Showing posts with label peanut butter. Show all posts
Welcome, Internet, to the LAST BLOG POST EVER.
Not the last blog post I will ever make in my life. This is almost assuredly not the case. But the last post for this summer on this blog, since I am safely back in Massachusetts, the Motherland. I am able to scientifically determine this based on the number of people I saw today in Red Sox paraphernalia, and the fact that I ate peanut butter for breakfast.
MY DEAR FRIEND.
Because I know my millions of dedicated readers were wondering about my two week absence from the blogosphere, allow me to put all concerns to rest. After BADA ended, my father and I spent a week gallivanting around London. But our temporary quarters did not provide us with any sort of Internet access - not even dial-up - and it turns out that Internet access is sort of essential to, you know, blogging.
But my lack of Internet did lead to me checking my e-mail and Facebook in a bar with free wi-fi, which did, in fact, lead to a free drink.
ANYWAY.
In honor of all the unpacking I have to do, let's discuss the
25. Ticket stubs from Legally Blonde, Hamlet, The Sunshine Boys, The Tempest, The Woman in Black, Taming of the Shrew, Chariots of Fire, (a tragically cancelled performance of) Matilda: The Musical, and Richard III.
That's a lot of theatre, you guys.
Like, a LOT of theatre.
I'm gonna go ahead and say Taming was my favorite, but then again, I did sleep through The Tempest.
24. New perspective on vegetables and their usage in daily life. In the Magdalen dining hall, which is sadly somewhat bereft of vegetarian options, I constructed several excellent salad varieties. I also learned that it's possible - and customary - to get approximately 4 of your 5-a-day in a glass of Pimms!
23. The beastliest arm muscles of my life, thx Insanity.
Me (selfie)
22. The experience of playing Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream. Truly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, seeing as I am neither tall nor blonde.
21. A shirt with Jessie J on it, because she's up there with the fiercest of the fierce. Thank you, Primark, for this important addition to my wardrobe.
20. Comfort in knowing that even though my hand-eye coordination is miserable, I'm at least really good at Mick's One Frog game.
19. The ability to recite the monologue from Act III of Henry V on command!
Special thanks to Dakota Fanning.
18. A bruise that refuses to go away. From falling off a bar. While dancing. To a Jackson 5 song.
17. Scrapes on my knees from my starring turn as Demetrius's spaniel in A Midsummer Night's Dream. Unaware that there was a spaniel in that play? Well, there is. And the spaniel is very important.
16. A business card from a guy on the Tube who liked my shoes.
15. The experience of surviving the West End's famous production of The Woman In Black, proof that I CAN sit through ghost stories, provided I am surrounded by incredibly supportive boys.
14. Many excellent souvenirs for friends and family, including a COMMEMORATIVE BELL for the Queen's Diamond Jubilee! (I am probably the only person who has ever bought one, but whatever.)
13. A whole bunch of British pennies. But actually, what am I going to do with them? Blog readers? Would anyone like a penny?
12. Affirmation of something I already knew: that peanut butter and home-cooked pasta should never, ever be taken for granted.
11. A trashy YA dystopian novel from one of the world's greatest independent booksellers.
10. Friendship with the co-creator of Pokemon: The Mew-sical.
9. An article of clothing from Topshop.
They were on sale. I regret nothing.
8. A glass stone, the loss of my whiskeyginity, a pamphlet from a casino, and a very wrinkled bus map - spoils of war from my last night out in London.
7. Some illegal pictures from Westminster Abbey. Technically, there's no photography allowed, but I was having kind of a ~moment~ in the Poets' Corner and when I saw Auden, it just... happened:
Oops.
Also, who is Anne Brontë?
6. The memory of ninety-three acting students spontaneously singing a round of a song at the Farewell Banquet.
5. OLYMPIANS!
Okay, so I didn't manage to bring any actual Olympians home, but I did encounter them in London! My dad and I staked out prime real estate at the men's marathon - not only did we see the runners six times, but we also experienced several of the side effects of attending an Olympic event, which include the urge to drape oneself in a flag and a sudden rush of pride in every nation.
Most importantly, we saw Kenyans!
Kenyans who run as fast as Kenyans!!!
4. Pants. Lol.
3. An imperial fucktonne of pictures. My camera was the real star traveller of the last six weeks - it took over 400 photos in all places, weather conditions, you name it. I've posted some of them here; the rest are on Facebook, so check them out if we're Facebook friends and you're curious! (And if we're not Facebook friends, honestly, why are you reading this?)
2. Memories that will last a lifetime etc etc ad nauseum
And the number one thing I brought home from Britain:
1. Peace of mind knowing that I at least tried to board the Hogwarts Express.
Bringing home all of these things might have necessitated some last-minute repacking at the airport, but it's also helping with all the missing I'm doing. I miss living in a castle, I miss the friends I'll see again in Evanston and especially the friends I won't, I miss Cornmarket Street and its performers and crowds of people, I miss hearing British accents. Coming home has been, in a lot of ways, a jarring experience. Leaving the country always helps me to understand it better, and the differences between America and the UK were on full display in the line for customs:
Customs in Britain: jolly good please have your passport at the ready
Customs in the US: RESPONSIBILITY. INTEGRITY. VIGILANCE.
Customs in Britain: queue up here to cross the UK Border la la la
Customs in the US: OUR CUSTOMS OFFICIALS ARE THE MOST OFFICIAL OFFICIALS.
Customs in Britain: have you got any mates with you or are you travelling alone? Alone? Good. Off you get, then.
Customs in the US: CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!!!
But I guess you can't ever really appreciate a place until you've been away from it for a little while. All of the ordinary perks of being home are present - warm showers in a real bathroom, food, my real cell phone, my bed... but there are other things, too, like not constantly being aware of being an outsider, having people say "have a nice day" back, being surrounded, totally, by things I understand.
I loved the misunderstanding of being somewhere else, though. In the last six weeks I was often thrilled, occasionally terrified, and consistently confused, and I loved every second of it (except for maybe the ones when I was lost in the rain). So thank you, Britain, for one of the best summers of my life. For what it's worth, I'm keeping my pay-as-you-go dumbphone from that first day with the monsoon and the pants.
I'll be back soon.
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So I leave for Britain tomorrow.
Sitting in my living room in Massachusetts, it feels inconceivable. This time tomorrow, I'll be over the Atlantic Ocean. My theatre board is meeting tomorrow night, and I had to be like, "Sorry, I will literally be over the ocean at that time," and that's when it hit me. Catch you later, Western Hemisphere, I'm setting sail for the streets of London.
I'm not a transcontinental virgin or anything. The last time I was in Europe was junior year of high school, and the first and most recent time I visited England was a full decade ago. That was a magical experience. I say that because there's something inherently magical about getting on a plane, falling asleep, and waking up on another continent, and because there's something even more inherently magical about seeing landmarks from books gloriously life-size before your eyes, and that all of this magic is magnified when you're ten. But it was also magical because I decided to make the entire trip my own informal Harry Potter Experience. I visited Platforms Nine and Ten at King's Cross Station before there was a sign there and I saw Oxford's Great Hall. There's also picture of me jumping up and down on the lawn of Alnwick Castle, site of the Quidditch Pitch in the films (the caption reads "I fell off my broom"). So if you told ten year-old me that I'd be returning to this enchanted country someday to study acting at Oxford - practically Hogwarts itself - well. Ten year-old me would flip a shit.
Which is pretty much what twenty year-old me is doing right now.
Anyway, the whole thing still feels a million years away, so today I concentrated on making my last hours in the US as awesome as possible. My dad, stepmom, and I spent most of the day in Boston. It was a perfect, picturesque New England afternoon, mid-eighties and sunny, with just the right amount of breeze off the harbor.
See? Perfect.
And downtown was packed with people - upstairs in Quincy Market it was almost impossible to find a seat, and you could pick out seven different languages easily. Street performers were out in full force. A guy on a corner gave my dad and I an impromptu lecture on the finer historical details of a nearby church. And I thought about how I would miss New England, but then I remembered that I can transport its beauty with me anywhere via Instagram, and I felt better.
Things I can't transport via Instagram: burritos. I figured they're not quite the hottest commodity in England, so we grabbed lunch at Boloco (which, for all you Midwesterners in the dark, is like Chipotle but a thousand times better). I also used the last-day-in-America thing as an excuse to get fro-yo for the second day in a row, although I have a feeling that'll be easier to come by than burritos.
I felt good about making the most out of my favorite American delectables until I was talking to my friend Erin, who did her undergrad in Ireland and as such has spent way more time in the UK than I have. "Be prepared, there is a lack of Reese's Peanut Butter cups in LND because they just don't eat peanut butter the way we do," she said.
Which may not be a big deal to some people, but
Pro tip: If you drop these, they bounce.
But that's stupid because they I couldn't get it through customs anyway, right? ...Right?
This is almost as bad as when I found out that baby carrots inexplicably do not exist in the Commonwealth.
Annnnd now I'm stereotyping myself.
And this is way longer than I intended it to be.
So goodnight for now, blog. Brb gotta vacate the US. Catch you on (the way to) the flip side.
