A London-Cambridge Swap

Last weekend, as a reward for my hard work (I took two mock exams and survived), I spent a night in London. I went to celebrate my good friend Katy's birthday. From the first hour I was back in that gorgeous city, I knew it was going to be a good weekend: as Katy was getting beautified in a salon, I sat outside a cafe in Bloomsbury, drinking tea and writing in the glorious sunshine. Perfection. 

Katy's celebrations started at Mes Amies, a Lebanese restaurant out in Hammersmith. It was a very eclectic place, to say the least. Decorated like a Chinese boudoir on crack and about the size of a matchbox, we all got very cozy together while trying not to bang out heads on hanging umbrellas. Though the service was slow, we snacked on hummus, baba ghanoush, samosas, and pita. We drank wine out of gaudy red wine glasses and played the crazy wax sculpture that was the table's centerpiece. We talked about the London transport system, what "spicy" food really is in England, and times we accidentally set appliances on fire.

Post-dinner we taxied ourselves off to the mysterious Evans & Peel: Detective Agency, a hidden cocktail bar (not unlike the Safe House, to us Milwaukeeans). We had to buzz to get in, then descended a load of stairs before arriving the detective's office.

The "detective" was a jaunty young man who eyed us with a haughty expression and politely asked us to "state our case". After Katy explained it was her birthday, and he looked unimpressed, we jumped in with a sad tale of two missing people. Alas, he said, you have to wait 48 hours before investigating missing people. But we didn't HAVE 48 hours! They disappeared under mysterious circumstances. There was foul play! We couldn't just sit around!

The whole time we were in there, I was scoping the place out. The room was completely enclosed. The only exit was the stairs we just came down. It was decorated all 1940s-eque and I knew there had to be a secret door to get into the cocktail bar. I won't spoil it for those who want to go, but I TOTALLY called the secret of how to get in. Down to the very minute detail of which object one needed to pull to open the secret door. I should be a detective.

The cocktail was small, but lovely, packed with glamorous men and women who could have come from any era. Some women had feathery headpieces or 1920s jewelry, but most people were just there to soak in the atmosphere. We were led to a little wobbly table and presented with a plate of bread and oil. We spent a good deal of time looking at the extensive and exciting cocktail menu. (One drink came infused with butter, while others had maple syrup!) Finally we ordered and spent the night sipping our expensive, but delicious cocktails. 

The next day Katy and I slept in to our hearts' content and then had a late breakfast (practically a lunch) of homemade American-style pancakes with honey and bananas. Yum! We enjoyed them with a gorgeous view of a park outside of Katy's apartment window. The sun was shining again!

We were lucky enough that our mutual friend, John (a fellow Cantab from last year) was in London for the weekend, so we decided to meet him and his friend at the South Bank for a little Cinco de Mayo celebration! There were joyful reunion hugs, and then we attempted to navigate the headache-inducing crowds with our cumbersome luggage. South Bank had a "Streets of Spain" area which we were all excited about. Alas, it was less tapas and more stalls selling raw meat and spices (not something you can really eat in the moment). John was adventurous and got a weird dish that was basically noodles covered in garlic mayo with a single, lonely prawn on top. 

The rest of us wandered to the other areas of the South Bank to look for more palatable food. Katy settled on a burger while John and I got pork sandwiches: pulled pork with rocket, applesauce, and chili sauce. Yum! Afterwards we parted ways at King's Cross with John heading back to Belgium and Katy and I venturing to Cambridge. Goodbye for now, London!

Monday: Bank Holiday in London. Katy and I spent a bit of the morning working a Bill's cafe. The afternoon, though, was what really mattered. We joined a few friends and went on our first punting trip of the season. If you don't really know anything about punting, check out last year's post on it HERE. Katy punted first with remarkable skill. And while John and I don't really look it, we were having a great time.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the punt...

Since it was a beautiful, sunny day out, the river was worse than rush hour traffic in a big city. We tried maneuvering around most punts, but we ended up getting caught in a few multiple-punt accidents. Still, it was nice just being on the water. We drank cold beer and sang show tunes and I accidentally dunked my foot into the river (ew). The best part had to be when we spied a rival punt, captained by our friend. We decided to try a bit of pirate punting. So we quickly caught up with them, sidled our punt right up to theirs, and with the finesse of a skilled pirate, I leapt onto their punt. My goal was to steal our friend's hat, but since he's 6' 7" it proved a bit problematic. After avoiding being pushed into the river about half a dozen times, I retreated back to my punt, calling it a mission mostly-successful. Until next time.

We spent the rest of the punting trip avoiding other punts, watching swans, soaking up sunshine, and talking about how much we're going to miss Cambridge. Alas! I don't want to think about it too much. It's weekends such as these that make me realize how blessed I am to be able to pop over to London for an overnight, to be able to lounging a boat on the river, floating past gorgeous 500-year-old buildings. Extraordinary. 

In the comments below, tell me your summer plans! When I'm done with work, I'm going to be spending all of my free time lounging on a little punt on the river. Ah, 'tis the life!

PS: I realized after publishing this that my blog post is lacking something very important. I forgot to mention two of my dear friends who were guests on our punting trip. First is Natalie:

Natalie is a spaniel reincarnated as a bubbly redhead. She spent the punting trip serenading us with her dulcet tones. She also shared her Starburst which was just incredibly generous (even though she only shared the blackcurrent-flavored ones). 

Then there's Chase:

Inside, Chase is clearly a stern old man from the 1890s. Most of the time though he's a kind young man from the 2010s. He contributed cheese straws and exciting banter to our punting trip. He also held my beer on multiple occasions when I was either plundering nearby ships or failing to paddle the punt. 

My failure to mention either of these two illustrious people in my blog post is a serious slight on my part and I sincerely apologize to both of them. 

Love you guys. :)

This:

Sometimes I need to stop and remember.

Working Hard...Or Hardly Working

Recently people have asked me, "What DO you actually study at Cambridge?" Good question. Sometimes I wonder that myself. Since the majority of my posts on this blog have been about my awkward moments, travel adventures, or the food I've eaten, I thought I'd take a moment to actually clarify that occasionally I DO do work at Cambridge. But only rarely.

The above photograph shows the books I recently checked out from the library. Ah, Cambridge libraries. What's it like going to a Cambridge library? Imagine you combined Labyrinth, Black Friday shopping, Harry Potter, and a particularly strict convent that has taken a vow of silence. Yup, that's it. Terrifying and glorious at the same time. These books are mostly for the two dissertations I'm doing this term. One is on Octavia Butler's beautiful time travel novel, Kindred. I'm looking at trauma theory (see the Caruth books) and tragedy. The second dissertation is on H. G. Wells (who I am finding more and more brilliant as time passes) and his writings on the human-animal "problem" (focusing, primarily on pain and vivisection). Grim work, no? Indeed. But interesting. 

The few other books which don't pertain to those topics are for the papers I'm "taking" this term: tragedy and contemporary. The tragedy paper covers everything from the Greeks and Shakespeare to the modern day (hence, Sarah Kane). Contemporary covers anything written 1996 or later, which means I get to read a lot of books that have been on my To Read list for years now: Wolf Hall, The City & The City, The Raw Shark Texts, The Gargoyle, Fragile Things, Elizabeth Costello, and The Road, to name a few. I'm unendingly pleased with myself for taking the contemporary paper because not only do I get to watch 28 Days Later for homework, but "contemporary writing" covers such a wide range of topics, it's unreal. The lectures I attended covered the following: graphic novels, Japanese pornography, theoretical physics, geometry, the apocalypse, ecology, psycho- (and psychotic-) geography, late capitalism, technology, non-place, gonzo journalism, architecture, obsessive personalities, serial killers, and hauntology. Just a course on literature? I think not!

Taking the contemporary paper really has made me realize how fluid literary "movements" are, and it becomes difficult to pin down what it means to be "contemporary" or "modern." I love studying the literature of my generation, knowing that ideas we discuss and about which we write will form the future analysis of this time period's literature. 

To keep this from getting too long, I'm going to end there. My work is quite expansive and equally eclectic, but I like it that way. I may have spent my first term here grumbling that I couldn't specialize and do an MPhil or Master's, but in the end I'm blessed that I was able to study such a wide range of literary topics under some of the brightest minds in the world. Even if my reading list IS longer than I am tall. 

The Land of Ice and Fire

No, it's not Westeros. Unfortunately. Or fortunately? Westeros is not the nicest place in the world to be honest. Do you know what IS the nicest place (or at least way nicer than Westeros)? ICELAND. Icy-icy-land. Deciding that I needed MORE stress in my life, I scheduled a weekend getaway to Iceland with two friends. (Isn't it lovely that living in England makes it so easy to take WEEKEND GETAWAYS to freakin' Iceland?! What kind of world am I living in?!) We left on a Thursday and I returned on Sunday, a nice long weekend trip. Let me give you the lowdown on my four fun-filled days.

Getting to Iceland was no party, let me tell you that. It involved rising at 3:30am, taking a cab to Heathrow, flying to Copenhagen, getting on another plane, and flying in Reykjavic (the capital), and then getting on two buses to our guesthouse. Oy vey. That was Day #1. We didn't do much. We wandered the Iceland freeways for a bit trying to find a grocery store and then had a grand time (NOT) grocery shopping. Do you know how difficult it is to buy stuff that's not only not in English but uses the outrageous Icelandic kronor (only outrageous because it has increments in the thousands which makes everything seem way overpriced)? Anyway, we crashed at home with sandwiches for dinner, experimented with some horrible green olive tea (never again!), and, since our Norther Lights Tour was cancelled (this was to be the theme of our trip), we spent the evening drinking wine and laughing until we got stomach cramps. Good way to start, I suppose.

Our first full day was much better for actual touristy activities. We booked our Blue Lagoon tour and rebooked our Nothern Lights tour before heading out into the city. Reyjkavik is adorable. Everything looks old-fashioned and quaint, but as if it had been built two years ago. Fresh-painted houses, clean streets, small shops. Adorable.

Our first stop was the Culture House where we got to see some extraordinarily old Viking manuscripts. These sags are seriously ancient. Not surprising that they kept them behind a foot of glass. We learned about bookmaking and got to pretend we went to a Viking preschool.

The upstairs of the Culture House was home to modern Icelandic art. It ranged from classical—busts and marble statues—to bizarre—a room full of piles of rubber ears. We got to see a cool old library and learn a bit about Icelandic history.

After the Culture House we went to Hallgrímskirkja, a very intimidating Luthern church. You're first greeted by a statue of Leif Eriksson gifted to Reyjkavik by America. The church is the largest in Iceland and was designed to resemble the basalt lava flows of Icelandic landscape. The inside of the church was nice, but unimpressive. What was really lovely was the view from the top. After an elevator ride and a few sets of stairs we reached the top and have a fantastic photographic vantage point.

Post-church we found Cafe Loki where Tom Hiddleston himself visited. We wandered inside for lunch and an escape from the dreary Iceland rain. There we warmed up and had a lovely view of the church. I indulged in a glorious vegetarian platter complete with famous Icelandic rye bread while another friend sample traditional Icelandic fish and their to-die-for rye bread ice cream.

The afternoon was spent shopping and wandering the streets of Reykjavik. We rushed home for dinner (pasta and beer...not quite Iceland), with our fingers crossed that we would be able to see the Northern Lights that night. No such luck. Instead we found our way to an Icelandic sports bar and sampled some more traditional Icelandic beer.

The next morning was equally dreary, but we made up for it with a trip to the Kolaportið Flea Market where I bought a (fake) Icelandic sweater (fake because I, sadly, can't wear wool). We then went on a hilarious trip to the harbor where I saw my first mountains! We took some ridiculous photos and then sought out the “Sun Voyager”, a really beautiful statue that resembles Viking longboats. After that we headed home again, ate pasta out of the pan like the classy ladies we are, and prepared ourselves for our trip to the Blue Lagoon.

The Blue Lagoon is a geothermal spa that's located in a lava field on the Reykjanes Penninsula. The water is rich in minerals such as sulphur (hence its interesting smell) and it said to help with skin diseases. The temperatures can get quite hot in some places, but in others it's a lovely room temp. The place is so big that despite a large number of tourists there, you often had large parts of the lagoon to yourself. They had an area where you could use the mud (infused with volcanic rock) to give yourselves facials. They even had a bar in the lagoon! Talk about a vacation. We floated around for a few hours, taking some breaks to refresh ourselves in the cold Icelandic air. Finally, exhausted, we headed back to Reykjavik.

Dinner was at Cafe Paris. We people watched and drank cold Icelandic beer and lamented not being about to see the Northern Lights once more. But the day had been fabulous regardless. A good end to the trip.

The next day was Sunday and woke up and hopped on my bus back to the airport. A long layover in Oslo, a crazy chase to catch the last train out of King's X, and I finally collapsed on my bed at almost three in the morning. A lecture at 9? Ha! Okay, so maybe I was cutting my schedule a bit close, but the trip was well worth it. What an experience! Certainly the trip of a lifetime. Who knows if I'll even get back to Iceland again. Though, I must say, I'm hoping to make a trip to Canada soon to do the few things I didn't get to do in Iceland: go dog sledding, ride Icelandic ponies, and, of course, see the Northern Lights.