A Year and A Day Later

The colors are beginning to fade

The red and the gold and the cerulean

The smell of pale ale in the summer time

And bleach in the early afternoon

The crisp air of London

But a memory

 

The cobblestone streets of Covent Garden

Are quiet in my mind

As I recall the warm nights

Spent watching street performers

With an ice cream in hand

Hyde Park is empty

As Albert sleeps in his lofty throne

Touched by Midas

Not a soul to be seen in Trafalgar Square

The fountains sing their song to the cool night air

I feel like I am a passenger on the London Eye

Watching myself from above

Zooming out of focus

The rain clouding up the window

As I disappear into the fog

Breaking Up with London

Dear London,

It’s not you, it’s me. You’ve treated me well, really, you have. But being in this five week relationship has really taken a toll on me. Our time together has taught me a lot about myself and for that, I am ever so grateful. You’ve opened me up to trying new things! Like Thai Food and cider and taking the bus! I am also thankful for all of the wonderful people you have introduced me to. Thank you for introducing me to my wonderful classmates and delightful professor. Thank you for introducing me to famous actors and publishers and historians. You’ve given me the confidence to approach people and make new friends in unlikely places. Trix, from the Three Kings, here’s your shout out! In addition to introducing me to all of these wonderful people, you’ve showed me new places that I had only ever dreamed about. You took me to Hyde Park and Tower Bridge and Buckingham Palace!  We rode bikes to the Museum of London, sung karaoke together at The City Pride, and danced the night away at O’Neills. We saw shows in the West End and wined and dined in Covent Garden. You also took me on holiday to Barcelona and Paris where we spoke different languages, explored new cultures and tried delicious food. I have loved every second of our time spent together and wouldn’t trade it for anything. You’ve been good to me, London, but it’s time for me to say good-bye.

XX,

Jackie

Highgate Cemetery: Where Heaven and Earth Come Together

London-The rain seemed a fitting backdrop for my visit to Highgate Cemetery. Highgate, “one of the capital’s most fashionable cemeteries” according to its website, was developed in the early 19^th century by the London Cemetery Company. Around this time, Parliament designated land in the outskirts of London to be made into seven cemeteries. With London’s population growing rapidly in the early 1800’s, there was hardly anywhere to bury the dead. This statute created more space for cemeteries throughout the city so that the dead could be laid to rest peacefully and sanitarily, as opposed to the previous disease-plagued burial grounds of the previous century. A few decades prior, bodies had been buried wherever there was room. Highgate Cemetery’s website also details that “quicklime was thrown over the body to help speed decomposition, so that within a few months the grave could be used again.”

Highgate Cemetery proved to be a great success. Its desirable location at “375 feet above sea level” and its “stunning and unique architecture” and landscaping made it a popular burial choice for the wealthy. Highgate’s greenery is absolutely beautiful. Today, overgrown ferns and grasses act as a blanket for many of the dead buried there. Oak trees are sprinkled throughout the premises as well, but the most famous tree at Highgate is a Lebanon tree. The solitary tree stands tall encircled by tombs that act as a planting pot. 300 years old, the tree continues to grow and flourish.

Highgate’s smaller decorative details are as impressive as its architecture and landscaping. Many funerary themes can be found throughout the cemetery. Downwards-facing horseshoes symbolize luck, angels serve as protectors of the deceased, and torches facing down represent the flame that is extinguished when the person’s life expires. I also thought it interesting that many tombstones are three-tiered, symbolizing the three virtues of faith, hope and charity. The inscriptions on some of the tombs are especially touching as well. On the grave of a 19 month child is an inscription that mentions the child “falling asleep,” on their death date, a euphemism that is poetic and somewhat comforting.

Highgate Cemetery, for many of my classmates, was one of their favorite excursions in London thus far. “I actually thought the weather enhanced my experience. It added this air of mystery and I think it made it more beautiful,” said Kim Naples.  There indeed was an air of mystery in Highgate Cemetery. To be in a cemetery surrounded by dead people whom I never met or had a connection with was a strange feeling. You don’t carry the emotional and spiritual burden that you bring when you visit a beloved in a cemetery. Instead there is an opportunity to imagine what the lives of these unknown persons were like. There is a greater chance to enjoy the aesthetics and appreciate the architecture without feeling emotionally distraught.

Highgate Cemetery, initially built out of necessity, is now home to 167,000 people and attracts visitors from all over the world. Its untamed landscaping and impressive architecture contribute greatly to its beauty and seem to erase the boundary between heaven and earth. The blanket of green ferns and overgrown weeds tucked in the cemetery’s sleeping as I walked reverently out of the labyrinth knowing what I had just seen was too beautiful to exist by earth’s power alone.

Paris-Ooh La La!

Hi readers! Hope you are enjoying my blog so far. I just returned from a wonderful weekend in Paris and am still completely exhausted. The Eurostar is an absolute dream to travel on and I couldn’t believe how easy it was to take the “chunnel” as it is called. I went to Paris with a large group–eleven people total, including all of my flatmates! The first day we went on a Seine river cruise, visited the Louvre after 6pm (because it was free then, gotta love the deals!) and had a very nice three course meal at Cafe Med, a cute little restaurant on Ile Saint-Louis. The night was capped off with a visit to the Eiffel Tower at midnight for some great photo opportunities! We returned to our hostel that evening completely exhausted and slept in a bit the next morning. On Saturday, I grabbed a chocolate croissant at a patisserie on the street we were staying and jumped on the metro. Our first stop was the Arc de Triumph and the Champs-Elysees. It was very beautiful, but I still prefer Fifth Avenue to the Champs-Elysees! We walked down the entire Champs-Elysees to Concorde where Marie Antoinette was publicly executed. That afternoon, we checked off the number one thing on our list of things to do in Paris–have a wine, cheese and bread picnic in a park! Luxembourg Gardens was our desired picnicking site. We traveled there by metro, which is actually very similar to the New York subway system–in both cleanliness and efficiency! We arrived in the gardens after gathering the ingredients for our picnic in little grocery stores and bakeries along the way. It felt lovely to finally sit down and relax! Paris had us running around like lunatics as we tried to see all of its major attractions in a weekend. That evening, I attended mass at Notre Dame. Although the mass was in French, it was an incredible experience. (Dad, I hope I made you proud!) After mass, our group sans Kim who was with a family friend, went to Le Precoupe, the oldest restaurant in Paris. Chris, one of my classmates and travel mates, described it as “having the air of being someplace really fancy, but it was like going to an Olive Garden in Italy.” Hahah! I thought it had a nice atmosphere and that the “poulet” was great, but perhaps that was the wine talking. By the time we had paid for dinner and left the restaurant, it was 11:30 pm. Mustering the little bit of energy we had, we decided to go to a club on the Champs-Elysees. We (attempted to) dance to the techno beats until about 2:00 am before heading back to our hostel and calling it a night. Sunday, our final day, was spent in the Montmartre district of Paris. We traveled to the top of Sacre Coeur, an incredible basilica on top of a mountain that has sweeping views of the city! I was a bit disappointed I couldn’t see the Eiffel Tower from the mountaintop though. After Sacre Coeur, we walked down the main promenade to get the quintessential photo-op in front of Moulin Rouge (some of my travel mates would beg to differ). We had a quick lunch of crepes from a street vendor and relaxed on the main promenade for a bit. The City of Light was unbelievable, but it felt so good to go home to London and actually get some sleep. I can’t believe how used to London I have gotten. It’s going to be hard to leave this place!

Hot and Bothered at Syon Park Estate

The sky was crystal blue as I walked up the driveway towards Syon Park Estate. The countryside estate located in western London is situated on 200 acres of land and has a magnificent garden and conservatory on its premises. The air was humid and my expectations high as I walked up the front steps of the Duke of Northumberland’s London mansion.  I fanned myself with my Syon Park map, but little did I know that it was about to get a lot stuffier inside.

Before I could cross the threshold of the country estate, I witnessed a small scuff between our tour guide and Professor Rose, whose class was also attending the trip to Syon Park Estate. Professor Rose merely extended his hand to introduce himself to our tour guide and tell him why we were visiting Syon Park and the tour guide replied snidely, “Oh, so are you running the tour or am I?” I thought nothing of it at the time, but Mr. King, our tour guide’s, remarks worsened throughout the morning.

Mr. King, a short, tired looking man with a purple button down and Velcro sneakers directed us to sit in the main parlor. Patiently, my class sat for fifteen minutes as he spat out the facts about the Northumberland family lineage like a machine. After discussing the pastiche design of the sculptures in the main hall, he led us to the Ante Room, a room used for conferences and greeting guests. He discussed the room from floor to ceiling in elaborate detail.  While I appreciated his thorough description of the room, I yearned to learn more about the family of Northumberland and what happened in the room we were standing in. This continued on for the rest of the house.

Many humanizing details of the estate were left out of our tour and this made it difficult to imagine what life was like inside Syon Park Estate. As Mr. King led us through the rest of the mansion, our group quickly became disinterested. In the Red Drawing Room, the drama began once again. Mr. King called one of the students in our group out for “clucking their cheek” and sighed, saying, “Oh, you’re getting bored, we’ll move on.” The guilt trip was in full effect as we somberly followed Mr. King into the Long Gallery and he went through his description of the room floor-to-ceiling once more.

By the time we reached the Print Room, it was all over. “Don’t worry, I’ll only have to drag you through two more rooms,” he said sarcastically. His comments made it difficult to enjoy the loveliness of the room. I felt like I was suffocating in the stuffiness of the mansion, I just wanted the tour to end. My other classmates felt the same way and apparently, it was written all over our faces. “If it’s not too tedious for you, we’re going to head to the dining room now,” said Mr. King, a sardonic smile on his face.

Once in the dining room, Mr. King pointed out a painting of a gentleman who had donated money to start the Smithsonian Museum in Washington, D.C. He was appalled to learn that no one in our group knew the origins of the museum, especially because it was in the capital of our country. As he led us back into the main parlour he knocked on the mahogany dining table twice and said, “That’s something you should really know as Americans!” I left the estate feeling degraded.

Mr. King was undoubtedly an informative tour guide, however, he lacked a balance that other successful tour guides on my trip have possessed. In Mr. King’s case, he gave great information, but it was too much. There was no balance between entertainment and information. Syon Park Estate did not come alive for me when I visited. While I was educated about the history and aesthetic details of the estate, I hardly learned about the events that took place at Syon Park. I also found it very condescending that Mr. King assumed that because we were college students we knew all about Syon Park and its history before visiting when in fact, the point of our visit was to learn more about life in the countryside. Twenty-somethings are tactile and learn best when they can be active members in the learning experience. I think that Mr. King’s tour would have been more successful if it had been more interactive and included a better balance of history and entertainment.

RIP Amy Winehouse

I realize this is belated, but I did want to show my love for Amy Winehouse on my page. May she rest in peace.

Navigating London and Life

As I entered the Museum of London, the display of maps on the right hand wall of the lobby caught my eye. They were hand drawn by various people in the city who had sketched what London looks like to them. I rely so much on maps to get where I need to go here that I found this exhibit particularly interesting.

My inherent talent for reading maps has proved to be both a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing because it is always nice knowing where I am and recognizing my surroundings. It is a curse because I can never seem to get lost when I want to. I am also forced with the burden of leading groups of friends around, a duty I have come to loathe after doing this on a weekend getaway to Paris. I’m genetically programmed to know where I am, no matter what country I am in. I can’t help it. Bathrooms? I know where they are. Nearest tube station? Barbican. Best way to get to Piccadilly Circus from Farringdon? The 19 or the 38 bus.

One map that particularly struck me was a map drawn by a college student who had been studying here for four months. The map detailed the places she frequented: coffee shops, school buildings, grocery stores, etc. I too, have a map inside my head of all the places that I frequent. Inside of London is Jackie’s London, a succinct city that contains all of the places I have been so far. Each time I go somewhere new, the map expands a bit.

The places on my map hold both emotional and physical significance. For example, every time I pass The Tottenham pub on Oxford Street I remember the time my roommates and I dined there and I had my first order of fish and chips. Whenever I walk past The Odeon movie theatre in Covent Garden, I remember the Wednesday we saw a half-priced movie and how sweaty the inside of the theatre was because the air conditioning was not working.

The map inside my head is made of memories. Once I have visited a place once or twice, I can usually get back to it without consulting a map. I remember even as a little girl I had a talent for directions—telling my mom where to turn as she drove me to ballet class. In more recent years, my directional skills have been further developed at my summer job in the call center at my local AAA branch.

Living in London has given me confidence in my navigational abilities. It has also taught me that even though I may be able to find my way easily, I can still be adventurous and have fun getting to my final destination. It has been extremely rewarding to live in London for the past month and I am so lucky to have been able to explore so much of London during my time here. The map of London inside my head continues to grow each day, but the map inside my heart is pointing me home.

Breaking Down the Fourth Wall

To be a member of the audience at Shakespeare’s Globe theatre is a truly special experience. The open-air amphitheatre transports theater-goers back to Shakespeare’s time when plays were performed in the original Globe theatre which was built in 1599. Because of the Globe’s circular structure, it is easy to feel connected with the actors. They can look you in the eye when they are performing and you can look at them right back.  In the beginning of the performance of “All’s Well That End’s Well” I went to see, the actors and actresses came out on stage and introduced themselves to the groundlings and shook their hands. This was only the beginning of the intimate dialogue that evolved between actor and audience.

I experienced my first performance at Shakespeare’s Globe theatre as a groundling. Groundlings, or members of the audience who stand closest to the stage and pay for the cheapest tickets, are in the middle of the action. In Shakespeare’s time, commoners who were generally rowdy and obnoxious throughout performances purchased these tickets. During my own experience as a groundling, I was spit on by actors declaring their lines, rained on by the lovely London skies, and could even see the intricate details on each actor’s carefully sewn costumes. Despite standing for two hours, I highly recommend paying the five pounds to stand stage-side.

After the afternoon performance of “All’s Well that Ends Well,” I attended a question and answer session with the actresses who played the Countess and Helena. It gave audience members the opportunity to see the softer side behind the austere women who proclaimed their lines with such deft talent. The Countess, a pretty blonde with sharp features, recalled her nervousness during rehearsal for her first performance at the Globe. She spoke of how performing at the Globe was unlike any theatre she had performed at before because there is no “fourth wall.” The “fourth wall” is usually created when the theatre dims the lights in the audience and they fade into the darkness. However, at the Globe, the audience can be seen from the stage quite easily because it is an open-air amphitheatre. Despite the Countess’ nervousness, she said that her fear dissipated when she saw the audience for the first time. “It felt right and generous and spiritual and celebratory,” she proclaimed.

When asked how she got into acting, Ellie Piercy, the petite actress who played Helena, replied that she had always been involved in the arts, starting out as a child model and acting in plays as a young girl. She said acting felt natural to her, chuckling, “Well, you know, I’m no good at math.” Ms. Piercy, a Globe veteran, also revealed her insecurities as an actress. She spoke of an experience where a member of the audience was pointing and laughing at her during a monologue and how it made her self-conscious for the rest of the show. Her honesty humanized her and she glowed in her peach cardigan as she talked about the different shows she has performed in at the Globe.

I left the renowned theatre that chilly Wednesday afternoon in July with a new respect for Shakespeare. For the first time in my life, I felt that Shakespeare’s words jumped off the page and came alive. I read Shakespeare throughout my entire high school career and even listened to performances of his plays on tape, but they did not compare to my experience at the Globe. I felt like I was part of the action during my experience as a groundling and that the play was very interactive. This I had never experienced when I was reading or listening to the words aloud. “All’s Well That Ends Well” at Shakespeare’s Globe was more than a play; it was an active dialogue between audience and actor.

The Moral of the Story

The British Library was a book that I had judged by its cover. Its plain brick exterior is unimpressive; in fact, I nearly walked right by the library as I navigated Euston Road. Sandwiched between two hotels, the British Library camouflages itself well in the drab neighborhood of King’s Cross. “Okay,” I thought, “the inside of the building can’t be much worse than this, can it?”

Wrong. The lobby of the British Library, the proverbial inside cover leaflet, hurt my eyes. Alabaster walls did not leave me wanting more, as most inside leaflets should do.  An inside cover is supposed to inspire you to purchase a book and make you want to learn more about it, but the lobby of the British Library was cold and uninviting. I wanted floor to ceiling bookshelves, ladders reaching the sky, cherubs on a ceiling rotunda, but instead I was in a whitewashed lobby. If I squinted hard enough, I could see slivers of books between the various levels of the library. From the lobby, I could only view three floors of the British Library, separated by white walls and staircases that curled downward on either side.

Disappointed with what I had seen of the British Library so far, I braced myself for a dry, guided tour. The library now was like a book that I had to buy for a history class, a non-fiction paperback about World War II. The tour began and I learned that even Prince Charles hated the design and refused to celebrate the opening of the building. “That’s comforting,” I thought.

Our tour guide informed us that the British Library was established in 1973 but the building we were standing in was only 12 years old. The British Library is constantly expanding and it acquires roughly 10,000 new items each day. Its collections are held in three different buildings and the library is currently digitizing many of its books to create more space for new material.

After giving us a brief history of the library, our tour guide led us upstairs to show us a model of the library. Up close it looked like the same ugly building that I had seen from the outside, but he suggested we look at it from a distance. I stood back a bit and observed. “What does it look like now?” he asked, “A ship!” a boy in our group cried out. It looks like a cruise ship if you stand far enough back. Our guide went on to tell us that the architect had done this on purpose. The library had been built on Fleet River, making it all the more meaningful. I was hooked. I had just finished the first chapter and I wanted to keep reading more. I was fascinated that there was such a story behind the structure of the British Library.

Later in the tour, we learned that it is a laborious process to take a book out at the library. One must request the book on the desktop computers in the library and then wait while employees of the library retrieve the book in the underground glass-encased bookshelves and then scan it for approval. The book is then sent on a conveyor belt to the proper department and an employee in this department must scan it again. When the book is ready to be retrieved by the person who requested it, a little alert will light up on their desk saying their book is ready. This process takes about 60 minutes total. Fascinated, I wanted to learn more. At that moment, the British Library became a book I couldn’t put down.

Back down the stairs we went, led by our noble tour guide who was turning out to be the delightful narrator of our novel. He ushered us into the Treasures collection, a dark room with a purple carpet. Behold: the Lindisfarne Gospels, Jane Austen’s writing desk, and original manuscripts from the Beatles. The Magna Carta had an entire room dedicated to it in the Treasures exhibit. This was, for me, the climax of the novel. I was completely embarrassed by my initial judgments. I perused the Treasures gallery, intrigued by the historical documents, the literature, the ancient maps and musical manuscripts. “These are the original copies!” I thought. “I can’t believe it. Jane Austen leaned on that! That’s John Lennon’s handwriting!!” The tour ended there, but I didn’t want it to. I kept turning the pages until I had reached the end of the story. Satisfied with the conclusion, I left my misconceptions of the British Library behind me and reveled in the moment.

Planting the Seed at Bloomsbury Publishing

Evan Schnittman, a tall man with black-rimmed glasses and a warm smile, stood calmly at the head of the conference room table of Bloomsbury Publishing. I was on a visit to the prestigious publishing house in order to learn more about the competitive field. “What are we, strangers?” he joked and the room erupted into laughter and chit chat. Cookies were passed around as my classmates and I conversed with Bloomsbury employees about the world of publishing.

As Managing Director of Global Sales and Marketing at Bloomsbury Publishing, Mr. Schnittman holds a prestigious title. Not bad for a college dropout whose resume includes previous positions as Vice President of corporate and business development at Oxford University Press, Executive Vice President at The Princeton Review, and Senior Editor at Little, Brown. “I know I’m very lucky,” Mr. Schnittman said of his success.

His cool confidence contributed greatly to his likeability.  He kept the afternoon interesting and consistently held my attention, sprinkling the conversation with humor. Mr. Schnittman was refreshingly genuine throughout his entire presentation, and once the rest of the Bloomsbury employees had left the conference room, he disclosed to us that they had not prepared for the meeting at all. Not only did Mr. Schnittman conduct the meeting with class, offering us wine as our afternoon at Bloomsbury drew to an end, but also with great ease. It’s evident he’s a natural at what he does and really enjoys his work. He beamed as he told us that Bloomsbury’s mission is not just to get people to read, but to “get them to love books.”

Mr. Schnittman’s interest in publishing first began when he started working at the Barnes and Noble store on Fifth Avenue in New York.  To hear about his humble beginnings and determination was inspiring. Despite his lack of a college degree, he has made it very far in the publishing industry and this is undoubtedly because of his sharp wit. He has all of the right tools and knows how to use them to maximize his own potential. I envy his strong sense of self-assuredness and perseverance.

Mr. Schnittman instilled in me an enthusiasm to learn more about the publishing industry. I never realized how closely related marketing and publishing were until his presentation that afternoon. I learned that in the publishing industry, the marketing department is responsible for creating an image for the author whose book they are publishing in order to generate interest in their book. They must also select a book cover that they know will sell and appeal to consumers. As a marketing major, I am fascinated by the publishing industry and perhaps will pursue a career in that field one day. I left #36 Soho Square excited for my future-self, knowing that the next chapter of my life was just waiting to be written.