third-best bed

One thing you may not know about Bed and Breakfasts is that after spending the night you get a free breakfast! It’s awesome. The breakfast at the Victoria Spa was pretty fantastic – a genuine selection of meals and no set menu. The proprietress, Dreen (not a typo) was incredibly classy and friendly. She DOES NOT know anything about the internet and is not ashamed to admit it several times. Anyway, Dreen made sure everyone was comfortable and well-fed on a diet of toast, ham, tomatoes, and baked beans.

More of Shakespeare Mecca, which in the daytime is much less spectral than at night, and is probably better for seeing the sights. I have been Shakespeare's birthplace four times now, so I kind of hustle through it. But it was nice to chat with two actors who were supposed to be doing Shakespearean monologues in the garden, but were slightly bored doing it and decided to sit on a bench instead. We liked them, and they performed a scene from Taming of the Shrew, which was about one brazillion times better than the show last night.

So, on to the rest of the sights. The Stratford council, with the candles and the benches. Hall’s Croft, where our tour guide became fixated on us being Mormons, and kept making references to Mormons, including “tall” Mormons and “are there more Mormons coming?” when a giant group of Russians came in. We liked him, even with his stories about John Hall’s hemorrhoids. Following this and a pastry in the garden, a jaunt to Holy Trinity Church, which is much less threatening and far more serene in the daytime. Slightly less interesting as well, and I won’t pay the 50 p to see Shakespeare’s gravesite. I’ve seen it, and I need that 50 p for a pasty at Greggs!

Alex, Daniel, Liz, and I did, however, take a dee-lightful boat ride on the river Avon. It’s a super touristy thing to do, but when the sun is out and the river is gently flowing and the weeping willows are, um, weeping – it’s worth the 7 pounds per boat. There were many laughs, because no one could really steer this boat. And giant boats almost killed us several times. And once I was scared of some marshes.

Next thing we knew we were back on the road, headed for Warwick Castle. I was not doing Warwick castle today. I mean, I went in and everything, but I can’t force myself into those wax museums. So I found some new attractions. I read my Dominic Dromgoole book up on the lookout, and took in my favorite view in all of England. Also, I went with a few students up to the ramparts, and even wandered down to the Trebuchet show at 4:30. It’s always mildly disappointing, this Trebuchet, but you have to do it. While there, I ran into Eric Davis, who I grew up with, and his family. It’s always a little strange to randomly see people from home, but it happens a lot more than you would expect.

Our ride home was fun, and not just because we stopped at Burger King. We also played ipod karaoke, which is where you put on an ipod, blast it, and then sing a song out loud in front of everyone. It’s hilarious. You hear the music, but no one else can. And so you sing a really loud solo a’capella. Get it? It’s funny. We took turns. My songs were American Boy, by Estelle (but only the Kanye West rap part, which I know by heart) and When I Get You Alone, by Thicke. Sadly, our ipod karaoke was eventually drowned out by Jason, our coach driver, who played a James Blunt CD on eternal rotation and kept slowly increasing the volume.

Once back in London we dozed for a bit, but then headed down for a midnight Macbeth! You don’t always get midnight Macbeth’s, especially Polish ones where the witches are on seven-foot stilts and there’s a dynamic motorcycle chase scene in the third act. Experimental, definitely. But in terms of art and live theatre, pretty exhilarating.

second best bed

I always look forward to the Stratford trip because it’s like taking a giant breath of air and scraping off the London grime. I love me some London grime, sirrah, but give a guy a break. So off we went, driven by our good friend Jason in his massive polka dot coach.

We stopped in Oxford for a few hours. It was a little too Harvey Porter for me, but I get the appeal. There’s no denying that it’s gorgeous – classical England at its finest. We walked through the colleges and I pretended like I knew things about each one. The students were on to me, but maybe that was part of the magic. We went to the Magdalen Bridge and I yelled “ripping!” and “smashing!” to the elderly punters. They enjoyed that. Then we wandered through town and ended up again at the Eagle & Child, where I had a full English breakfast and probably the best hot chocolate of my lifetime. And a cranberry juice. And Jaclyn got busted for bringing in her own sandwich. The Eagle & Child, incidentally, is the pub where Tolkien and Lewis met to discuss Narnia and Middle Earth, so it’s a giant attraction for nerds, many of whom sign the guest book in Elvish.

On to Warwickshire, the gem of the midlands. Mary Arden’s farm, always my favorite attraction, was a lot of fun. And if there was a theme to this particular visit, it was pigs. Giant pigs. I don’t remember pigs last year, so what a welcome addition! Seriously, the fattest pigs ever, one of which responded to my pig latin when I told him to come out of his little house. Also two fat pigs chased some geese and there was a lot of screaming. Not just from the geese, but also from the staff. Also, we found a willow arbor which we realized was made for kids after we went halfway into it. So it hurt our backs but we were good sports about it, because times are really hard on a Tudor farm, you guys.

This year we stayed at the Victoria Spa Lodge which defies description, so I will supply a picture:

The Victoria is so named because the Queen actually stayed there as a young girl. She stayed in the room that Emily, Anna, Anne, and Jaclyn slept in. There were no ghost sightings. The boys all stayed in the attic, where there were no ghosts as well. Just pitched roofs and packets of coffee sweetener.

Our play tonight was The Taming of Shrew, which is generally a comedy. In this case it was a “hilarious” treatment of the abuse of women by men. Certainly this is an accurate portrayal of the play, which is incredibly misogynistic and abusive, but we’re used to slapsticks and orange rinds and a roll in the hay. Instead we got rape, spouse abuse, and techno music. So it was not a big hit. I’m the first to admit that Shrew is not my favorite Shakespeare play, and likely my least favorite, and this play did not help. We were all underwhelmed and bummed out.

Luckily the night was young, and of course we walked through the Holy Trinity Church grounds to tell Elizabethan ghost stories. And we had a real ghost sighting! Check this out: It’s terrifying:

The only drawback to the Victoria Spa is that it’s a twenty-minute walk from town, so a bunch of us walked home along the Stratford canal. It was a little bit creepy, a little bit dark, but pretty memorable.

the mysterious mr. middleton

I don’t know much about Thomas Middleton. You would think that as a theatre practitioner I would, but I don’t. I sort of know his period, the Jacobean period, when all the plays were about blood and entrails and revenge. But not much about the man. After today, though, I know him pretty well, having seen two of his shows in one day.

The first was technically a Shakespeare play. But several of Shakespeare’s plays were co-written, and most scholars believe this one, Timon of Athens, was more of a co-authorship with Thomas Middleton. And that’s why it’s this interesting Shakespeare piece with poetry and metaphor mixed with blood, ire, and in this case, poop.

We saw the show at the Globe, and it was directed by Lucy Bailey who also directed that amazing Titus Andronicus I saw two years ago. I like the way she conceptualizes her shows. Say what you will, they are never boring to look at. In this case she had giant nets suspended 20 feet over the audience’s heads, and actors costumed like giant scavenger birds scaled the ropes and occasionally dive-bombed the crowd with bungees. I thought that effect was fantastic; a metaphor of the buzzards waiting for Timon to die. One effect that I didn’t really enjoy was when Titus dropped his little underpants he spent the second half of the play in, and pooped in a rocky pit. And then flung his poop at other characters throughout the play, and smeared it on two of their faces. This was disarming. You would expect to see that sort of thing in, say, My Fair Lady or The Music Man, but not in Shakespeare! I’m sure it was just chocolate pudding or something, but COME ON. We were all shell-shocked.

After the show we attended the talk-back with the director, and there were no questions or discussion about the poop. I really wished I would have raised my hand, but I was too nervous! And too elated by the news that this morning the hidden remains of The Theatre had been found after 300 years. An exciting day to be in London!

Middleton #2 was The Revenger’s Tragedy, a highly acclaimed production at the National. Only a few of us went to this, but we all enjoyed it. It was bloody and scary like Timon, but nobody pooped, and it was also really funny in places. Incredibly well-acted. So it was nice to have two Jacobean experiences. I prefer Elizabethan, but it’s good to educate myself.

old friends

Today was a little drizzly. We're not used to it. Londoners are, but we've had nothing but generally sunny skies so far. So it was, in some ways, a welcome relief and in others, a little annoying. Of course as Mark Twain said, everyone talks about the weather, but no one does anything about it. And he's right. Pretty much we all just put on jackets.

We had a great tour of the Rose, following a costume demonstration at the Globe starring Lizzie Vogeley as Ophelia. I like the Rose tour - it's fun to imagine the bear baitings and the cockfights, the courtesans and the dignitaries. It's wicked old London. I also like being around the Globe because it reminds me of one of the best times of my life. I have good memories of being on that stage, and working with actors I genuinely admired and became so close with. I have bad memories of the backstage bunks and the freezing fight classes on the icy stage, but even those memories have softened over time, and are now funny.

And it's great to have friends to share them with. I had lunch with my old friend Christian Emmerson today. I haven't seen Christian for years, and it was great to catch up. We talked for three hours. We had a great pub meal together, and he reminded me of many Globe and Exeter stories I had forgotten. If you know both Christian and me, chances are we discussed you at some point. There was a lot of catching up, with fries and vinegar.

And then, back to the Globe for our first play there this season. Merry Wives of Windsor, the first play I ever directed. The Globe production was unbelievably great - I smiled through the whole thing and belly laughed throughout. There is something about the performance style at the Globe that is so genuine and audience friendly. It's light years ahead of Cedar City, and you need to come have the experience. They are not afraid of humor, sight gags, and gesture. It's fantastic. This was, I believe, the first time the play had been performed at the new Globe, though I performed a scene from it there in 2001. So I liked the idea that the last time certain lines had been spoken, and in a ridiculous French accent, they were spoken by me.

One special story. We had these fantastic standing seats in the courtyard - the set wrapped around us in a circle. It made us feel part of the action. But I had to go to the loo at intermission, and when I came back the ushers wouldn't let me back into the inner circle. They had let other patrons in and now there were too many. "But don't you know who I am?" I said, hoping they would think I was some kind of celebrity. "No," they replied. Just then I hear my name screamed from the top balcony, with waving and cheering. It's the Hegstrom-Pratts, a family from my home ward, with perfect timing. The ushers, now thinking I'm a celebrity after all, let me back in. "Looks like you've got some fans," one said. And I waved back like I was David Duchovny.

au revoir

I woke up at 5:30 this morning to a pouring rain. Joe and I had left our hotel window open, and fortunately no rain was coming in. It was nice to lay there and listen to. It came down really hard. It cleared by morning. There is my weather report.

Our last day in Paris! That means we should go up the Eiffel Tower. Joe and I had a little adventure buying Metro tickets, but it’s not worth the story. We met up with the group and got everyone to the Tower, where four thousand other people had the same plans. Fortunately, the Eiffel Tower experience is a well oiled machine, and the line, though long, really only lasted around a half hour. We spotted a man wearing tangerine pants and I made up a song:

Going to France?

Take your tangerine pants!

C’mon, give it a chance

Those tangerine pants!

There are more verses, involving “when you go to a dance” and “put the girls in a trance” and I’m sure you can make up a few more for me if you have some extra time.

I’ve never been up the Eiffel Tower, so I was excited! And also clammy. My palms were clammy. I don’t even really fear heights. But you zip up in this glass elevator, and then you get out and the whole thing is sort of swaying in the wind. I don’t know which my mother would hate more, the Eiffel Tower or the Paris Catacombs. But there’s something in Paris for everyone to fear and dread.

Once we were up there for a few minutes I acclimatized pretty well. Even to the point where a few of us felt comfortable sticking our heads out of the Iron Rail. Thank goodness for small heads! We can do all sorts of tricks. I loved being up there. The view from every side is stunning, but it’s especially cool to follow the river from that high. It’s green and it has an interesting trajectory.

We needed to head back to the hotel for check-out, but not before a quick stop at the Saint Michel Subway, and a dash to the Tin-Tin store. I’m kind of a Tin-Tin enthusiast. Joe bought a poster of some people with cat faces. We made a mad, but sad, dash back to the Hotel Ajiel and said goodbye to the incredibly helpful staff there. I will be back, I assured them, and for good measure let the bellhop steal a bunch of songs off of my ipod.

The Eurostar home was crowded, but as soon as we hit the tunnel I moved to the middle of the train and found a quiet little seat apart from other travellers. And I looked out the window for a long time and thought about stuff. And then more stuff, because it's a long ride home.

Back in London, which oddly feels like coming home. Everything is cleaner! The tubes are nicer. The people smile more. Who would have guessed?

photos unapologetically stolen from E. Dabczynski.

up high, down low

So I went to church twice today, which should earn me some points upstairs. Of course, both of them were Catholic, but who’s counting? The first church was Notre Dame, and I am not going to make a Quasimodo joke, so insert your own. I’ve been in Notre Dame before, but never for Mass, so it was a good experience. I actually don’t think I’ve been to a Catholic Mass before period, and I’ve decided that you shouldn’t go to one if you don’t like incense or standing. Because there is a lot of both. Sometimes you stand for like twenty minutes. A few times I wanted to cry “Sanctuary!” but I realized I was already there. And there’s your hunchback joke. I thought the service was beautiful, but I like choirs; not a nun with a microphone. So I guess I’m a Church of England guy.

After church we crossed the Seine and ate crepes at Crepe a Go-Go. It’s this place that Anne likes, and I’m glad she took us there. I like crepes, and I had this peach-raspberry one. I only wish I had a beret and a bag of French bread as I ate a crepe in the Latin Quarter. As you will see later in this post, my desire to become French eventually took a decidedly unhealthy turn.

We wandered down to the fountain at Saint Michel. The weather was a little misty, and the skies were grey, but it wasn’t cold at all and I had no need for my pardigan. I like the fountain of Saint Michel. There are lion/lizards there, and sometimes the Sorbonne students fill it with bubbles.

Death became us, and we decided to head for the Paris Catacombs. I’ve never seen the catacombs, and it all sounded very creepy and Javert. But let me assure you that it was not nearly as creepy as the bathrooms at McDonalds which were, of course, unisex. Daniel, Joe, Jaclyn, and I tried to figure out the mechanics of French privacy, timing the stall entrances and exits to accommodate our American prudery. The catacombs, however, were fantastic. You wind down these stairs a way down underground until you get to these little hallways full of dead bodies. Yes, real dead bodies. Skeletons. Hundreds of thousands of them, all lining the wall. You think it looks fake. Like something you would get at Partyland in Orem. But they are real skeletons, with real life stories somewhere. It was fun. I liked it. My only suggestions for improvement are that they need more theatrical lighting – plain white is boring snoring – and they need to believe me when I say I’m a student and deserve a discount. The lady at the window just looked at me disdainfully and said “No student.”


My favorite part of the day was and is my favorite part of Paris: Montmarte. Under the guise of an Amelie walk, Daniel, Lizzie, Anne, Jaclyn, Joe, and I wandered up and down the Rue Lepic. We stopped at the Moulin Rouge, the Café de le Deux Moulins, and Amelie’s fruit stand. Eventually we passed through the artists’ square to the Sacre Couer. We attended a few minutes of the evening service there, but left when we saw more nuns with microphones. We sprawled out on the steps and gazed at the view of Paris spread out before us. There were all sorts of people coming and going, snapping pictures, and looking for their lost picture albums. Lots of buskers playing music. And then we walked back up to a row of shops and looked at art, posters, and pastries of all kinds. It was here that I finally donned a beret and became officially French:

The day ended with a ride on the Sacre Couer Merry-Go-Round, which is fun even if you are 36. And then I had a wonderful Club Sandwich back on our street at Convention. I enjoyed both activities very much, but I wouldn’t recommend them together.


pictures supplies by A. Mangum and E. Dabczysnki. "Boring Snoring" also claimed by Ms. Dabczynski.