Everyday Extraordinary

             I finished my first big paper for my study abroad program here in Cambridge last night. I wrote 2,000 words on Thomas Hardy's poetry talking about nature's indifference to man. I'm a bit nervous about it. I always hit a certain point in my papers when I just want to get it done. You can always tell. The paragraphs get shorter and I get increasingly sassy. I'm hoping that all of that doesn't show through. We'll have to see how that goes!

                As a result yesterday was very low key. I hid in my room only coming out to grad a loaf of bread from the market around noon for a makeshift lunch. 2,000 words felt like such a struggle after all this time at ONU teaching me to be extremely concise. I also had high table last night, which is when you dress up and eat with the professors and program coordinators at the table on the dais. Most unfortunate meal of my life! We don't get choices at dinner; we're just served what we're served. Last night was salmon. Due to this trip, I have decided that salmon is not my thing. So in the three courses we were served, I ate next to nothing because not a morsel of it tasted good to me. I felt awkward to say the least. Ah well, what can you do?

                Today for travel writing our professor forced us out into Cambridge, saying that we needed to get out more. The challenge was an hour and a half to explore Cambridge and come back with three pitchable ideas for a travel piece. He wanted us to do brief research and talk to people. Go!

                After a moment of sheer panic, I enjoyed the challenge. I ran all over the city. And discovered several great places I want to return to including the Sepulcher, a round church built by the Templar Knights, and an apple tree rumored to be from the seeds of Isaac Newton's. I'll definitely be returning to these sights!

                My poetry class was a relief after I turned my paper in. We're now moving on to reading W.B. Yeats. I'm pretty excited because there's such a magical quality to Yeats' poetry. And I'll never get tired of listening to Caveliero just reading poems in his gravelly British accent. My favorite quote from him thus far (beyond the Harry Potter quote on Day 1) is, "Poets are all liars. Liars that tell the truth." Some of my classmates dispute this but I quite like it.

                Dinner was nice today too. I have become a major fan of duck. I've had it twice since we've been here and both times it has been delicious. There was also au gratin potatoes. Creamy scrumptiousness. And while I've been sitting here my friends, and I have been sipping sparkling wine in the JCR and laughing together. Not every day is a large scale adventure here in Cambridge, but that doesn't mean these adventures are any less grand.

Tripping Over the Cliffs of Dover

                We had quite the adventure yesterday. We all dragged ourselves up in order to have breakfast at seven and left for the bus by seven forty-five. I would like to add that on my way down the stairs from breakfast in the hall I twisted my ankle. I don't even know how I do these things but somehow I manage on a regular basis. Those of you who followed my winter fall record will probably enjoy this post.

                Anyway the bus ride to Dover was a few hours long but I brought my travel pillow this time so it was phenomenally more comfortable. I cannot even begin to describe how beautiful Dover is. The water of the English Channel is a stormy blue that rises and falls over a brown pebble beach; the white chalky cliffs emerge slowly over the city and the emerald greenery grows up until it forms the grass that blankets the hills of Dover; and the brilliant blue sky stacked full with crisp white clouds dome overhead. This was the beautiful landscape I found myself in, the gray slabs of stone rising from hill. And as we're walking towards it I tank it on the cobblestone.

                Yep, that's me. I gash open my right knee and rip a small hole in one of my favorite pair of jeans. Luckily, Gayle, our Culture liaison/Etiquette mistress, had a bunch of band-aids in her bag. I kind of limped for awhile but I was still able to enjoy Dover.

                There's so much history in Dover Castle. Initially it was a Roman settlement, an ancient  lighthouse still stands on one of the hills, it's rock walls crumbling. Brendan our resident history buff was like a kid at Christmas when we explored the Roman ruins. We were all enraptured by different parts of the castle. I loved standing on top of the castle keep; all of Dover lay before me, the ancient history and the modern movements of the city below. But my far the best part was being able to explore the nooks and crannies. I felt a bit like I was playing princess.

Me on top of Dover Castle

                This was my first real English castle, and though I should have known better, I was surprised by the immense amount of stairs. England likes to remind me how out of shape I am by continually having me climb a profuse amount of stairs. I literally had to stop and catch my breath on a little landing after five flights of steep spiral stairs. But it was worth it to get to the top of the castle.

                We also went through a twenty minute tour of some of Dover's tunnels. Originally the tunnels were built to defend from Napoleon, but received most of their use during World War II when the city of Dover was bombed. We went through the portion of tunnels that was originally designed to be a hospital. I  wasn't allowed to take photos but I do believe I had an experience down there. I'm still a bit skeptical but I may have seen a ghost. There was an audio overlay to the tour about a young mosquito pilot who was shot down in the ocean and brought to the hospital for surgery. As we're walking from the triage center we enter a long hallway, several doors lead to wards or barracks, but at the very end are large green locked doors.

The one picture I snagged in the hospital

                The tour was leading us to the right towards the kitchen, but as people filed past I looked down the corridor for some reason. Just in front of the green doors was a tall man with close cropped brown hair in what I thought was an green airman's jumpsuit. He stood quietly with his hands behind his back and then suddenly walked with clipped steps into what I later found out was the surgery ward. Believe me, I have tried to rationalize this. I thought perhaps it was a hologram as part of the tour (we later discovered a hologram in the castle but it spoke and was clearly serving a purpose), but when we got to the part of the tour where I thought the hologram would show up nothing happened. I stared at the ceiling looking for potential cameras but nothing I could find looked out of place; the ceiling and walls were bare steel and rock with sparse lighting overhead. I later asked everyone if they had seen the man and got strange looks in response. I'm not above admitting I got duped, but I'm also not above believing in ghosts. A place with that much history has to have a few.

                Still, we only had limited time in Dover and my group of friends--Sarah, Michael, Brendan, Jordan, Michaela, Julia, and Jessica--walked down the hill and found our way to the beach. The sky was so remarkably clear that you could actually see France in the distance, which is incredibly rare for Dover. The water of the Channel was cold! I squeaked when it first hit my toes. But it felt good to dip my feet and ease my tired muscles. Whenever I travel to someplace with a nearby body of water, I try to take a picture of myself in it.  The English Channel is no different.

Our feet in the ocean

Clockwise: Sarah, Jessica, Julia, Michaela, and Me

                Shortly thereafter we had to get back on the bus and head to Canterbury. It was a short, thirty minute journey, and we arrived just in time to attend Evensong at Canterbury Cathedral. The architecture of the cathedral is so beautiful. During the service I couldn't help but gawk at everything around me. Marble and granite carvings of angels and saints. The panoramic rainbow of stained glass. Canterbury Cathedral is most certainly visually stimulating. I took a ridiculous amount of pictures when Evensong was over. Gayle even told me that the stone chair behind the altar is the seat of the Archbishop of Canterbury, leading religious power of the Anglican church world-wide, and the chair is supposedly a thousand years old. At least that's what I was told. Very impressive.

                Our group was allowed to go on the audio tour and many of us took that opportunity to learn of the extensive history of the church. Of course some of the most fascinating parts were about Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury who was martyred in the Cathedral. Many of you have probably heard the famous story in history class about how Henry II was rumored to have said, "Who will rid me of this meddlesome priest?", which four knights of the realm took as permission to murder Becket. The whole story is actually quite dramatic. You should look up the details (but not on Wikipedia!).

The place where Thomas Becket was martyred

                The Black Prince of Whales is also buried in Canterbury, and of course the actor from A Knight's Tale immediately comes to mind. I hope the historical man was that handsome. But they had his actual helmet and tunic on display as well as replicas. Naturally, I took a great abundance of pictures.

                We had to be back at the bus by six p.m. so we had roughly and hour for food by the time the audio tour was done. And being burned badly by my experience so recently at The Encore in Stratford, I went to Pizza Hut for takeout. Now I want no judgment from any of you! You're probably thinking my God Caitlin, you're in England shouldn't you be trying English cuisine. Trust me, they serve us high quality English style food nightly at hall table. When they leave us to our own devices that is my time to chow down on something I am sure my stomach will like. I essentially shoveled down a nine inch pan cheese pizza in twenty minutes. My group was shocked. But it was soooooo good.

                It was about eight o'clock when we got back to Gonville and Caius, and we all seemed to congregate in The Buttery. Michaela and Julia convinced us all to dress up and go out karaoking at a pub called Quinn's. So I got all dolled up and headed out with the rest. We had a great time! We sang and danced to everything that played including Michael Jackson and the Spice Girls. Of course three of our group got up and serenaded the group with Sir Mix A Lot's classic Baby Got Back. Lots of laughter was had by all. Eventually some of us made our way over to The Regale, which was only about a block away. We danced some more but shortly thereafter called it a night. May I just say that the cobblestone streets and wedge sandals do not mix. I turned my ankle several times as we headed to the pub. I believe there's now a phrase among the group about "pulling a Caitlin" which covers any bit of clumsiness from falling to tripping. Yep, just brought this blog full circle.

The Merchant of Vegas

                Yesterday was one of the most exciting days and it was also one of the busiest. I had classes until one o'clock and had to rush up the spiral stairs to my dorm room to drop off my backpack since we were leaving for Stratford-Upon-Avon at one-fifteen. We met outside the Porter's Lodge and walked through the scenic gardens of Claire College to get to our coach.

                As we settled into the bus's velour seats one of the program's officiates passed out tickets from the Royal Shakespeare Company. We were headed out to see The Merchant of Venice featuring none other than Patrick Stewart as Shylock. My excitement mounted with every roll of the bus' tires. My nerdiness once again rears its head. I was about to be in the same theater with Jean Luc Picard and Professor X, you've got to be kidding me!?!

                When we arrived we were told to meet outside a Italian cafe in order to hear the actor Scott Handy speak about Shakespeare and his craft. Scott was to play the part of Antonio in The Merchant of Venice. But most of you would probably recognize his face from A Knight's Tale as the servant to Count Adhemar. I stared at him for the longest time as he spoke to us trying to place him. When the light bulb went off I about had a heart attack. He told us that the play was to be set in Las Vegas. I'm fairly certain that the entire room of students gaped at him. The Merchant of Venice in Vegas? And then he told us the most depressing news: the play would be done in American accents. Patrick Stewart speaking American English. I don't get to hear the brogue? Horror. Scott himself opened his mouth and spoke the Ohio brand of English with which I have become so familiar. It was the strangest thing to hear the sounds of home from a Britt's mouth.

                We had about an hour to eat dinner. A group of us--Nathan, Jordan, Lauren, Angel, Erin, Britany, Megan, and myself--walked the short distance to a place called The Encore, the sign of which had a caricature of Shakespeare's face painted on it. We browsed the menu and asked if our food would be ready by seven-fifteen, which is when the show was set to start. They assured us that our food would be ready in time.  May I just say, LIARS! Our food was given to us at five-till-seven. We all shoveled in our various orders as quickly as can be, including Nathan who ate his hamburger in a record three minutes.  We bolted down the block to the theater and slid into our seats with five minutes to spare.

                Before the show officially started they had a tableau of a casino going, with craps tables and all sorts of clichéd American tourists. A man with a mullet and a Jack Daniel's t-shirt. A black man with golden chains and a sparkly suit. A tourist couple complete with green visors and star shaped balloons. Is this how they see us? We were four rows back from the stage, an unfortunate angle from which we could see up the waitress' skirts. As the music sped up the actors began a choreographed dance. At the climax of the song Elvis spurted out of the craps table singing Viva Las Vegas. This set the tone for the entire show.

                All of the characters spoke with a variety of accents. Every corner of American stereotypes were represented. Guido. Gangster. Southern Belle. Valley Girl. Everything. It was fascinating and horrifying at the same time. The play as a whole was magnificent though! Even being in Vegas couldn't throw off the wonder of being in the theater. And forget about it when Patrick Stewart walked on! He was amazing! You could even hear a bit of the burr, which made me incredibly excited! He even did a little two step dance. Made my night!

                The Elvis theme continued throughout the play, even Glee's rendition of Don't Stop Believing had a moment in the play. So funny! The set shone with vibrant colors and glowed with neon lights. I was so charmed by the show I forgot to be incredulous. The show closed to roaring applause.

                The drive down was ridiculously long and we didn't get back to Cambridge until one a.m. So I definitely slept in this morning! I've got to get up early so we can head off to Dover and then Canterbury. I'll be taking my travel pillow and crashing on the bus. I can't even begin to recount how much fun I had yesterday but I hope that you got a glimpse of it all. More tomorrow!

Birthday in Britain!

                So yesterday was my friend Lauren's twenty-first birthday. Now, in England that doesn't have the same significance that it would in the dear old U.S. of A. because their legal to drink at the age of eighteen. All the same we wanted to make her birthday special for her since it's a big deal to us Americans and she's far from home.

                My friends Brendan and Michael found the perfect birthday cake for Lauren at the local grocery store, Sainsbury's. The small round cake with Yoda leaping across the top, lightsaber at the ready, with the words Jedi Master raised in blue fondant. We all gathered in the JCR and sang her "Happy Birthday". Lauren was completely surprised, so mission accomplished!

Lauren with her Jedi cake

                We then went out to The Eagle, a famous pub here in Cambridge where Watson and Crick are rumored to have sketched out the double helix and it was also a RAF bar during the World Wars. There are tables crammed into every nook and cranny, the walls decorated with portraits of famous Britains.  The portion that used to be the RAF bar has emblems of different companies and brigades stuck all over the wall in neat little rows, wrapping around and around the room. I ordered a Vodka Lemonade, which might I just say was absolutely delicious, and spent the next few hours laughing and swapping stories with my friends.

The ceiling at The Eagle

                After The Eagle, our group moved on to a bar called The Regale, which turns out is right next door to the theater where we saw HP 7. It may be a bit early to say this, but The Regale is my favorite pub so far here in England. It's the perfect mix of dance hall and bar. The majority of the place is pub space with tables both upstairs and down, but music plays throughout and there is a small dance floor for whenever the spirit moves you. And it's ambiance is somewhere between the neon frenzy of Lola Lo and the relaxing comfort of The Eagle.

                We danced for well over an hour (we even taught the Brits how to Cupid Shuffle, it was awesome) before I had to call it quits since I had class this morning at nine a.m., and let me tell you getting up this morning was not easy! But I'm still glad we were able to give Lauren a proper birthday celebration for her fabulous twenty-first!

                Also a very special shout out to my mom, Paula McCann, whose birthday is today! Love you!

Something Borrowed, Something Blue, Something Potter, Something New

                Yesterday was an absolute riotous mass of fun.

                For starters I indulged in a four hour nap since it was raining and gloomy. I've just been an Energizer Bunny ever since I got here and once given the opportunity I couldn't resist the siren call of sleep; a recharging of my batteries if you will. But I set my alarm so that I could get up and go to dinner before our group went off for our last visit with Harry Potter.

                As I was walking down the stairs, I stopped mid-step, stunned by the amount of finery I was seeing. The lobby of Gonville and Caius had been transformed into a wedding reception. There was a Caitlin sized standing bouquet of lush white flowers on the landing, and several guest were milling about the lobby wearing their best feathered hats and tuxedo tails. I felt so clumsy and awkward in my jeans and pigtails as I tried to make an escape to the JCR (common room) in the hopes that that too hadn't been overtaken.

                My group of friends had all agreed to meet in the JCR so we could go out before the movie and most of us were there already. We all tried to look nonchalant as we peered out the windows looking at the passersby from the wedding. All the girls murmured their oohs and aahs as the bride walked by in a white sari. We hid out in the JCR until we figured it was safe to exit and not interrupt. But by the time we took off I was quite cranky, having devolved into a toddler, peckish after having slept through lunch.

                We decided to split up since we figured there was no way one of the little restaurants around the theater would be able to handle seating for fifteen at a time. I went to a pub called Revolution with my friends Jordan and Michaela. We all got burgers, but they were oh so good. While we were in the pub we encountered not one, not two, but three bachelorette parties. If you're sensing a theme then welcome to the club because we were all pretty shocked by how much wedding fodder we were dealing with here.

                In England they call bachelorette parties hen-dos and bachelor parties stag-dos. And these ladies were out to have a good time let me tell you. One group wore neon orange hats and had name tags on with their relation to the groom, presumably Bob. The bride-to-be wore a tag that said 'Bob's ball and chain' and her bridesmaids had on tags with 'Bob's former lover' (I'm hoping they were joking on that end because that would be one hell of an awkward wedding party); they even slapped a sticker on the waiter that said simply 'Bob'.  Another party walked by with pink sashes and bright cosmopolitans. But the coup de grace was the party that was setting up as we were heading out. They began by setting a giant inflated penis in a place of special honor next to the bride. Then each drink was adorned with a phallic straw. As we were leaving they were blowing up balloons. Three guesses as to the shape. Dinner was amusing to say the least.

                We had agreed to meet up with the rest of our group in front of the theater by 8:00 since the movie was at 8:30. It was starting to get chilly so we huddled together out of the way as our group began to re-form. As we were standing there waiting for the final members a bachelor party entered the pub nearby dressed as cowboys and Indians, complete with headdress, just as another bachelor party was stumbling out of the pub, one man dressed as a hot dog. One of the later party felt obliged to stop and talk to us and preceded to try to explain not only what his occupation was but why it was relevant to us Americans. He was holding his group up and every once in awhile one of them would scream out, "George!" or "They don't bloody care mate!" We were all just standing there trying not to laugh as George told us about the Murphy Bell of 1964, even stopping an old British man to confirm that such a thing did exist. He nodded emphatically and then toddled off. George continued to explain about stag-dos and it seems costumes or coordinated attire is even more of a big deal here than it is in the US. When asked which of the men was the groom, George calmly replied, the hot dog.

                After George left us and we had regained our group, we headed into the theater. All of us were extremely excited to see Harry Potter in an honest to goodness British theater. We had assigned seats but were all relatively close together. Unlike any other movie I've ever seen before you could really feel the tension and excitement of the audience. Now, I won't go into the movie much since I don't know how many of you have seen it, but I will say I thoroughly enjoyed it and that it was a very well done ending to a series that has been near and dear to my heart since I was about eleven. I wept for about the last twenty minutes of the movie. It was so very good!

                The movie let out at about 11:00pm and as we headed back our group splintered off to do various night time activities. Our little group of five walked back to Gonville and Caius but stopped at a liquor store so we could have a quiet night in at the JCR. I tried this beer called Hobgoblin. I really picked it up because the label was so cool and it claimed to be the unofficial beer of rock and roll (but aren't they all). My overall response was 'meh'. The bottle's coming home with me though! So we sat and talked and drank and laughed and nibbled on shortbread cookies late into the night. Time well spent, if you ask me.

                In the morning, the breakfast table had pitchers filled with white flowers from the wedding.

Greener on the Other Side

                Today was absolutely perfect. I had nothing better to do than explore Cambridge and meander around. I got up this morning for breakfast, one of only two meals we're served every day, so I don't ever want to miss it. Even if it is my fourth straight day of Frosted Flakes and OJ. There really aren't that many options for breakfast. But I was incredibly tired since I was up so late last night.

                Still I didn't want to go back to bed so I went down to the common room and tried to get some work done for a few hours and edited pieces for travel writing (I've got to start plotting my next one!). But today was actually one of the sunnier days since I've been here at Cambridge, the sunlight was calling to me and making me antsy. So a group of us decided to explore and find some place to eat lunch.

                The seven of us--myself, Julia, Michaela, Jess, Brendan, Michael, and Nate--stumbled upon this little cafe called Giraffe. They had a really nice deal going where we could get a soft drink and a entree for £6.95. For some reason I was wanting something quintessentially American, even though I haven't been away from home that long. So I ordered a hot dog. And when it came that sucker was the biggest hot dog I have ever seen! And I devoured the thing. It tasted so ridiculously good I can't even begin to tell you all.

                I'm going to take a moment and diverge from my day's story to tell you that I am a picky eater living in a land where I cannot choose what I have for dinner. There are three courses every night.  Appetizer. Entree. Dessert. None of you who know me will believe the things I have eaten or at least attempted to eat. Witness: Sheppard's Pie, Salmon, Roast Duck (my favorite thus far), Broccoli and Cheese Soup, Stuffed Turkey Roulade, Onion and Cider Soup, Pavlova, and Panna Cotta. I would pay good money to see the shock on some of your faces right now.

                After lunch our little group split up since several of them had class at two o'clock. Michaela and I ended up exploring more of the lovely clothing stores in downtown Cambridge. I was so excited to walk into a Topshop! We stuck mostly to the sale racks since neither of us are too keen on spending a ton of money. I bought a little knit hat that will suit me fine for the Ohio winters. It has cat ears. Soooooo thrilled! And the best part is that the hat, only £1.00!

                We then went to T.K. Maxx, the English bastard cousin of T.J. Maxx, so Michaela could find a simple black cardigan for the Opening Banquet tonight. We had been looking all day and were not terribly enthused with what we were finding. But T.K. Maxx came through for us! We then quickly returned to Gonville and Caius for daily tea.

                Before Opening Banquet we met for Sherry on the lawn. THE LAWN WHICH WE ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO TOUCH. It felt so wonderfully forbidden even though it was a sanctioned event. It felt awesome for that hint of the illicit. I regret to inform you that the grass does not feel any more magical than American grass. Don't believe the hype.

                And the Sherry. It's like sucking down vinegar. Never again. I finished it for posterity's sake but I'm pretty sure some of my taste buds died in protest. We all took a bunch if pictures on the lawn, and everyone looked mighty fine in their fancy clothes. The Opening Banquet was being held in the Fellow's dining hall, which is almost never opened up to the average Joe, hence the fancy clothes. The Fellow's dining hall is decorated after the Greek acropolis. Mildly intimidating. Even more so considering that I was one of six who were shanghaied into reading a passage from a packet all about famous Cambridge experiences. I think it went well. And the people I was sitting with her good company. The whole banquet took forever though!

                After dinner, I changed out of my fancy clothes and a small group of us went out for a walk. It was nice to go for a walk for no other reason than to enjoy the city and the beautiful night. I'm back in the common room now. I'm not entirely sure what to do with myself tomorrow. Usually we'll have trips through the UNH program, but this Saturday, not so much.  Who knows? The only thing I've got pinned down for sure is that tomorrow is Harry Potter! A large group of us are going tomorrow night.  I'm so excited! You'll get all the details tomorrow I'm sure.

                Well once again, it's late. So I bid you a much overdue goodnight.

Dance, I Say!

                Sorry for the lack of update yesterday, guys! I was up quite late last night because I went clubbing for the first time last night! And it was in England. This fact is still enough to blow mind! I believe the club was called Lola Lo. Their trademark was Hawaiian pin-up girl and the interior was decorated like a tiki shack with random Easter Island-type statues in the halls leading to the various dance floors. Here is a poster taken from the dj's website (with a link below).

http://www.fatpoppadaddys.com/brands/lets-kill-disco/

                A group of seven of us went--my friends Erin, Lauren, Angel, Nate, Tyler, Jordan, and myself--with this British couple we met at Gonville and Caius' pub The Buttery. The couple (whose names I didn't catch) actually showed us where the club was, which is only a few blocks from the college. We met them as we were playing cards in the pub, rather loudly I might add; it's a good thing it was only us and the couple in there. They ended up playing with us for awhile and then they decided to show us to Lola Lo.

                I had such a good time! It was incredibly hot and crowded but it was wonderful to let off some steam after a day of classes. It would definitely be worth going back.

                I'll write back more later about classes and today's adventures later tonight, but at the moment, a nap sounds mighty fine.

Tea Time at Michaelhouse

                I'm going to adore Wednesdays. I have them all to myself, well at least for the most part. I've still got afternoon tea and homework to do, but the bulk of the day is mine to with as I will since I don't have any classes. These are the days I'm going to venture out more than a few blocks and truly explore. At least that's the plan for next week, since today I staid rather close to home this morning.

                See, I needed to have something to write about for travel writing tomorrow, and not just the kind of personal perspectives I'm giving here on this blog, but rather an experience that has meaning but can be well researched at the same time. And since the past two days have been wonderful but highly anecdotal, I needed to go out and have an encounter with Cambridge's rich history and not just their lovely clothing stores and book shops.
                So after breakfast (another round of Frosted Flakes and OJ, I thank you) I got on my computer and looked up some of the places that I absolutely cannot miss in Cambridge. That list is about a mile long now, but I hope that in six weeks I can cover most of it. In particular I'm excited about the number I found for a local ghost tour. I'll have to see who I can con into going on that little adventure. I have a feeling it will be Michaela and that there won't be any conning necessary.
                Michaela is a UNH student who actually is living right next door. She's delightfully quirky. Michaela is also the one who accompanied me on today's adventure. In truth there wasn't much venturing. I was determined to explore the Michaelhouse Centre which is actually right across the street from Gonville and Caius. The Michaelhouse Centre is this glorious little building that is half cafe, half church. Originally the St. Michael's parish church was the chapel for Michaelhouse College and it was built in 1324. It's gone through various remodelings and seen quite a bit of drama. Here's the brief rundown, the bulk of which made it into my paper for travel writing (sweet Lord was there a lot of research to be done in one day!)

·         It's the first college chapel in Cambridge and inspired the other colleges to follow its design where the nave is smaller than the Chancel (I know to many of you those words mean nothing but just go with it; one part is bigger than the other).
·         In 1546 Then Chancellor and Master of Michaelhouse, John Fisher, opposed the reforms of Henry VIII, which we all know is a bad idea because Henry liked to chop people's heads off. After Fisher was executed the church was seized by the crown. Go figure.

·         In 1643 Puritans destroyed all of the original stained glass. Boo, Puritans!

·         In 1849 the original roof caught fire while parishioners were still in church.

·         The 1960's brought about some very unpopular remodelings that were then fixed. i.e. they hid the stained glass with lower ceilings. Bad architect, no cookie.

·         And then finally in early 2000 they converted the nave into a cafe and left the Chancel a functioning church.

                I can't even begin to describe how beautiful Michaelhouse Centre is. It's a complete study in duality; light and dark, past and present. You come in and these beautiful stained glass windows, both vastly different, bookend the place. The window near the entrance is made of pastel diamond panes, each with their own little design in the center, that stack up towards pieces of marbled glass that look like oak leaves. Light absolutely pours in. The whole thing reminds me of the background of an Alphonse Mucha picture. Then on the other side, where the church is, is a more traditional rich, jewel toned stained glass window depicting biblical stories of St. Michael and The Angels. Equally gorgeous but in a different way. The light is more filtered and gives the chapel space a more dark secluded air.

Top photo: Window in the nave 

Bottom photo: Window in the Chancel

                So this is the place that Michaela and I explored and had tea in. Yes, that's right, I had my first official (not program sponsored) English tea time. We split a pot of Earl Grey and two sugar scones, what can be more English than that? The whole bit cost us about £6.10 for the both of us, not bad really. I took my first sip of the Earl Grey and found it to be a bit bitter, so I poured some milk and sugar in and found it much more to my liking. I had never had a proper scone before either. This one was just a tad sweet and had a dense cake-like texture. Overall very delicious. It was also good to bond with someone in the program.
                We lingered over tea but eventually got up to explore the church. Again, I cannot stress enough the contrasts of these places! Even though there is a doorway between cafe and church there is nothing to block the sound; everything is open. The cafe is bright and people are chattering, china is clinking, and silverware is being dropped. Stepping into the church might as well be stepping into another world. It's almost instantaneously quieter, darker, and more serene. St. Michael's parish is certainly not the grandest church I've ever visited, but it's soft beauty certainly had an impact on me. I was looking for an experience and I got one!
                Michaela and I essentially had the church to ourselves. We sat in the choir stalls, which I later found out date back to about the time of King Edward the IV. We read the stone markers of graves that surround the altar, some of which date back as far as the churches origin (some were in Latin and boy am I rusty!). We also took a bunch of pictures. Michaela was blessedly patient with me as I wrote down my thoughts and opinions about every little detail, peppered with the few facts I could find within the church. Between tea and exploration we spent about two-and-a-half-hours at the Michaelhouse Centre. I will definitely be going back again!

Note: Though this is posted on Thursday this is meant to be my Wednesday post. I wrote it late last night and didn't have wireless so I had to post it this afternoon. I'll try to get a Thursday post later tonight. Forgive me for being off!

Universal Signs

                The first thing you need to know about today is that last night after finishing my blog, I broke my alarm clock. I plugged it in to my adapter/converter, set my alarm, turned around to go brush my teeth, and then heard a "pff" sound. I whipped around to find that the alarm clock had been blown out, complete with burnt plastic smell. It was about one in the morning, and as many of you know I like my sleep, so my instant thought was that there was no way I was going to wake up in time for my nine o'clock class. Panic. Sheer, bloody panic.

                By some miracle I sat bolt upright in bed around eight a.m., when breakfast is served. So I went down to the dining hall and had my first official Cambridge breakfast. Frosted Flakes and orange juice. Highly cultural it was not, but it was just fine by my standards. At the end of the breakfast hour, I went off to find my first class, which turned up to be in a room labeled Granger. This place manages to fuel my Harry Potter fervor at just about every turn; something about just being in Britain.

                So, my first class was travel writing. Today was like the equivalent of syllabus day in many ways. We went over the goals and assignments for the class, and then critiqued a few pieces of travel writing.  My professor, Andrew Merton, seems wonderfully laid back and I expect this class will be incredibly fun. My first assignment is actually due this Thursday. I have to write three pages, double spaced, on some sort of experience I've had since being in Cambridge. That being said, Dr. Merton would rather we do a piece that isn't purely personal; I'm going to have to do more research than I would have expected for this class. But I'm still looking forward to it! And since I don't have classes tomorrow I'm going to try and head out and find something worth exploring. I don't think it will be too difficult because everything here has a history.

                My other class, 20th century poetry, was equally delightful, the only problem is that it is directly after travel writing, so I'm sitting in the same room for about four hours straight. Cultural anthropology this past winter prepared me well for this unique discomfort.  Anyway, the professor for 20th century poetry, Dr. Glen Cavaliero, is absolutely adorable. He's this little British man with round spectacles and white, wispy tufts of hair. He pronounces my name "Kat-lynn". And he reads us poetry in his darling British accent. I'll be happy just to listen to this man talk for six weeks. Beyond that he has a lovely sense of humor. He compared the tastes of Hardy, Yeats, and Elliot to "those sweets in Harry Potter that you pick up and think will taste like raspberry but winds up tasting of something like garlic". I'm fairly sure my jaw dropped. Do you see what I mean about the cosmic references to Harry Potter? The man just made a reference to Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans in a 20th century poetry class. Brilliant. I'm sure there will be more Cavaliero quotes to come.

                After classes I went out with a group of girls from the program and wandered about Cambridge. I had two things on my mind.  The first being an alarm clock because there was no way that I would continue to wake up accurately; I do not expect daily miracles, after all. The second being a heavy sweater. Today was rather overcast and chilly, and while I was grateful that it didn't rain, my cardigan definitely didn't pull its weight. So we explored Cambridge some more and wound up finding a theater. I decided to stop ignoring the universe's mass communiqué about Harry Potter and the six of us bought tickets right then and there for The Deathly Hallows Part II. We're going Saturday night. I'm incredibly excited!

                Then we worked are way back towards Gonville and Caius and grabbed some pizza at a Greek restaurant, which was delicious. The best part though was while we were eating, the British equivalent of Jerry Springer blared overhead. We watched spellbound as the host berated his sixteen year-old guest about becoming a baby daddy for his third time (at least allegedly, because of course there was a paternity test involved!). Absolutely hilarious!

                After that, my day slowed down significantly. We had our weekly meeting at four o'clock with our tea. Tea is served daily at four here and I could seriously get used to this. I've never been much of a tea person but I think in England that's bound to change. They fairly well live and breathe tea here. Slowly but surely becoming a fan. I think it may be due to the petite cups and saucers more than anything else.

                I did manage to find a heavy sweater and a travel alarm clock though. So I'm all set. Now if I can only figure out how to set the darn thing...

Round and Round I Go

                Well I finally arrived safe and sound in Cambridge, England. Getting here was such an incredibly long process; I have to remind myself that it took two days and not the single day my brain insists it must have taken because of the time change. So once again sleep deprived, I am going to try and break down the past few days for you.

Sunday, the 10th of July

                While still in Columbus, OH, I had lunch with my Dad and my good friend Carolyn Lishawa at T.G.I Fridays. Carolyn is the one who introduced me to the Cambridge program at University of New Hampshire (UNH forevermore), which she attended last summer with rave reviews. It was glorious serendipity that allowed me to catch up with Carolyn and pump her full of last minute questions since she usually is not a Columbus resident. It was so wonderful to see a familiar face before I took off, and talking to her completely allayed my pre-Cambridge jitters.

                Some of the interesting stuff Carolyn was able to pass on...

                Tidbit 1: Cambridge University is not a single university. Much like our college towns in the U.S. the area is littered with historic colleges, with shops and fabulous restaurants scattered about. The collective of these colleges is generally referred to as Cambridge University so as not to confuse us plebes.  The place where I am staying and taking classes is called Gonville and Caius (pronounced 'keys') College. Stephen Hawking is a fellow of Gonville and Caius and his office is tucked somewhere around here.

                Tidbit 2: DO NOT GO ON THE GRASS. I'm shouting at you because this is apparently a big deal. Only full Gonville and Caius graduates, or fellows, are allowed to walk on the grass because they have earned that right. Similarly, as a simple study abroad student I am not allowed to walk through the gate labeled "Honor" since it's the gate that only graduates walk through during commencement. This whole thing left me a bit incredulous because it's GRASS and I'm used to tromping all over the place at ONU. Still, every institution has it's quirks and traditions. That's not to say that there may not be a picture flouting tradition here at a later date...

                Anyway, after all this fun info was shared I had to go off to the airport. The flight to Chicago's O'Hare was fairly unremarkable, the only part worth mentioning is that it was the first time I've ever walked up the stairs of a commercial jet, which gave me a giddy feeling and I had to fight the urge to do the Queen wave before I entered the jet. I have some such little impulses from time to time but for the most part I try to squash them so that normal people don't look at me like I'm a nutter.

                The flight to London's Heathrow airport was nice and smooth. Long, but smooth. I was able to watch a few in-flight movies on the way out though, Cedar Rapids and Cars. For the record, Cedar Rapids is only good for a few giggles and not very satisfying giggles at that. Cars; however, is always worth the viewing and its giggles are always satisfying. Of course, I cannot neglect to mention the airplane food. Actually I could very well neglect to mention the airplane food because it was not tasty but it is worth mentioning that I dropped cheese ravioli all down my front and continued my travels looking like a wayward child in need of a bib. My spill prompted the kindly man of undetermined Eastern European origin sitting next me to smile and say, "Is ok. No one vill notice." He was remarkably patient with me as I continued to drop everything from napkins to cups. Bless you, kindly man of undetermined Eastern European origin.

Monday, the 11th of July

                I deplaned at 11:30am and headed straight to customs, which with the lines took me over an hour. I always feel like I'm going to get singled out and given the third degree because even though I know I've done nothing wrong I feel strangely suspect. And just standing there moving inch my inch only seems to amplify that feeling. But no armed guards leapt out at me and the actual stamping of my passport took all of a minute. From there I was able to corral my luggage and find my way to the Central Bus Station.

                I was actually incredibly lucky to meet another girl going to Cambridge, though not to my particular college, in the elevator to the Bus Station.  We shall call her Mystery Girl because though we chatted at length about our programs she never gave me her name. In any event, it was good to have someone to travel with.  Mystery Girl and I struggled to purchase tickets for the Coach; the self-service machines took our money but refused to spit out our tickets. We were just able to make the 1:10 bus to Cambridge. Both of us quickly fell asleep and the bus rolled on for three hours. One thing I will say about my brief stint with consciousness on the bus--the English are ridiculously fond of roundabouts. They are everywhere!

                By the time we got off the bus in Cambridge proper it was around 4:30 pm. This really stressed me out because not only had this whole process felt like an eternity but I was now rather late for the opening introductions of my program. I ended up sharing a cab with Mystery Girl and our cabbie was incredibly helpful. Paul (funny how I can remember the cabbie's name and not the Girl's, eh?) told us all about which buildings were constructed when and where the best pubs are. The architecture in Cambridge is fabulous. All these colleges have varying gothic or Victorian motifs, and crests are everywhere. I cannot wait to roam around and take pictures! Paul pointed out a particular pub called The Anchor that is right on the river and Mystery Girl and I resolved to try and meet up there at some point. I'm hoping to actually put a name with the face by then.

                Paul then dropped us off at our respective colleges. I have to say that so far that in all of my travels, the English are the most willing to help the dazed and confused. If you have a lost look on your face, chances are an Englishman will approach you and offer to help you find your destination. This little trait is proving to be a Godsend because somewhere in the block between where Paul dropped me off and the actual gates of Gonville and Caius, I got lost.  Shocking, I'm sure.

                Even though I was severely late, it didn't seem to be that big of a deal. I had just missed the welcome brigade and the official tour. The program director Andrew Merton cheerfully helped me find my room. He even assisted me in carrying my luggage up the narrow spiral staircase that leads up to my dorm. We were both huffing and puffing by the time we reached my room on the second floor; those stair are steep! I'm going to have to give some serious consideration to how much stuff I buy if I have to go down those stairs with my bulky suitcases by myself!

                My dorm is ridiculously spacious. I think I received one of the bigger rooms quite by accident. Size-wise it's about a room and a half of one of ONU's apartments. I've got two windows (important since there is no AC), a nice double bed, two simple chairs, and a closet with a built in sink. The restroom is just down the hall, as is the shower. The showers are insanely cramped but private, each of the two showers on the floor are enclosed in their own mini room. 

                I was able to do a quick change (remember the ravioli?) and head down to The Buttery, which is the college pub two floors down from my room.  Here is essentially my new routine for the next six weeks: Buttery at 6pm for pre-dinner drinks and socializing and from there we are escorted into the dining hall promptly at 6:30pm and served a three course meal by an courteous and professional wait-staff. I fully plan on taking pictures of my meals too because the food was wonderful. The dining hall is so grand. All carved wood and crests with stained glass windows and portraits of esteemed alumni and deans on the wall. I think it will be a great place to dine twice a day.

                After dinner a few of us decided to walk off our meal by exploring a bit of Cambridge. It gets cool here at night so the weather ranges from high seventies to low fifties throughout the day, and our walk was absolutely glorious. We tracked down a little grocery store where we can get some snacks and I bought a bottle of laundry detergent for a pound, which was a freaking steal! Of course, we got lost. There are so many little shops and an equal number of grand colleges, each with their own gate firmly stating that you aren't allowed in. It can be a little intimidating. But we ended up finding out way back and discovered some really interesting things to do here in Cambridge.

                So here's our list o' stuff:

·         Go Punting. (Think gondola ride) There was a sign for weekly punting ghost tours on Saturday nights, and I'm just dork enough to do it.

·         Visit the Magic Joke shop. It looked eerily similar to a muggle Zonkos.

·         See the Cambridge botanical gardens.

·         Go to the live music events at the local pub down the street on Friday nights.

                That's what we've got so far, but it's a good start.

                Sorry this post is so long. Still it should give you a sense of how long this whole thing has felt! I won't officially post this till tomorrow morning since I don't get internet in my room, but for veracity's sake I finished this at 12:55am Cambridge time.  I have my first day of classes in the morning, which I'm reeeeeaaaaallllly looking forward to. But I need sleep for that. So again I say, to bed!

My Inaugural Address

            Hello there! I'm assuming if you're reading this that you know me, but on the off chance that I'm wrong here is a minor introduction:
            My name is Caitlin McCann, I'm a 21 year-old senior studying at Ohio Northern University, and I'm majoring in creative writing.
           There, short and sweet.
            Now for the next six weeks I will be studying at Cambridge University in England. I started this blog as a way for me to keep my family and friends updated on my experiences. So far I've completed one leg of my journey, which entailed leaving my hometown of St. Louis, Missouri to venture out to Columbus, Ohio. In case you were wondering, the airfare was cheaper if I left from Columbus.  I don't actually leave for England until tomorrow (or today technically since it's one in the morning).
            At the moment I'm feeling what can best be described as "little kid at Christmas" syndrome; that anxious and excited state that comes from not knowing what goodies tomorrow will bring. I've spent so much time thinking about this summer program, and now that it's finally here I can't sleep. The perfect time to set up a blog, right?
            What I actually know about my program is semi-limited. I know I'll be taking two classes, one on 20th century poetry and one on travel writing. I know that there are events planned for my future, like a trip to Edinburgh, Scotland or taking in a play at the Globe. I also know rain boots are a valued article of clothing. But beyond that, I don't know much. I'll just have to figure it all out when I get there, and I'll do my best to keep you posted (Ha ha posted, get it? Cause it's a blog post. It's probably the late hour that's got me feeling so clever).
            Ah well, to bed!