder if, in 500 years, people will be traipsing through my 1970's split-level in Edgemont. If so, I hope they let people take pictures. Also, I hope you will still be able to see Hugh's autograph on his bedroom door, a piece of in-house vandalism too cute to wipe off.

I also stopped by the Edinburgh writer's museum, but it was mostly to get out of the rain. This museum is free, which is always a bad sign. It was nice inside, and I liked the displays, but I wasn't overwhelmed by it. Edinbugh is famous for three writers: Robert Louis Stevenson, Robert Burns, and Sir Walter Scott. They were amazing writers, and the people of Edinburgh are very proud of them.

This afternoon the students took a much needed break from their barking and we set off for Holyrood Castle. Holyrood is most famous for being the home of Mary Queen of Scots. Elizabeth, the one who is still on the throne, still uses this palace for Royal events. It's a pretty impressive place. My favorite room, of course, is the chamber where Mary's lover, David Rizzio, was stabbed 56 times to death in 1566. His blood stained the wooden floor, and it remains stained to this day! You can kind of see the redness of the blood in this picture:

Outside the castle is a medieval abbey. It was here that King James I was crowned. The English burned most of the abbey down, but these ruins remain. And they're pretty fantastic:

Tonight I ran into Daniel on the Royal Mile and we set out for dinner at Nando's. Nando's was about 20 minutes away from where we were, but crushed ice and refillable Coke Zero's are worth walking twice that far. Also, lemon and herb chicken. Neither of us regretted our decision. Following dinner we grabbed a cab and went to Leith for a performance of Tabu.

What can I say about Tabu? It basically blew my mind. Presented by the nofitstate performance company of Wales, Tabu is basically a postmodern circus. The audience is huddled under a big top, and the performers swing on trapezes and walk tightropes just feet above your head. A live band plays rock music, featuring various saxophones. The performers take turns on the vocals. They sing songs about buses being late. A plump young lady called out "lema-lema-lema-lema-lemonade!" and then shot people in the head with an origami bird. They spun fire wheels, they bounced on giant trampolines, and they performed death defying acts with such beauty and innovation; it was really one of the most inspiring things I've seen. Some of the pieces were honestly moving. Others were funny. But they were all incredibly difficult, yet polished. I was completely blown away. Are all circuses like this? I need to get out more.

auld reekie

2010-08-10T23:20:00.014+01:00

Edinburgh is called "Auld Reekie" because it has a peculiar smell. People attribute it to soot and smoke from a century ago, and I can't confirm or deny that. But there's no mistaking the smell of Edinburgh. I always think it's pea soup. Every time I come here I immediately smell pea soup. Some of my students say it's pork and beans, and someone else said burnt popcorn. There is a reek. It's not unpleasant, but it's there.

This morning was a little hectic as it was the first performance of Rappaccini's Daughter. While the students set up camp in their new theatre space I maneuvered the backstreets of Edinburgh, making fliers and buying mandolin strings for the performance. It was, needless to say, raining, which made the streets slick and the sidewalks clogged with umbrellas. But I got it done. On my way to the venue I passed this on the wall:

It was great advice.

The first performance of the show, I am very pleased to say, went extremely well. While the space was even tighter than they had anticipated, the students adapted beautifully to their confines and delivered a performance that was clear, energetic, and full of passion. I was really proud of them. This piece was adapted by a student, directed by a student, and performed by a group of students. My involvement was incredibly limited. So to see what they have accomplished is inspiring to me; I sat in the audience and felt so grateful to associate with these young artists. There are incredible amounts of potential on that stage, and I look forward to seeing where these students eventually end up.

After the performance they had literally two minutes to vacate the theatre so the next performance could move in. So it goes at the Edinburgh Fringe. But they did it; tumbling out of the theatre in white make-up and carrying bags and trunks as quickly as they could. I left with James and Colleen Arrington for pizza up the street. We had a nice long visit, and James caught me up on all of the happenings in the UVU Theatre Department while I've been away. I'm amazed how many changes can happen in my career, my family, and my church in just a month. And the odd thing is that things probably change like this all the time, I just don't always get the chance to back away and marvel at it like I do when I'm here.

After lunch I went to a show called Naked Splendour, which received the rare and blessed 5 Star review from the official Fringe Newspaper. I can see why - it's very entertaining. It's a one man show in a little space. This guy was a professional artist's model, which is very interesting because he's huge. Very, very big. He talks about what it feels like to be a model: holding endless poses, being dissected and talked about by artists, meeting strange and quirky people. It was fascinating and funny, and occasionally touching. And the best part is that they gave you pads of paper and you could draw whatever you wanted while he spoke. I thought that Lisa, who can actually draw, would have loved it. I love watching people draw. I'm terrible at it.

Tonight I needed to have dinner and I walked around Edinburgh, looking for what sounded right. And do you know what sounded right? Yep, McDonalds! People are always annoyed by how much I eat at McDonalds over here, and I always feel a little guilty about it. They somehow want me to always be eating in cafes or hidden little European eateries. But after a month of eating in cafes I just need something fast, hot, and cheap. I don't want to sit for an hour, I don't want to worry about how to split the bill, I don't want to wait 30 minutes for my food. So I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE. While I scarfed my Big Mac I reflected on all the places, besides Edinburgh, I have eaten McDonalds this year:

1. High Street Kensington, London (TWICE)

2. The Louvre, Paris

3. Versailles, Paris

4. Convention, Paris

5. Hampstead Heath, London

6. Trafalgar Square, London (BUT THAT WAS ONLY A McFLURRY)

Tonight I switched things up and did the Edinburgh Film Festival. It's fun to see movies in Europe because the screens are so tiny! Actually, that's not that fun. But it's fun to see movies whenever I can. Tonight was a presentation of short films from all around the world. I liked most of them. Sometimes they were trying to be super arty, and man, that gets old fast. I like the shorts when they tell simple stories and have a clear point of view. I also like originality. I have a high tolerance for quirk and a low tolerance for redundancy or cliche. Regardless of what I thought, it was exciting to see what young filmmakers are doing all around the Globe.

Afterwards I went back to McDonalds for one more meal! Just kidding that's gross.

on the fringe

2010-08-09T23:22:00.013+01:00

We left for Scotland this morning at 4:00 a.m.. I was dreading the travel, to be honest, because it requires a lot of steps to get to Scotland, and there are a lot of us taking these steps. I am happy to report that we made it to Edinburgh relatively smoothly, with some pros and cons:

PROS:

The bus to the airport, for the first time ever, actually picked us up where it was supposed to.

The bus lady let us get on fifteen minutes early!

I slept on that bus and don't remember any of it.

I slept on that plane and don't remember any of it.

Edinburgh is green and misty!

CONS:

The big taxi car apparently broke down, so we had to shuttle in groups.

Stansted airport is sometimes confusing.

I don't like repacking people's bags if they are over the weight limit.

I got frisked and it was personal.

The cabbies in Edinburgh do NOT like you to pay with a credit card.

And that was the first 6 hours of my day. I have to say it was our smoothest transition to Scotland yet. I'm proud of us. Us are awesome.

And how great to see James and Colleen Arrington who are also here for the week! They were waiting in the lobby of our hostel when we checked in, looking remarkably fresh and not jet-lagged.

Mid-day in Edinburgh the heavens opened and the rain hit and I confined myself to my hotel room. Fearing that this was an omen for the rest of the week, I lay in a travel-logged stupor on my bed and watched two episodes of The Weakest Link, a show that somehow continues in the UK. I answered questions out loud with what must have been the least interested tone possible until I fell asleep.

When I woke up the rain had abated and the city was lit with sun. Great time to go out! We met together as a group and, joined with our friend Mark Oram from Exeter, went to the Royal Mile for busking. Busking is where you perform snippets of your show in the middle of the street, pass out fliers, and annoy people until they promise to come to your performance. We are actually really good at it. Or my students were: they did all of the work. I played a mouth accordion thing while they did movement, alternating between two songs: Amelie and the theme from Harry Potter. The students did great - they barked and sold the show, performed intricate movement pieces and were very gracious and took pictures with 1,000 people. By the time we finished 90 minutes later there were 5-6 press photographers snapping pictures - so hopefully that will drum up business! Unless they were just creepy guys with super nice cameras.

We were not the only ones busking. We were joined by:

These four, who moved very slowly and made creepy faces.
This old lady who played the trumpet.

For the remainder of the evening we took a walk around Edinburgh Castle. Everything here is green and the flowers are in full bloom for the festival. We stopped to hear a really great brass band combo:The kid in the back with the red sweatshirt was really into his trumpet. Nick and Jessy got into the music, and soon took to the dance floor. It was our way of making up for missing Nigel's National Dance Day.
Then Borzin got into the act, waiving both a five pound note and his booty.

Finally, back in town, we crammed into the Edinburgh City Diner and had cheese fries, linguine, pizza, hamburgers, and basically everything on the menu. We played word games and put a lot of ketchup on everything.

i am his highness' dog at kew

2010-08-08T21:54:00.016+01:00

Today was Sunday and I wanted to take a breather, specifically in Kew Gardens. Actually it was Becca's idea; Daniel and I just tagged along. This was after church at the Hyde Park Ward, where I wore a pink dress shirt and didn't apologize for it. Because if you can't wear pink shirts to church in London, where can you?

Kew Gardens is kind of a paradise. It's enormous. It's not like it's full of flowers, but there are incredible patches of flowers. The rest of it is trees of every variety and type. And little ponds with ducks that make funny little quacks. You go inside the main gates and you just wander. We wandered for over four hours. Here is what we saw:

The Palm House. Built in the 1800's for the World's Fair. And full of, you guessed it, PALMS.
There was an aquatic section of the gardens, and I liked these sea basses a lot. They don't seem particularly happy with each other. They were disrespectful to each other, these fish.
Here are those palms I was telling you about! You can climb up a bunch of stairs and look down at all of the vines and fronds. The only bad thing is that it is one million degrees at the top of the glasshouse. We did not stay long.
This is King William's Mediterranean House. Just like the real thing!
A Japanese pagoda!
Here I am in the Minka house. This is my neighbor Totoro.
Hydrangeas.

60 feet high atop the treehouse walk, Daniel and Becca displayed a range of emotions:

ODD
CONFUSED
EXCITED!

Not everyone is that excited about Kew Gardens:

After we had dinner at Ma Cuisine near the Kew Station. It was voted the #1 restaurant in London by ITV a few years ago, but we didn't know that. We just didn't want to go to Pizza Express again, and this place seemed both fancy and moderately priced. Our waiter looked suitably French:When our food came, and we raised said food to our mouths, there was a giant explosion in the heavens. A firework in shape of Padma Lakshmi lit the sky up, the world briefly stopped turning, and for a few moments there was peace on earth. Because this chicken was seriously that good.Becca ate some kind of vegetarian business with ratatouille.

Saying goodbye to London is always hard. It always means I'm one step closer to reuniting with the family I love and miss so much, but it's also the gamble of not knowing when I'll get back. I tried to come home from the gardens and pack, but it was killing me to watch the sun go down. So I grabbed my ipod and set out for one last walk through Hyde Park. It's really beautiful this time of night, and surprisingly full of people. I made my way to the Serpentine Gallery, to see this year's pavilion installation. Every year an artist is commissioned to create an eating space for the public in the middle of Hyde Park. I thought this year's pavilion, designed by the French architect Jean Nouvel, was very bold. All angles and completely red. Super cool.

And then I walked back to my flat. No long goodbyes. Just listened to a few tunes on my ipod and watched the sun set over the park.

Tomorrow is Scotland!

all is true

2010-08-07T23:50:00.013+01:00

We were up early today for a Saturday, putting some finishing touches on Rappaccini's Daughter, the piece that my students are taking to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival on Monday. I'm excited to see how the piece works up there. They've certainly put a lot of time and work into it, and it has been carefully adapted and directed by Scott Stringham and Alex Ungerman. It was odd, and a little inspiring, to watch these students work through a piece that was blocked in Utah, re-rehearsed in London, which will be performed in Scotland. I'm excited for them.

We had a busy day, and those are the best kind. We started with a backstage tour at the National Theatre. Our tour guide was probably the most irrepressible person you could ever imagine. She had so much energy and talked so quickly that I was barely able to get a photograph of her. You can see what I mean. She didn't stop. She also asked us not to take pictures as soon as I snapped this - in fact she's starting to say it right as I took this - so I'm glad I got what I got. I think she would be the ideal Mary Poppins should Lisa and I ever need one. We'll just wait for the wind to change direction, and then this girl can blow in and tell us all about prop tables and revolving sets.

The amazing thing about the National Theatre is that it is so ingeniously designed, so artfully cared for, and still so socialist. I kind of like that. Nobody gets special treatment. There are no tricked out dressing rooms for stars, the programs are free, the shows are cheap, and the work is incredible. It's subsidized, naturally, but it's exciting to see people working because they love the work. You may hate a show at the National, but at least there's passion in it. It's not like watching Wicked or Les Mis, where the entire cast spends the performance thinking about what they'll have to eat after the show.

We grabbed a quick bite to eat at the appropriately named EAT, strolled past the bookshop under the Waterloo Bridge, and then headed back to the National for an amazing performance of After the Dance. It might be my favorite play this year. I need some time to reflect on everything, but it very well could be. Wow. It was incredible. It's a simple story: a few wealthy Londoners in 1938 refuse to admit that a war is coming, and they continue to party like it's 1925. And of course nobody is happy, and nobody wants to admit it, and terrible things happen. It was just so beautifully directed and performed. The best acting I've seen this year. I was so excited that my students were able to see it - it's the kind of work that you remember for a lifetime. But what my students will probably remember the most is this fight I got into with a middle-aged woman who sat behind me. She was upset that we stood for curtain call. I told her we had every right to. She said when we stood up she couldn't see the bows. So I told her she was free to stand as well. Then she said that I was a real pain. And I said I could say the same thing about her. And then she said "I daresay."

This being a two-show day, we scrambled to get more food in us before the second performance: Henry VIII at the Globe. Luckily there is a Wagamama's just a bit further down the river, and our timing was good. We made it inside and got a table just as the rain hit. Very rainy lately! But our exceptional timing, which is also luck, kept us dry. And after a really nice dinner (I had some kind of ginger chicken noodles) we found blue skies and a little sun. So that was encouraging. And Alex, Rachel, Jessy, and Nick had saved us spots at the front of the Globe so we could lean on the stage.

Part of the charm of seeing Henry VIII is knowing it may be the only time you get to see it. Nobody ever does it, and you can see why. It's kind of a snorefest. People talk and talk, and then there's a coronation, and then more people talk. It's more of a poetic pageant than a play, and many people don't think Shakespeare even wrote most of it. Certainly it has a different feel than most of his plays. But leave it to the Globe to find interesting and exciting ways to tell the story. They used film motifs throughout - flashbacks, montages, cross-fades - and did all they could to keep our attention. I admit I zoned out while Cardinal Wolsey talked for three pages, but I certainly loved the lady who played the jester and the waiting woman. Her rubbery face alone was worth the price of the admission.

big, tall, terrible, awesome, scary

2010-08-06T09:02:00.000+01:00

Whenever people ask me what they absolutely have to see while they are in London I usually tell them two things: the Imperial War Museum and Sir John Soane's house. Neither sound very exciting, and maybe that explains why neither are overrun with tour groups. If I had a museum that I wanted to keep a secret I would call it "Drill Bits and Handkerchiefs: The Chris Clark Museum." But the people who DID come to my museum would love it. And that's basically how John Soane's house is.

If you go to John Soane's you have to, first of all, make sure you DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Because I was snapped at three times in there for touching things, and one of those things - honestly - was the wall. One time I was trying to lift a latch that opened a secret passageway, and the guard came flying in and said "NO. You don't touch NUFFINK!" And in this case he was right to do that. They are very guarded about this place, and with reason: it's packed with archeological treasures. It's the most amazing little house. Soane collected items from all over the world, and he designed his home to fit them all. He also designed the house to be lit from natural light, so the stained glass ceilings make everything colorful and mysterious. And there are mirrors everywhere that trick you, and walls that aren't walls, and a hidden skeleton, and a giant Egyptian sarcophogus, and a shrine to a dead dog, and another shrine to his "friend" who was a monk (and who was also imaginary), and you could spend all day in there finding hidden places and unexpected objects. I love it there. You should go.

After the museum we all split and went our separate ways. Daniel and Alex and I made a very important stop at Pizza Express, where Daniel sampled his first, and likely last, anchovy pizza.

Then I made the guys go with me to the Charles Dickens Museum. I go to little places like this to see if they would be of any interest to the rest of the group, and the verdict on the Dickens museum is that nope, it would not. It's very sparse in there. They don't have much to show. It's housed in Dickins' old house, which is cool, and there is a writing desk he actually used, which is also cool. But then they have rooms decorated "in the style" of Charles Dickens and it's not that impressive. We did, however, watch a very informative 30 minute video about him which doubled as a 30 minute post-pizza nap.

We decided to go into town. The tube was very full today, and there were giant gusts of wind down in the tunnel that were very pungent. We called it "blast of body." We devised a line of perfumes and colognes based on various tube stops:

A wisp of Westminster

A touch of Tottenham Court Road

A hint of Holborn

And so on. Basically they would all smell like sweaty people. We went into town and braved the crowds at H&M and Topman on Oxford Street, and then took some refuge at Ben Sherman on Carnaby.

We met early tonight for our show since it was at Regent's Park and we wanted to have some kind of picnic before the performance. Even though the skies were overcast and threatening all day, nothing had really happened. We hoped that the weather would hold out for the show, which it luckily did. Regent's Park was awesome, as always, and it was really fun to sit by the fountain and play Silent Football, which has now become sort of a tradition. Nicholas lost, and his punishment was that he had to ask some English ladies if this was the Globe, and when they said no, this was Regent's Park, he had to ask for directions to the Globe. Regents Park is miles away from the Globe. That was the joke.

I was excited for tonight's performance of Into the Woods but man, was it a hot mess! The Open Air Theatre at Regent's Park is the perfect place for this show; in fact the set was very striking and exciting. All of these levels and stairs and everything built right into the trees. I loved that. And they would light it all up and it was fantastic to look at. Too bad the lights didn't come on half the time and we couldn't follow the action because the mics sometimes worked and sometimes didn't. And the acting was sort of flat, even though the witch was played by Hannah Waddingham - who I've seen in Spamalot and A Little Night Music - and is usually amazing. Judi Dench was the voice of the giant, and they made the giant puppet really cool - about 40 feet tall and made of umbrellas and massive pointy fingers. There were interesting visual ideas throughout the piece - the wolf in Granny's bed was especially cool - but there were so many technical problems that it became tedious to watch. Tonight was their first night with an audience and it really showed. The Baker hit a note so flat that the entire audience gasped. I'm not making that up. And some Einstein decided to have the show narrated by a little boy, which begs the question: is there anything more irritating than child actors? Anything? Little monkeys shouting their lines at us? Nope. This was a bad idea.

warwickshire

2010-08-05T23:37:00.012+01:00

My room at the B&B in Stratford was a little snug. My shower was literally next to my bed. You could roll out of bed and into the shower, and that's not just a cute phrase. You could actually do that. But little rooms like that are fine if it's just you. I don't have that much stuff. When I stay in little European hotel rooms I feel like Hemingway. Anyway, I woke up feeling great, and is there anything better than a traditional English breakfast?

We spent time in Stratford this morning. I did my usual Stratford tour, though I didn't actually go into some of the properties. I am a little crowd-averse lately, and I actually enjoy sitting in gardens and waiting for my students to come through the gift shop. Does this mean I am old. Yep! It does! Anyway, we watched that fancy new movie at the Shakespeare birthplace and then I sat in the garden while a nice gentlemen performed a monologue from Antony and Cleopatra and another one from Henry V. Then his friend showed up, and they did two scenes: Twelfth Night and Hamlet. They were really good - fun to watch. You can see one of the actors playing Andrew Aguecheek in the photo. He had a pretty sweet wig. It's nice to see good Shakespeare in Shakespeare's own backyard.

Our tour progressed down Sheep Street, which was the source of the Stratford plague in the 1600's (dead sheep in the road, ratty wool, mountains of poop) and also #40, the most haunted house in England. I told the students about the axe murderer who lived there in the 1500's, the old witch who had her face slashed in Sheep Street, and the little girl who was disemboweled in the Stratford town square. All of these ghosts show up at #40, plus a bunch more. And even though it was mid-day, I got a little chill passing under the windows.

Next we made a brief stop at the town council, where Becca and Dan did a little trick where they made it look like they were magically sliding up and down the pews. It was really funny.

We also stopped by Hall's Croft where our tour guide was quite a character. I hesitate from saying much more than that. Go see this guy, and you will see what I mean.

We had lunch along the river Avon and we fed the geese french fries. I had a little nap and my students played a funny "joke" where they hid from me and then watched me wake up alone and confused. I hope they enjoyed their little "joke!" It was very traumatic for me. Just me and some geese. All alone. Until I made friends with the harmonica player who made his dog howl on cue:

I only went inside Warwick castle for about 20 minutes, and most of that was spent reading my book up on the lookout. It's not that I dislike the castle, but I've seen everything there 3 times over and I'm really into this book (The Lonely Polygamist, by Brady Udall.) After a while I wandered out of the castle and into the city of Warwick, where I saw the following:

The town center:
This museum, which was one half Victorian children's schoolhouse, and the other half a monument to soldiers. This museum seemed to have some identity issues. If someone asked you what kind of a museum it was you wouldn't know what to say. "It's a museum with blackboards.....and......bayonets..."
A really cool spider web on the bridge.
This place, which is called a hospital, but isn't one. It's more of an inn.

We drove back to our flats in the evening. The countryside was beautiful and it was great to chat along the way with Alex Ungerman. Our driver Gwin did a good job getting us home despite road blockades, confusing signage, and the mess of streets called London. I think if I had to drive in Zimbabwe I would do a much worse job.

exit, pursued by an owl

2010-08-04T23:56:00.001+01:00

We headed out for our Stratford adventure this morning with a new coach driver and a new coach. “Coach” is English for “Bus” and don’t you forget it. And it wasn’t really a bus, but more like a giant 14 person van. It took me a bit to get accustomed to a smaller bus, er coach, since we’ve had giant full size coaches in years past. It also took me a bit to get accustomed to a driver who had absolutely no idea where he was going. He was a great guy, and we all became good friends, but I basically drove that bus. And by driving I mean that I shouted directions whenever we hit roundabouts. So it was a little adventure! Which I wasn’t really expecting.
I love Oxford, and my students always flip out over it. Especially Scott Stringham, who is such a Tolkein fan that he named his three sons after characters in Lord of the Rings. Considering that I named my kids after characters in Shakespeare, I understand his hero worship. So Oxford, where Tolkein lived, studied, and wrote is a mecca for guys like Scott. For guys like me, Oxford is mecca because we love Radiohead. It was here at the Jericho Tavern that Radiohead met, wrote, and devised music, and played their first gigs. It was also here that I had a really fantastic chicken sandwich and fries. I love the idea that I might have sat where Tom Yorke sat when he came up with “Fake Plastic Trees,” or where the band scribbled together the convoluted chords of “Paranoid Andriod.” A storm hit as I ate my lunch, and it was nice to be in a warm pub – feeling dry with no alarms and no surprises.

You can see my Diet Coke there on the table (I PROMISE IT'S DIET COKE:)

The weather died down by the time we hit Mary Arden’s farm, luckily, since a working Tudor farm can be a little soggy and marshy in the rain. We got there just in time for “Woolly Wednesday,” which means we saw cotton shearing and felt making. I learned a lot of interesting facts about felt that I have now since forgotten. Sadly, the world’s largest pig, who I have regularly visited for the past two years at Mary Arden’s farm, has been eaten! C’est la vie, I guess. But it’s sad to think that I may have eaten my friend at some point and not known it. We also watched the falconry exhibit – I was really impressed this year; the falconer wore a costume and was quite a card. Alex caught a really cool shot of this Love Owl swooping at his head:
Here is the old pig (who was eaten)

Here is the new pig (who will be eaten)

After this we were off to Anne Hathaway’s house. I spent the majority of the time sitting in a willow arboretum talking to Lisa on the phone. It was great to hear her voice, though such a romantic setting made me miss her more than ever. So we had a nice talk, except for the time when Margaret bullied her way into the conversation and told me that she likes to eat waffles with a spoon.

Dinner tonight at the Dirty Duck! The technical name of this pub is the Black Swan, but Dirty Duck fits it so much nicer. This is the pub just a few doors down from the RSC, so you can eat before or after a show, and chances are solid that you’ll see some actors. I was waiting in line to order my food and this really large guy, who seemed particularly drunk, started talking to me and goofing around. And then, about an hour later, this same guy turns up as Autolycus in The Winter’s Tale. That’s a regular occurrence at the Dirty Duck.

The Winter’s Tale was really great. I have had such hit and miss luck with the RSC in the past few years – their productions have been more weak than not; tonight’s was definitely a step in the right direction. It had a wonderful visual look to it; everything was created out of pages ripped from books. Even the giant bear who eats Antigonus was created out of torn pages and controlled like a giant behemoth by a team of puppeteers. The fertility dance of the Mummers was suitably phallic, but the costumes were pretty sweet. And the story was told with energy and thought. The production was beautiful to look at and it was engaging as an audience member. Particularly in the second half, when a handful of us snuck down to fill empty seats in the front row. It’s amazing how things open up to you when you sit on the front row. This proximity also afforded me the opportunity to steal one of those torn pages as a keepsake once the show had ended.

As per tradition, we gathered in the Holy Trinity graveyard on our way home to tell scary stories. Alex also demonstrated his fancy laser pen on the branches of trees and the walls of the old church. I’m sure all of the ghosts in the yard were impressed as well. Rachel claimed to have seen one. Whatever!

hands and faces, earth and sky

2010-08-03T23:44:00.000+01:00

In class today we talked about Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn, and Katherine of Aragon. This was in preparation for a performance of Henry VIII we're seeing on Saturday. Luckily it was also good preparation for the National Portrait Gallery, which we hit today on a whim. But I'll get to that in a second.

The students climbed St. Paul's cathedral today, and I was happy for them. I'm on a strict "every other year" policy for St. Paul's, and this is an off year. There would be no 590 stairs for me today. I would love to say I spent the time sitting on the steps of the cathedral feeding the birds, tuppence a bag, but I thought I'd jaunt down to the South Bank to find the Menier Chocolate Factory. The Menier was once a chocolate factory, but now it's a theatre. It's also the location for the show we saw tonight. I wanted to scout it out since I had never been there, and i'm glad I did - it's tricky to find. The neighborhood feels very south bank; if you know London you know what I'm talking about. Lots of pubs, lots of overhead trains, and lots of working class folk. Not a lot of tourists. So I like that, even though I basically am one. I have been known to affect an English accent so no one treats me like a tourist - and I generally get away with it. Generally. One time this lady thought I was Dutch.

We were hoping to hit Westminster after St Paul's, but it was too tight a squeeze with the time we had, so we went to Trafalgar Square where da action iz. Actually they have installed a giant hedge maze in the middle of the square, which sounds fun and irritating at the same time. I didn't go in, but Daniel and Becca did and they got pins that said it was "A MAZE ING!" I opted for the National Portrait Gallery. I always love the Portrait Gallery because it's like a giant yearbook for famous people. Here are some of my favorite faces:

Anne Boleyn, who in real life three breasts, six fingers on one hand, and a google-eye.

Elizabeth, the "virgin" Queen

This fat baby. What is this strange obsession I have with fat babies?

This rosy faced gentleman. I don't remember who he was. But nice wig, bro.

There was also a portrait contest going on, just like last year. This was the winner:

Spooky! That's a dead lady! Like three days dead. It's the painter's mother - she gave her permission to paint her after she died. What is that blob on her stomach? Stop looking at it!!!!

My favorite was this portrait, done by Michael Gaskell who did my favorite portrait last year. I think it's fantastic. You forget that it's a painting:
I also liked this one. This guy looks snappy and reminds me of my cousin Ryan:

Tonight we saw Aspects of Love at the aforementioned Menier Chocolate Factory. Aspects of Love is another Andrew Lloyd Webber show, and this is the first professional revival of the show since it opened in 1990. I remember this show well. I had the sheet music and my sister Page and I used to play and sing songs from it on the piano. We had no idea what the songs were about; and that's probably for the best. As it turns out, Aspects of Love has some fantastic music but a crazypants plot about people who change lovers every thirty seconds, or so it feels. There's this actress who has a French accent (sometimes) and she loves this young guy, but also his uncle; and it's this big sexy love triangle until the two men decide in about 15 seconds they don't actually love her anymore and basically sing a "you have her!" " No, YOU have her!" song. And then the young guy shoots her, but just grazes her arm so she gets to sing a few songs in a sling. And then someone has a baby, and then the baby goes behind a bush and comes out 10 years older, and then she falls in love with a 40 year old man who was 19 a few scenes earlier but hasn't visibly aged. And then this old guy has a heart attack and this other guy gives him CPR while some other people belt out a big ballad. I thought it was the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. And the actors had beautiful voices and there was some wonderful staging, but man that story stank up the joint.

Anyway, it was fun fodder for discussion on the tube home. That, and these really really drunk German guys who kept trying to talk to us and wanted to know how many wives I had.

good morning, g'day, goodbye

2010-08-02T00:24:00.000+01:00

I sleep with my hotel windows open in Paris because there is no AC. You run the risk of pigeons flying into your room, but it's a risk I'll take. It also means you may be awakened at 5:00 am to hear street cleaners, as I was this morning. I got out of bed and took the above picture for some reason, and then fell back asleep. Not sure if it's important or not, or if it has any cosmic meaning, but there it was on my camera.

Our last day in Paris felt in many ways like it was the first. I prebooked the group on a Fat Tire Paris bike tour as the conclusion of our long weekend here. What I should have done, perhaps, was make this tour the introduction.

This is my first time doing the Fat Tire tours, though I’ve read about them a little online and had several people recommend them. I can see why. They are run smoothly, professionally, and with a lot of enthusiasm and wit. We met our initial guide under the south leg of the Eiffel Tower, and he walked us to a little alleyway full of beach cruisers. We were allowed to choose the cruiser that suited us best, and I picked a plucky blue one named “Amigo.” Amigo he truly was, too. We spent four glorious hours together. Our guide was Karl the Kiwi, who had no idea what he was in for when he began tooling us all around Paris. We kept him thoroughly entertained, and I truly believe it will be hard for any group to top our energy (or irritation, depending on your tolerance level for thespians on bikes.)

Karl took us all around the city, and I should preface by saying that it was the balmiest, most perfect weather of all time. OF ALL TIME. We biked under tree lined avenues, past Napoleon’s L’ecole Militaire, past the Dome Church and through the Champ du Mars, where Karl was accosted by an angry French woman who blamed us for scratching her ankle days earlier. No one spoke French except me, and my French is super junior high, but I amply defended us against this angry harridan.

After crossing over the Pont Alexandre III bridge and into the Place de Concord, we learned all about beheadings and marshes full of blood. Karl taught us to use the “palm of power” when we cross the street to fend off cars, and if the PofP doesn’t work, the shaking finger “no no no!” We stopped at a café in the Tuileries, where I had a quiche that was so good that it changed not only my life, but basically the progression of the world as we know it. While at lunch Karl played “most fun table” with us, and then partook of shaky face photographs.

Following lunch we moved back through town to the Eiffel Tower. At one point we dominated an entire street with our beach cruisers, and we sailed through several intersections cheering and laughing at how fancy we felt to be on bikes. Can I take a moment and recommend the Fat Tire tour? It’s pretty fantastic, and you can do it in London, Berlin, and Madrid as well. Many of my students said it was the highlight of their trip.

We had a few hours before train time, so we all split and did our own thing. You know me, I had some neighborhoods to explore, and so I set out for The Latin Quarter, home of the Sorbonne. This is where the students are. Not mine, they went to the catacombs, but the students who built barricades and waived flags a while back. I started at the Museum de Cluny, a Roman/Medieval Museum where I saw:

A famous tapestry where a lady frolics with unicorns:

A stained glass window with all kinds of dubious going ons:
Another stained glass, this one with eye gouging:
The Gallery of Kings, sculpted in 1220:
Old Roman baths!

Just as I was exiting the museum there was a loud clap of thunder and then a giant downpour in the courtyard! I luckily had an umbrella. I huddled under a door frame and worried about wet shoes. Luckily, I stayed pretty dry. Once the rain lightened, I wandered more around the Latin Quarter, where I saw:

The Rue Galande, which is very mysterious.
A cool window along the aforementioned mysterious Rue Galande:

The second downpour hit just in time for me to hide out at Shakespeare and Company, a quirky and chaotic bookshop that doubles as a haven for bohemian ex-pats:
Shakespeare and Company is a pretty fantastic place; very booky, very quaint, and somehow also very American. There was a children’s reading nook upstairs, and all the books up there were to be read, not sold. So all these people are huddled in chairs and benches reading, and there is an old piano in the corner that you can play, as long as some guy doesn’t hog it the whole time (I'm talking to THAT GUY.) You can type someone a letter on an old fashioned typewriter, but that was a little twee for me, so I just sat, read, listened some guy hog the piano, and waited the storm out. The storm broke eventually, and I started my sojourn back to the hotel, stopping at a very important place: The Thinnest house in Paris!

At 7:00 we regrouped and crammed onto a metro so full of rush hour travelers that you didn’t need to hold onto the pole. You were completely propped up by bodies all around you, with varying levels of hygiene. Which is fine, since those poles are, I assume, coated in swine flu and melanoma. It was a fitting way to say goodbye to Paris, a city that is also little too full, and sometimes too sweaty, but definitely always moving and alive.

let us eat cake, too

2010-08-01T00:04:00.001+01:00

If you’ve seen the Sophia Coppola Marie Antoinette, you’ve really only seen half of the story. It’s a great movie, or perhaps I should say a divisive movie – you love it or you hate it, and I love it – but it finishes just when the story gets good. Marie and her husband, Louis XVI, are fleeing the angry mob of Parisians who want their heads. They say goodbye to Versailles, waive their fans, and cobble off in a carriage. And there the film ends. The history, however, is a little more brutal. In reality the mob caught the carriage, imprisoned the king and queen, and Marie had to listen to her children being whipped and beaten in adjoining prison rooms. The severed head of her best girlfriend was put on a pike and waived at her through her jail window. And then, you know, they chopped her head off as well.

I only tell this story because we went to Versailles today. It’s easy at Versailles to think of it as this beautiful and romantic period of French history. I imagine it probably was in the beginning, but it also feels stained with arrogance and blood. So there’s a lot going on, and you definitely get a sense of that.

Versailles is beautiful but it’s always really packed. I think it’s something you need to do if you go to Paris, just to say you’ve done it. But it’s difficult to get a sense of the history when you are jostling with other tourists to get a shot of the royal chapel, or you get elbowed in the Queen’s bedroom by some lady who really, really wants to push to the front of the line, or you go to the hall of mirrors and see some grown man pick his nose and eat it. Sir, you were busted. And it’s impressive and amazing and opulent, but it also becomes a little overwhelming. Because how could people live like this when so many other people were starving? It’s strange and hard to reconcile. Ah, what do I know, I’m a democrat.

I do love the gardens, though. After we had a light lunch in town (OK, it was McDonald’s and I WILL NOT BE JUDGED) we headed back to the gardens. I love the Queen’s Hamlet, and even though it takes 25 minutes to walk there, it’s worth it. You pass some amazing fountains – we were there as they were all on and it was breathtaking - through the Petit Trianon, past the temple of love, and into the hamlet. I know the history of it; she built it so she could live like a shepherdess. She had elaborate costumes made and she walked around with goat crooks and picked eggs. It’s really gauche and ridiculous. But she sure built a beautiful little village to play-act in. We sat under a large oak tree by her pond and took in how picturesque it all was. We played with ducks and fed the carp. None of us can relate to her lifestyle or her wealth, but everyone loves a little village.

On the way back we found the little grotto, and I heard thunder in the distance. I was hoping for rain, but it never came. The clouds were great, though, and kept us cool as we wound our way through the garden paths.Back in Paris we split our separate ways for dinner. I split off by myself, with the blessing of Alta Stringham, and ducked into a Chinese Restaurant (no pun intended) I found on Avenue de Washington. It was nice to sit quietly by myself and eat chicken chop suey. It was a little hole in the wall, but the staff was so happy to have me. They were very kind and gracious, and this kind of service is a hot commodity in Paris.

We finished a busy day atop the Arc de Triumph – meeting at nine so we could watch both the sunset and the 10:00 Eiffel Tower twinkle. We took a lot of pictures for a lot of people. We also managed to stake some for ourselves.

masquerade

2010-07-31T17:36:00.000+01:00

I wasn’t in a hurry to go to the Louvre again this year. I feel like I’m always complaining about the Louvre, but I really do like it. I just like it once every five years, maybe. It’s the crowds that get under my skin. And the heat. And the Da Vinci Code. So I escorted the group to the gates, and then left them to brave the Venus De Milo alone. I didn’t feel bad about leaving them alone; they deserved it for teasing me about my genie pants (they’re NOT.)

Instead, I explored the nearby neighborhood of Le Marais. Le Marais was originally a marshland until it became fashionable in the 1800’s. Then it went out of style, and became home to the homeless; it was the immigrant center for a long time. It’s still the Jewish center of Paris. After WWII it became gentrified, and now it is a center for arts, literature, and people like me who walk around looking for the Picasso Museum.

Not knowing the the Picasso Museum was under repair, and will be until 2012, I had the good fortune of wandering the backstreets of Le Marais. Here’s what I saw:

Along the Rue de Rosiers, a Jewish deli. Or what looked like a Jewish deli but was actually a store for hipsters.
At the Carnavalet Museum, a goddess with lobster claws for hands!
A little revolutionary propaganda.
Also at the Carnavalet Museum, two awesome faces. The first one looks a lot like me. The second one looks a lot like the devil:

This fountain at the Place des Vosges:
Victor Hugo's house!
Inside Victor Hugo's House! A Chinese room. With nobody in it. I could have touched EVERYTHING! AND I DID!! JUST KIDDING.
Two more awesome faces. The girl reminded me of Phoebe:

I met up with the group again and we went to the Paris Opera. I’ve never been there. I guess I felt that since I had seen The Phantom of the Opera it was basically the same thing. Well, wowzers. That is some opera house! I’ve never seen anything quite that opulent:

Sing, my angel of music! Love NEVER dies!
The ceiling of the theatre was painted by Marc Chagall:

After the Opera I walked across the street to the famous Café de la Paix and had some strawberry melba ice cream. It’s been said that if you sit for long enough at the Café de la Paix the whole world will pass by. I had that experience. I can’t remember the last time I saw so many nationalities, so many economic classes, and so many different energies pass by in one spot. And then there was some kind of traffic incident, so there were a bunch of cops. I moved on.

Tonight we took the Seine Riverboat tour. It’s my third time doing this, but I always love it. It was fun sitting again by Daniel Whiting, who I sat with two years ago on the same boat ride. We kept "raising the roof" to see if passersby on the banks would respond. We had some success. Our group was first in line to board the boat, which was lucky; we got to all sit together. It was fun to joke, take pictures, and smoothly pass under these beautifully lit bridges as the sun went down.

We got back to our hotel in Convention at midnight, but some of us were starving so we went to a nearby café, which appeared to be in no rush to close down. So I went ahead and had myself a club sandwich. And a diet coke that was 8.50 euros. I drank that Diet Coke like it was liquid gold, because it was. Cherie and Becca had crepes. Daniel and Jake had giant hamburgers. Scott and Alta split some kind of waffle. And now you are fully caught up on stuff we ate.