As November rolls to a close, I'm happy to report that we denizens of 04 03 are still alive and well. The past few weeks have been moderately low-key, although some events of note have occurred. I didn't realize that the British tradition of Bonfire Night (as mentioned in the first Harry Potter book) was quite so important - once it got dark that evening I heard a ton of explosions outside. I figured that either someone was setting off a ton of fireworks or we were being invaded; I was hoping for the former and sure enough, no invasion. So that was fun . . . I still hear sounds like that from time to time, although I haven't seen fireworks. I'm just sticking to my "not an invasion" theory for the time being.
Ada, Carlos, and I partook on a fun adventure about two weeks ago; he heard of a Man/Woman Auction taking place at the Baa Bar in Fallowfield (farther down Curry Mile) and we decided to go check it out (it was uni-sponsored, not just a random auctioning off of people). The three of us went along with Ronny and some of Carlos's classmates. This marks the second Baa Bar that the three of us have visited since we got here, and we might make it a personal goal to visit all the Baa Bars within Manchester within the year. It's always good to have something to aspire to. Anyway, it was loud and raucous but fun, and it reminded me of of the Model UN Man Auctions we used to do back at Elmira - Prostitution for World Peace. However, we were never allowed to auction off girls because it looked too much like real prostitution; apparently there were no such worries here. At least it was for a good cause - the money raised from people sales and entry tickets went to help build wells in Tanzania. Once the main event was over, Carlos, Ronny, Ada, Carlos's friend Jose, and I went to a karaoke bar to hang out for a little while longer (nothing quite like spending some quality time in a bar on a Tuesday night), and we were privileged to hear Ada and Ronny do their rendition of "It's My Life" by Bon Jovi. I've decided that the songs I'd do karaoke for in public are pretty much limited to "American Pie" and . . . . actually, that might be it. Shortly thereafter we took the bus back to campus, and Ada and I did (or tried to do) a Baywatch run back to the dorm; she didn't understand what it was and I sure as heck wasn't going to demonstrate while we were in a populated area, but walking back it was pretty much just the four of us so we had some fun with it.
We're also excitedly planning our own personal Thanksgiving, and decided to make it a little more of a party and each invite one guest (girls are supposed to bring girls and guys, guys), so we'll end up cooking for 14. We're gonna have to decide how exactly this is gonna work, because the biggest chickens we can find will only feed 4 to 6, and as I was informed by one of our male residents last night that he polished off one of those chickens by himself, we might need to do some adjusting. An Indian flavor might not go awry . . . we shall see. So far the menu includes chicken in some fashion, stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, hopefully some rolls, and maybe carrots, 'cause that menu looks a little sparse. And dessert, of course, will be made up of pies. We had a flat event to come up with this and talk about some other issues which, of course, was a great and hilarious time. We also had a neat cultural experience last week when Avi's dad sent him a box of traditional Indian candies/sweets for Diwali, one of their really big festivals. He said that usually his mom would hand-make a lot of this stuff, but since he wasn't at home they just bought it. It was the sweetest food I've ever, EVER eaten. I know people say that Americans eat sweet candy, but believe me - you have no tasted sweet until you've had this. It was borderline intolerable from that aspect, but it was neat to experience that aspect of a different culture. Nithya said that India has a really big problem with diabetes, and I completely see why. But at least I'll be able to repay them in kind when Christmas cookies get here; it might be nice to have them with some hot chocolate one evening, next to a picture of a fireplace.
I don't know whether you've heard about it or not, but recently huge cuts in higher education funding have been announced over here, and the student body is furious. There was a small protest march a few weeks ago, but today there was a much larger one. As I was walking out to meet Ian and Joyce for lunch today there was a huge crowd outside the University Place building, at least a couple hundred students with signs, etc., the whole works. I'd never seen a student protest before; it was rather exciting. The closest we ever got to that at EC was signing a petition and flooding Senate with people opposing the purple graduation gowns (and we all know how well that turned out *cue Barney's theme song*). Then this evening, at about 4:15/4:30 pm, I heard shouting outside and when I looked out the window I saw several people running and yelling around the back of the building. When I left for class half an hour later, the traffic along Oxford Road was backed up to Heaven knows where and was literally at a standstill in both directions. I couldn't walk far enough to see what was causing it, but there were multiple police and ambulance vehicles in the vicinity and when I walked a bit farther I saw a group of policemen guarding a group of about 10 students who were handcuffed and pinned to the wall. The whole place was crawling with cops, and mounted police had been there at some point (trust me, I can recognize horse dung when I see it, and I'm pretty sure there were no wild horses running around Greater Manchester today). When I got to class, the professor showed up about 10 minutes later and said that because of the protests they'd shut down the building access via the automatic doors and they'd posted a door guard to let the night class students in, but after that nobody else was getting inside. I find it hard to believe that these protesters would be interested in spending a whole lot of time in the Samuel Alexander building, but whatever. Apparently these cuts may as much as double the cost of a university education which, for a British national, stands currently at 3000 pounds for an arts-based program (at Manchester; I don't know about other universities). That's for a year, too. It still amazes me that everyone's up in arms over this when we pay so much back home and hardly bat an eye . . . of course I'm sure if the situations were reversed we'd be doing the same, and nobody wants to take on more debt than they have to, but it's just such a totally different mindset.
Lunch with Ian and Joyce was marvelous; we went to a Pizza Express where they make you a little pizza right there and you can select exactly what you want on it - my kind of place as you can guarantee a sauceless experience. They also invited me to a Shabbat dinner on the 10th, which will be awesome; for all my Hillel activities I've never actually been to a traditional Shabbat dinner. I'll get to meet Andrew and Martine as well, so I'm really looking forward to it.
Hebrew is going much better; the reading is definitely getting easier. However, they don't use semicolons, and this bothers me probably much more than I should. I see comma splices everywhere but apparently it's just how you do it in Hebrew. That's almost taken more getting used to than anything else (man, sometimes I really remind myself of Frasier and Niles Crane . . . I'm not sure I should be too proud of that). One of my classmates, Rachel, is actually in the US as we speak - she went to visit her boyfriend for Thanksgiving, and I am slightly jealous, haha. I kind of wish that we learned more practical Hebrew though - it seems so tailored to university students. I can ask someone about where he or she studies and what he or she studies, or I can ask about room availability in a dorm, but have we learned how to ask where the bathroom is? No, and I think that might be a little more helpful in real-world situations. But at least I'm managing to struggle through it, however impractical I might think it is. Holocaust class is going well also; two weeks ago one of Dr. Dreyfus's PhD students came in to talk about his Holocaust research and it was really interesting - he's looking at the institution of Holocaust Remembrance Day in Britain and the controversies surrounding it. Dr. Dreyfus is marvelous, but his strong French accent just reminds me so forcefully of Inspector Clouseau sometimes. He's so sweet though, and he's offered to be my mentor for my dissertation so I might take him up on that, although I don't have to decide until March.
I'm sure I will shortly be regaling my captive audience with tales of the fabulous success of our Thanksgiving party, and hopefully some tales of snow as well - rumor has it we may get some tonight but I don't know. We did have frost this morning and it made me very happy . . . I also think I was the only person in all of Greater Manchester who went outside today wearing just a sweatshirt.
Wednesday 24 November 2010
Thursday 4 November 2010
The Making of a Pilgrimage, or "Perfect Day"
Today was the day - I journeyed to Ulverston to see Stan Laurel's birthplace, and I must say, it was a glorious trip. I left from Manchester Piccadilly although in hindsight, and for next time, I can probably go places from the Oxford Road station which is a good deal closer to campus. But at any rate, the ride up was gorgeous. We were going north, into the Lake District, and the scenery was absolutely breathtaking. I think I might have seen a very small moor, and I know that I saw the coastline. We passed over a lot of water and past multiple floodplains; the whole area actually reminds me of a delta. If I remember what Mr. Banker taught us, I think it has all the markings of a glacial valley with oxbow lakes and stuff. Whatever the case may be, it was an amazing ride - I kept shuttling back and forth from one side of the car to the other to take pictures out of the windows (I was the only one at that point, so it was fine). It was very foggy and drizzly weather, which isn't great for picture taking but actually I think it made everything look that much more rugged and lovely.
It took about an hour and a half/two hours to get to Ulverston, and even if Stan wasn't born there it would have been worth it. It's an ancient town and so many of the buildings, even regular houses, are made of age-old stone and have been standing for what seems like forever. I think, however, it's not quite the "bustling market town" it once was, as it seems rather un-bustling these days. But it's in a great location, and on a nearby hill (I say "nearby" and "hill" when what I really mean is a small mountain about 10 miles up the road) is a large obelisk that overlooks the town. When I first saw pictures of that on Wikipedia I thought maybe I could climb it after I was done at the museum, but when I saw it in person I realized that was completely unfeasible for the afternoon. Perhaps next time.
The museum itself couldn't have been easier to get to, but about a block up from it is the statue of Laurel and Hardy that was recently built to commemorate their achievements. I, of course, took pictures of it; it's quite a nice statue, very characteristic of them, and it's ringed with the titles of some of their most famous pieces ("Sons of the Desert" naturally being one). I then proceeded down the road to the museum, which changed locations within the past six months and is now located in the basement of an art deco theater called The Roxy. I'd say that the museum itself is about the size of our den, maybe a little bigger, but it was incredibly cool. They had so much stuff there - memorabilia, artifacts, pictures, letters, informational slides, posters, furniture, just about everything. They had info boards on some of their most famous movies and shorts, as well as info on some of the other characters that frequently appeared on screen with them (ie Mae Busch and James Finlayson), and they had some life-sized statues too. They also had a mini movie theater set up in the corner, complete with genuine movie theater seats from that era, maybe 15 of them. They show films and shorts all day long and you can sit and watch as many as you want. I managed to spend a good three hours in there, watched several shorts, and essentially had a grand old time. It was so great to watch the films with other people and hearing them laugh as hard as you do. One elderly lady left halfway through one short saying, "If I stay any longer, I'll wet me pants!" I was surprised at how many people were there - probably a good 14-18 passed through while I was there or were there when I started. I was the only person under the age of about 50, not that that was hugely surprising, but I'm willing to bet that despite my age, I was probably the only one who could sing the Sons of the Desert Anthem by heart and has "Honolulu Baby" on my iTunes.
After I had exhausted all the museum had to offer and had gone over everything, I poked around the gift shop and asked the guy on duty if the house Stan was born in was still around. He told me that, in fact, it was, and he also directed me to the Stan Laurel Inn, which is like a bed and breakfast with some more memorabilia and pictures. I set off into the pouring rain - yes, it poured the whole time, from the moment I stepped off the train until the moment I stepped back on - and reached the Inn about three minutes later. It was a cute little place with some neat pictures hanging on the walls. From there, Stan's house was fewer than five minutes up the road - 3 Argyle St. It's been modernized since 1890, but it has an officiated plaque saying that Stan was indeed born in that house. It was a great moment . . . from that door issued such genius. Amazing. Watching those shorts today really made me appreciate how difficult it is to pull off that kind of comedy. From any other duo it would just come off looking incredibly stupid. The way they just stand there when they know exactly what's gonna happen - I mean, like anyone would just stand there as you paint his face with molasses and then dump a load of feathers on him. But the mannerisms and expressions to go along with acts like that pull together and make it work perfectly. You don't notice all that stuff as a kid, but the older you get the more you appreciate what an art form it really is. You really have to have something special in order to be able to pull that kind of thing off.
After I'd seen all the Laurel and Hardy related sites the town had to offer, I had some hours to kill, so I walked around town (yes, in the pouring rain still, because pouring rain never stops me, as you well ought to know by now), explored some churches, and walked the high street - narrow, cobblestoned, quaint, elegant . . . in short, everything an old British town should be. After some explorations, I stopped into a tea shop and got some hot chocolate and crumpets - real English crumpets, not the ones they have in Asda that you pop in the toaster. Apparently you butter them and then serve them with melted soft cheese (Lancashire cheese, in this case). They reminded me of biscuits (American biscuits, not British ones) a little bit, but lighter and not nearly as dense. They were delicious, as was the hot chocolate which was made from scratch, not Swiss Miss. It was an absolutely perfect setting - cozy, quaint little teahouse, the kind of place Karen or Mrs. Miller would love, hot chocolate, crumpets, lovely Irish music in the background, rain pounding the cobblestones . . . it was just perfect. I lingered there for a while while I read a paper for Holocaust (I knew I should have brought Jane Eyre instead), and then eventually started meandering my way back to the station, taking several detours along the way to take a look up cool streets or take pictures of an awesome church. The gate was open, but I'm not sure if we were supposed to go onto the grounds or not . . . oh well.
I'd have to say that this was one of the best days I've had since getting here - not only did I get to see a historic landmark and pay homage to a comedic god, but I also got to poke around a true old English town and get a lovely picture of what the Lake District is like . . . and was it ever lovely. It's a bit difficult to take digital pictures from the windows of a moving train, especially when the train is being rained on, but I think I got some good ones. I'll post them soon and then add in the link so you can check them out.
EDIT: I now have pictures of this fabulous journey posted on Facebook. You can access them with this link; just copy and past it:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2039793&id=71701775&l=989d31bc86
It took about an hour and a half/two hours to get to Ulverston, and even if Stan wasn't born there it would have been worth it. It's an ancient town and so many of the buildings, even regular houses, are made of age-old stone and have been standing for what seems like forever. I think, however, it's not quite the "bustling market town" it once was, as it seems rather un-bustling these days. But it's in a great location, and on a nearby hill (I say "nearby" and "hill" when what I really mean is a small mountain about 10 miles up the road) is a large obelisk that overlooks the town. When I first saw pictures of that on Wikipedia I thought maybe I could climb it after I was done at the museum, but when I saw it in person I realized that was completely unfeasible for the afternoon. Perhaps next time.
The museum itself couldn't have been easier to get to, but about a block up from it is the statue of Laurel and Hardy that was recently built to commemorate their achievements. I, of course, took pictures of it; it's quite a nice statue, very characteristic of them, and it's ringed with the titles of some of their most famous pieces ("Sons of the Desert" naturally being one). I then proceeded down the road to the museum, which changed locations within the past six months and is now located in the basement of an art deco theater called The Roxy. I'd say that the museum itself is about the size of our den, maybe a little bigger, but it was incredibly cool. They had so much stuff there - memorabilia, artifacts, pictures, letters, informational slides, posters, furniture, just about everything. They had info boards on some of their most famous movies and shorts, as well as info on some of the other characters that frequently appeared on screen with them (ie Mae Busch and James Finlayson), and they had some life-sized statues too. They also had a mini movie theater set up in the corner, complete with genuine movie theater seats from that era, maybe 15 of them. They show films and shorts all day long and you can sit and watch as many as you want. I managed to spend a good three hours in there, watched several shorts, and essentially had a grand old time. It was so great to watch the films with other people and hearing them laugh as hard as you do. One elderly lady left halfway through one short saying, "If I stay any longer, I'll wet me pants!" I was surprised at how many people were there - probably a good 14-18 passed through while I was there or were there when I started. I was the only person under the age of about 50, not that that was hugely surprising, but I'm willing to bet that despite my age, I was probably the only one who could sing the Sons of the Desert Anthem by heart and has "Honolulu Baby" on my iTunes.
After I had exhausted all the museum had to offer and had gone over everything, I poked around the gift shop and asked the guy on duty if the house Stan was born in was still around. He told me that, in fact, it was, and he also directed me to the Stan Laurel Inn, which is like a bed and breakfast with some more memorabilia and pictures. I set off into the pouring rain - yes, it poured the whole time, from the moment I stepped off the train until the moment I stepped back on - and reached the Inn about three minutes later. It was a cute little place with some neat pictures hanging on the walls. From there, Stan's house was fewer than five minutes up the road - 3 Argyle St. It's been modernized since 1890, but it has an officiated plaque saying that Stan was indeed born in that house. It was a great moment . . . from that door issued such genius. Amazing. Watching those shorts today really made me appreciate how difficult it is to pull off that kind of comedy. From any other duo it would just come off looking incredibly stupid. The way they just stand there when they know exactly what's gonna happen - I mean, like anyone would just stand there as you paint his face with molasses and then dump a load of feathers on him. But the mannerisms and expressions to go along with acts like that pull together and make it work perfectly. You don't notice all that stuff as a kid, but the older you get the more you appreciate what an art form it really is. You really have to have something special in order to be able to pull that kind of thing off.
After I'd seen all the Laurel and Hardy related sites the town had to offer, I had some hours to kill, so I walked around town (yes, in the pouring rain still, because pouring rain never stops me, as you well ought to know by now), explored some churches, and walked the high street - narrow, cobblestoned, quaint, elegant . . . in short, everything an old British town should be. After some explorations, I stopped into a tea shop and got some hot chocolate and crumpets - real English crumpets, not the ones they have in Asda that you pop in the toaster. Apparently you butter them and then serve them with melted soft cheese (Lancashire cheese, in this case). They reminded me of biscuits (American biscuits, not British ones) a little bit, but lighter and not nearly as dense. They were delicious, as was the hot chocolate which was made from scratch, not Swiss Miss. It was an absolutely perfect setting - cozy, quaint little teahouse, the kind of place Karen or Mrs. Miller would love, hot chocolate, crumpets, lovely Irish music in the background, rain pounding the cobblestones . . . it was just perfect. I lingered there for a while while I read a paper for Holocaust (I knew I should have brought Jane Eyre instead), and then eventually started meandering my way back to the station, taking several detours along the way to take a look up cool streets or take pictures of an awesome church. The gate was open, but I'm not sure if we were supposed to go onto the grounds or not . . . oh well.
I'd have to say that this was one of the best days I've had since getting here - not only did I get to see a historic landmark and pay homage to a comedic god, but I also got to poke around a true old English town and get a lovely picture of what the Lake District is like . . . and was it ever lovely. It's a bit difficult to take digital pictures from the windows of a moving train, especially when the train is being rained on, but I think I got some good ones. I'll post them soon and then add in the link so you can check them out.
EDIT: I now have pictures of this fabulous journey posted on Facebook. You can access them with this link; just copy and past it:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2039793&id=71701775&l=989d31bc86
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