In the two weeks since my last blog post, my life has been a constant and unyielding whirlwind. My friends and I have been working under the assumption that every minute spent in our rooms is a minute that we’ve wasted in this incredible city. A quick recap since the last time we spoke: Borough High Market, Greenwich Royal Observatory, the British Museum, Spamalot, First Rugby Match, Oasis, and more football than I have ever seen in my life. Oh yeah, and school started (I can’t believe I actually had to pick a book up this week).
But before I delve into any of these issues any further, I just wanted to address my delinquency in my frequency of post. As you can see, two weeks flew by without a post, and I feel rather guilty. That is why starting today, you can expect a new blog post every week by Monday afternoon. I will also start taking requests from you, my loyal readers, as to what you want to hear. I can be reached quite easily by e-mail at jfrichman@gmail.com. I also welcome any feedback you feel necessary to bestow upon my humble little blog. So without further ado, my past two weeks:
Class. What can be said about school? No matter the continent, school will always be school: too much work. That being said, I’m sure you would all like to hear about the differences between school in the states and that which resides across the pond.
The first thing I noticed in my first lecture (note: Class is something distinct from lecture. Lecture is the American notion of “class” while what we call “recitation” or “discussion section” is a class. I’ve gotten some pretty funny looks when I describe how much class I have as though I am taking twice as many courses as the normal LSE student.) was that nobody in England takes notes on a laptop. Upon entering a lecture at Georgetown, the sound ringing behind the professors mind-numbing drawl is the “click-click” of the keyboards as each student earnestly jots down every word. At LSE, I felt quite stupid on the first day as I gazed around the room and realized it was I alone who had his computer out and typing away. The neon lights and bells over my head began to ring American (I hate when that happens). Outside of the old-fashioned note taking, school and schoolwork here do not differ markedly that much from the U.S. I’ll be able to tell you more after my first papers are returned in about 4 weeks. I am constantly told that essays are written differently here than in North America. I’ll follow up when I know either way.
On to the much more exciting topic of my first rugby match last week. I got pummeled, beaten, bruised and had the time of my life. What an exhilarating sport. After feeling awkward and in the wrong position for the first five minutes, I took my first hit. I grabbed the ball, broke through the defensive line, and just as I thought I was home free for the try (their touchdown) I was nailed in the back and hit the turf face first. After that, my adrenaline raged. I was buzzing around the field like a mad man, hitting guys and trying to ram the ball into the end zone. I picked up the game quite quickly. The hardest thing for me who had spent 20 years growing up in American football is the idea that as you are being tackled, it’s sometimes strategic to get rid of the ball as you go down. In America, you go to the turf so that the play ends and can ensure that you maintain possession of the ball. In Rugby, since play doesn’t stop, sometimes your teammate can break through the line if two guys get pulled in to tackle you. Tonight I am in mental preparation for our first game against another school, Queen Mary University in East London.
Next topic: British Museum. I saw the Rosetta Stone, the Sutton Hoo burial, some mummies, the Elgian Marbles, and this gigantic thing called a Lamassu. The museum completely blew me away. The first thing you recognize is the imposing architecture of the building. Then, I saw that the museum was built in 1753. That’s right, 23 years before our fledgling colonies would declare war on my host nation. That’s what I keep putting in perspective, the age of everything here. Everything is old. In the States, our oldest monuments aren’t much older than 200-300 years. I walk by the Tower of London every day. It’s 930 years old.
I also visited the Borough High Market and the Greenwich Royal Observatory on the same Saturday afternoon. It was a gorgeous day and the market was replete with dead fowl. This market, in the shadow of London Bridge, opens every weekend and sells just about everything from fruit smoothies, to beer, to wine, to any sausage you could ever imagine, to plants, to full dead birds.
The Observatory was breathtaking. On this beautiful afternoon I was able to get some incredible shots of the city from the hill on which the observatory stands. And, of course, here’s the perfunctory picture of my straddling the meridian line for which the observatory is famous. The observatory is the official timekeeper of Greenwich Mean Time, the time zone on which all other times are based. It allowed for the British Maritime power to have the advent of longitudinal navigation so that they always knew how far from London they were.
After our visit up the hill, I went with a few friends and bough ice cream and champagne and sat out in the park until the sun set. It was quite possibly the best afternoon I’ve ever spent in my life.
Then there was Spamalot. There’s not much to say here. It was fantastic. I laughed my butt off. The musical is based on the Monty Python film “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” There is a version on Broadway in New York that I have seen, but I must say, real British accents make the show much better.
Finally, and most importantly, there was the Oasis show. For those who do not know, Oasis is the biggest band in Britain since those guys from Liverpool. I forget the name of that band at the moment, but I’m sure you’ve all heard of them. Oasis has been releasing hit records since 1994 and I was lucky enough to see them touring on their new album that was released about two weeks ago. The show was absolutely fantastic. I had standing room tickets and got pretty close to the show. When I first arrived, I had no idea why everyone around me was wearing raincoats. I soon found out. My favorite (and subsequently least favorite) part of seeing a concert in Britain is the tradition that when the band plays well, you throw your pint into the crowd in front of you. After three beer showers, I decided on moving back, and enjoyed one of the best concerts of my life. Videos of the show may be found at www.mtv.co.uk/oasis.
So there you have it, two crazy weeks. Every night spent out doing something more fantastic than the last. I’m about to hop in the shower right now, as I was able to get cheap tickets to see “Jersey Boys” this evening. Before I leave you I will start two “updates” that will become weekly endeavors:
ARSENAL UPDATE: I have adopted the Gunners from Northern London as my Premiership team. The Gunners had a strong performance last weekend beating Everton by the score of 3-1. This evening they take on Turkish powerhouse Fenerbahce in the Champion League. Arsenal resides in 4th place a mere four points behind Chelsea and Liverpool.
BRITISH SONG OF THE WEEK: I’ll give you three this week since I’ve been so delinquent with the posts. 1. “Shock of the Lightning,” the single off the new Oasis album. 2. “Always Free,” by another favourite British band of mine, the “Kooks.” 3. “Jenny Don’t Be Hasty” by Paolo Nutini.
