Scene 6: What Daily Life Looks Like (For Now)

Alright, I'm all caught up to date on the blogging. It is Tuesday, June 14th, and I'm going to tell you a little about what my 'daily life' looks like.


A Tour of My Hostel


Look at this lovely fire warning posted in the hall:

I like how it tells me to 'attack the fire.'


I read at St. James Park:

I eat at many places. Ironically, one of them is named EAT.

I like EAT best for sandwiches, although the British have an alarming disposition for mayonnaise.


There's Pret a Manger:

 They have awesome flavored carbonated water.

And a lovely salad with avocado, crawfish, and dijon dressing:

And Skinny Popcorn, which is so, so good:

Then there's Costa Coffee, with a lovely mocha:

And Caffe Nero, with a fabulous mocha and latte:

They also have fantastic toasted sandwiches (called 'toasties'). I love to sit here and read/write.

And last but not least we have Tesco, the grocery store for all your needs:

They have donuts...

And something called a Meal Deal, where you get pasta/salad/sandwich, crisps, and a drink for 2.5 GBP. The price is a bit addicting, as is the Chicken Pasta.


Here are some things I have learned:


I'm not lost if I'm not looking for something. I can only be lost if I can't find what I'm looking for. Otherwise, I'm 'adventuring.'  I adventure a lot, and the only times I haven't are the only times I've been lost. Success!


There's no telling where anyone is from. Seriously. None. Doesn't matter what you look like, what you're dressed like, or where you're working. Your nationality is fair game.


It's okay to have no idea what's going on. A lot of people in the city don't. And so many people visit London, immigrate to London, or study in London, that actual Londen-ers are used to the majority of those around them looking bewildered. So far, it's been perfectly fine to be a tourist.


When people ask me where I'm from, I say, "The States." They then go, "Oh, whereabouts?" To which I reply, "North Carolina." Blank stare, followed by a smile and a nod.


No one knows where North Carolina is. And that's okay.


Until next time,

B

Scene 5: Tortilla, Paintings, and Break Dancers

On Monday, June 14, I went to the National Gallery.

The National Gallery houses the national collection of Western European painting from the 13th to the 19th centuries.

It's huge. I didn't have a map, just a free afternoon and force of will.

The National Gallery sits on one side of Trafalgar Square.

This is where the protest was. There are cool little touches to the square, like this:

A countdown until the Olympics.

And this:

A giant ship in a bottle.

And him:

Also in front of the National Gallery that day was a group of French dancers. Click on the link:


                                                      Dancing Awesomeness


For breakfast that morning, I found a spanish cafe where they serve tortilla:

I cannot tell you how happy this made me. It was glorious. (It's awkward in shape because I ate a bite of it before remembering to take a picture... it was really good, okay?)


And, just for my mom, they had these lovely natural soaps for sale in the National Gallery shop, made in honor of the wedding of Their Royal Highnesses, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge:

Everyone should get soap for their wedding.


-B

Scene 4: Music, of the Protest and Worship Variety

On Saturday, June 11, I heard chanting and loud noises from my hostel balcony. I set out to explore.

What I found was a protest against England's new rape policies-- that people, when they report rape, are asked what they were wearing or how they were behaving, etc. and the rape is scaled from there. There are different kinds of rape, some laying at least partial blame on the victim.

Illegal aliens cannot report rape for fear of being deported. Sex workers cannot report being raped. GLBTQ rape is not taken as seriously as it should be. Women are sometimes informed that their clothing or behavior "asked for it."

So, these protestors took a special stance in their fighting. Their motto:

"Sluts say yes."

So, basically, even if they are dressed like a slut, are behaving like a slut, and pretty much are a slut, they still have the right to say, "No," and it's rape if they don't say, "Yes."

Bring on the lingerie, negligée, and scanty clothing. The protestors made a point of saying what they were wearing had no bearing on what constituted as rape.

They had chants:

Whatever we wear
Wherever we go
Yes means yes and
No means no

They even changed the lyrics to the popular song "These Boots Were Made for Walking:"

These sluts were made for walking
and that's just what we'll do
One of these days these sluts are gonna walk all over you.

At one point I considered joining the forces a little bit, but I recalled that, on the off chance I were to get arrested, I'd signed something acknowledging that in the event of any rebellion/illegal activity my UNC transcripts would be burned and no one would be there to bail me out. So I videotaped them, instead.

The Protest video

On Sunday, June 12, I attended Hillsong London.

When I got off the tube at Tottenham station, I walked in the wrong direction for about 10 minutes. In the rain.

Thankfully, I saw random man with a Hillsong nametag pass me on the street. So, of course, I stopped him and asked him where the theater was.

(That's right--Hillsong London is not in a church, but in a theater, which explains why I walked right past it. I thought the theater was just being used for the musical "We Will Rock You," not worship.)

This guy was named Steve, and Steve was awesome. He led me right to the front of the theater and introduced me to the young adult peoples, whom I sat with. One of them was named Chloe, and she's awesome as well, and I'm attending Chapel night with her and a group of people on Friday.

The worship was okay. I knew a couple of the songs and everyone was very enthusiastic.

I guess it's becoming clearer that I really am from the bible belt, because it didn't quite feel like 'church.' There wasn't really a sense of family or connection, but I suppose that's why they have 'connect groups' every week. Chloe is setting me up with one near to me (well, near to me right now) so I'll report back once I've attended.

The pastor wasn't my favorite speaker, or personality, but I did learn from what he taught. At the end of it, that's what matters.

So, that was the weekend. I've been horribly remiss about this blog the past four days, but all shall be remedied! I'm doing well and the sun is shining.

-B