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Cardinals baseball with proper company. And Mike Shannon. American radio. The two door honda with the broken bumber and cracked manifold. Driving in general. Playing loud music over the stereo (only storebought cds of course). That little bump in Bopp road by St. C where if you drive over it fast it feels like a roller coaster. Driving home late at night with no-one else at the road. The red chair in the living room. Nightly news at 5:30. Sitting by the pool. Not having to use a lighter to light the stove. Not having to convert money into dollars. Having money fit into my wallet. Not having to use coins as money on a regular basis. Not having to pay for water or bathrooms or wifi. Being able to wear shorts without getting funny looks. People driving on the correct side of the road. American chain restaurants. Real cheeseburgers (Village Bar). Jack in the Box tacos. Big screen tvs. Going to Jimmy's or Sean's basement and doing absolutely nothing. Nick's basement. Nick's apartment. Rosemary. Paying only a dollar extra for Bud Lught or Select over Natty. 30 cases of beer. Arguing with Jimmy about ND football. Movies at Des Peres. Not being in the Nanny State. Driving downtown. Gassing up in Missouri before you cross the river. That long drive to South Bend. Speeding on the Indiana toll road. That first glimpse of the Dome when you approach campus. The Dome. Campus. Walks to class when its cold and the Dome looks especially glinty. Morning breakfast in the DH. Pistacchio mint muffins, scrambled eggs, hash browns, cranberry orange juice and New York Times. Reading the Times and getting mad. Coffee from Waddicks. Shittier coffee from Mendoza (quarter off if you bring your own mug). That awkward break between classes where nothing productive happens. ESPN. Watching the same highlights over and over. College Football. ND football. Bitching with everyone about the coaching situation. Defense. That hideous barf colored couch in the common room. Sleeping on the hideous barf colored couch in the common room. Late night sales with Josh Bennet and Sean. Park. Wing. Arguing over the merits of Nip/Tuck (great show). Having the room be an awful mess. T-Swift and Miley Cyrus. Nastia Lukin and Shawn Johnson. Runs in Rolfs. Runs in Loftus. Runs around the lakes. Runs with Jess. Climbing club Hesburgh. Reading scribbles on the desks in Hesburgh instead of studying. Late night Lafun runs. Having Gigante buy everyone Sbarro even though he hates it. Parties in our room. Going off campus to random houses and drinking their beer. Staying on campus and drinking way too much of our own beer. Beer bears. Peanuts. Playing Kings. Little man rule. Mixing drinks with crappy crappy liquor. Crappy beer. Sneaking beer in with duffle bags. Christian's white couch. Hearing Gigante yelling about something from our room. Life talks. Talking with sean josh chis chris kevin emily kristin jess aryelle anyone from knott instead of doing homework. Staying in the DH way too long. Broomball. Late night movies. The sophomores next door. Aidan. Random visits from Ian. Being convinced to go to 23 when I really shouldnt. The bat of motivation at the PC. PC man fun. Wasting time at the PC and getting paid. PC managers. Grace Hall. Crispy Chicken, Jalapeno Cheddar, honey mustard, lettuce cucumber olive onion and a few jalapenos. Cut in half to go. With a v8 v-fusion. That nice guy with the conductor hat that always checks you out and tells your balance. Drives to Meijer for anything. Taco Bell just for the hell of it. Being able to see the girls' room from our room. Meeting in the courtyard for dinner. Broccoli from NDH. Desert table. Homestyle line. Knott Table. Making fun of the Observer, a lot. Paying attention in class. Not paying attention in class. Being an underclassmen. Throwing frisbee. ND ultimate. Ultimate chicks (score!). Team dinners. Tournaments. Cheers at the end of practice. Practice. Rape and Pillage Rape and Pillage dont fuck with the Irish. Big Checks. Ultimate parties. PC parties. Playing the birdman game with the ultimate team. Giving that one person you know the head nod when you walk past them. Seeing professors on the quad. Making fun of professors. Arguing ferociously with cubs fans. Watching the blues. Watching the simpsons. Having Kenny understand my simpsons references. Armageddon drinking game. Road trips with the Landis family. Toasted ravioli. Budweiser. Busch Stadium. St. Louis Sunsets. It's not the heat its the humidity. West County. Des Peres. Harwood Hills. Being surrounded by Americans. The people I love.
Apologies in advance for the length of this one. The last week has been fairly eventful, beginning with the usual day of class on Monday with a discussion of the first ever televised debates the previous Thursday. We debated on whether Nick Clegg, the leader of the third party who jumped in the polls, would continue to dominate. After this Thursday, it is clear that he is just as human as everyone else. On Tuesday I took advantage of my day off and went back one final time to the British museum, where I did the Mesopotamia and European exhibits. I donated money to the museum when I left, the first time I had ever done that as a poor college student. But given that I went here like 5 times I thought it was necessary. How much did I give? Irrelevant.
I walked back the long way past King's Cross and through Islington just for the hell of it. It was a gorgeous day. We went back to Sports Cafe that night and I got my ass handed to me in beer pong. Need more practice. Wednesday was the usual day in Philo and Macro, followed by my farewell get together with my office managers in Parliament. We met by Holborn tube stop and got drinks at the Princess Louise, followed by The Ship and The Seven Stars. Over several drinks we talked politics, movies, pop culture, and the workings of our boss's office. It was cool getting to know both of my managers on a personal level outside of work. I think we all felt like friends instead of co-workers after our mini pub crawl that night. I explained several different drinking games that we Americans like to partake in. Peter asked me one thing I learned from my experience in Parliament, and I told him that I knew much more about the workings of politics behind the theories from the experience. Government is a group of individuals, and when people in government have bad days, government also has a bad day. Peter seconded that idea and stressed that he hoped I learned that all politicians are people, not just an inanimate conglomerate that always screws stuff up.
After reflecting on that for a while, I think that is the biggest lesson I can take away from my experience in Parliamant and bring it with me wherever I go. No matter what organization it is, it will always be made up of people who have emotions and needs who will always make mistakes. Politicians are not out to screw you or take advantage, most of the time they are people just like me. Most of the time. I thoroughly enjoyed my evening with my two friends/bosses, and I will miss them very much. Hopefully I will be able to see them again at least one more time in Cardiff. This experience getting to know these guys thas made my time abroad that more special, and when I look back it is my time in Parliament that I will remember the most.
On Thursday I didn't have class til 3:45 at Westminster Cathedral, so I went to the Changing of the Horse Guards on Whitehall. This is like a much cooler Buckingham guard change, but much less attended because no one knows about it. I stood and watched for a while as a bunch of horsies stood in a line looking awesome. Then one horse rode through a tunnel from Whitehall and started yelling stuff like "Single File!" and "Guards to the right!" and things of that nature. The horses all moved in unison as one group moved out and another moved through the tunnel to take their positions on Whitehall. It was about a ten minute ceremony that involved twenty horses and a lot of ceremonial garb. While I was quite impressed with it along with the fifty other grade schoolers in the crowd, I can't think about how pointless this ceremony really is. While the buckingham guards at least nominally guard the Queen, these horse guards guard a museum on Whitehall dedicated to the horse guards (which charges admission in order to fund the horse guards). Seems a little circular to me, but I guess the British empire looks that much cooler by having a sweet ass horse guard regiment in place to impress tourists. I enjoyed myself for free for a half hour, so who am I to complain?
After that I screwed around at the LC for a bit and then went to the Tate Britain, arguably the leading art museum in London. As with most art, I wasn't impressed. Not that the art wasn't good, it's just that I don't care. Sorry. After seeing the Van Goghs and Monets and DaVincis in France I wasn't really too much into examining Hogarth's commentary on English culture and Holbein's portrayal of Tudor royalty. I guess that's a good problem to have. I spent about 40 minutes in the museum and then walked past some cricket fields to the Cathedral.
Our tour of Westminster Cathedral explained a lot of the stuff I was confused about before. Basically the place isn't finished yet, because they have not raised enough money to fund the placement of mosaics on all of the walls. The bare bricks are black from a hundred years of candle smoke, and there are a few English saints buried in the chapels along the outside. The tour was short and quick and made me feel more comfortable about why the Cathedral looks so weird. As an additional bonus the mass that night did not have a choir, which is why our Church Music class was there in the first place, so we didn't have to stay for mass. Always a plus.
Thursday night brought the usual trip to O'Neill's. As much as that place sucks, I think I'm going to miss it. I guess I can replace it with the Backer and 23, but it won't be the same. Friday I went for a long run and met some friends down by school to celebrate St. George's day. St George is the patron saint of England, so it's sort of like their 4th of July, except not. The English get about as excited about St. George's Day as the Americans get excited about the World Cup. A lot of pubs were decorated with flags and such, and we heard some English doing shots to multiculturalism, which I found hilarious. We went to a play in Battersea put on by Peter's social concerns class. The five ND kids in the class worked with a local school with immigrant families to put on a play on immigration. I was expecting a little kids play, but the show was quite well put together (given it was written by ND kids with the supervision of an eccentric ND prof). Afterwards we had refreshments and schmoozed with some grade school parents. St. C never would have done this (albeit, everyone at St. C is white so it doesn't matter).
That night we celebrated St. George's in style, probably harder than most English would. As such I will not blog about it here, but we had a wonderful night. Saturday I woke up and went out to Wimbledon, home of the infamous tennis tournament that we always see NBC covering late at night, but that none of us usually watch. The trip to the Tennis park was actually very enjoyable considering that I may have been hung over and I had no appreciation for tennis. The club is situated in a quaint London suburb and was pretty quiet. The only folks in the complex were a few tourists. Apparently the "All English Club" that hosts Wimbledon only has like 500 members, most of whom aren't Londoners who don't use the club that much. So basically its a pristine kept tennis grounds that gets used two weeks out of the year for the word to watch a tennis match. Our tour guide explained the history of the club and the tournament, and he took us around the courts, Henman Hill, and Centre Court, which was unfortunately covered to protect from the elements. We saw the Wimbledon trophies in the museum and bought some headbands and wristbands as souvenirs. While I rarely watch tennis, it was quite cool to go to the place where so many legends have played, been crowned, and been defeated. Even non-golfers would appreciate a trip to Augusta national, just because of the sheer history and importance. I felt the same way here. I will be watching Wimbledon a lot more closely this summer so I can point out the courts and say "Hey, I've been there!" and brag to whomever I am next to. So watch out.
We went to Hyde Park after to meet the other ND kids who had posted up in the park all day to celebrate the annual ND campus tradition of Pigtostal. Since it is Blue/Gold weekend back in the Bend, lots of kids grilled out in the park and enjoyed a few beers. While it wasn't anything like being back on campus for the legendary party, Shirt unveiling, and Blue/Gold football scrimmage, we had our own little gathering together to celebrate our collective ND'ness. Only Domers would organize something like this, and I was proud. Lat night we went to a bar called Ember near Farringdon station, which sucked, and to bed early. This morning we went to Church, which was awesome. It's been a long week, but a good one, and I am sad that tomorrow will begin our last full week of school. I don't know how to feel yet that our semester is coming to a close. I think it is one of those things that won't hit you until you come home, so, to save the length of this blog, I will save the emotion for a later post. There's still two weeks left!
After our long night of drinking, we woke up incredibly early in the hostel to get to the Highlands Tour on time. These tours are extremely popular for tourists, as they take you on all day journeys around the Scottish countryside. Our tour took us up through the highlands to some historical glens and to Loch Ness. We got on the small 20 person bus and went straight for the backseat, where Peter and I fell asleep to recover from the night before. Our tourguide, a young guy about 30, was hilarious, and sortof made fun of the hung over American kids in the back for the whole trip. It was all in good fun though, as is everything in Scotland.
Our first stop on the tour was to say to a large, red haired, horny Highlander named Hemish, who, it turns out, is a cow. Cow and a Half if you ask me. This guy is huge, and these red headed cows are a symbol of the Scottish highlands. At the stop Peter and I bought some Argyle socks just for the hell of it. The next few stops took us through some gorgeous highland valleys, called glens, where our tourguide explained the history of the Scottish clans, Robert the Bruce, and William Wallace, all while insulting England the entire time.
The most gorgeous of the valleys was Glencoe, the sight of the infamous slaughter of the MacDonald clan (I think it was them) during the Jacobite rebellion. Basically these scotsmen are always fighting England or each other, so there is a history in every inch of the highlands where one clan had fought another at some point in time. We learned about the kilt, Sean Connery, and all of the historical inaccuracies in Bravehart. Our guide played us Scottish music at down times, so we were always bombarded with Scottish stuff in our twelve hour tour. We got off in the shadow of Ben Nevis, the highest point in Britain, to try some more Whisky and buy Scottish tartan scarves.
After winding through the glens, we finally made it to the string of lakes along the fault line that divides the highlands. These lochs end with the famous Loch Ness, a 23 mile long, 1000 foot deep behemoth of a lake that houses the world's most famous monster. We searched for a while for Nessie, but couldn't find her. I think she was sleeping. But there was one sort of creepy moment where the wind died down along the shore, and a weird shadow came over the shallow water and moved around for a bit before disappearring. It was just the shadow of a cloud, we think, but I can definitely understand why people (including me) believe there is a monster in here. It is a long and creepy lake, but the people in the town were friendly and the weather was gorgeous, which made for a nice lunch stop along the tour. Our guide told us a few stories about the monster and the lake. Apparently stairway to heaven by Led Zeppelin was written on a boat on the lake, as there are several references to the monster in the song. Who knew?
After the lake, the entire group began to tire out, so our driver was quiet for a while and let us all nap. He woke us up to tell us a story about a castle that had been inherited by a south African fisherman because he was in line to be the next Duke. After a few months the fisherman didn't want to be a Duke anymore, so he left his entire massive estate to the whole of Scotland. So our witty guide proclaimed to us "See that wee castle over there? It's Mine!" This prompted several quotes from us the next few days. He told us a great story about the Stone of Destiny, a ritual stone that has crowned the Scottish and not British monarchs for centuries. Some college kids tried to steal it from Westminster Abbey in the 50's, and it was rightfully returned to Edinburgh in 1996. It's other half is the Blarney Stone in Ireland.
We ended the 12 hour tour with some more songs and stories and thanked our driver at the end. It was a great way to learn about Scotland and see one of the prettiest places in the world. I feel like I know so much more about the country, and the UK, now that I know about the unique history of the second biggest country in the union. We ended our trip at a pub near the bus station, where I tried haggis for the first time. You are only in Scotland once, right? It tasted like mild, chewier goetta for all you Cincinnati folk out there. Not nearly as bad as everyone says (perhaps because I have yet to look up all of the ingredients). We hopped on the night bus to London, which was even worse than the ride in, because they kept waking us up to force us to go to the bathroom, which is some sort of law. I probably got about 2 hours of sleep by resting my head in my hand in a weird prop-up position on the armrest. Besides the fact that we spent 28 hours on a bus over two days, the Scotland trip was spectacular. A whole lot of fun for not a lot of money, and I think we are all more cultured for it now. If I can only make it out to Wales to campaign, then I will have hit three of four of the British countries, not bad for one semester.
This weekend TJ, Peter, and I decided to head up to Scotland to see what all the hubub was about. I watched the first ever Prime Ministerial debate before we left. Nick Clegg, according to the British electorate, ran away with the debate and is now surging in the polls. It seemed to me that the third party leader was complaining like a 12 year old, but what do I know?
We rushed off to Victoria to make it to the overnight bus on time. There seems to be a theme about mad dashes to the bus/airport in all of my weekend trips. Peter and I were relatively not sober, thinking that we could pass out on the bus and sleep the whole way there. Wrong. Since we were late, we all got bad seats in the back, and they made multiple stops to change drivers along the way. We even had to change buses on the way up, which made for a miserable 8 hour trip. We arrived in Edinburgh at 7:30 am, exhausted. Thank God the weather was beautiful or it would have been a miserable morning.
We wandered around looking for coffee and decided to climb Arthur's Seat, a gigantic flat topped hill at the end of the city in a park near Parliament and Holyrood Palace. It took about 20 minutes to climb up for some gorgeous views of the city. We could see out to the Atlantic and all around the Scottish capital, which houses about 80,000 people. We rested at the highest point we could go, which was not the top, and threw frisbee for a little bit. It was a nice relaxing way to start our day and get the blood flowing for a bit. Every muscle in my body was sore the entire weekend fromt he bus trip.
After we climbed down the mountain we stopped into Scottish Parliament which had just opened for the day. Holyrood is much smaller than Westminster and was created in 1998 along with the Welsh Assembly (of which my boss was the first ever First Minister) to allow Scotland and Wales some autonomy in passing legislation. After ten years of devolved powers not much has happened, but it was still cool going into the virtual seat of power in Scotland, complete with the Queen's mace and debating chambers. Holyrood was much more welcoming than Westminster is, with exhibits, free tours and a wide open welcome lobby. The people at the desk let us wander into the public gallery and take pictures. It was sort of like Parliament-lite, still important stuff happens here, but I think they take themselves much less seriously than Westminster does. It was a great 20 minute stop where we could claim that we did something intellectual in Edinburgh.
I changed my pants in the bathroom and we wandered into a bagpipe and flag store and talked to the owners. I bought a Scotland flag and Scottish royal standard, which apparently only has blue lion claws when the Queen is in town. The more you know. We went up to Edinburgh castle and took some pice but decided not to pay our way in, given that there is no way it could stand up to Windsor or Versaille. The view from the castle was great, however. We were all fading fast from lack of sleep and long walking, so we headed to the Elephant House for some food. This is the place where JK Rowling began writing Harry Potter, and the views of the castle from the back rooms in this cafe could definitely have given her the inspiration for Hogwarts Castle. I was hoping that by eating there, some brilliant idea would pop into my brain and I would scratch it down on a napkin and sell it for millions like JK Rowling did, but I think I was too hungry to think of anything besides food to come up with anything good. I broke out some of my favorite HP quotes and paid my respects to the woman that wrote the characters I grew up with. Although it was really just a cafe, it was still pretty special.
Rather than spend money on the castle, we spent our money instead on the Gold Tour at the Scotch Whisky Experience, which proved to be an excellent choice. Complete with a barrel car ride explaining the process of making whiskey (basically its fermented beer without barley), a lesson on smelling and tasting, a visit to the largest collection of Scotch in the world (this is what God's liquor cabinet would look like, if God liked Scotch (he doesn't, he drinks Budwesiser)), and a tasting a whiskies from the four regions of Scotland. We all felt like whisky connoisseurs after the experience, because now I can tell the difference between a Speyside, a Highland, and an Islay. These whiskies were a far cry form the 11 dollar Old Crow handle of bourbon on the bottom shelf of Meijer in South Bend, not that I would know how that tastes. The best part of the whole experience were the friendly tour guides who recommended different whiskies and places for us to try Scottish ales.
We ran into an American couple that we saw on Arthur's seat at the tour and began talking with them as we were tasting. They were young southerners, maybe 30, and on their honeymoon. We had a blast trading college stories and talking about football. When we finished drinking, we agreed to meet them at another pub to try some ales. After we checked into our 38 man dorm hostel (it wasn't that bad) we headed out to hit the town. Scottish beer is very good, we found out, as the rest of the night sort of runs together. The American guy's wife left us after the first pub to go to the hotel, but the dude assured us we weren't pulling him away from his honeymoon. We pub hopped for the rest of the night and lit the town on fire. The American guy insisted on buying us several drinks, saying that until we have our own source of income he would buy for us. I think we made his night, since he had been touring Britain for a while and him and his wife were both exhausted from museums and such. It was a great time for all of us, and we ended up at a pub called the Globe to end the night, where our roommate had gone when he was in Edinburgh. We told the owners who we were, and they brought us drinks on the house. Somehow I got into a conversation with a dude form Wales who was a local at the bar about politics, and we were talking for an hour or so. He bought me a few drinks as well as Peter and the American who saw me stuck in conversation, being rambled at about how all politicians are full of crap.
We said goodbye to the nice people in the bar and stumbled back to the hostel to get some rest before the Highlands tour on Saturday. The people in Edinburgh, including the cops, were amazingly nice, and this day may have been one of the most fun I have had this semester. Physical activity, intellectual stuff, Harry Potter, a lot of whisky, and meeting new friendly people from around the world. Can't go wrong with that.
Before we leave for Edinburgh on the overnight bus tonight, I'll briefly describe this past week before it gets lost in the cobwebs of my brain. Monday poli sci class was fun. We talked about how the media affects politics in the big class, which is always a fun thing to talk about. The Brits have it much better than we do in terms of political news coverage. In the internship class we talked about the election and the upcoming debates, the first of which is tonight. It should be fun to see the party leaders stumble around for a while, as they are not used to presidential style debates. But they are all good sans teleprompter, given they all do pmq's every week, so they should be able to hold their own.
I spent most of Tuesday working on a poli sci paper due on Monday, since I will be in Scotland this weekend. Tuesday night I went to Sports Cafe for the first time, a completely American sports bar, complete with beer pong tables, which is right next to the London Center. It is more economical to buy a pitcher of booze than to buy a pint for some reason, so most people opt for pitchers of long island. Most of the ND people were there, and I had an enjoyable time, but it reminded me too much of a frat party for me to go on a regular basis. Perhaps if they have baseball on I will go back.
Wednesday I went back to class and had a good discussion in Philo, followed by the mind numbing drudgery of Macro. For dinner the Parliamentary interns had professor Heffernan over to the flats for some non-business like conversation. Since he teaches two of our classes, it was the least we could do. We had about a three hour dinner, trading stories and discussing everything from politics to 9/11 to skydiving. Professor Heffernan is quite an interesting man, and his stories are hilarious, but I think he is more fascinated by American students and American politics, as he seemed the most interested when he was listening to us complain about the stuff we missed from home. It was good getting to know him in a non-class setting, and we all enjoyed the evening very much.
Today I woke up to find my roommates freaking out that the volcanic ash from Iceland would cancel their flights abroad, and indeed it did. It seems like the world is ending with all of these earthquakes and tidal waves and now volcanoes erupting. It's that damn global warming that's causing this I tell ya. Good thing we are going via "omnibus" to Scotland tonight instead of plane. I went to the Transport Museum by myself in the afternoon before class, which was full of old buses and trains. I learned about the advent of the London bus and underground system (bus comes from the Latin omnibus, apparently). It reminded me of the Museum of Transport back home in St. Louis, which is still my favorite museum of all time. This museum was close though and would please any young boy who likes planes trains and automobiles. Apparently the entire London underground was saved from financial ruin from two American entrepreneurs in the 1900's, and the noted marketing campaign for London transport was started by the Americans. Maybe that's why Americans love the tubes and buses here, as we have influenced it from the start.
My favorite part of the museum was the exhibit on the emergence of the underground map, symbol, and typeface. The London Underground has PHENOMENAL marketing, making its brand symbol one of the most recognized in the world. Their innovative tube map, which Americans also seem to love, was the first to ignore the spacial placement of tube stops on a geographical map, instead placing the stations even spaces apart in a roughly to scale map. This system, the one we all know and love, has been replicated throughout the world. They name their stations very specifically as well. Even the type-face and bar-circle symbol are deliberate, and every station is designed to represent the form and functionality of the London Underground. I kept hearing that nice British lady's voice in my head telling me which train I was on and where the train was going. The tubes are going to be missed when I come home. I think I might get a GPS system in my car just so I can have a nice British voice to tell me where I am going, although we don't have nearly as cool station names. "This is a MetroLink Shrewsbury expansion line service to that one station near forest park where you transfer to go to Cardinals games" just doesn't have the same ring as "This is a Piccadilly line service to Cockfosters"
To finish up the week we took the obligatory trip to Oneill's on Thursday night, which was accompanied by an unusually unpleasant morning the day after. I went to the Victoria and Albert museum on Friday, which had received rave reviews from my parents and friends. The museum was basically a museum on processes, sort of the "How its Made" tv show in museum form, except all of the stuff they were explaining how its made is stuff that is usually put in museums (if that makes any sense). For example, in the sculpture gallery, most of the exhibits show how a scultpure is made and the progression of the sculpture forms, etc. The museum was fairly interesting and had a different feel than most museums. It was cool doing Coleen's scavenger hunt that she had been working on for a while.
Saturday morning a few of us decided to go to Stratford upon Avon, a small town near the Cotswalds, for a quick weekend trip. We arrived via bus at about noon on Saturday on a gorgeous day. Stratford, the birthplace of Shakespeare, reminded me again of my family's vacation spot in Door County, Wisc. A small touristy town, walkable in about five minutes, built around the quaint family tourism business model. Everyone the entire weekend was super nice, a much welcome relief from the scum of the universe in Rome.
To take advantage of the beautiful day, we bussed immediately to the Cotswalds, the hilly western English region known for its quaint villages and wooded valleys. We took a little hike around Chipping Campden which took us down High Street, arguable the cutest town in the entire kingdom, according to some. I could not disagree. While this picture does not do it justice, every building seemed to fit perfectly into place in this 13th century town. Church bells ringing in the distance and couples walking down the lane with little shops and pubs. We ate lunch in a public garden in the most cliche picnic, birds tweeting, wind in the trees, dogs barking and people being polite way possible.
We took a hike through Chipping Campden and around the Cotswolds Way, a sort of Appalachian Trail type path through the Cotswolds. We walked up to Dover's Hill, I think the highest point in the Cotswods, for a spectacular view of the rolling hills and valleys of Western England. The view was breathtaking and hard to capture with a camera. I would love to retire here and live the simple life for a while, occasionally writing to the newspapers to complain about stuff. We got lost with inaccurate directions and ended up wandering down a path through a farm valley. Fine by me because we had nothing to get back for - the point of a weekend respite I guess. We headed back to the little village and waited for the bus to Stratford, talking with the nice locals in the antiques fair. It seems like these people understand the point of living in a touristy town. The price of living in such a gorgeous area is that you have to deal with visitors who bring you money, and you cant be mean to them or they will put you out of business.
We spent the night at a lovely student oriented cheap B and B about 90 seconds from the town. The owners were incredibly nice and the accommodations very comfortable. The English breakfast was great and the fellow guests were friendly, an overall rewarding experience. We ate dinner at a local pub and went out for drinks and walked the town for a bit. There were surprisingly a lot of young people out at night in Stratford, which made for a pretty fun experience for what I thought would be sort of a dead town at night.
We woke up Sunday morning for the great breakfast and headed to the nearest church to us, which happened to be the place where Shakespeare is buried. We walked in as mass was begininning and moved to the front. Everyone knew we were tourists as we had backpacks and we crossed ourselves in the opening prayer, apparently not a tradition in the Methodist church. The service itself was gorgeous, and the sermon focused on the human-ness of doubting Thomas, and how we all naturally would have, and should have, reacted that way. We took communion on the rail in the nave of the Church on the high altar, directly over Shakespeare's grave. We were the only tourists in the place, and were approached after by several very welcoming parishoners who we chatted with for a bit. The reverend welcomed us as well and invited us to explore the church and go pay homage to Shakespeare. It normally costs 1.50 to go see the grave in the church, but the parishoners let us in for free since we had gone to the service. His grave is a very simple piece of concrete with an ever so witty Shakesepearean epitaph that reads "GOOD FREND FOR JESUS SAKE FORBEARE TO DIGG THE DUST ENCLOASED HEARE. BLEST BE YE MAN YT SPARES THES STONES AND CURST BE HE YT MOVES MY BONES"
I whipped out my favorite Shakespeare quotes from my numerous readings of Shakesepare and paid my respects to the man that his given so many high school freshmen headaches as they try to navigate the Iambic Pentameter, so many girls false senses of romanticism with Romeo and Juliet, the english language so many funny phrases, and the human race so many beautiful plot lines. I thought about all the times I have been forced to read this man's words and how reluctantly I felt when I had to read Othello for Mr. Missey junior year of SLUH, and how happy I am now that I actually went through with it. The church was my favorite part of the weekend, and probably my favorite Church of this semester besides St. Peters. Afterwards we walked the town for abit and ended up at Shakespeare's Birthplace, the tourist trap museum that draws in families looking for somewhere to take their kids. The admission price of 11 pounds was not worth it, as I exited the building knowing nothing knew about the man or any of his plays. I did learn some useless stuff about Stratford and that his dad was a glovemaker, which is cool I guess. The coolest part of the birthplace was the flag with his coat of arms flying outside. A yellow field with a black stripe with a pen in the middle. Bad. Ass. The admission ticket also got us into Shakespeare's death house and his daughter's house in different streets in the town, so we took advantage and wandered into the other tourist trap houses and learned about archeology and the medical profession in Tudor England. Again, nothing about Shakespeare, but informational I guess. There is currently a dig going on to uncover the original foundation of his last house, so we learned a lot about how archeological digs work. They were grasping for information about his life, since it was apparently not recorded very well. Frankly, I didn't care about his life anyway and would have preferred more info on his impact and maybe some tidbits about his plays and stuff. But oh well. Maybe ill retire here and set up my own informational museum about Shakespeare, and open up a cafe on the side and go boating down to London when I want to and fly home to the states for Cards and Irish games. But I digress. We got some ice cream and people watched for a bit until our bus back to London.
Overall the experience was amazing. A delightfully relaxing weekend for people of all ages, and a welcome respite from the fast paced London world. Everyone in the town went out of their ways to make us feel welcome, even the people in the tourist trap houses. This place is excellent if you go with very little to do and no schedule. Just allow yourself enough time to walk around and let your whims take you to your next destination, and you will not be disappointed. Perhaps one of my favorite weekends of the semester. I would love to come back and see a Royal Shakesepare Company show along the Avon in his birthplace, but for now I will have to settle for seeing Macbeth at the Globe for five pounds in a few weeks. Not a bad trade-off I guess.
Almost completely updated on my blog now! I'll give a little update on the past week and weekend, then I will only have to update on the last day of Spring Break, so long ago. Last Tuesday I went into work for my final day at Parliament. As expected, Gordon had announced the night previously that he would call the election that day. I took my time walking in and reflected on my days at the Palace and what I had learned from it. It went by extremely fast, but I have grown infinitely from my experience on Whitehall, and I have knowledge to bring back to my future endeavors, which I guess is the whole idea. As I entered the office, I found our little tv by my desk turned on with the volume up, a rarity, as the BBC was covering Gordon's election call like it was Michael Jackson's funeral. Owen gave me my final pile of work, to finish up the letters I had been working on the past few weeks and organize my desk and the constituent excel database. We worked sporadically in the morning, turning occasionally to watch the tv and the three party leaders launch their campaigns. The entire office, including my boss huddled around the tv as Gordon Brown made his campaign launch from 10 Downing, his entire cabinet in tow. It should be a fun election campaign as the party leaders elbow for position on topics such as spending and taxation. I resisted some chuckles when David Cameron, leader of the Conservatives, mentioned that "this is a vote for change" about 16 times in his speech. I guess the Hope and Change platform works, so you might as well run with it. Maybe the British electorate won't fall for it like we did. We shall see.
I made some changes to my final letters about beer tax, pension funds, water scarcity, and environment stuff and picked my bosses brains about the election over and after lunch. Owen said he is sick of the election campaign already. Justifiably so, as he has been working on leaflets for the past month and he has to answer all of my stupid questions. After lunch Owen worked on the website and I tidied up my things, going back through the stack of letters I had been working on the entire semester. I reminisced about some of the more difficult ones and was thoroughly proud of the progress I have made in the field communications management. Owen put up the final website, an html "web in a box" from Labour HQ, and officially diverted the parliament emails to new election accounts. We proofread the site while I started spying on the other election candidates in Cardiff South and Penarth. Our guy shouldn't have too much of a problem, given that the other candidate's websites are either hideously constructed (I think anyone at ND who has taken IT management could come up with a better site) with awful color schemes or completely lacking substance. Even so, my bosses are doing due diligence to make sure they win in May, and I will be able to go out there to help for at least one day.
We ended the day a little late, as I didn't really want to leave. But we said our goodbyes and I gave the office some presents, Costa Rican coffee, reese's cups, and a huge ND coffee mug. Owen said it was a pleasure working with me and that I did a wonderful job. I was especially pleased when he said that sometimes they only give interns busy work because they don't trust them to do well, but they let me do lots of stuff because they knew I could handle it and I wouldn't screw it up. Maybe they were just saying that to make me feel good, but hey, it made me feel good. It wasn't our final goodbye, as we are getting together for drinks next week, and I will be traveling out to Cardiff at some point for the campaign, but it was goodbye to Westminster and the office, so we had the official handshake (the hugs will probably come at the Pub after a few pints) and final pictures and look out the window at Big Ben and Victoria Tower, with the Union Jack gently waving in the London sunset. I sure am going to miss that view.
To round out Easter Sunday we traveled to Termini station via tube to eat lunch. Termini was basically the only place we trusted to take credit card that we thought would have some decent food. After walking around for a bit we settled on getting some coffee from a cafe, only to find out at the cash register that they didn't accept credit card. Normally when you have those stickers on your window that say you accept visa, MasterCard, and Amex, you usually accept them. But hey, this is Rome. We got some coffee somewhere else, dried off a bit, and made for the McDonald's across the street for a little taste of America and some free wifi. The sign on the door proudly proclaimed "With Wi-fi! Access is Free and Unlimited" in Italian. Normally when you say you have free wifi, you ahve free wifi, but the sign neglected to mention that you have to register your device online by giving them your driver's license, address, and phone number, which has to be with an Italian SIM card in order for the wi-fi to work. Hey, this is Rome. An American group sat down next to us and my mom heard an older woman mumble "I can't wait to get out of this place." Music to our ears. We complained to them about our horrific experiences and went our separate ways.
We finished the day off with a trip to the Spanish Steps, which, it turns out, are just steps. Seriously, I have nothing to write about this place. I won't bother wasting the battery on my computer uploading the picture, so just imagine those big white steps in front of whatever courthouse you were last at, and there ya go, you've been to the Spanish Steps. I climbed up to the top for a fairly decent view of St. Peter's Basilica from the church on top and climbed back down. We headed back to the hotel and bought some pizza and beer and hung out in the hotel room the rest of the night. Mom and Dad left early the next morning and I checked out of the hotel to go meet Coleen at about 9:00. Since I had some time to kill, I wandered from Termini to a church nearby, Santa Maria degli Angeli, on the site of some ancient Roman baths built by Diocletian. There was something special about this church that stuck with me, and I'm not sure why. Maybe it was just the first time I got to reflect by myself about Rome or to just relax alone, but the altar of the church was beautiful. While not as ornate or intricate as some other apses, the altar, where Pius IV is buried, is elegantly designed with pearly white and yellow hues, which glinted with the sunlight through the stained glass windows. There is also a meridian line running through the church, which turns the building into a huge sundial, showing the triumph of the Christian calendar over the Pagan calendar and the superiority of the Church in the baths complex. Satisfied for once, I waited for Coleen outside Termini.
We went to the Museo Capitolini, where there was some stuff about the unification of Italy. Would have been interesting had I been able to read Italian. As I took off my cards hat, my Oakleys flew off the top and the lense cracked and popped out. Rome: 45,647 Charlie: 1. I squinted the rest of the day. We wandered out of the museum and to Sant Ignazio where a lot of Jesuits are buried. I thought it was where St. Ignatius was buried and the mother church of the Jesuits because the tour mentioned it on Friday. Turns out it is just a Jesuit church with some important figures, but Iggy and the mother church is a few blocks away at the Chiesa del Gesu. Rome: 45,649 Charlie: 1. Had I been able to get Internet I would have been able to figure that out. The Church was pretty and I still got to pay my respects as a Jesuit product, but in hindsight another disappointment given that the place I wanted to see was actually like 300 yards away.
Coleen and I got paninis and sat in Piazza Navona and talked for a bit. I bought some Duff beer, straight out of Springfield, USA, which cheered me up a lot. I made a lot of Simpsons references which were lost on Coleen. I wish I could have exported some back home so we could have a "Duff Man!" party, but it was three euro a piece. Sorry, Kenny, you can have the bottle. We took an overcrowded bus back to Termini, which I didn't pay for (Charlie:2), but my bus to the airport drove down the street where it dropped us off and zoomed right past the bus stop and around the corner. I couldn't find out where the hell the bus went, and after searching for a bit I dropped 4 euro on another ticket from a different company. Rome: 45,650 Charlie:1. Since my parents left me a bunch of Euro before they left, I decided to get another beer while I waited for the Terravision bus. I bought a Birra Moretti and the guy gave it to me without opening it, so I decided to be a badass and open the bottle with my room key. Bad idea. I cut my finger and still have a scab. Rome: why do I even bother? Charlie: 0 (I lose one for being a moron). I asked the waitress to open the beer for me and she did, as I took my first sip the bus pulled up, so I had to chug it before I got on. I met a bunch of other ND kids on the bus and we talked about our weekends. Everyone else seemed to have a blast, but at least I get to tell people I told a restaurant owner to show me his genitalia.
I was VERY happy to make it back to London where people are civilized (thanks to the Romans, HAH). In a different context (like, without people), Rome would have been amazing. It is a historical and religious bonanza, and we happened to be there on superbowl weekend for Catholics. The experience was still amazing, and one that I will surely never forget. If I had to do it all over again, I would, except I would have skipped every single thing with regards to Roman history and focused solely on the religious stuff for holy week. You can look at Roman history in a textbook and get the point, but to experience the religious pilgrimage to the Capital of Christianity is truly unique. I would have only ate paninis the whole weekend and not said a damn word to anyone, and maybe I would have come out with a better experience. It is a shame that what could have been a wonderful time was tainted by one selfish man at one shitty restaurant. Perhaps I am too sensitive in letting this event diminish my weekend. I have always been taught to see the good in people, but for a few brief days this filter broke down and distorted my view of reality. It's not the restaurant dude's fault that the rest of my weekend was less than stellar, that's my fault, but I do blame that man and the city that houses him for creating a general atmosphere of hate to the tourists that buoy its floundering economy. Will I go back to Rome? It's hard to tell (I only threw one coin into the fountain - didn't know it was two (wish I had Internet to look that up)). Perhaps I will, perhaps not. But for now, it's good to have this experience finally behind me.
After being thoroughly disappointing with the Italian race, we headed to a different country for mass on Sunday, run by a lovely old German man. As I mentioned before, St. Peter's was the only place where I truly felt welcome in Rome. Props to the Catholic Church for that. Even though it was pouring down rain, Easter Mass with the big guy was an experience of a lifetime. We woke up late and got to the Vatican at about 8:30 for the ten am mass. We waited in line for about 40 minutes to get through security. Since Mom had forgotten the tickets, we would be standing throughout mass. Had we found the Notre Dame group in time, we would have been able to sit. We made it into the square early enough to watch it fill up with the faithful. People form all walks and all different nationalities filled the square for mass. I was impressed that so many people showed up on a cold, miserable morning. My parents sat in the colonnade along the outside of the square and I stood with the rest of the ticketless faithful near the center. I had a good view of the altar along the railing behind the last row of seats until some Asian people elbowed their way in front of me and opened their umbrella.
Most of the Mass I spent craning my neck around various umbrellas to see a view of the altar or the big screen. As one of my flatmates described it, this experience was more like Jimmy Buffet concert than a holy sacrament. People talking, laughing, smoking tobacco, taking pictures. I heard about 12 different languages spoken within ten feet of me. Thankfully the language barrier doesn't matter for us, as the Mass is the same either way. Most of the Mass was in Italian, but one of the readings was in English. The Pope also had a nice blessing at the end of the mass, where he proclaimed "Jesus is Risen!" in over 30 languages. Although his annual Easter message, given not only to Catholics but to the entire world, I was inspired just to hear the voice of arguably the most powerful man on earth (sorry, Barack, but this guy has God on his side) broadcast right in front of me. After mass there were numerous chants of "Viva il Papa!" in the crowd, words that everyone could understand. Sunday morning may have been the worst weather of the entire weekend, but the experience brought a smile to my face and the faces of thousands. Some people might say that the Catholic Church is backwards and irrelevant, but these people ignore the fact that this Church gives guidance to billions, educates the multitudes, feeds the poor, and cares for 30% of all AIDS patients out of its own pockets when governments refuse to. 'Nuff said.
I'll leave you with the words of the vicar of Christ and successor to St Peter, Benedict XVI:
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
I bring you the Easter proclamation in these words of the Liturgy, which echo the ancient hymn of praise sung by the Israelites after crossing the Red Sea. It is recounted in the Book of Exodus (cf 15:19-21) that when they had crossed the sea on dry land, and saw the Egyptians submerged by the waters, Miriam, the sister of Moses and Aaron, and the other women sang and danced to this song of joy: “Sing to the Lord, for he has triumphed wonderfully: horse and rider he has thrown into the sea!” Christians throughout the world repeat this canticle at the Easter Vigil, and a special prayer explains its meaning; a prayer that now, in the full light of the resurrection, we joyfully make our own: “Father, even today we see the wonders of the miracles you worked long ago. You once saved a single nation from slavery, and now you offer that salvation to all through baptism. May the peoples of the world become true sons of Abraham and prove worthy of the heritage of Israel.”
The Gospel has revealed to us the fulfillment of the ancient figures: in his death and resurrection, Jesus Christ has freed us from the radical slavery of sin and opened for us the way towards the promised land, the Kingdom of God, the universal Kingdom of justice, love and peace. This “exodus” takes place first of all within man himself, and it consists in a new birth in the Holy Spirit, the effect of the baptism that Christ has given us in his Paschal Mystery. The old man yields his place to the new man; the old life is left behind, and a new life can begin (cf. Rom 6:4). But this spiritual “exodus” is the beginning of an integral liberation, capable of renewing us in every dimension – human, personal and social.
Yes, my brothers and sisters, Easter is the true salvation of humanity! If Christ – the Lamb of God – had not poured out his blood for us, we would be without hope, our destiny and the destiny of the whole world would inevitably be death. But Easter has reversed that trend: Christ’s resurrection is a new creation, like a graft that can regenerate the whole plant. It is an event that has profoundly changed the course of history, tipping the scales once and for all on the side of good, of life, of pardon. We are free, we are saved! Hence from deep within our hearts we cry out: “Let us sing to the Lord: glorious his triumph!”
The Christian people, having emerged from the waters of baptism, is sent out to the whole world to bear witness to this salvation, to bring to all people the fruit of Easter, which consists in a new life, freed from sin and restored to its original beauty, to its goodness and truth.
Continually, in the course of two thousand years, Christians – especially saints – have made history fruitful with their lived experience of Easter. The Church is the people of the Exodus, because she constantly lives the Paschal Mystery and disseminates its renewing power in every time and place. In our days too, humanity needs an “exodus”, not just superficial adjustment, but a spiritual and moral conversion. It needs the salvation of the Gospel, so as to emerge from a profound crisis, one which requires deep change, beginning with consciences.
I pray to the Lord Jesus that in the Middle East, and especially in the land sanctified by his death and resurrection, the peoples will accomplish a true and definitive “exodus” from war and violence to peace and concord. To the Christian communities who are experiencing trials and sufferings, especially in Iraq, the Risen Lord repeats those consoling and encouraging words that he addressed to the Apostles in the Upper Room: “Peace be with you!” (Jn 20:21).
For the countries in Latin America and the Caribbean that are seeing a dangerous resurgence of crimes linked to drug trafficking, let Easter signal the victory of peaceful coexistence and respect for the common good. May the beloved people of Haiti, devastated by the appalling tragedy of the earthquake, accomplish their own “exodus” from mourning and from despair to a new hope, supported by international solidarity. May the beloved citizens of Chile, who have had to endure another grave catastrophe, set about the task of reconstruction with tenacity, supported by their faith.
In the strength of the risen Jesus, may the conflicts in Africa come to an end, conflicts which continue to cause destruction and suffering, and may peace and reconciliation be attained, as guarantees of development. In particular I entrust to the Lord the future of the Democratic Republic of Congo, Guinea and Nigeria.
May the Risen Lord sustain the Christians who suffer persecution and even death for their faith, as for example in Pakistan. To the countries afflicted by terrorism and by social and religious discrimination, may He grant the strength to undertake the work of building dialogue and serene coexistence. To the leaders of nations, may Easter bring light and strength, so that economic and financial activity may finally be driven by the criteria of truth, justice and fraternal aid. May the saving power of Christ’s resurrection fill all of humanity, so that it may overcome the multiple tragic expressions of a “culture of death” which are becoming increasingly widespread, so as to build a future of love and truth in which every human life is respected and welcomed.
Dear brothers and sisters, Easter does not work magic. Just as the Israelites found the desert awaiting them on the far side of the Red Sea, so the Church, after the resurrection, always finds history filled with joy and hope, grief and anguish. And yet, this history is changed, it is marked by a new and eternal covenant, it is truly open to the future. For this reason, saved by hope, let us continue our pilgrimage, bearing in our hearts the song that is ancient and yet ever new: “Let us sing to the Lord: glorious his triumph!”
Cardinals baseball with proper company. And Mike Shannon. American radio. The two door honda with the broken bumber and cracked manifold. Driving in general. Playing loud music over the stereo (only storebought cds of course). That little bump in Bopp road by St. C where if you drive over it fast it feels like a roller coaster. Driving home late at night with no-one else at the road. The red chair in the living room. Nightly news at 5:30. Sitting by the pool. Not having to use a lighter to light the stove. Not having to convert money into dollars. Having money fit into my wallet. Not having to use coins as money on a regular basis. Not having to pay for water or bathrooms or wifi. Being able to wear shorts without getting funny looks. People driving on the correct side of the road. American chain restaurants. Real cheeseburgers (Village Bar). Jack in the Box tacos. Big screen tvs. Going to Jimmy's or Sean's basement and doing absolutely nothing. Nick's basement. Nick's apartment. Rosemary. Paying only a dollar extra for Bud Lught or Select over Natty. 30 cases of beer. Arguing with Jimmy about ND football. Movies at Des Peres. Not being in the Nanny State. Driving downtown. Gassing up in Missouri before you cross the river. That long drive to South Bend. Speeding on the Indiana toll road. That first glimpse of the Dome when you approach campus. 
The Dome. Campus. Walks to class when its cold and the Dome looks especially glinty. Morning breakfast in the DH. Pistacchio mint muffins, scrambled eggs, hash browns, cranberry orange juice and New York Times. Reading the Times and getting mad. Coffee from Waddicks. Shittier coffee from Mendoza (quarter off if you bring your own mug). That awkward break between classes where nothing productive happens. ESPN. Watching the same highlights over and over. College Football. ND football. Bitching with everyone about the coaching situation. Defense. That hideous barf colored couch in the common room. Sleeping on the hideous barf colored couch in the common room. Late night sales with Josh Bennet and Sean. Park. Wing. Arguing over the merits of Nip/Tuck (great show). Having the room be an awful mess. T-Swift and Miley Cyrus. Nastia Lukin and Shawn Johnson. Runs in Rolfs. Runs in Loftus. Runs around the lakes. Runs with Jess. Climbing club Hesburgh. Reading scribbles on the desks in Hesburgh instead of studying. Late night Lafun runs. Having Gigante buy everyone Sbarro even though he hates it. Parties in our room. Going off campus to random houses and drinking their beer. Staying on campus and drinking way too much of our own beer. Beer bears. Peanuts. Playing Kings. Little man rule. Mixing drinks with crappy crappy liquor. Crappy beer. Sneaking beer in with duffle bags. Christian's white couch. Hearing Gigante yelling about something from our room. Life talks. Talking with sean josh chis chris kevin emily kristin jess aryelle anyone from knott instead of doing homework. Staying in the DH way too long. Broomball. Late night movies. The sophomores next door. Aidan. Random visits from Ian. Being convinced to go to 23 when I really shouldnt. The bat of motivation at the PC. PC man fun. Wasting time at the PC and getting paid. PC managers. Grace Hall. Crispy Chicken, Jalapeno Cheddar, honey mustard, lettuce cucumber olive onion and a few jalapenos. Cut in half to go. With a v8 v-fusion. That nice guy with the conductor hat that always checks you out and tells your balance. Drives to Meijer for anything. Taco Bell just for the hell of it. Being able to see the girls' room from our room. Meeting in the courtyard for dinner. Broccoli from NDH. Desert table. Homestyle line. Knott Table. Making fun of the Observer, a lot. Paying attention in class. Not paying attention in class. Being an underclassmen. Throwing frisbee. ND ultimate. Ultimate chicks (score!). Team dinners. Tournaments. Cheers at the end of practice. Practice. Rape and Pillage Rape and Pillage dont fuck with the Irish. Big Checks. Ultimate parties. PC parties. Playing the birdman game with the ultimate team. Giving that one person you know the head nod when you walk past them. Seeing professors on the quad. Making fun of professors. Arguing ferociously with cubs fans. Watching the blues. Watching the simpsons. Having Kenny understand my simpsons references. Armageddon drinking game. Road trips with the Landis family. Toasted ravioli. Budweiser. Busch Stadium. St. Louis Sunsets. It's not the heat its the humidity. West County. Des Peres. Harwood Hills. Being surrounded by Americans. The people I love.
