Scattered in bookstores, greyed by dust and time

I'm writing my Master's thesis.

Here they call it a dissertation, but I choose to call it a thesis anyway. It's been taking up the majority of my time and brain power, so this poor blog has been sadly neglected. So, to show it some love and attention, here I am. Sadly, I have no fun travels to report (though we've planned a vacation at the end of July to Paris!). The result: you're going to hear about my work.



That's Marina Tsvetaeva (1892-1941). She was a poet, a dissident, a sometimes-expatriate, and a mother. Despite being one of Russia's greatest poets of the 20th century, she had the unbelievably difficult life common to nearly all of Russia's most prominent and revolutionary writers that were working from the beginning of the century to the death of Stalin. She wrote poetry, essays and drama, though her prose and plays are largely untranslated.

That, I suppose, is where I come in. Though the constraints of my thesis will prevent me from translating the whole of her play Phaedra, I will be translating the second act, with plans to go on and translate the entire play during the first couple years of my program at Brown. Only small parts of the play have been published in English; my eventual goal is to see the play performed on an American stage - though I doubt the stage will be a large one.

My thesis, of course, will not be just the translation. About half of my project will be a critical examination of the logistical and theoretical aspects of the translation, and I'll be focusing on two specific elements. The first is the difficulties of translating Tsvetaeva's language, as she uses endless neologisms, archaisms, and even fabricated archaisms in the play, which is written in verse. As a non-native speaker of Russian, the linguistic translation will be pretty painstaking, but her use of language is so deliberate and nuanced that there is no way to translate the particularities out of Russian, so I'll be establishing my own rhythm, rhyme scheme and invented or manipulated language. Bored yet? If no, read the next paragraph. If yes, skip it.

The second element I'll be focusing on is what some would call "gendered language", which is a sort of controversial, generic, and meaningless term. Tsvetaeva wasn't focusing on a woman's language, per se, but she was focusing on what she thought of as a maternal language, a style of speaking and operating that's more dominant in the creation of a person's language than their so-called "mother tongue" - a term which doesn't translate well into Russian. These two elements will be more than enough for me to deal with in the thesis, so at least I won't have to worry about running out of material!

Anyway, enough of that. Or, at least, enough of that for you - it's not even enough to qualify as the tip of the iceberg for me. This post, by the way, is a taste of what's to come - when I finally settle in Rhode Island, this blog will slowly evolve into a mainly literary one. There will, of course, be the occasional picture of the trips we're planning on taking around New England and the Eastern half of the United States in general, but be prepared for a new and casually academic character here. What can I say? I get the feeling it'll take over my whole life, so it stands to reason that it'll infiltrate the blog too...

That's all for now, dear readers. A great big pile of books is staring at me.

Spring / Food / Oof

And so begins another post in which I apologize for being remiss with my blogging duties. A variety of factors kept me away. And here's a few of them...

Spring is finally, finally here. I almost can't believe it; I leave the house with plenty of warm clothes, as if the temperature could suddenly plummet 20 degrees and shove me right back into winter. But the flowers are blooming, the clouds are puffy and white as opposed to cloying and grey, and the birds and bugs are out in droves. Oh, the bugs. This place is awfully buggy, really. And spidery. It's a small price, though, and I pay it gladly - the nice weather is completely worth it.

With spring came the end of the semester and a visit from family (Hi Mom! Hi Ken!). Both of those things were long awaited, and both lived up to my expectations. Well, actually, the end of the semester was sort of anticlimactic. Perhaps that's because it didn't really signal the end. I'll get into that later, though.

It was wonderful to have visitors. I realized that no one has visited us since we've been in England, which is a change from Berlin. We had several guests there - maybe it was a more dazzling destination? At any rate, it's fine - there's not so much to do in Norwich with visitors, I have to say. A couple days of roaming around, picking at things in the market and generally taking in the pastoral surroundings and medieval architecture and you're pretty much done, really. So we took our visitors away, to all kinds of places. First we went north, to a couple of seaside towns that are popular through East Anglia for their piers and amusements. Aside from the chill and heavy fog, they were lovely!



That's Sheringham. The shore was rocky and freezing, and yet there were lots of people who looked like they were dressed for the 4th of July in Monterey, seriously. Short skirts? Tank tops? I was shivering in my jacket, scarf and hat! I know, I know, it's all in what you're used to, but it was painful watching those people walk around. The harsh chill was really only by the water, though, and once we were a couple hundred meters from the water it warmed up considerably. It was your typical perfect seaside town, all in all.



We went next to Cromer. Cromer's pier is apparently very well known on the North Norfolk coast - have you heard of it? No? Well, it was adorable. There were kids fishing for crabs off the pier, and several different American country songs coming from I don't know where. And then, of course, the "gambling". It's not gambling, really, it's just arcade games, strange contraptions that push pennies around and eat your 2p coins at a rate just slow enough to keep you standing there for hours. The amusements are a big attraction, as are the Cromer crabs and various other seafood concoctions. Like this:



A funny story about that seafood cup:
Me: Is that warm?
Brad (slightly grimacing): I don't know.
Me: What do you mean you don't know? You're eating it.
Brad: Wait - what did you ask?
Me: IS THAT WARM?
Brad: Oh. I thought you said is that a worm. And no, it's not warm. (Continues to eat)
But hey, just because it's not my kind of thing doesn't mean it's not delicious, right? There were lots of people eating it. Well, maybe not this particular thing, but various types of (mostly cooked) seafood. I guess I don't like mostly raw unless it's wrapped up in rice and seaweed. Sorry.

But this brings me to my next topic: food. Oh, the food. For the most part, I think English food is a lot more edible than its stereotype, or at least a little more edible. A proper English breakfast isn't so bad, really, though I usually avoid the "large, flat mushroom" (and yes, that's exactly how it's often billed in the menu). There are, however, a few weird food practices here that I just can't get used to. Exhibit A:



Okay, you might need to click on those pictures to see them larger in order to really appreciate what's going on here, but I'll explain a little. On the right: yes, that says Oriental. And yes, the Oriental section is primarily composed of Uncle Ben stir-fry packets. Oy. (The Mexican section of the same store is mostly some brand called Discovery: Discovery Fajita Kits! Discovery Taco Sets! It's better than the Mexican restaurants around here though -- chili con carne, anyone?) And on the left: that's egg friend rice, and if you only see off-white rice with peas in it, your eyes are not deceiving you; that's what it is. And it's 2£! What?! Who would pay that much for a little tub of soggy rice with a sprinkling of MSG on top?

Oh:



Well, it's the same price, but it's more rice, so...I guess that's better? The pre-prepared food here is much more prevalent than it is the US, even, which is hard to believe. For some reason I thought there would be more cooking from scratch here, but I'm not sure why I thought that; the chain "Fresh and Easy", which is arriving in the US, is actually a British company (and here's a pretty interesting article about their genesis, by the way). On top of that, though, here's some evidence that cooking from scratch may not necessarily be better for you:



Lard and Beef Dripping. I'm not even sure what I would do with those things. Those cubes are rock-hard, too, which I find curious. I know that it's possible to find this stuff in the US, also, but it doesn't take up that much display space (and how nicely displayed they are, too!). The grocery stores here are endless entertainment for me, and that's saying a lot, because my threshold for grocery shopping is pretty low.

Last food thing: some classic British fare, just right for neatly slamming arteries shut:



I just couldn't force myself to get one of those Mars bars, despite my curiosity. I did, however, eat a hefty portion of the fish and chips, though I avoided the battered burger (that hunk of deep-fry on the left). I just couldn't deal with that.

It's not all bad, though. OK, Norwich isn't top of the line for any type of Asian food, but we went back to London Chinatown, and this time we actually sat and ate dim sum, and lemme tell ya - it was awesome. It was almost euphoric.



If I hadn't been so busy eating, I would've been crying or singing for the sheer glory of eating delicious, delicious dim sum! It filled a hole in my soul. This is not hyperbole.

But now, sadly, our visitors are gone, and that means back to real life for me. Real life = essay writing and translating, and I'm excited about both of those things. My excitement for taking a stroll in the nice weather is putting up a pretty heroic battle, though, so wish me luck. I've got one short term paper to write, in which I'll debate the merits of 3 different translations of Anna Akhmatova, and then I'll continue on to my "dissertation" (we'd call it a thesis in the States), which will be a translation of a play by Marina Tsvetaeva, followed by a lengthy and theoretical justification for my choices in the translation. I'm both eager and terrified. (This, if you can't tell, is the "Oof" in the title of this post. Because, really - oof).

So here I go. (Do I mean here I go into the sunshine, or here I go into the depths of Sexual/Textual Politics by Toril Moi? I haven't decided yet). Thanks for reading, and I'll be back soon.

This Is The Week I Turn 30

And you know what? I don't mind! There are much more momentous happenings this year than my little birthday. Moving on...

I had another nice venture into London this week, and my opinion on the city is improving, little by little. I went with a friend, ostensibly to see a show in the in/famous neighborhood of Camden, which I have decided is sort of like Haight Street without all the hippies and activists. There you can find tie-dye, dreadlocks, Mexican food (though I can't vouch for its authenticity or deliciousness), punk rockers, probably a variety of illegal substances, hundreds of Doc Martens, even Western shirts!

Before the show, however, we headed over to the British Library, which was in a shockingly new building and held some fairly amazing documents and manuscripts. Aside from the usual suspects (some Bronte or other, Darwin, Thomas Hardy, etc.) and some ill-gotten gains (Hindu and Muslim scrolls and illuminated manuscripts), they had a few leafs of the Magna Carta, which is sort of like their Constitution (though I'm sure they would take issue with that, somehow). However, I spent most of my time hovering in front of the glass case that held, among other things, handwritten lyrics of "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" and "In My Life", and several others. They had messy handwriting!

I don't think we were welcome in the stacks without a membership, but I am sure they would've been amazing.



This was as close as we could get to actual books, and they were housed in a tall column surrounded by two-inch thick glass. I suppose they were just decoration.

This fellow was crouched outside, playing with what I think was a compass, but I couldn't tell what he was working on.



By the time we got to the show, it had been a wonderful day already, and the music just made it better. I believe I mentioned this already, but the band was Rupa and the April Fishes, and I highly recommend them. They're a San Francisco band; needless to say, it made me a bit homesick.

And this week, to celebrate my birthday, I'll be seeing a bluegrass/Americana show (brought to us by an Australian band, oddly enough) and working on a couple projects: comparing several translations of Anna Akhmatova's "Poem Without A Hero", and translating a poem by absurdist poet Aleksandr Vvedensky. Good times.

Up All Night: Parts I and II

I feel that I'm getting a bit too old for all-nighters, and yet in the last two weeks, I have done it not once but twice, with varying results. Surprisingly, I found on both occasions that it wasn't as bad as I'd feared; unsurprisingly, I prefer sleeping at night.

Part I: The Netherlands

At the end of February, I went to the Netherlands with two classmates, to celebrate Carnaval (and yes, that's the way they spell it there). Our flight flew out just before 7 in the morning, from London, which is approximately 2.5 hours from Norwich by bus. Factoring in the time needed at the airport, we ended up getting on the bus to the airport at about 1:30 in the morning, which basically rendered sleep impossible. I've done many airport overnights, but this night was different because it was broken up into pieces, and though I was able to snooze a little on the bus the airport, it just wasn't very meaningful sleep, you know?

By the time our plane touched down in Eindhoven, I felt like my eyes were about a foot apart, and don't ask me to explain what I mean by that. It was just exhaustion. Our ultimate destination was the town of Tilburg, a small city in the south of the country. The land wasn't what I'd expected; then again, I'm not sure what I was expecting. Was I expecting some ideal pastoral landscape? Green hills and valleys despite the edge of winter? All I can say is that the landscape was comprised of more greys, browns and warehouses than I'd imagined. (See that? "Grey" with an "e"? English English is taking its toll on me). The neighborhood we ended up in is sort of a suburb of Tilburg, and it was interesting to see a bona fide suburb in another country. One of my traveling companions was Irish, and I suppose they don't have the classic American suburb in Ireland, because her reaction to the neighborhood was so clean and plain: "It's like you can be born, grow up and die here, without ever having to leave the neighborhood - everything from a preschool to a nursing home!"

Here was their cute little church:



It was fascinating to see a European suburb. It was much more pedestrian-friendly than most American suburbs, and there were many (man-made?) canals running through it, which apparently they're able to skate on in particularly cold winters. All in all, it was very charming.

We also visited Utrecht, which is about an hour north of Tilburg. I've never visited Amsterdam, but Utrecht is supposedly nearly as lovely as Amsterdam. It was full of bookstores and cafes with wrought-iron chairs and the canals so prominent in Dutch cities, and it was somewhat of a relief to be back in Europe again (as England is not really Europe - but don't get me started on that).



See? Cute.

It was also sort of refreshing and fun to be somewhere where I don't speak the language. My knowledge of German helped with certain things, like navigation and menus, but otherwise I was blissfully ignorant, and reveled in it. (And contrary to popular belief, Dutch is not a dialect of German...). There's something very relaxing about listening to people speak a language that's unknown - it's as if it absolves you of any responsibility to pay attention, so your mind can wander wherever it pleases.

Part II: London

On Tuesday evening, Brad and I went to see Carmen at Royal Albert Hall! Can you believe it? The Beatles played there! It was far from a ball-gown and tuxedo evening, but I felt very saucy and elegant nonetheless.



Yes, our seats were quite high up, but the view was excellent. It was presented in the round, and for my first opera, it wasn't too shabby at all. One little problem - it was translated into English. I know I study translation and everything, but the line must be drawn somewhere. Translating songs is one thing (this video is a perfect example of when translating a song is simply brilliant), but opera? A woman behind me in the endless line to the bathroom kept saying that she "loved it and loathed it in equal measures", and I am nicking her words to share them here. The music was beautiful, the English libretto not so much.

Before the show, we walked through Notting Hill, where we saw the old home of George Orwell. Didn't they make a movie about Notting Hill? I'm not sure it merits such attention - it seemed like a bunch of antique stores and upscale clothing shops. Okay, I suppose the houses there were gigantic, and if one had tons of money to burn, it's right next to Kensington Park, where Charles and Diana lived once-upon-a-time. Also, the houses there had actual space around them, rather than being shimmied up against each other like the rest of the houses in the city (much like the Victorians in San Francisco). And the children in the neighborhood were all dressed like Jane and Michael Banks, for real - the schools around there have an adorable uniform. OK, I guess it wasn't all bad.

The show itself was beautiful, but when it was over, our long night began. See, the last train back to Norwich leaves London at 11:30, and the first train in the morning leaves at 6 a.m. Add to this the fact that we are both cheapskates and sometimes impetuous, and you get a whole night of wandering around London in the rain. I have to say, London is not the hardest city in which to stay awake all night, nor is it the easiest. I suppose I am used to 24-hour diners, which there seem to be none of in London. Well, there actually was one (American-style, no less!), but it had a very sketchy door guy who had a headset and a bad attitude screening people before they even walked in the door; we went somewhere else.

We ended up in Leicester Square, which is where all the big theatres are, and we luckily found a couple places that were open all night. Leicester Square was kind of a last-minute decision, and I was shocked to discover that the Tube stops running between midnight and 1 a.m., and doesn't start up again until after 5 in the morning. What about all the people that have to be at work at 6? I feel bad enough for those people as it is!

We walked from Leicester Square to Liverpool Street, which is where we caught the train back to Norwich. It was a walk of approximately 3 miles, and it was raining a bit, but it was actually a good time, one of the best of the night. There was no one out (which makes sense - it was about 4 in the morning), so we were free to take our time, looking in windows and just generally strolling. It was a much more relaxed environment than that of a couple hours earlier, which was full of shouters and bleeders. It was very pleasant.



That board was looking pretty bleak. Brad was hypnotized by it, despite its constant flow of bad news.



Overall, the middle-of-the-night experience really improved my (somewhat lackluster) perception of London. I'll be going back this week, to see a friend's band (Rupa and the April Fishes- they are excellent) and perhaps that'll improve things even more. I'm feeling fairly optimistic.

Another reason for optimism: I've been accepted to Brown University's doctoral program in Slavic Languages and Literatures! It's all very exciting...

This is England

The title of this post does not have to do with the quietly brutal film titled This is England. It is simply a statement of fact. This is England.

I haven't been as mobile this year as I was last year, for a variety of reasons. The primary reason is, of course, school and work, with the expected secondary reason of trying to save money. Although we have not been hit too noticeably hard by the global recession, it is still good to be prudent. The upshot of this is that I have a bit less to report on this here blog; so, I thought I would simply share. Some good things, some bad things, but all with the same theme: This is England.

So here's something, and some of you may have already heard some bits of this rant: I am...confused...by the treatment of feminism in the UK. Wait, strike that. I am confused by the treatment of women in general in the UK. I know that the fact that I carry the baggage of northern California on my back can skew my perception of women's issues (always to the liberal side), but I have commiserated with other North American women on this topic. I could tell stories of witnessing poor relations between romantically entangled men and women in public; or I could regale you with stories of how bankers, clerks and waitstaff prefer to address Brad, even when they're answering a question I've asked; or I could wonder aloud at the sheer ridiculousness of 3-year-old girls wearing high heels in public, but I know all of these things could be seen as purely subjective. So, instead, I'll share some pieces of the media with you. I'll share the "science" of how careers have ruined women's figures. I'll show you how "being a free woman isn't all it's cracked up to be" (and, by the way, many of these articles come from a section of the "news"paper The Daily Mail called "Femail Today"). I'll impart to you the business savvy of the head honchos of the Bank of England, who have shown their fashion sense to be more than a little outdated. Or, finally, I could explain that feminism and reckless promiscuity are practically the same thing. I can do all these things with the support of the popular media.

Don't get me wrong - it is not all bad. Why, the English boast some very incredible women. Queen Victoria, Queen Elizabeth, Margaret Thatcher, Cate Blanchett, Judi Dench, Kate Winslet...and they are proud and supportive of these women - or are they?

Amidst the scarily young fathers and the mushy peas and the recent bizarre and terrible failure on the part of the child protective services, there are certainly a lot of eyebrow-raisers going on. But I digress.

There are also some wonderful things about living here. For instance, I love my program, and I am enjoying very much being one of the editors of our translation studies journal. I spend quite a bit of time on campus even when I don't have class, either rummaging through the library or attending any number of fascinating research seminars, and though I haven't really explored the Sainsbury Centre, I fully intend to, not too long from now. They are having an exhibition called "China China China!!!", and I wonder how the exhibition would be received differently were it called "China China China?" or "China China China..."

For a town (or I suppose I should say small city) its size, Norwich has a very wonderful gallery/show space, called the Norwich Arts Centre. The last time I was in there they played Tom Waits and Johnny Cash on the stereo, so I left happy. They have many many shows every month, and next month I will try to fill my Americana gap by seeing (an Australian band play) some bluegrass there, on St. Patrick's Day. I am quite excited.

I got to have a taste of some good ol' fashioned grassroots activity this last week, when some students from my school occupied one of the buildings on campus to show support to the people of Gaza, and though I thought that their tactics would make the Berkeley activists shake their heads, I appreciated the effort, at least. They eventually gave up their fight because the school refused to protect them from forcible eviction, which makes me wonder: what did they expect? It isn't a public building, after all, and the nature of protests is that, peaceful or not, there are bound to be some unpleasant altercations. Oh well. It's the thought that counts.

There are some generally entertaining things going on here, too. For instance, a person from North America chuckles sometimes at the language differences; even the road signs* bring with them a sort of hilarity (for a variety of reasons). In short, it is easy to stay reasonably happy, despite some of the cultural differences.

On the subject of cultural differences (and pardon this meandering train of thought - it is the verbal equivalent of listening to a hair band noodle for a while), I wonder if Americans would judge the UK so harshly, or vice versa, if we spoke different languages. In other words, would I marvel at the societal differences as much if I had to look across a foreign language, or would I simply write off the differences as coming with the territory? I believe the shared language is a hindrance, sometimes, as if I am using more false friends than I am aware of. Perhaps they have, in the words of Steve Martin, "a different word for everything".

Well, that's it for me tonight, folks. Except for this! I am very excited about this! It is one of my top choices and I feel ready for it, and Brad and I are very extremely excited at the prospect of returning to the U.S., finding a place where we can buy things bigger than a suitcase, and maybe getting a small pet of some sort. After spending the better part of 3 years abroad, I think I am ready for a break. The time to return is not here yet, though, so in the meantime, I'll work on some translations, eat some fish 'n' chips, and take a little trip here and there.

*Thanks to Bay for this.

2009

Ooh, it has been a long time since I've blogged. Sorry about that. The holidays were fairly uneventful, or at least uneventful enough to not merit a blog post on my part, and I was engaged in writing a paper, anyway, so I was using all my brain cells on academic matters. Now, however, my brain cells are freed up (though soon to be once again occupied with school) and I am here to tell you all about our lovely New Year travels.

Last year, we headed to colder climes than Berlin for the New Year; we went to Poland. This year, we followed the same pattern. We headed north to Scotland, where (I thought) it would be colder than Norwich. It didn't actually turn out to be colder, but it was definitely darker for more of the day. That didn't stop us from seeing as much as we could for the days that we were there, though.

We spent the bulk of our time in Edinburgh. It was, to put it simply, very beautiful. It's not a very large city, as capitol cities go, but it was full of character. The main focal point of the city is Edinburgh Castle, which both of us were very excited to tour. I discovered that I am a huge fan of the guided tour. It's kind of like a field trip, except you don't have to take a test later on what you learned.





One of the highest windows in that first picture is looking out from the room in which Mary, Queen of Scots gave birth to her son, James VI of Scotland, later to become James I of England when Queen Elizabeth died in 1603. It was very strange to breathe in the semi-stale air of that room and think that a king was born in there. The second picture was taken inside the Great Hall of the Castle, which was completely majestic and had a fascinating roof held together by more than 1000 wooden pegs and no nails. If you look closely, you can see that the decorations on the walls are made of guns and swords. It was, all in all, a very awesome castle. In addition, you could see the whole city from that vantage point (which made it a successful castle during times of war), and I have no pictures to document the fact that I have never in my life seen clearer air than I saw up there. The day had been painfully, terribly windy, but the night air made up for it completely.

There was another point that offered a view over the whole city, a gigantic rock (maybe you could call it a hill?) that was created by a glacier thousands of years ago, called Arthur's Seat. Here's me at the bottom:



and Brad at the top:



You can see the Castle way in the background there; from this angle you can easily see that the Castle is situated in a strategically excellent place. We saw at the Castle, incidentally, the Crown Jewels of Scotland, and they were incredible. They were so opulent that I had a hard time conceiving of them as real, and not simply a stage decoration or a prop. Next to the Crown Jewels was something called the Stone of Destiny, which I had never heard of but is at the center of a very dramatic story. It's worth a moment of your time to read about it. The long and complicated relationship between Scotland and England is illustrated in the story of the Stone, and it's fascinating.

There was, of course, a lot to Edinburgh aside from the Castle. The Royal Mile, which is the road that leads to the Castle, is full of historic buildings, and at the end of it opposite the Castle is the Scottish home of Queen Elizabeth II. Her palace, though, is somewhat overshadowed by the amazing new Parliament building built in the city, which is a strangely Gaudi-esque. There were also large and lush Georgian neighborhoods that were (and are) mainly for the rich folks of Edinburgh, funky little neighborhoods full of bookstores and strip joints (reminded me of San Francisco), and whisky. So much whisky. I don't really drink, but I appreciated the way that whisky was looked upon as a national treasure, their most precious and historical export. We did not, unfortunately, get to tour a distillery, though we plan to later in the year. We did, however, do a whisky tasting, and I was so charmed by the culture of it.



Okay, those bottles are full of different kinds of liqueurs and vodkas and generally not whisky, but it's a good example of the esteem afforded to liquor. I found it quite wonderful.

We also visited Stirling, a town only about 30 or 40 miles from Edinburgh. Stirling, too, had a Castle, where we took a very hilarious and animated guided tour. (Did I mention that I love guided tours?) Stirling and the land surrounding it was a very pivotal area during the Scottish wars for independence during the 12th century, so the Castle was quite important for centuries. The aforementioned James VI lived there for quite a while, and apparently the only time Stirling Castle was ever taken was by Oliver Cromwell and his New Model Army. The Castle itself was not as imposing as the one in Edinburgh, but it was quite beautiful, and set in the middle of some lovely (and misty) countryside.



Stirling was a fairly small town, but our trip there convinced me that we must go back to Scotland while we are still in the UK, so that we can see the highlands and the islands and all the hidden pockets. Maybe in the spring.

We also took a little trip here in England, to London and Windsor, where we saw - you guessed it! - Windsor Castle. Windsor was the only one we saw which is still a working Castle, and it was amazing. So amazing.



That's Queen Victoria. I don't know much more about her than that she ruled over England for 64 years. Longest monarch in English history! We couldn't take pictures inside the Castle, which was understandable, but oy, it was incredible in there. What I had a hard time fathoming was that many of the rooms that took my breath away are still used by Queen Elizabeth when she stays at Windsor. To me it's a museum; to her it's real life. Or maybe I should say "real life". To quote Eddie Izzard: " 'God Save the Queen.' Now the Queen lives in a very big house, she has barbed wire outside, and people with guns in front of that. That's one saved f*&!% queen, I'll tell you!" There are still about 260 workers living at Windsor Castle, some of whom have only one job - raising the flag, say - and I'm sure there is a large number of unseen security workers all throughout. And also - it's a fortress!



The town of Windsor was very cute, and across the Thames is the town of Eton. Both Prince William and Prince Harry were educated at Eton, and I wonder what it must be like for a) them, and b) their fellow students. The most fame I've ever had at one of my schools was that the girl who played the princess in The Neverending Story went to my junior high several years before I did. How do you deal with sitting behind Prince William?

And finally, we went to London. London is a very big city, and difficult to see all in one go, but we walked for hours, through Soho and Camden and from Piccadilly Circus to Trafalger Square. Also, there were a couple things that we were determined to see during our first excursion to the city. Obviously:



Parliament as seen over the Thames! Classic! And the other thing:



London Chinatown. We walked for hours to get to London Chinatown, which is about three square blocks and only restaurants. I suppose I was expecting the weird little knick-knack stores that are so abundant in SF or Oakland Chinatown, or tanks full of living turtles and ducks and chickens with the feathers still attached hanging in the windows. Mostly it was buffet-style Chinese restaurants, but we found a bakery that had excellent cha siu bao and coconut buns, so I was happy. The lady working at the bakery was just as abrupt and rude as the ladies that work the bakeries in Oakland, too, so I felt right at home. There are other things we need to see, of course, like Buckingham Palace and Royal Albert Hall (where we have tickets to see Carmen in March!), so I'm sure we'll go back a few more times.

And now the semester has begun, so I believe we'll be, once again, stationed here in Norwich. There are many places in England that we are determined to visit, though, some of them not too far away, so I hope to be seeing you here on my blog in the extremely near future. Welcome to 2009.

The Last Leg of 2008

Remember me? I know, I know.... it's been a long time. I blame the condition of being a graduate student. The course work this semester ate up nearly all of my time, but I have hopes that next term will be just as invigorating while being a little less rigorous. It's an irrational hope, I know. I'll be starting my thesis during the semester, so the realistic view from here is a pile of books and wall-eye from staring at my computer for so long. I'm excited!

It's fairly uncharacteristic of us to stay put for so long without taking any trips, but one's coming up soon. Just after the New Year, we'll head up to Scotland for a few days, and then, to balance things out, we'll spend a couple days seeing London and then Windsor Castle. I'm surprisingly excited about Windsor Castle! It's so gigantic! The Queen still spends time there! It's in all the movies! They'll be showing a special exhibition in honor of His Royal Highness, The Prince of Wales! Okay, that one didn't deserve an exclamation point. It was just a statement. However, I'm sure we'll tour the exhibition.

In all seriousness, though, I've wanted to see Edinburgh for a long time.... much more than I've wanted to see any parts of England. I think it's because of their underdog status - Scotland and Ireland have always been the poor relatives of England, and I don't know even know what to say about Wales. Wales is its own country, yes, but, well, Charles is the Prince of Wales, so... well, I don't know what conclusion to draw from that. I suppose Wales is simply the lesser-known entity in the British Isles. I'd very much like to see it, though the Norfolk folk seem to have a disdain for Wales (perhaps a testament to that same poor relative status?), and they tend to spit the word out like an olive pit, much as they do with the word Scotland (that one's a much larger olive pit). I suppose that all these countries have been rubbing up against each other for a millenium, and they have a little sibling rivalry. At any rate, I will surely post many pictures of various places around the island when we return from our little trip, so keep an eye out.

Norwich has been an easy place to be, though, and as the weather gets colder and Christmas gets closer, it's been a bit more festive and beautiful outside.



They've erected an ice rink in front of the town forum (where one can find the city library, the tourist information center, and BBC Norwich), and it is the smallest ice rink I have ever seen. If I weren't the most terrible ice skater of all time, I would probably give it a whirl, because it's sandwiched by the Forum and the St. Peter Mancroft Church, which is quite beautiful. The Forum is very modern, while the Church was built in the 1400s.



The ice rink, though, is much less of a local attraction than the sheer number of places to shop in Norwich. The slim lanes and the market square are full of holiday shoppers pushing buggies and toting bags from the Primark and the Topshop (the former being the absolute cheapest place to buy non-secondhand clothes that I have ever seen - it's truly incredible). I would think that with the economy tanking the way it is, the shopping would be curbed a bit - or kerbed, as they sometimes spell it here. (The spelling differences are numerous and sometimes hilarious. The slang, too, sometimes leaves me guessing.) However, the shoppers are out in droves, though they are noticeably less rabid than many American Christmas shoppers. The people here, for instance, would probably not trample anyone to death. I have to give them that.

Brad will probably have to work way too many hours over the holidays, but both of us know that our real celebration will be getting on the train and traveling for a few days, so it isn't too bad. As for myself, I have an essay to write (yes, still) and I'll be thinking of family and friends. By this time next year, we'll surely be back in the contiguous United States, and we'll be able to celebrate with you in person, not just in thought. In the meantime, don't make fun of our little tree.



So Happy Holidays, everyone! I hope the New Year is full of cheer and good luck...

Norwich at Night

This is probably the first in a series of posts about Norwich at night, since nighttime has extended itself to massive proportions. It's difficult to feel motivated to do anything but drink hot cocoa (or Horlick's soothing warm malt beverages, as the case may be). I'm sure that as the retail world begins to push Christmas a little harder, things will get more festive and the dark will be dressed up a bit more. In fact, there's going to be a NORWICHRISTMAS Fayre! (Yes, that's how it's spelled - click the link, you'll see). Local goods, minstrels, outdoor ice rink, and most likely some roasted cashews and mulled wine - what more could you ask for? The town sort of begs for that sort of environment, anyway.



See? That lane will definitely benefit from a minstrel and a rolling cart selling hot mince pies...though I think the cobblestones might be a bit hazardous. They look very picturesque but I don't care to walk on them any more than is absolutely necessary!

One of the things that Norwich is most famous for is its Cathedral. It has the second-tallest spire in England (Salisbury has the tallest) and some amazing windows and an even more amazing ceiling, but as it gets darker and more wintry, it's really the surrounding walls that are the more intense spectacle.



I am daily discovering new and beautiful things about this town, and the dark seems to amplify some of the more beautiful buildings. Tonight all I had to do was get a little lost to stumble on something stately and awesome that I'd never seen before, and I am constantly marveling at how eerily lit the Castle is at night. It's lucky that Norwich is so pretty at night, since it will be mostly night for the next few months. And speaking of night...I believe I'll go to sleep. Sweet dreams, everyone.

And There You Have It



Brad and I stayed up until just after 6 am, long enough to watch both the concession and the victory speech. Though we felt a bit remote, thousands of miles away from American soil and connected to our friends and trusted news sources through our greatly overloaded internet, it was an incredibly momentous day. You will all be glad to know that it did not go unnoticed in the United Kingdom; BBC ran continuous coverage of the election from 11 pm to 6 am, and my classmates and Brad's coworkers all stayed up all night, doing the long haul from Greenwich Mean Time. While I'm sure there is news available in the U.S. regarding the international reaction to the new American President, I'm here to tell you first hand that some Brits found themselves lightheaded and shaky at 11 pm EST, just as I did (and it was only partially due to the fact that I'd been awake for about 24 hours), and I hear Berlin was also up til dawn, waiting. There was no shortage of election night events happening in London, and they were clearly hoping for a particular result (see England for Obama, complete with Inauguration countdown ticker at the top of the page). Every daily print newspaper had epic front pages and special editions, and the television news today, November 5, is feeling very familiar (interview with Alice Walker live from Berkeley! Maya Angelou! Footage from Eyes on the Prize!), and though I'm having a helluva time trying to concentrate on schoolwork (hence this very interesting blog post), I'm allowing myself a day to revel in the fact that I might not sound so apologetic when I tell people I'm American anymore. OK, the Russians are still a bit chilly, but I'm not sure there's anything that could change that anytime soon. Meanwhile, it's Guy Fawkes night here in England, so I'm pretending that the thousands of firecrackers and fireworks going off in my neighborhood are in honor of the U.S. elections, because I'm not particularly Guy-Fawkesy.

So this leg of the journey is over. Now I just have to listen to BBC commentators repeatedly use the term "post-racial" and bury my nose in books until the end of the term. And so begins the 21st century, previously put on hold...

We Finally Went to Cambridge

Brad and I finally tore ourselves away from our warm house and all the election coverage (with which I have been driving myself crazy) and finally, finally took a little excursion. We have been in Norwich since the day we arrived in England, September 9, and nearly two months later, we finally stumbled our way to the train station and made our way to Cambridge.

I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting; actually, I was expecting a sort of medieval rural township where people still ride horses as a viable means of transportation and "take" tea, which I realize now was a terrible idealization partially based on the BBC series of Tess of the D'Urbervilles that played here a few weeks ago (which I highly recommend, to anyone interested in that sort of thing). Once we arrived in Cambridge, it dawned on me that of course it would be a compact town full of walls and turrets, since it's been there for centuries and at some point has most likely had to keep a steady defense against invaders, right? I'm not sure why the University buildings were so reinforced, however. I know that they've been there for about 800 years and perhaps the best way to really cripple a society is to knock out their best minds, but it was a little imposing.



Trinity College is behind that wall, and I know I come from UC Berkeley, where everything is ostensibly all trees and peace, but this seems like an awfully severe learning environment. Actually, despite having a vast collection of beautiful buildings and a river on which to go punting, Cambridge was, in general, sort of severe. I blame it partially on the weather, though; it's been getting a bit grey and blustery lately. The fall colors, however, lightened things up.



Alright, it still looks a little dreary, but it was pretty in person. That was the courtyard of Clare College - see, Cambridge University is actually comprised of about 30 colleges spread all throughout the town, some of them bigger and more famous than others. There was one that we didn't see, called Magdalene College, that didn't allow women in until 1988. What?

The biggest and arguably most famous is King's College, and I admit that it was quite impressive. Even with the crush of sightseers, I stopped to snap some pictures.





Aside from the various Colleges, the town was very charming and laid out with the same twisty, discombobulating street plan as Norwich. I never knew which way we were pointed. There were plenty of shops and restaurants and charming alleyways and an outdoor market where one could buy candles or ponchos or books or fresh vegetables or ostrich burgers... what's that you say? Ostrich burgers? Yes. Brad sampled it. I couldn't bring myself to do it. And, in keeping with the overtly intellectual attitude of the city, there was very little graffiti, and the graffiti that was present was, well, very intellectual. For example:

π=Milton
     Blake

I don't understand it either. There was another one that said E = MC² = Beethoven Construct, and around it there were comments and responses that were equally obtuse. It was very exciting.

We spent most of the day roaming through the courtyards of the various colleges and visiting museums and looking in at all the confectioners and window-shopping, and in the end, I'd say it was a much-needed break from the breakneck speed of the last month and a half. It also took my mind off the proximity of November 4, a date which is currently bringing me much trepidation. There are a few dates like this coming up - due dates of papers and applications, mostly, but the 4th is the real doozy. It's difficult being so far away from the U.S. at a time like this, despite my general joy at being out of the country for the time being. Hopefully by the next time I sit down to write on this blog, everything will have worked out famously.

So, good luck to all of us. Remember - never give up! Never surrender!*

*That's from the movie Galaxy Quest, which is brilliant. Credit where credit is due.

Norwich

We've settled in. Our apartment is lovely, albeit a little far from Brad's job and my university. It's very comfortable, though, and Brad has taken control of the kitchen, while I spend most of my time sitting in the living room, alternately reading and getting tired of reading. As it gets darker earlier and earlier, I have an easier time concentrating.

Our neighborhood is lovely and quiet and our location in Old Catton means we're a bit closer to that picturesque English countryside that we all know from Jane Austen and Merchant Ivory. There are some cows and horses, some farms, and some parks that will look lovely when (or if) it snows this winter.



There's an eerie sort of low-hanging fog that blows in and out, and that combined with all the pastures and foliage makes for a nice walk. There are a few large grocery stores within a couple miles of us - Tesco's, Somerfield's, and the Walmart-owned Asda - and these lovely surroundings make the walk almost entirely bearable. The grocery stores here are as massive and busy as the supermarkets in the States, and they are chock-full of frozen cornish pasties and chicken tikka masala in cans. The abundance of pre-prepared food in this country helps me to understand why someone like Jamie Oliver feels like this country's relationship with food needs to be reevaluated.

But on to the cheerier stuff. This town is beautiful.





The center of town is all twisty lanes that meet at odd angles and we've finally gotten a handle on how to get around. There are small family-owned shops and gigantic corporate stores side-by-side, though all of them are probably getting slammed by the recession that just hit England like a tidal wave. The pound is weaker than it's been in many years, and if the American economy wasn't also crawling along at rock-bottom, it'd be a great time to come visit. Any takers?

Brad and I live pretty much on the cheap, though. The most that we may spend money on is perhaps a shirt or a pan from the multitude of charity shops in town, through which I paw hoping for some hidden treasure. My access to the amazing library at the University helps with my generally uncontrolled book addiction - not that I would have time to read for pleasure these days, anyway. Aside from the theoretical and academic books, I only read the occasional piece of fiction, or maybe one of the books in the poetry series that my professor edits. For anyone interested, the book titled Camp Notebook by Hungarian poet Miklos Radnoti is wonderful. Distressing, but incredible.

Contrary to how we normally operate, we haven't had any little excursions. Too much school, too much work, not enough motivation. We will, though...and you'll be the first to know about it. In the meantime, autumn is here, and I'm happy enough to watch the leaves change and wander through town when I have the time.



Now I'll get back to watching that wacky UK television and chewing my nails over the upcoming presidential election. Remember - vote early and often! Good luck, everyone.

2.5 Months Later

We've left Berlin; we spent some time in CA; some time in WA; some time in NV; and here we are in Norwich, UK. Today's weather forecast: rain.

We are lucky enough to have landed in a beautiful town, more specifically in a roomy, lovely flat in the north end of the city. Our neighborhood smells like woodburning, soil and fish'n'chips. It's not a stereotype about an abundance of fish'n'chips here...they are all over. There's one right down the block from us, though I haven't tried it yet. The reason for that isn't that I don't have a burning love for fried fish and french fries...rather, things here are quite expensive, almost prohibitively so. Luckily, Brad got a job.

So let's have a look at our place, shall we?

There are some differences now: we have a dish drainer, so imagine those drying dishes in less disarray; the bookshelf is now abundant with books on stylistics, translation, linguistics and Russian Symbolism; usually, I am on the couch, reading. Incidentally, I love my program.

The campus, however, while being situated on an extremely beautiful piece of land, looks, well, sort of Soviet. It is a mass of concrete, heavy and grey, harshly dropped next to the river Yare. It's on what is referred to as the University Broad, which is a sizable lake bordered by marsh. The land is really quite lovely.

There are thousands of bunny rabbits on campus, but they hide from the students, sadly. They are much more endearing than the rude little squirrels that ran wild on the Berkeley campus. From that picture, you can't really see the hulking mass of the Uni...

That's more like it. The whole thing was built slightly raised off the ground, with all the buildings connected by walkways; the idea behind the design was that it would force students from different fields to intermingle. "Say, I was popping out for a sandwich and bumped into a physicist!" Like that. The idea is more compelling than the execution, however. Mostly it results in bottlenecks.
Though I haven't yet gone inside, there is also a pretty big museum on campus, the Sainsbury Center for the Arts. It's very modern and sometimes free for students, which recommends it highly.

We haven't spent very much time sightseeing since we arrived here. Mostly we've been taking care of things. We've been fairly successful at that so far, you'll be pleased to know. We have been here for less than a month and are already fully entrenched in what will be our lives for the next year. I have a bus pass! I have a cell phone! We have a place to live! We even have the internet! It's pretty amazing. With Bradley's new job (at Rare Grill & Steakhouse), we may not have as much time to travel as we had in Berlin, but I think that bodes well for my studies.
The city itself is very endearing. The town center has one of the oldest outdoor markets in England and the city mostly retains its medieval plan, which means I get turned around trying to get from one end of the city to the other. The streets in the center, mostly pedestrian-only, are very twisty and sometimes cobblestoned. There is a castle (and the mall beneath it is hidden very well) and Norwich Cathedral has the second-tallest spire in England and is exceedingly beautiful inside.

Soon we'll spend a day somewhere - somewhere in the East of England, maybe Cambridge, maybe Oxford, maybe Great Yarmouth. What? Never heard of it, you say? I never had either. I get the feeling it's like a less-urban Coney Island. We hear there are gypsies there.
In the meantime, I'll be studying. The rainy weather is conducive to reading. As I compile random observations about the English way of life (for instance, bus drivers telling people that the bus is full when it is clearly not), I'll pop back and share them. See that? "Pop back?" Stuff like that. Be back soon.