I had my interview for my internship yesterday. Luckily I left early because I had to do quite a bit of wandering around in uncomfortable shoes with a still heeling ankle before I could find the place tucked in somewhere near Fleet Street (no, no Demon Barber sightings). I was early though, so kudos to me. The interview went really well. The place is quite small, with far less people than I would have though, so it seems like I will have quite a bit of work to do, which is a good thing. It will be mostly research oriented with the bulk of that going towards compiling reports and write ups for various events, people and situations.
To see more about the place, go to: www.caabu.org
I found out later in the afternoon that I actually got the job, which is great. I'm really excited about it and think it will be a great opportunity (and look great on my resume).
Following the interview, I headed West parallel to the Thames via a patented double decker bus. Thank goodness I looked up the route beforehand or else I never would have found my way correctly to Westminster and my destination, the Banqueting House.
The Banqueting House is all that remains of Whitehall Palace, built until Henry VIII and burnt down under James I. It's now just a really big room with a throne and amazing ceiling paintings (essentially what the place is famous for). It's also got a neat history, being the place where Charles I was executed for Treason and thus marking the beginning of Parliamentary rule in Britain (until William and Mary were brought in to be somewhat rulers, but mostly figureheads). After the House, I had planned to go to Kensington Palace or Portobello Road Market, but was feeling tired and just decided to take it easy for the rest of the afternoon.
After a lovely dinner of microwave meal spaghetti and meatballs (which could have been better, but for $1.50, I'll take what I can get), I hopped on the Tube and made my long way to Mile End in the infamously far away from Kensington East End to the ever-lovely Ms. Emma Bedford's residence at Queen's College. The trip took about 35 minutes, which at an off-peak Tube time is quite far. It is literally all the way across the city and doubtfully a place many BU students venture to in their time here. And I can't say I blame them. First of all, I had to leave Zone 1, and once you leave Zone 1, there is a marked difference in the upkeep of the Tube stations. Mile End itself was far more reminiscent of a Boston or Philadelphia stop and once I popped up above ground, it was indeed like stepping onto a shabby street of Philadelphia.
Remember how I said before I decided it was a myth that people smoke here as much as others say; well, that's different over there in the East. As I was waiting for Emma (who was laaaate....) I noticed that almost everyone was a different ethnicity (which was kind of cool, and kind of refreshing in a way) and almost everyone was smoking. Another thing that struck me was that almost all the people that were passing by were students or young(er) people. Here in South Ken, there's a lot of older rich white people and their pampered dogs.
Queen's College has quite a nice campus, replete with graveyards of varying religions (Emma, fittingly, lives near the Jewish one) and the building Emma lives in is new and she has a very nice room and kitchen. There were kebab and fried chicken shops lining the streets from tube to dorm and Emma insisted we try the chips at this certain place... and they were excellent, until she put vinegar on them... ick.
Anyway, Emma and I hung out at her place for a little bit and then decided to go to her school pub. Luckily, our dear friend Mer left me her Queen's College pub card so I was able to get in and get cheap drinks.
We started the night off with Always a Pleasure- Never a Chore and because of that, it was inevitably a good night (this by the way, is such an inside thing between 3 American girls involving crazy hijinks in various foreign countries, and I won't get into for reasons of posterity and elite-ness). I beat her in pool (we were both terrible) and video game car racing. We then decided to play some of the board games they had in the back, but unfortunately they were all MIA and we were forced to play the game no one likes to play, and no one is good at, yet is exceedingly popular all over the world: Trivial Pursuit. Emma asked a group of guys to play with us and we made teams (I was on Team Wiley Foxes, named after some football club from somewhere nicknamed the Foxes... I did not pick the name). Emma was on Team Matt (clearly named after the most arrogant member of the group). Team Matt won on a technicality of me accidentally using one of the easy cards when asking a question, but we held our own with one less teammate.
It was nice to hang out with the Brits even though the arrogant one got a little drunk and kind of started to become an ass. As a brilliant American and know-er of history, I was able to hold my own in his onslaught of assh*le, and had to use the Suez Canal trump card (which he didn't even know about!). I had pulled out the world war "Saved your ass" card too, but he refused to accept that. He chalked it all up to the RAF. Whatever. I was able to explain to a group of Brits the significance of Winston Churchill using the backwards V for Victory hand sign at the French dating back to the Battle of Agincourt and the deep-seated hatred the two countries have always had for each other. If that doesn't make me amazing, I just don't know what does. That's another thing... when sparring with a Brit, it's always easy to defuse the situation and just bring up how lame the French are. (Fun fact: go to google.com and type in "French military victories" and click "I'm feeling lucky" for a laugh)
The Tube stops running at midnight, and that time pretty quickly came and went so I was forced to take the Night Buses home. I knew this would be a long journey, but figured it didn't matter much, as long as I got home. Welllll.... Emma and I planned out the route beforehand and everything was spot on, but as soon as I got to the stop and had to wait for almost 20 minutes before the bus showed up, I knew it would not be easy. The plan was to get on the N25 and switch to the N10 at Oxford Street. Well, after a few stops, the N25 decided to terminate and we all had to get off and wait almost 20 minutes for the next one. We all hopped on that and then after a few stops, it too decided to terminate. At this point, I decided I could no longer handle the bus waiting and decided to walk along looking for a cab. We were in "The City" at this point and I was walking along where I had been earlier in the day for my interview / touristing, and it struck me that the streets of London were almost as crowded, possibly more at 3 am as they were at 3 pm. It seemed to me as though there was some issue with the Night Buses (which by the way, are the buses that run from midnight until when the Tube opens up in the morning all throughout the city and into the outskirts) as there were lots of people crowded around all the bus stops and some people were arguing with Transport officials and buses seemed to be running around "terminated" with their lights off all over the place. After walking around for awhile, I realized that all the cabs were going to be taken, and were, so I had to make my way home somehow else. Luckily, when I decided this, I stumbled upon a bus stop where the N10 stopped. I waited and awhile after, the N10 did show up. The problem with the buses I realized is that they do not announce the stops, so it is nearly impossible to know where you are (sure-- they make their money blind accessible, but not their transport, that's fair). I got on the N10 and asked the driver if a certain stop was coming up and he mumbled something and ignored me. A young woman standing next to me had just tried the same thing earlier, and we exchanged a "what an ass" look. Luckily, I saw the street sign for the stop and got off about 1/2 a block from where I lived (way closer than I had thought). Time of Departure: appx 215. Time of arrival: 4am. Ugh... damn you night buses!
I had signed up for Hampton Court in the morning, but the departure time was 845, which would have meant a 730 wake up call. I feel vaguely guilty about this, but I didn't go. I may regret it, but there was no way I was going to function on 3.5 hours of sleep. I realize I should have planned that better... but it was a night out with Emma, who am I to cut that short?
Anyway, instead, my friend Allison and I went down to Notting Hill neighbourhood and went to the Museum of Advertising, Branding, and Packaging. It was a look at all sorts of adverts and products since Victoria's coronation. It was actually really neat to see how much stuff they were able to acquire and keep. It was also neat to see how many brands and products have kind of stayed the same over the past 100 years. There were lots of placards with information about the era and the significance of all the things, so it was a good afternoon. We got lost on the walk over there, but had a nice little walk through Notting Hill (no Hugh Grant sightings). We went to a cheap little pizza place afterwards (delicious) and then headed home through Portobello Market. Lots of antiques Mom, you should check it out.
I decided, obviously, not to go out tonight as I'm dead tired and need to be up "Early" tomorrow to head over to Madame Tussuad's. I also need need need to do my laundry tomorrow. Apparently it's just as much to drop it off and have them do it as it is to do it yourself, so guess which one I'm going for.
As you may have noticed, I seem to get lost in this city quite a bit. I hate the street signs here, they are maddening. They are plastered in odd places on the sides of buildings somewhere near the intersection (if you're lucky) and are often only on one side and nearly always difficult to see. The small nooks and crannies of streets and odd angles and various gardens, mews, villas, courts, blah blah blah would put Boston's cow paths - turned- streets to shame. The biggest problem by far is that the streets are almost never labeled, and they tend to change name at intersections, making things more complicated. I miss the grid of Philadelphia... it can't get much easier than that.
By the by, I've been finding out that more people read this than I had originally thought ever would. For that reason, I would like to put a very belated disclaimer. Basically, this blog was really just supposed to be a collection of my thoughts, more humourous than otherwise, so you have been warned that I'm not trying to be PC in this, I'm not trying to write something that will go down in history as ground shaking, and I'm not the end all and be all of American experiences here. I'm viewing this whole thing through the very narrowed lens of me and my life experience (meaning only I can say the things I'm saying, I do not speak for anyone else). Also, assume that I'm a girl with a good head on my shoulders and that when I sprain my ankle or am out at 230, it is not nearly as sordid and drunken as you likely think.
Well, it's late, and I need to plan out how I'm going to get lost tomorrow, so I think I'll call it a night.
-Kate
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