Oh, Just Me, London, Dublin, and Some Renaissance Bitches

[renladyvillains]

Goodbye, Ireland!

This is going to be a combined post of my last two days in Ireland because I didn’t take any pictures my last day in Dublin, sorry.

I left Dingle bright and early for Blarney. I stopped a lot for pictures. This was the most beautiful drive of the trip.

I got to Blarney around lunchtime. I spent about three hours on the grounds. I climbed the tower, kissed the stone, got lost in the rock gardens, somehow missed a tour of the great house, met some people from Boston who (finally) appreciated my Joffrey story, and generally had a great day.

That evening I came back into Blarney for dinner (I was staying just outside of town) and had a delightful meal and a pint in a pub. My car, meanwhile, got locked in the Blarney Castle parking lot, but I was able to retrieve it by looking scared and distraught. So, no harm, no foul.

I got back to Dublin the next afternoon and visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral before meeting up with my old professor from Georgia State. Oh yeah, Marilynn was in Dublin, too, so we met up for dinner and some gelato. It was a great way to end the trip.

On the final morning, I woke up early and headed to the airport. I almost didn’t have enough time to get everything done because Aer Lingus does U.S. border control and customs before you board the plane. It made arrival really smooth, but the front end of the flying process took about 3 hours. Yuck.

Obviously, I’ve gotten home safely. I am so sad this trip is over. I have had the most fun. My research went really well, I got to catch up with some faraway friends, and I got to go to Ireland, the best place ever. Thank you so much, Dad, for helping me with this trip. And thank you and I guess congratulations (?) to the rest of you for reading this entire blog. It is entirely possible that you have too much time on your hands. ;)

Bonus: Blarney Castle straight up grows weed in their Poison Garden. For historical purposes. Sure.

[renladyvillains]

Cliffs of Moher and Dingle

On Thursday, I awoke not really bright and early, per se, but I got up in the morning at any rate, and set off for the Cliffs of Moher. The drive was mostly on the motorway, so somewhat uneventful, but as I got closer, things became more interesting (see above picture).

The Cliffs, obviously, are unbelievable. I only stayed for an hour as I had places to be, but you really need a full day to hike all along the top of them.

I thought I’d dangle my feet to demonstrate the precarious nature of the cliffs.

Here are the first of many, many cow friends. They’re so wooly. They live on the cliffs.

I like the one on the right who is walking away. He is so precious.

After the Cliffs of Moher I drove down to Dingle. The above picture is of the two-lane road I was driving on. That’s right. That’s two lanes. When another car comes along, you have to get in the bushes. It’s kind of scary.

This is a picture of some cows up on this ledge above the road. I just thought they looked really funny.

Sheep!

Precious little Dingle.

I finished up my day in Dingle, hopping from one pub to another checking out live music. My hostel was great, parking was easy, and this was a great, great day.

[renladyvillains]

There Is No Title Adequate For This.

I woke up Wednesday morning bright and early and rushed over to see the Book of Kells where..........I waited in a really long line. The book was certainly beautiful and this history was interesting, but I get really tired of getting smooshed, so I blitzed by it pretty quickly. The Long Room, however...

I spent some time in there. It was beautiful.

Following Trinity, I took the bus over to the Kilmainham Gaol, where the Easter Rising participants were executed via firing squad in 1916. The gaol is really thoughtfully preserved and exhibited. I went on the 11:30 tour, which lasted an hour, but was never dull. Here are some pictures:

That second picture is probably familiar from lots of movies. The final picture is where they were all shot. It was chilling, but felt important to see. Would recommend.

I was pretty hungry after the gaol, but decided I would walk back by the James Joyce House on Usher’s Island anyway, just to see if it was open. This is the house Joyce’s two aunts lived in--the house that provides the setting for his most famous short story, “The Dead.” If you haven’t read “The Dead,” get on it. As I approached the house, I noticed a middle-aged man and a college-aged boy standing on the front steps. The man (who turned out to be the owner) seemed to be in charge, so I asked him if the house was open.

“No,” he replied, “not today. But where are you from?”

“The United States,” I answered.

“Oh that’s nice. What’s your name?”

I told him.

“Would you like to join us for lunch? We do a “The Dead” lunch every Wednesday and we’d be delighted if you’d stay. Your new best friend Emma is inside. We’ve just invited her off the street as well.”

“Oh wow, thanks!” [I think this is basically how this conversation went. I’m going to stop doing dialogue.]

I went inside and met Emma, a girl maybe a few year younger than me, from Dublin, who told me that she likes to pass by this house as often as she can and just look at it because she loves Joyce and always hopes one day it will be open. She also told me she had been planning to meet her brother for lunch but she’d just texted him to meet her there. Good, I thought. At least there will be three of us who have no idea what is going on. (The other five guests were friends of Brendan’s, the owner.) The boy I had seen on the front stoop was a college student from Clemson who was interning for the summer at the house and he would be helping to serve lunch.

I started talking to a nice man named Kevin about my background with Joyce studies and we were getting along swimmingly when Emma’s brother arrived. I turned around to introduce myself, he stuck out his hand, looked right at me, and said, “Hi. Jack. Nice to meet you.”

And it was Jack Gleeson.

As in King Joffrey Baratheon, first of his name.

From Game of Thrones.

I think this is the closest to fainting I have ever come. Oh! And then they seat me next to him. For the full four-course meal. For nearly three hours. And after shaking silently for about 20 minutes, we got along well. He’s very smart, well read, and is creative directing a puppetry theatre for children. And we talked about literature. And after the meal, me and Jack and Emma went poking all around the house and it was fun and almost normal.

But then the Clemson intern asked for a picture (very politely) and so I did too because COME ON, so here’s the picture of me looking totally unprepared to be asked to such a nice luncheon and totally freaked out and Jack looking like a demon:

Thanks a lot, buddy.

I did not ask him anything about GoT outside of how he had managed to get a dual degree while making the show. The answer is that he was only shooting 2-3 weeks a year. 

I left lunch feeling so weird and excited and I had no one to talk to about it. With no way to adequately release energy, I just walked around until it was time to meet my cousin Una at the car rental place.

Of course, the car rental company had messed up my order and ended up charging me extra for the only automatic they had left, a freaking BMW. So I’ve been driving an insanely expensive car all over the country. No pressure.

I went to dinner with Una and her boyfriend Gerry near the new headquarters for Google and Facebook. The buildings are next to each other and really cool and they’re apparently adding a slide between them for fast access.

After dinner, Una took me out to her beautiful flat at the K Club in Kildare and we had a nightcap (or two) at the beautiful hotel at the Club.

Obviously, it was the best day.

[renladyvillains]

Hello, Dublin!

I got up at 5:45 to head to the airport in London for my 9:50 flight. Perfect timing. The flight was uneventful, as I was asleep. I arrived in Dublin, took a cab to my hotel, dropped of my stuff, and grabbed the DART down to Sandycove to see the James Joyce Tower.

I didn’t take any pictures of the tower itself, because it’s kind of boring--just a short, squat tower. But here are some views around it. I wish it had been a clearer day, but throughout my five days in Ireland, I was to learn to take what I could get.

Joyce lived in the tower for 6 days and he embellished that time for the first episode of Ulysses. For more info, see his published works. Here are the pictures I took there:

After the tower, I decided to do a little blogging before dinner and walk around the Temple Bar area a bit. I saw this crazy Ulysses-themed hotel:

And the Ha’penny Bridge:

After a quick bite at a nothing-to-write-home-about restaurant, I walked over to the Duke Pub on Duke’s Street for my Dublin Literary Pub Crawl. Y’all, it was hilarious and amazing and great. We started at the Duke...

...where they performed Waiting for Godot and Ulysses. They were very good and very funny. Then we walked to Trinity College...

...where they did a bit of Oscar Wilde. We went to another site I can't remember, and two other pubs I’ve forgotten the names of before ending at Davy Byrne’s Pub, where Leopold Bloom had lunch. There I had my first Guinness with my two new best friends:

It was a great day. The best one--probably, this or the cats--until I experienced Wednesday.

[renladyvillains]

Meow

THE MOMENT YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR HAS FINALLY ARRIVED: CAT CAFE!!!!!

Before the cat cafe, though, I went tot he Sherlock Holmes Museum, which is another thing that is disappointing and dumb and a waste of money. (Disclaimer: I know other people have differing opinions about things than I do, which is totally fine and 100% expected. Please do not feel as if my non-enjoyment of a place you enjoy is a personal slight against you. I am very aware that many of you would never pay 6 pounds to go hang out with a bunch of mostly-asleep cats for 1.5 hours. I’m cool with that.)

The Sherlock Holmes Museum is about a block away from his statue and less thrilling. I probably hated it because, once again, I spent way more time in line than I did at the site.

Anyway, onto the main event! I’m just gonna do a big cat picture dump and then comment after, ok?

Ok, yes, it is the happiest place on earth. I had a lovely tea and learned all about how the cats are rescues and if they are not happy at the cat cafe they are placed into loving homes. The cafe takes care of all of their shots, spaying, and other healthcare while they live there and before they are placed. They are very friendly, eat only organic food and treats, and the staff is obviously based with them and delighted to work there. It was everything I’d hoped it would be. Should’ve had lunch there, but I went to this place Franze & Evans that my sister suggested and it was very good.

After the cats, I went to the top of Primrose Hill to get the lovely view of London. It obviously would have been better had it not been cloudy.

I also walked through Regent’s Park, an activity suggested by my friend Sarah. It was lovely with this adorable little canals and really spectacular gardens.

For my final night in London (that’s right, Dublin and the most insane story ever are in the offing...) I went to this Jabberwocky-themed (loosely) bar, Callooh Callay.

Their menu was in a mixtape which the bartender handed to me with a sly, “hey, I made you a mixtape.” Clever, clever. Drinks were great, bathroom through a wardrobe, would recommend.

Thank you London, for a lovely stay. Until next time!

[renladyvillains]

Hangover

Oh my god I was so hungover Sunday. But my apartment was an abomination, so there was nothing for it but to drag my ass to a museum.

I went to the National Portrait Gallery. It is very awesome. I took no pictures. I sat down on every. single. bench.

Then I ate some lunch, started to feel better, and walked down the mall to Buckingham Palace. It’s really hard to get a good shot of the palace, so I didn’t even try. I did take a picture of some guards on horseback, but it didn’t turn out at all.

The palace isn’t open to visitors, but I went to the Royal Mews (stables) and saw the carriages and horses. That was actually pretty enjoyable.

For the life of me, I cannot remember what I did Sunday night, but I imagine I kept things low key in anticipation of CATS CATS CATS.

Oh wait, I remember. I thought about going on the London Eye, so I walked across the Jubilee Bridge only to find out one ticket is approximately $1,000,000,000, so then I decided I should check out Notting Hill instead. Notting Hill is adorable. I had just barely missed the Portobello Market, but I got to eat at a little outside table and do some good people-watching nonetheless. It was a pleasant evening and my hangover was satiated.

Fin.

[renladyvillains]

Garden Party

Saturday was Ali’s garden party in south London. That was the main event of the day and it was lovely.

Before the party, I decided to go to the National Gallery. As I was walking to the overground, I noticed a cat in the window of a shop below my flat. Wait, why are there all these cats in the window? OH MY GOD IT’S A CAT CAFE. I immediately went in to see if I could play with the cats while having tea. They were booked solid all weekend but I made an appointment for Monday. Man, my last day in London was going to be sweet.

The National Gallery looks out on Trafalgar Square. There are many people there. I had lunch at some place nearby and thought back to my first trip to London when I was in elementary school and how we bought birdseed in Trafalgar Square and lay down on the ground and the pigeons just covered us. I have no idea why my parents allowed us to do that because that is gross. It is also now not allowed:

I like to think that I was partially responsible for this sign’s installation.

The National Gallery was cool: lots of Titian, Carravaggio, Turner, Van Gogh, Michelangelo, Da Vinci--you know, all the bros.

Question: why do people take pictures of pictures in museums? I understand taking pictures of sculptures, but why take a picture of a picture? Especially a really famous one that you can totally find online? Do you guys wish I had taken pictures of pictures? I just don’t know what one would do with a picture of a picture.

After the National Gallery, I headed to Ali’s, where we promptly locked ourselves out because we are truly intelligent. The guys grilled on a remarkably small grill and we all drank way too much and I was very hungover the next day. But Ali’s flat is beautiful and spacious with a lovely garden for parties (I’m an idiot and didn’t take pictures). She also has two sweet kitties and a really great husband. I’m so glad I went. :)

[renladyvillains]

Shakespeare and Anxiety

Oh my god, you guys, Friday was not great. I mean, it improved a lot at the end, but, ugh, it was really the low point of the trip.

So Friday was when I started getting super antsy about not having wifi. The problem was multi-faceted:

1. It’s inconvenient. I’m alone in this city I don’t know that well without any way of looking up how to get places or anything. And without it, I can’t connect with home since I was using wifi to FaceTime with my family.

2. My step-cousin in Ireland wanted me to rearrange a few things to make my journey easier--like changing when I was picking up my car, canceling my hotel room Wednesday night so I could stay with them, and getting a hotel room for Saturday night because we are no longer going to Belfast--and not only could I not do any of these things from my computer, but I couldn’t do them from my phone even standing outside the bar with the free wifi.

3. The flat I was staying in was not cheap. Wifi was part of that price.

4. I couldn’t get in touch with Ali about how to get to her house Saturday for a barbecue (forthcoming) nor with Dennis to make plans to meet him and the Cambridge group for Richard II that evening.

If you know me but at all, you know that I am not a laid back person. I have massive anxiety and something like this was obviously pushing me to my breaking point. Enter AT&T with some glorious (and unfortunately expensive) international data. I am saved! I’m able to call the hotel, the car rental, and email Una back. I set up when and where to meet Dennis, and got Ali’s email with detailed instructions on how to find her flat. I cannot use this data just for Facebook and blogging, of course, but it does give me a life line and a sense of relief.

Anyway, while all that was going on, I went over to check out Parliament and Westminster Abbey. I didn’t take any “funny” pictures with Big Ben as requested because there were approximately 89782364987929376492083 Italian middle schoolers everywhere and I was in the grips of the aforementioned anxiety. I also have no pictures of the inside of Westminster Abbey because that is forbidden.

The abbey was really cool. Wills and Kate’s wedding was on the front of the map. Jeremy Irons narrated the tour. I saw Milton’s marker in the poet’s corner. Other less interesting people were celebrated there too. I got to go in for special prayers in the shrine to Edward the Confessor, which is really rare, and that was great. I prayed for a friend who just went through surgery (and also a little that my wifi problems would work out--I hadn’t figured that out yet) and felt very nice afterwards. I’m not sure what my stance on God is--I’m pretty against the constrictions and obvious crowd manipulation of organized religion--but I really like liturgy. I like saying words that I know others have been saying for hundreds of years. It’s pretty cool and feels like a kind of direct connection to history.

After Westminster I figured out the wifi issues (see above), popped into St. Paul’s (no pics, sorry), and went to meet Dennis at The Globe.

Only he wasn’t there.

Enter anxiety phase number 2 of the day.

The plan was this: I was supposed to meet Dennis “in front of the gates” at 5:10. At 5:15, the director was giving a special talk inside The Globe to the students and I was invited to attend. There would be an hour break for dinner, and then we would meet back at 7:15 for the show.

This is not what happened.

Dennis asked me to meet him at the groundling’s gates, but he went to the front door. I waited for him until 5:15 and then also went to the front door, but by then he was inside the theatre. I asked the information desk lady if she knew where the talk was. She had no record of a talk. (She was also insanely rude.) I went up the stairs and asked an usher if he could check for a group in the theatre. He did so, and said no one was there (they were there). So I went to the attached pub and used their wifi to email Dennis. I told him that I would be waiting at the pub and that if he didn’t find me, I’d check with the box office to see if he left my ticket. At about 6:30, I decided to go leave my name at the box office just in case. This is the part of the saga when the man running the box office holds up his fingers every time I open my mouth and shushes me. There was no one else in line. He acts like I am the biggest inconvenience of his life and also a little bit like he thinks I’m a liar. I left my name and walked outside and just started crying (softly, like an angel....or a dove).

I was just so frustrated, you guys. I had finally gotten the cell data, but the feeling of loneliness that came with waking up in that tiny apartment with no contact and no way to verify the details of my upcoming journey to a country I’ve never been to really spilled over into dealing with these rude Globe people. I decided to call it a day and just go home. I went back into the pub to email Dennis and tell him I was leaving and then started to walk back to the Tube.

After about 3 blocks, I realized that I needed to get over it or I would regret it. If I didn’t find Dennis, I could just go home 30 minutes later. So I wiped my eyes, grabbed a quick bite at some restaurant that was right next to me, emailed Dennis to tell him to disregard the last email (oh my god he definitely thinks I am insane), and went back to the groundlings gate.

And wouldn’t you know it, there’s Dennis looking for me. It all worked out. And this was the view of the stage from my seat:

Baller.

Oh, and King Richard was played by Michael Gregson from Downton Abbey.

Moral: if you push through an anxiety attack, Michael Gregson in a long white gown in your reward.

[renladyvillains]

The Day the Wifi Truly Died

Thanks for really helping this picture to reach its full potential, enormous crane.

Sorry for the several days of radio silence on the blogging front. My heinous landlord never fixed the wifi, so I’ve had to wait until I got to Dublin to catch up. It’s raining right now and my feet are in agony, so I’m going to take advantage of this luxurious wifi and bloggity-blog-blog-blog.

Thursday was mostly me sitting in the library reading the rest of that Vives book (the one with the hands) and looking up articles of secondary criticism. I knew that once I hit the weekend, I was going to get really distracted by the city and friends, so I did a solid 6-7 hours of work and not much else.

(I don’t remember what this Church is.)

After the library, I took the Tube down to Elephant & Castle to meet my friend Ali and walk to Brixton for dinner. I stopped on the way to kill some time at the Clink Museum which was super weird and mostly, I think, for kids.

Kind of a waste of money, but I’ve always wanted to go in there, so that’s an item crossed off my embarrassing things bucket list, I guess.

I got to Elephant & Castle and met Ali below this majestic statue, which I took a picture of because Ali called it ugly and that is obviously RUDE. This is a national treasure.

Ali and I ate at a Mexican restaurant called--I swear to God--Jalisco’s. If you aren’t an Atlanta person, you won’t know what I’m talking about, but how random indeed. There was, sadly, no cheese dip. :(

Then I went home. I’m sure there are more details, but I’ve forgotten.

Oh! We saw two cats at dinner and a man wearing really weird platform shoes.

[renladyvillains]

When I Grow Up...

Yesterday was a good day. I had arranged to meet a professor from UNH (Dennis) for lunch. He’s teaching/leading the Cambridge Summer Study Abroad program and had some time off, so he met me in London. Before I met up with him, I walked over to check out William Blake’s grave. I went in probably the most round about way because I wasn’t able to use wifi to plot my route. Instead, I relied on my own sense of direction, which is fine, but not great. I got there in the end, though.

Buried right next to Blake is Daniel Defoe, author of Robinson Crusoe. I don’t really understand why his monument is so much bigger than Blake’s, but I guess the Robinson Crusoe Society has more money.

Buried across from those two is John Bunyan, author of Pilgrim’s Progress--or, as Dennis referred to it, the most boring book of all time, haha. I wouldn’t know, having never read it.

I still had some time to kill, so I walked across the street from Bunhill Fields and learned a bunch of stuff about Methodists at John Wesley’s house and chapel.

It was kind of random, but new information to me.

Then I met Dennis for lunch. I got to ask him some questions about my research and hear about the Cambridge program, which sounds really fun. I may go with them to see Richard II tomorrow. After lunch, Dennis wanted to see Blake’s grave, so we walked back (the shorter way this time) and did all of those sights again. Then Dennis headed back to Cambridge and I went to the library and finished the book with the hands in it.

So then I saw Matilda. Oh my god, you guys. This show. This story. I loved the book growing up, but I think when that terrible movie version with Danny Devito came out, I kind of put it away in my mind because I was so mad. I forgot how important this story is. It was so, so, so good. I cried like a little baby. If you have any method of going to see this show, I’d highly recommend it. I wish I could see it again.

Enjoy!

[renladyvillains]

The Wifi Is Gone :(

I am currently blogging from the British Library because my wifi is gone. My AirBnB host says it should be back soon, though, so we shall see.

Yesterday I worked most of the day at the British Library. The top photo is a printing press I found tucked away in the basement. Weird place to put it, since it’s so cool. I posted a close up of the below picture on Instagram, but here’s the bigger version anyway. I really loved seeing these little hands pop up on various pages. It gave me an idea of what an early reader might have thought important in the text.

After the library, I took the Tube over to the Victoria & Albert Museum. I had hoped to see the Alexander McQueen exhibit, but alas, it was sold out. The museum was huge and I doubt I saw everything, but I saw a lot.

I really liked this clock. It works on rising and falling mercury or something, I don’t know. It looked cool.

I wanted to touch this bun so bad. I don’t know why.

After the museum, I decided to walk over to one of the restaurants my sister suggested. On the way I passed Royal Albert Hall (above) and the statue of Prince Albert in the park across the street (below).

I also passed my good friends Wills and Kate’s house, but they didn’t come out to say hi. They were probably busy. They know I’m here, though, because they most likely read this blog. I’m sure they’ll be in touch pretty soon to give me a medal or a title or something for all this groundbreaking work I’m doing on renaissance ladies.

I got to the restaurant my sister suggested, Dirty Bones, and IT. WAS. AWESOME.

They have a mandated 2 for 1 cocktails policy, so I was forced to get food too so I wouldn’t be wasted (I didn’t actually finish the second drink, though).

Oh. My. God.

After my enormous hot dog, I headed back to the East End to try another place my sister suggested, the Discount Suit Company.

This is my favorite place I’ve been so far. I’ll have to go back. I got really lucky that it was quiet last night. Usually people have to book ahead, apparently. Amazing cocktails.

I walked home after my drink and decided to more fully document Brick Lane for you guys. Enjoy some really bad pictures below:

After a very pleasant tour of the local street art, I arrived back home at the pile of garbage I’m living in and discovered the lack of wifi. I became very annoyed and eventually gave up trying to fix it. Instead, I paid several pounds just to get on the internet for like 5 seconds to message my AirBnB host, make an angry Facebook status, and check my email. Then I went to bed. In my garbage pile.

Technically, I live behind that garbage, but it’s the same.

[renladyvillains]

Research Day

Today was mostly uneventful as far as tourism goes. I was at the library all day...well, I slept in and then got to the library at like 11AM. I fixed this blog with the far superior British Library wifi, had lunch, and then settled down to read some really old books. Here’s my favorite passage from today:

“There is nothing that becommeth a maid better than sobernes, silence, shamefastnes, and chastitie, both of bodie and mind. For these things being once lost, she is no more a maid, but a strumpet in the sight of God, howsoever shee disguiseth hir selfe, and dissembleth with the world.” -Thomas Bentley,  The Fift Lampe of Virginitie, 1582.

Strumpet it is, I guess!

After the library, I went and met my friend Abby for a drink in the understated Covent Garden. It was very fun catching up and hearing about her first year living here.

For dinner, I walked to a restaurant my sister suggested up Bethnal Green called Mission. It was very nice. I had a lovely pasta and tried two wines. Both were good.

Overall, kind of uneventful, but it was a nice day. I ordered a ticket to see Matilda the musical for Wednesday night, so I’m looking forward to that. Tomorrow, I plan to go to either the Victoria and Albert Museum or the National Portrait Gallery in the afternoon and Notting Hill in the evening. Actual writing will commence in the morning.

[renladyvillains]

How to Visit Hampton Court: A Guide for Children and Child-Like Adults

Hampton Court is a great place to visit for tourists of all ages. It’s got everything: jousting, carriages you can sit in, full tea service, a maze, palace tours of three different time periods (Tudor, Stuart, and Georgian), costumes and weaponry available for purchase, and really wide parks that are great for just running and screaming and screaming. To fully enjoy the palace and not set yourself up to be murdered by tourists who are not and do not have children, please follow this handy guide.

DO buy a ticket at Waterloo Station with return to Hampton Court.

DO try to find a seat as it takes about an hour to get there.

DO NOT scream-laugh like an idiot for that entire hour, especially if you are a grown-ass woman. Even your friends will be embarrassed. No one has to laugh like that. It is obviously put on and everyone knows and thinks you’re an idiot.

DO, upon arrival, immediately join the queue to purchase a ticket.

DO make the extra donation when you get the student ticket because it is nice to support the preservation of history.

DO NOT stand around slack-jawed as if you do not know how a line works. You know how a line works. Get it together. And if you can’t get your children to stop climbing all over the barriers and kicking people, get your child a leash.

DO visit the Maze. It is adorable.

DO reference the map. There are a lot of people in there and you will want to escape almost immediately after entering.

DO NOT run through the Maze. It is very narrow and you will knock people over. At 12-years-old, you should probably understand this. I mean, at least look where you’re going and watch out for old people.

DO enjoy the palace. They have lots of interactive exhibits that are great for children and child-like adults.

DO follow directions when entering the Royal Pew. The viewing area is very small and if you’re lucky there will be choir practice going on (!!!) and you’ll be able to see adorable little boys sing really high.

DO NOT bring your 18 million children and screaming babies into the Pew and then completely monopolize the entire viewing area for about 20 minutes while a line of angry people builds up behind you. Your kids don’t even want to be there. That’s why your baby is screaming. Maybe the parents should take turns going in and staying outside with the screamers.

DO enjoy the gardens. Aren’t they lovely?

DO also enjoy the jousting and purchase capes, crowns, and swords. Stage your own joust in the wide parks.

DO NOT joust in your cape inside the palace. This is very obnoxious. Obviously.

DO evacuate Hampton Court immediately when you feel like you’re about to assassinate children.

DO sit next to a nice person on the train who will wake you up when you get back to London, because you are going to pass OUT.

DO NOT forget your umbrella because when you get back to London it will certainly be raining.

This is the end of the guide. There is no story behind these police; I just like their hats.

There was also a street market going on when I left Brick Lane for Hampton Court. Here are some pictures of that:

Fin.

[renladyvillains]

Closed for Degree Day

Sorry for the delay, America. I’ve been having too much fun and it is very tiring.

Yesterday, I visited Oxford. I, unfortunately, overslept and then was super slow about showering and getting out of my flat. Then the Hammersmith and City line was down, which was my most direct route to Paddington, so I had to go all over the place on the Tube to get there. All said, I didn’t get out of London until 12:50 and didn’t get to Oxford until nearly 2pm.

Oxford is freaking magical, you guys. I don’t even know what some of this stuff is; I just took pictures of it. 

What is this bridge? I don’t know, but it’s great.

I first booked it over to the Bodleian Library and good thing I did because I just made it onto the last tour. It was Degree Day at Oxford (Graduation) so things were interesting. On one hand, many things--such as the Divinity School and Christ Church Cathedral--were closed, which was frustrating, but on the other hand, there were tons of people walking around in their regalia. America, we could take some notes. I don’t have any pictures of grads, but their robes involve various colors and fur. That’s right, fur.

Anyway, the only way to see inside the Bodleian Library is via guided tour, so I got on the last one scheduled for 4:30 and hauled ass across town to spend the wait time at Christ Church, probably the most famous of the colleges.

I’m sorry. I tried really hard to do a good panorama of the entrance, but I’m bad at those. This is the best I could do. I stood in line here for 45 minutes and ended up blitzing through in about ten. But I made friends with a nice couple from Sheffield while in line and they very kindly paid for my ticket so I could run ahead. Lucky me!

The first thing you see in Christ Church is the Great Hall from Harry Potter. It was a singularly transformative experience and would have been perfect if I hadn’t been surrounded by spatially unaware Italian 12-year-olds. And their stupid backpacks. I was in here for less than a minute before I gave up.

“Welcome to your first flying lesson. I am Madam Hooch. Hold your hand out over your broom and say, ‘Up!’”

(Also, a bride in the background.)

Actual information: this is the main entrance for students and faculty at Christ Church College. The bell tower is called Old Tom and the bell rings 101 times every night at 9:05 signaling curfew for the original 101 students.

After Christ Church, I ran over to St. Mary’s to climb the tower and get the must-see bird’s eye view of the city. It did not disappoint. The cover picture of this post is one of the views, and here are some more:

Oh! On the way to St. Mary’s I walked down this adorable street:

Oxford is dreamy. After St. Mary’s, I went and got a Fanta and sat on the curb looking up at the Radcliffe Camera. It’s part of the Bodleian, but it was, sadly, closed for Degree Day.

And finally, I was on my library tour. There are no photos allowed in the library, but here’s one from the internet:

I don’t know what that is, but I like it.

After the library tour, I went to the Oxford University Press store and got myself a lighter Marlowe. The bookstore was very organized, as you can imagine.

I then made my way to dinner at the rooftop restaurant atop the Ashmolean Museum (which I didn’t get to see. Next time!).

Following dinner, I went to the Eagle and Child, a favorite haunt of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. I had a lovely time and made pub friends.

After my pint, I took the hour-long train back to London, took the Tube for thirty minutes, walked thirty minutes in the rain, and then face-planted on my bed. Now I’m going to Hampton Court. Peace out.

[renladyvillains]

The Spread Eagle

I found his birthplace today. I did.

But first I went to the library. I was there for many hours and learned many things--none of which you care very much about. As you can imagine, clergymen in the Renaissance did not care too much for the ladies, similarly to fundamentalist/regular Christians today. They thought women should stay at home and “they shuld be enstructe in prayer accordinge as it is set forth in dialogues and instructions . . . yet shall they not be to busye in teachinge and reasoninge openly". . . Yeah, keep those bitches way from reasoning . . . sounds so very familiar . . .

After the library, I went home and dropped off my things. Then I went to St. Paul’s Cathedral. Oh, it is majestic. According to my sister, one of my Elliott ancestors is buried there. I must go and check during open hours. Here’s another view from Millennium Bridge:

That dude’s elbow is killing me. See that brick building in the foreground on the left? That’s where Daniel Radcliffe (Harry Potter) went to school. You’re welcome.

I enjoyed waking around, having dinner, doing whatever, but oh my god in heaven did my feet hurt. And by Lucifer and all his friends, what is wrong with my lower back?!?

Around this time I went to Bread Street to see where Milton was born. You know who else was born there? John Donne.

Why does Donne get a statue and Milton only get a plague? Seems weird to me, but whatever. I’m happy to commune with all poets.

Also, today on the Tube I saw a dog in a stroller.

I’m super embarrassed for the person who put this dog in this situation and evidently has no self-awareness.

[renladyvillains]

Do You Have Wifi?

My quest for wifi (and friends) has begun. But mostly the quest for wifi. I walked down Bethnal Green Road towards Shoreditch High Street to find dinner tonight. I visited this area a year ago but had no idea how close I was staying to all the bars and other hootenanny I had enjoyed just 13 months earlier. I walked myself over to what looked like an abandoned gas station that had been filled with tiny huts all selling different kinds of street food. I had pizza and a Corona. The place in its entirety I believe was called Pump (maybe I’m right about the gas station part?), and I mainly went there because they professed free wifi. This was a BOLD-FACED LIE. There was no wifi. Only me alone, half-heartedly trying to talk to people both younger and infinitely hipper than myself.

After dinner I went to this place that my sister had recommended. It’s basically a bunch of shipping boxes with various boutique bars and restaurants in them. The bottom (street-level) is boutique shops, but they were closed. I should probably go back here another night when I’m less tired because it was cool and affordable, but I was mainly lured in tonight because of the free wifi. It was satisfying.....and then a little sad because I didn’t know anyone. I’m not quite used to this traveling alone thing yet. I think as I get more accustomed to my schedule and the city, I’ll be going to some shows (and hey! There’s a film festival going on!) or turning in early to get work done the next day, but my philosophy for overseas travel is to always stay up the first night past 10PM--this cures jet-lag, I swear--hence the forced exploration.

I went by one last place on my way home which seemed like more of a neighborhood spot and had a drink that kind of reminded me of a Pimm’s Cup. That was fine. I’d probably go there again and bring a book. I don’t think they’d think it was weird. I need to find myself a place with more of a coffee shop vibe...like a coffee shop.

*Disclaimer: I did not take any of these pictures, although they are representative of Shoreditch. I already felt like a weirdo eating and drinking alone, and I didn’t think my fragile ego could take it if I embarrassed myself taking pictures. So thanks, Google. And also, thank you, drunk girls yelling outside my window!

[renladyvillains]

Getting Settled and Hanging Out with Geffrye

I arrived this morning in London following the most luxurious plane trip of my life. I cannot even speak of it as that would be gauche.

Moving right along.... I got down to the Tube station beneath Heathrow and discovered that the Tube workers are going on strike. For 36 hours. Starting this afternoon. Oh frabjous day! This throws a wrench in a lot of my plans, you see, because I’m staying in an AirBNB in Shoreditch, a way-to-hip-for-its-own-good neighborhood in East London (it reminds me a lot of Bushwick) with which I am none too familiar. It is also hard to get to--even when the trains are running. But the price was right guys. The price was right.

Anyway, I have several hours to kill before I can collect the keys to my little home away from home, so I relish my time on the functional underground and ride up to St. Pancras and check my bag in before trotting off to the library to be studious.

I get to the library and can’t do anything right: I can’t check in at the right place, can’t get on the wifi, can’t find a seat. Some might blame this on jet-lag, but I really think it’s more about me just being a buffoon. I get everything figured out eventually and then, without thinking about the fact that I have absolutely no way to even get to the library tomorrow because of the damn strike, I order three super old and super awesome texts up to Rare Books. I don’t realize what a dumb move that was until I get home and remember the strike, but by then it’s too late. The books are already in the Rare Books and Music room. So now I’m caught in a battle between being polite to the nice librarians and walking the hour and a half tomorrow, rain or shine, to the library, or taking the day to go see the Tower of London, which is a third of that distance away and fills me with a kind of childlike wonder. We shall see. (I think I know what’s going to happen.)

So this afternoon, I wanted to find a museum to go to so that I wouldn’t fall asleep, but I didn’t want to get stuck anywhere after the strike.

I found this fantastic little museum about a fifteen minute walk away. It’s called the Geffrye Museum of the Home. It’s an old almshouse (a kind of mix between a retirement home  and a hospital for Victorian elderly people) that’s been mostly gutted and turned into a museum showcasing the home furnishings and their history of middle-class Londoners living in Shoreditch from 1600 to the present day. It was really well done and gloriously free. The park in front of the house is open to the public, and I can certainly see myself going back to read there on a nice day.

The museum is also home to some gardens of different periods, most impressively this lovely herb garden. It smelled amazing and was so much fun to walk through.

The best part about the museum though, is that it actually gave me some source material for this article I’m working on. I got the names of a number of early 17th and late 16th century books on the correct behavior of wives and the best ways to run a household. I took notes and will look for these texts at the library.

After the museum, I, quite responsibly, stopped by a small grocery store and got a few necessities (which include chocolate chip brioche rolls - a breakfast of champions). It’s weird how devoted this store was to guacamole and other seemingly-Mexican dips but that tortilla chips were nonexistent. Hmm.