McDonalds ice cream sucks. I remember thinking that years and years ago, the last time I had it, but I decided to give this "classy" McCafe a second chance, as, after my travel- and waiting-filled day, it is the only food place near the hostel and I am starving.
Also I just looked to my left and saw a hefty woman grope her equally hefty boyfriend's crotch. Oh god. McDonald's. O_O
I have spent an inordinate amount of today sitting quietly in cafe corners, far outstaying my I-bought-your-food right to a seat. I had to leave the hostel at ten but my train for Liverpool didn't leave til four thirty and I've done everything in Stratford worth doing. So I did laundry. And went to a used bookshop. Both things I somehow thought would take more time, but I still managed to sit in Starbucks for an hour, The Tea Room Cafe for two hours, and the train station for three. And then, of course, spend an hour and a half on one train, half an hour in another station, then two hours on yet another train. And after navigating my way to the hostel dragging my stupid luggage, sitting in Mcdonalds. Stealing their Internet (hey, it's free) and eating their almost-water lettuce and a Cadbury McFlurry (sadly, the two healthiest things on the menu).
But on the bright side, I bought two books for £4! Seriously, why don't they sell $2 books in the US? They're new books too, and in good condition. I read one today, while I was doing all the sitting and waiting, and that's where the glass comes in.
The book I read is called The Girl With the Glass Feet by Ali Shaw. It was a very mature, beautiful, sad, and magical book - not because of its content really, which encompasses fantastical beasts (that aren't actually that important contextually but have a more subtle metaphorical role) and death and illness and love and how the past haunts the present (but only because the present unwittingly lets it) - but because of the delicacy, sensitivity, and honesty with which it was written. I have never read a book quite like it (and never will again, I suspect) and it's hard to say I enjoyed the experience. I loved the book, yes - adored it, even - but it's not an easy story to wrap yourself around. On the one hand it's a painfully true love story between a reclusive young man who can't stand the idea of touching people and a once-adventurous girl whose feet, to her immense confusion, are turning into glass. The setting is a remote British isle riddled with strange, inexplicable things hiding in the bogs that go unnoticed except by the odd few, whom this story concerns. Despite the elements of fantasy, this is not a fantastical book. At times it can be uncomfortable in its rawness, it's incisiveness into these characters' struggling souls as they face every unglamorous new emotion possible, where before they were carefree and numb, with all the pain of the past buried under the distractions of seclusion and routine. A truly, truly fascinating and moving book. Worth reading if you like to be challenged and left with questions you otherwise would not have thought to ask yourself. Strangely beautiful, quietly powerful, vibrantly colorless, and unfailingly even-toned. A work of literary merit.
Showing posts with label Stratford-upon-Avon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stratford-upon-Avon. Show all posts
Monday, July 2, 2012
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Day 19: Stratford-upon-Avon, City of English Pride
Just like pretty much every English town, I'm pretty sure. The British are patriotic in a way America wishes to emulate. Unfortunately, it's not nearly as inspiring to be an American as it apparently is to be British. The thing is, Britain gives its people so many reasons to be patriotic: in the last year or do there's been the Royal Wedding, the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, and now the London Olympics. Also the fact that it's such a small country makes it easier to feel loyal to it. I remember when the Olympics were in Salt Lake City, I'd always think: Oh, Olympics in Utah. Not once did I feel like my country had anything to do with it. But here I am, in a place that has nothing to do with London, lining up to join in on a piece of UK pride. It's kind of cool, actually. Too bad being "Proud to be an American" doesn't always mean what it should, has more to do with politics than heritage, at least where I'm from.
Really, I apologize. I shouldn't rant so much on my blog. It's probably bad or something.
But there went the torch! Carried by an old man. I have no idea who it was, but he was happy and cute and surrounded, I'm pretty sure, by Olympic athletes for this year. It's funny to me that it was preceded by gigantic vans of almost every color: a blue Sony (?) van passing out flags, a green bank van passing out ribbons, a red Coke can passing out sodas and frisbees, and a yellow Olympic Torch entourage van containing more athletes. Unfortunately, I was handed nothing exciting, even though I had a prime spot right by the railing which I stood for an hour to snag.
Oh, oh! I forgot to mention the baby cheerleaders! They were about a dozen girls aged eightish to thirteenish wearing Union Jack leggings and singing that stupid song, "Everywhere we go-! (everywhere we go-!) People always ask us-! (People always ask us-!) Who we are-! (Who we are-!) etc etc) over and over and over again at the top of their squeaky little-girl voices. The thing that struck me, though, was how bad they were. Their moves were simple and uncoordinated and awkward. But you know what, Texas? They're eight. They're SUPPOSED to be gangly and out of step and dressed in butt-covering, torso-hiding children's outfits, because they are NOT sexy adult women. I kind of liked their performance because it didn't make my skin crawl watching them; unlike the baby cheerleaders I've seen parading around my town in pink bras and skirts-that-don't-even-pretend-to-cover-anything, these girls looked like girls instead of sick dolls training up to be the high school whores we know and love.
Oh wait. I said I wouldn't rant anymore. Sorry! It's this being alone that's getting to me - no one to rant with! I don't mean to offend anyone. But hey, you're the one who's voluntarily reading my blog.
Anyway, I also went to the Nash House and New Place, where Shakespeare spent his last days. There's actually quite an interesting narrative about how the house changed hands over the years and was eventually torn down by an old, resentful rich man. But on the site now is an archaeological dig in the progress of uncovering the foundations of the Bard's home as well as the 13th century building it was built on top of. So that was neat.
Then I went to Hall's Croft, home of Susanna Shakespeare and her husband, which was cute and stuff, but I mostly went because 1) it's cold outside, 2) my birthplace ticket covers this as well, and 3) I was handed a 50% off coupon at the Hall's Croft Cafe, which is actually pretty nice. You know, I've never eaten at a restaurant alone before, and I can tell people wonder why. It's a little weird I guess. But whatevs.
(PS- I love how I've taught my phone that word. It just pointed out that my spelling was wrong - its "whatevs" NOT "watevs". Obviously.)
And that's basically it. I'm having an early night because it's Sunday and the buses don't run later than seven, and also I'm exhausted from yesterday. Shane I couldn't have stayed for the finishing up of the River Festival or go to the Ping Pong Village Fete or see the free outdoor play (but those last two were because of the torch, not the bus) but oh we'll! Always next time.
And I think I will come back to Stratford. It's a wonderful place, kind of like Denton in a way, with it's community vibe and upbeat culture.
Really, I apologize. I shouldn't rant so much on my blog. It's probably bad or something.
But there went the torch! Carried by an old man. I have no idea who it was, but he was happy and cute and surrounded, I'm pretty sure, by Olympic athletes for this year. It's funny to me that it was preceded by gigantic vans of almost every color: a blue Sony (?) van passing out flags, a green bank van passing out ribbons, a red Coke can passing out sodas and frisbees, and a yellow Olympic Torch entourage van containing more athletes. Unfortunately, I was handed nothing exciting, even though I had a prime spot right by the railing which I stood for an hour to snag.
Oh, oh! I forgot to mention the baby cheerleaders! They were about a dozen girls aged eightish to thirteenish wearing Union Jack leggings and singing that stupid song, "Everywhere we go-! (everywhere we go-!) People always ask us-! (People always ask us-!) Who we are-! (Who we are-!) etc etc) over and over and over again at the top of their squeaky little-girl voices. The thing that struck me, though, was how bad they were. Their moves were simple and uncoordinated and awkward. But you know what, Texas? They're eight. They're SUPPOSED to be gangly and out of step and dressed in butt-covering, torso-hiding children's outfits, because they are NOT sexy adult women. I kind of liked their performance because it didn't make my skin crawl watching them; unlike the baby cheerleaders I've seen parading around my town in pink bras and skirts-that-don't-even-pretend-to-cover-anything, these girls looked like girls instead of sick dolls training up to be the high school whores we know and love.
Oh wait. I said I wouldn't rant anymore. Sorry! It's this being alone that's getting to me - no one to rant with! I don't mean to offend anyone. But hey, you're the one who's voluntarily reading my blog.
Anyway, I also went to the Nash House and New Place, where Shakespeare spent his last days. There's actually quite an interesting narrative about how the house changed hands over the years and was eventually torn down by an old, resentful rich man. But on the site now is an archaeological dig in the progress of uncovering the foundations of the Bard's home as well as the 13th century building it was built on top of. So that was neat.
Then I went to Hall's Croft, home of Susanna Shakespeare and her husband, which was cute and stuff, but I mostly went because 1) it's cold outside, 2) my birthplace ticket covers this as well, and 3) I was handed a 50% off coupon at the Hall's Croft Cafe, which is actually pretty nice. You know, I've never eaten at a restaurant alone before, and I can tell people wonder why. It's a little weird I guess. But whatevs.
(PS- I love how I've taught my phone that word. It just pointed out that my spelling was wrong - its "whatevs" NOT "watevs". Obviously.)
And that's basically it. I'm having an early night because it's Sunday and the buses don't run later than seven, and also I'm exhausted from yesterday. Shane I couldn't have stayed for the finishing up of the River Festival or go to the Ping Pong Village Fete or see the free outdoor play (but those last two were because of the torch, not the bus) but oh we'll! Always next time.
And I think I will come back to Stratford. It's a wonderful place, kind of like Denton in a way, with it's community vibe and upbeat culture.
Day 18: Stratford-upon-Avon, City of The Bard and Coincidental Festivities
Well, here I am, sitting at a picnic table I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be sitting at without buying anything, but it's right by the river and I can hear the music from the festival down the bank. So I'm staying, writing my post cards, blogging, and munching on the mixed dried fruit I bought at the Italian market stall. How come I always manage to find dried fruit?
Yep. I'm on my own. You know, it's not frightening at all. I guess I've never really had a problem being on my own or navigating cities or anything. But still. I'm getting along fine as far as eating and doing things goes, but being away from parental supervision is kind of different from being ON YOUR OWN. I'm having tons of fun, but it would be nice, in the future, to have someone with me just to with about what to do, where to go - and so, you know, I could talk to someone sometimes and I wouldn't look weird sitting by myself at a picnic table surrounded by families. But mostly it would be great so someone else could appreciate the things that happen - the coincidental, the accidental, the mistakes, the successes - with me.
Like, you know, the fact that I chose the three most perfect days to be in Statford of the whole entire year.
Seriously, I randomly happen to be here during the World Shakespeare Festival, the River Festival (sort of like Stratford's Jazz Fest), AND the passing through of the Olympic Torch! How the heck did that happen?
So today, I got here into town, looked at the River Festival, where countless men and women in some sort of traditional dress broke out accordions and started dancing, like, EVERYWHERE. And there's so many excellent food stalls and craft stalls. And there's music! And a miniature boat club! It's all quite adorable.
After that I went to the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, which sits right on the river, to attend the talk with the cast of Julius Caesar, which I will be seeing tonight. It was absolutely fascinating, especially from an actor's point of view, although I was the youngest one there by about fifty years. But still, the actors discussed some of their rehearsal questions and issues and it was all very literary and philosophical. It's an all-black cast, and they chose to set the play in Africa in the time of Nelson Mandela. They went through several monologues, including Cassius' and Brutus' famous speeches, and the scene between Caesar and his wife, each time repeating them in different styles to show the many layers they could have emphasized in different ways. In rehearsal, they had done a fascinating thing - go through the script line by line with someone other than the actor reading his part, and after each line, everyone except the actor discusses what the line means. Overall, it was an incredible little program, and I am so glad I did it. :)
Then I spent some more time walking around and eventually wound up at Shakespeare's grave in the Holy Trjnity Church. It was cool, I guess, though the most interesting part was the little statue his friends installed there after his death, which is supposed to be a good likeness and looks basically like the bald, mustachioed guy we all know and love. The funny thing (to me) was that the church (which is still a functioning congregation) has all these interpretations of Shakespeare's use of the Bible and Christian themes/images/values and how he was such a true believer. This made me laugh, not because it may not be true (how am I supposed to know that?) but because of the long discussions we had in Seeley's class about the doubts and speculation that Hamlet has about God and religion throughout the play. I personally don't think Hamlet (which is the example they used) is good proof that Shakespeare was a by-the-book Christian. The other thing that made me laugh was the description of Will's marriage to Anne Hathaway. They didn't shy away from the fact that she was three months pregnant when they hurriedly got married, but they followed that up with "The Shakespeare's remained a loving and faithful couple throughout their lives." I laughed aloud at that, mostly because it's complete BS. After Will moved to London , he hardly saw Anne at all, and there's lots of evidence that he had a lover or two in London. I mean, even if there wasn't evidence that their marriage didn't last, where is the evidence that it did? The answer: it doesn't exist.
So yeah, the church was cute, but their optimism was a little silly. But still. They had a lot of artifacts and information that I was glad to see, like the graves of the entire Shakespeare family, Will's baptism and death records, and the pool he was baptized in.
So then I came back down to the center of town, looked at the Festival some more, and got my lunch at the grocery store (my days of restaurant meals are over). Now I'm waiting for the play to start, but as I have a good five hours I might just go see Shakespeare's house.
Much, much later:
My god, there isn't enough colorful language to describe how exhausted I am right now. I have had a most ridiculously full day - quite possibly the fullest day I've ever had, certainly on this trip, and that's saying something.
After I left you before, I walked to the Shakespeare birthplace (after getting lost several times) and bought a ticket. The whole exhibit was pretty interesting, full of history and neat little presentations, like the one about Shakespeare's First Folio, which his friends published after his death, and is pretty much the only reason we remember his plays. Also, it's the most valuable book in the world. So that was cool. After that came the actual house, which was pretty much just a reeeeeally old house filled with reproduction furniture. It was interesting after seeing all the fancy houses and palaces in Europe to see a workman's house, complete with staff dressed in period clothing (who were quite knowledgeable!) and a couple of actors dramatizing various speeches and scenes in the garden. I also loved that they had the original windows, which are covered in graffiti dating back to the early 1800s, on display.
After that...uh...it's kind of a blur, really. I probably walked around looking for a bookstore I had found when I was lost, ate dinner at a baguette place, and wandered, waiting for the play. So we'll just skip to that.
They had this exhibit to look at while waiting for the house to open, called Of All the People in All the World. It was basically various statistics about humanity represented by 60 million grains of rice - one for each person living in the UK. It was fascinating. When you walk in, you are asked to take a grain of rice, I guess to make you feel insignificant as you see the gigantic piles laying around, all labeled "People who attended the official Dr Who convention" or "Number killed in Afghanistan by US soldiers" and stuff. The most striking thing to me was that the two largest piles, about equal in size, were "Millionaires in the world in 2011" and "Refugees in the world in 2011". Hm. Pretty enlightening. I've put some of them below so you can see.
Anyway, then the show. I was on the Upper Circle, the third tier above the stage. As soon as I sat down, I discovered why my ticket was so cheap: a structural bar ran right down the middle of my view of the stage. -_- But I managed to look around it, which is good, because the show was amazing! I'm not a big fan of Julius Caesar, or resetting Shakespeare plays to weird random time periods, but this really worked - like one of the actors had said this morning, " How could it have ever been set anywhere else?" It was very powerful, and of course the actors were amazing. There's just something about modern African culture, something about the ceremony and the colorful way of speaking, that really resonates with Ancient Rome. Add in the live African band playing on the stage, and it was flawless.
It was already pretty late when the play let out, about 9:30, but (idiotically) the bus didn't leave until 11:30. I thought about getting a taxi, but it looked like something was going on over at the River Festival and it wasn't dark yet, so I crossed the river to join in the locals' festivities.
A band was playing, the Texan Peacocks, who were most decidedly not Texan. They were, however, some sort of cover band, because they played lots of killers and some other well-known rock songs. People noshed and danced, and I joined in because it was fun. Of course everyone was drunk. After that there was a flotilla of boats that paraded down the river, all covered in Christmas lights and flashing. Some were quite spectacular. One, however, was adorable - instead of putting Christmas lights on their canoe, someone put a little tent on top with a light in it and sat making shadow puppets for the crowd. :) After that there were mildly pathetic but cute fireworks, and then I sat in McDobalds for a while waiting for the bus, trying to hide from the people who were cleaning up because I hadn't bought anything.
Then I finally got home after riding many miles with a bus full of drunk middle-aged people, and fell into bed. Now it's tomorrow, but I'm pretending it's still yesterday for the sake of this post.
PS - Sorry my pictures are crap. It takes so long and I'm sick of my pho e camera and Instagram. Uuuuuggh. -_-
PPS - ohmygoddavidtennantisabadass
Yep. I'm on my own. You know, it's not frightening at all. I guess I've never really had a problem being on my own or navigating cities or anything. But still. I'm getting along fine as far as eating and doing things goes, but being away from parental supervision is kind of different from being ON YOUR OWN. I'm having tons of fun, but it would be nice, in the future, to have someone with me just to with about what to do, where to go - and so, you know, I could talk to someone sometimes and I wouldn't look weird sitting by myself at a picnic table surrounded by families. But mostly it would be great so someone else could appreciate the things that happen - the coincidental, the accidental, the mistakes, the successes - with me.
Like, you know, the fact that I chose the three most perfect days to be in Statford of the whole entire year.
Seriously, I randomly happen to be here during the World Shakespeare Festival, the River Festival (sort of like Stratford's Jazz Fest), AND the passing through of the Olympic Torch! How the heck did that happen?
So today, I got here into town, looked at the River Festival, where countless men and women in some sort of traditional dress broke out accordions and started dancing, like, EVERYWHERE. And there's so many excellent food stalls and craft stalls. And there's music! And a miniature boat club! It's all quite adorable.
After that I went to the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, which sits right on the river, to attend the talk with the cast of Julius Caesar, which I will be seeing tonight. It was absolutely fascinating, especially from an actor's point of view, although I was the youngest one there by about fifty years. But still, the actors discussed some of their rehearsal questions and issues and it was all very literary and philosophical. It's an all-black cast, and they chose to set the play in Africa in the time of Nelson Mandela. They went through several monologues, including Cassius' and Brutus' famous speeches, and the scene between Caesar and his wife, each time repeating them in different styles to show the many layers they could have emphasized in different ways. In rehearsal, they had done a fascinating thing - go through the script line by line with someone other than the actor reading his part, and after each line, everyone except the actor discusses what the line means. Overall, it was an incredible little program, and I am so glad I did it. :)
Then I spent some more time walking around and eventually wound up at Shakespeare's grave in the Holy Trjnity Church. It was cool, I guess, though the most interesting part was the little statue his friends installed there after his death, which is supposed to be a good likeness and looks basically like the bald, mustachioed guy we all know and love. The funny thing (to me) was that the church (which is still a functioning congregation) has all these interpretations of Shakespeare's use of the Bible and Christian themes/images/values and how he was such a true believer. This made me laugh, not because it may not be true (how am I supposed to know that?) but because of the long discussions we had in Seeley's class about the doubts and speculation that Hamlet has about God and religion throughout the play. I personally don't think Hamlet (which is the example they used) is good proof that Shakespeare was a by-the-book Christian. The other thing that made me laugh was the description of Will's marriage to Anne Hathaway. They didn't shy away from the fact that she was three months pregnant when they hurriedly got married, but they followed that up with "The Shakespeare's remained a loving and faithful couple throughout their lives." I laughed aloud at that, mostly because it's complete BS. After Will moved to London , he hardly saw Anne at all, and there's lots of evidence that he had a lover or two in London. I mean, even if there wasn't evidence that their marriage didn't last, where is the evidence that it did? The answer: it doesn't exist.
So yeah, the church was cute, but their optimism was a little silly. But still. They had a lot of artifacts and information that I was glad to see, like the graves of the entire Shakespeare family, Will's baptism and death records, and the pool he was baptized in.
So then I came back down to the center of town, looked at the Festival some more, and got my lunch at the grocery store (my days of restaurant meals are over). Now I'm waiting for the play to start, but as I have a good five hours I might just go see Shakespeare's house.
Much, much later:
My god, there isn't enough colorful language to describe how exhausted I am right now. I have had a most ridiculously full day - quite possibly the fullest day I've ever had, certainly on this trip, and that's saying something.
After I left you before, I walked to the Shakespeare birthplace (after getting lost several times) and bought a ticket. The whole exhibit was pretty interesting, full of history and neat little presentations, like the one about Shakespeare's First Folio, which his friends published after his death, and is pretty much the only reason we remember his plays. Also, it's the most valuable book in the world. So that was cool. After that came the actual house, which was pretty much just a reeeeeally old house filled with reproduction furniture. It was interesting after seeing all the fancy houses and palaces in Europe to see a workman's house, complete with staff dressed in period clothing (who were quite knowledgeable!) and a couple of actors dramatizing various speeches and scenes in the garden. I also loved that they had the original windows, which are covered in graffiti dating back to the early 1800s, on display.
After that...uh...it's kind of a blur, really. I probably walked around looking for a bookstore I had found when I was lost, ate dinner at a baguette place, and wandered, waiting for the play. So we'll just skip to that.
They had this exhibit to look at while waiting for the house to open, called Of All the People in All the World. It was basically various statistics about humanity represented by 60 million grains of rice - one for each person living in the UK. It was fascinating. When you walk in, you are asked to take a grain of rice, I guess to make you feel insignificant as you see the gigantic piles laying around, all labeled "People who attended the official Dr Who convention" or "Number killed in Afghanistan by US soldiers" and stuff. The most striking thing to me was that the two largest piles, about equal in size, were "Millionaires in the world in 2011" and "Refugees in the world in 2011". Hm. Pretty enlightening. I've put some of them below so you can see.
Anyway, then the show. I was on the Upper Circle, the third tier above the stage. As soon as I sat down, I discovered why my ticket was so cheap: a structural bar ran right down the middle of my view of the stage. -_- But I managed to look around it, which is good, because the show was amazing! I'm not a big fan of Julius Caesar, or resetting Shakespeare plays to weird random time periods, but this really worked - like one of the actors had said this morning, " How could it have ever been set anywhere else?" It was very powerful, and of course the actors were amazing. There's just something about modern African culture, something about the ceremony and the colorful way of speaking, that really resonates with Ancient Rome. Add in the live African band playing on the stage, and it was flawless.
It was already pretty late when the play let out, about 9:30, but (idiotically) the bus didn't leave until 11:30. I thought about getting a taxi, but it looked like something was going on over at the River Festival and it wasn't dark yet, so I crossed the river to join in the locals' festivities.
A band was playing, the Texan Peacocks, who were most decidedly not Texan. They were, however, some sort of cover band, because they played lots of killers and some other well-known rock songs. People noshed and danced, and I joined in because it was fun. Of course everyone was drunk. After that there was a flotilla of boats that paraded down the river, all covered in Christmas lights and flashing. Some were quite spectacular. One, however, was adorable - instead of putting Christmas lights on their canoe, someone put a little tent on top with a light in it and sat making shadow puppets for the crowd. :) After that there were mildly pathetic but cute fireworks, and then I sat in McDobalds for a while waiting for the bus, trying to hide from the people who were cleaning up because I hadn't bought anything.
Then I finally got home after riding many miles with a bus full of drunk middle-aged people, and fell into bed. Now it's tomorrow, but I'm pretending it's still yesterday for the sake of this post.
PS - Sorry my pictures are crap. It takes so long and I'm sick of my pho e camera and Instagram. Uuuuuggh. -_-
PPS - ohmygoddavidtennantisabadass
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Day 17: Back in England, and Striking Out On My Own
Well, today involved a lot of traveling, some of it quite nerve-racking. After getting lost time and time again trying to get to the train station from our hotel in the most frustrating navigation my grandmother has ever done we finally made it onto the train - but not before I met a new friend.
She was meowing loudly from under the rental cars in the parking garage, and a man seemed to be calling her. When I saw her dart between cars, I knelt down and wiggled my fingers; the poor hungry thing crawled up to me, meowing like crazy, and shoved her little head into my hands and rolled over onto her back. She was young - still a catten - but so adorable and helpless. Also, she was dirty, which I discovered when I picked her up. The man, when I asked if it was his cat, shrugged and said that she'd been there for days, probably lost when a family returned their car. He told me to take her, and goodness, I wanted to. But obviously getting a stray cat back to the States would be difficult, not to mention that my family hates cats. So yeah. That made me sad. Good luck to you, dear cat! I hope you leave the parking garage and go eat rats on the farms! It's not too far. :(
Anyway, we took the train to London, then caught a cab, which dropped me off at Marylebone Station to start my journey on my own.
Oh oh oh! But I forgot to tell you! In the train station in Brussels, miraculously, there was a shop selling Tin Tin stuff! So much stuff and I wanted it all! I bought a pin, which I would show you a picture of except my grandparents took it with them to Maenporth, along with all the other stuff I don't need to carry around the country with me. So that was awesome . :D
Anyway, back to London. I got my ticket, which was easy, and then sat around awkwardly as I waited for it to show up on the board. The fact that I mixed up the Departures side and the Arrivals side probably didn't help my anxiety when it didn't show up. I had to ask the info desk people more than once what I was doing wrong. Anyway, I felt ridiculous and awkward, as I have ever since traveling by myself. But it's getting better.
Anyway, I got on the train and hoped that it was the right one and I was in the right seat. But don't worry. I was. :) I got to Stratford-upon-Avon (hoping that it was the right stop) and promptly got hopelessly lost. A nice lady pointed me in a direction, but either I did not see what she meant or it was the wrong one, because I continued to be lost. Then, after wandering around with my bags for a good long time, a merciful bus driver asked me what I was looking for, and when I told him, kindly informed me that the bus I needed did not run this late, and my options were to walk 4 miles or take a taxi. So yeah. I took a taxi. -_- it wasn't as expensive as I thought it would be, and the driver was nice. I feel like a lot if people can tell immediately that I am a tourist, lost and alone, which is probably not a good thing but what can I do about it? I've never done any of this before by myself, and there's a gigantic chance that I'm doing it all wrong and am actually an idiot.
Anyway. I made it to the hostel, but it was dinner time and there was no one at the front desk so I waited and waited and wondered what to do, feeling, again, awkward and stupid. But someone eventually came and a very nice lady checked me in and gave me a membership and sent me up to my room.
I sat in the room a long time, looking at the other beds and wondering who owned them, and hoping it wasn't someone crazy or easily offended. I would, after all, probably do a lot of things wrong this first time and might not be the best roommate ever. So I waited and made my bed and got myself organized and eventually a woman came in with her young daughter, Lisa and Sophia, respectively. I was so relieved! Somehow, when I'm stressed out, it's easier to talk politely to an adult than to talk friendly to a fellow teenager. I don't know. You already know I'm awkward, and that's probably why. It's a lot harder to make friends than to be polite and nice and companionable. But she's very nice. The other two ladies I'm staying with are also older, although the hostel is full of kids my age who speak a weird mix of Romanian-or-something and cockney English.
So yeah. Now I'm gonna go to sleep in this creaky top bunk and hope I don't ruin everyone's night by being too loud.
She was meowing loudly from under the rental cars in the parking garage, and a man seemed to be calling her. When I saw her dart between cars, I knelt down and wiggled my fingers; the poor hungry thing crawled up to me, meowing like crazy, and shoved her little head into my hands and rolled over onto her back. She was young - still a catten - but so adorable and helpless. Also, she was dirty, which I discovered when I picked her up. The man, when I asked if it was his cat, shrugged and said that she'd been there for days, probably lost when a family returned their car. He told me to take her, and goodness, I wanted to. But obviously getting a stray cat back to the States would be difficult, not to mention that my family hates cats. So yeah. That made me sad. Good luck to you, dear cat! I hope you leave the parking garage and go eat rats on the farms! It's not too far. :(
Anyway, we took the train to London, then caught a cab, which dropped me off at Marylebone Station to start my journey on my own.
Oh oh oh! But I forgot to tell you! In the train station in Brussels, miraculously, there was a shop selling Tin Tin stuff! So much stuff and I wanted it all! I bought a pin, which I would show you a picture of except my grandparents took it with them to Maenporth, along with all the other stuff I don't need to carry around the country with me. So that was awesome . :D
Anyway, back to London. I got my ticket, which was easy, and then sat around awkwardly as I waited for it to show up on the board. The fact that I mixed up the Departures side and the Arrivals side probably didn't help my anxiety when it didn't show up. I had to ask the info desk people more than once what I was doing wrong. Anyway, I felt ridiculous and awkward, as I have ever since traveling by myself. But it's getting better.
Anyway, I got on the train and hoped that it was the right one and I was in the right seat. But don't worry. I was. :) I got to Stratford-upon-Avon (hoping that it was the right stop) and promptly got hopelessly lost. A nice lady pointed me in a direction, but either I did not see what she meant or it was the wrong one, because I continued to be lost. Then, after wandering around with my bags for a good long time, a merciful bus driver asked me what I was looking for, and when I told him, kindly informed me that the bus I needed did not run this late, and my options were to walk 4 miles or take a taxi. So yeah. I took a taxi. -_- it wasn't as expensive as I thought it would be, and the driver was nice. I feel like a lot if people can tell immediately that I am a tourist, lost and alone, which is probably not a good thing but what can I do about it? I've never done any of this before by myself, and there's a gigantic chance that I'm doing it all wrong and am actually an idiot.
Anyway. I made it to the hostel, but it was dinner time and there was no one at the front desk so I waited and waited and wondered what to do, feeling, again, awkward and stupid. But someone eventually came and a very nice lady checked me in and gave me a membership and sent me up to my room.
I sat in the room a long time, looking at the other beds and wondering who owned them, and hoping it wasn't someone crazy or easily offended. I would, after all, probably do a lot of things wrong this first time and might not be the best roommate ever. So I waited and made my bed and got myself organized and eventually a woman came in with her young daughter, Lisa and Sophia, respectively. I was so relieved! Somehow, when I'm stressed out, it's easier to talk politely to an adult than to talk friendly to a fellow teenager. I don't know. You already know I'm awkward, and that's probably why. It's a lot harder to make friends than to be polite and nice and companionable. But she's very nice. The other two ladies I'm staying with are also older, although the hostel is full of kids my age who speak a weird mix of Romanian-or-something and cockney English.
So yeah. Now I'm gonna go to sleep in this creaky top bunk and hope I don't ruin everyone's night by being too loud.
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