A Journey of Discovery

Sorry for the delay, I have gotten very busy over the last week ad a half. So, to make up for it, I will endeavor to write a few posts all at once and then begin posting on a more regular schedule in the days to to come. With that said, then, today's topic will be surprises.

A few weeks ago, I decided to take a trip down to the London Science Museum, because I am that special kind of inquisitive fool who thinks a museum would be a solid way to spend a Friday night. [Insert cutting sarcastic remark.] The trick was, however, that I would be getting there within an hour of the last entry time. Thanks to the glorious system that is the London Underground, I arrived a half hour beforehand, so the entire walk from the South Kensington Tube station I was feeling pretty pleased with myself. Unfortunately, at the time I arrived, the Museum was amidst some sort of emergency that required the attention of the fire department. Everyone had been ushered out and no one was being allowed back in until the authorities gave the say-so.

Needless to say, I was a little upset by this turn of events. However, I decided to make the best of it, and head toward a site that I had not, as of yet, seen: Trafalgar Square. So, using my handy-dandy Google Maps App, I decided to walk and take in a different part of Greater London. Now, as fair warning, I was still learning where things are in relation to each other, so the rest of this post will basically be the equivalent of "clueless foreigner stumbles upon obvious places," but in my defense, I am a clueless foreigner.

I began my sojourn as by heading north from the Museum on Exhibition Road, towards Hyde Park. Since London is so far north and the days are still short, I was unable to see much of the Park itself. And to be honest, I didn't actually spend very much time alongside it either, as I took Knightsbridge Road toward the west. Along the walk, I was able to witness a great variety of shops and luxurious hotels, including several embassies. This picture is fairly representative of the general architectural style of the area:

As I made my westward, I came to a turnabout that turned into a large park. So, after crossing the turnabout, I made my way through the park on its well-lit sidewalk, just kind of wondering what this would all lead up to. All of sudden, I looked to my right and saw... Buckingham Palace! Apparently the route I had chosen took me through Green Park, which people with more of a clue than me probably know surrounds the palace. As I made my way past the palace, I was able to see through the trees and see the glowing clock-face of Elizabeth Tower, which houses the famous bell Big Ben (though, of course, most apply that name to the entire structure, but the name really only refers to the bell.) Since I saved my trip to Westminster for another day, those pictures will be up in another post.

Leaving the palace grounds, I noticed that there was a glow emanating from beyond a flight of stairs to my left. Intrigued, I decided to make my way up the stairs and investigate. Perhaps an opening night for a new show? Or even a parade?, I thought to myself.

As I got closer, my curiosity grew and grew, because I saw none of the signs of either hypothesis that I had previously thought up.

By the time I got to the source of the light, it finally hit me where I was.

PICCADILLY CIRCUS! I was fairly entertained when I made my tremendous discovery of such a famous locale, especially since I had had no idea that I was anywhere close to it, let alone how close it was to Buckingham Palace. But, there it was, in all its quasi-Times-Square-like glory. Of course, I still hadn't made my to trafalgar Square, so I took a quick walk south of Piccadilly to the Square. I had been told it was one of the best views in London, so I decided to see for myself. Here's what I saw:

After all that, you might think that I was done for the night. Nope! In fact, I was trying to get back to Piccadilly for some more exploring, but I happened to see that the National Gallery surround the square, and unlike the Science Museum, it was open. So, I popped inside for a look. As it turned out, I had arrived in time for the final guided tour of the night, so I was able to appreciate some of the most famous pieces in the Gallery, including Hans Holbein the Younger's glorious double portrait "The Ambassadors" and George Stubbs' striking "Whistlejacket". Unfortunately, no photography was allowed, so I was unable to capture anything for you, dear readers. Fortunately, though, the Gallery was hosting a reception for its patrons that, so I was able to snap a picture of a different work of art -- a very refreshing Samuel Smith Organic Lager:

After the tour, I made my way back up to Piccadilly for one last look-around. I was able to take a brief glimpse at London's Chinatown before I decided it was time to head back to the flat. Although my night took an unexpected turn almost immediately, it turned into one of the best nights I've had here so far, as it illustrated the breadth and variety of possibilites one can have in this (sometimes maddening) city.

That's all for this post. Check back soon for more updates.

On to Oxon

This past Thursday, I decided the re-indulge in my favorite hobby (academic elitism) and decided to take a small trip to a very old school, namely, the University of Oxford. Recognized as one of (or perhaps just) the most prestigious universities in the English-speaking world, Oxford often needs no introduction. Indeed, one can hardly hardly even say the name without affecting a slight accent.

Because of the city of Oxford's close proximity to London and the commuting needs of local Britons, a double-decker bus service known as the Oxord Tube shuttles tourists, students, and the gainfully employed alike between the two cities. (As a slight aside, an intriguing difference I've noticed between US cities and London is that, whenever space is tight, there is a greater tendency in the latter to look vertically for spatial efficiency, rather than horizontally-- or, as the case seems to be in NYC, giving up.) While I mentioned previously in this blog that I would try to shy away from doing anything too touristy there are some things that transcend the mere touristy and go straight to the heart of sublime experience. Also, I wanted to sit up top. See:

After a very relaxed hour-and-a-half drive, I disembarked and found myself in a city that was fused together with pieces from different centuries, at once ancient and contemporary, ponderous and bustling.

Incidentally, I felt rather at home on campus, as the architecture very closely resembled my own alma mater's, albeit without using labor drastically cheapened by the ravages of the Great Depression. Being the old philosophy hand who has kept up his interest in the subject even through the past few years, I was also eager to vist the philosophy department, a venerable faculty consistently regarded as among the finest in the Anglophone world. Though no one was in since term had not yet begun, there was an air of quiet dignity that surrounded the building, possibly due to the subtle grandnesses of the faculty building itself, or possibly the fact that I desperately wanted to be professionally affiliated with that department. Or, you know, random fountain statue:

One thing that deserves mention is the Tesco I ran into for a quick bite. Tesco is the largest supermarket on the English food scene, functionally the British equivalent of Wal-Mart, in relative terms of both size and possible evil. There are also smaller, bodega-sized Tesco Expresses that dot cities, though Oxford had a full-sized one, that featured the huge variety of unique, pre-made, take-away sandwiches.

Some of my favorite examples have been tikka masala; chicken and sweetcorn; houmous and carrot chutney; and my personal favorite: egg, bacon, and sausage with a ketchupy mayonnaise. I was able to snag one as well as a pain au chocolat, a chocolate-filled croissant that I fell in love with the first time I went to Europe way back in 2003. All in all, a solid, Britishy snack.

After touring around the city a little more -- including its very impressive, four -floor Waterstone's bookstore -- I decided that I had had enough of Oxford for a while. I found my way back to the Tube, and bade goodbye to Oxford. For now.

Bloomsbury, the Musuem, and PUDDING

Sorry for the delay since my last entry, but I had some very boring, non-tourist-related things to take care of over the last few days. Anyhow, to my next topic, which will be a sort of situation of where I am living for the next few months.

The area of London in which I reside is called Bloomsbury, part of the Borough of Camden, and is noted for its long association with the arts, literature, and especially education. The district lent its name to the Bloomsbury Group, which included authors Virginia Woolf and E.M. Forester and economist John Maynard Keynes, among others. Here is a glimpse of Bloomsbury Square Gardens:

My previous post was but two of the institutions of higher education within the district; others are the University of London, the Royal Veterinary College, the School of Oriental and African Studies, and the hilariously named London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine. No, really:

Additionally, the British Museum is located within the district, a short walk from my apartment. Being the sort of person who adores history, I decided to pay a visit to the venerable institution, which welcomed me full-on all its architectural grandeur:

Even inside, facing the central atrium, the effect diminished not one bit:

After quickly scanning the galleries, I made my way to the one that most piqued my interest. Now, some reading this blog might assume that I would have headed to the Greeks, which is reasonable given my fascination with philosophy and the examined life. However, my absolute, hands-down favorite historical period is...

THE ANCIENT NEAR EAST! How can you not love that era? Seriously - this was the period was right after the dawn of civilization, but just before the events in the Bible. Really, it's humanity just after history began, and it's right as History is beginning to take over in terms of the mythology that indigenous peoples are crafting for themselves. In other words, this was the time of Gilgamesh: as you can see in the above photo, cuneiform is up and rolling; literature is just beginning to develop; and the hero archetype is becoming ingrained in a political/dynastic sense. Simply put, it's just a really cool period in human history. Definitely deserves closer study, especially if you want to recontextualize your understanding of the Old Testament. Oh, and because people go nuts over the ancient Egyptians, here is a mummy, I guess:

As much as I do love the ancient Near East, I also had to make a stop to visit my friends the ancient Greeks, such as my good friend Bacchus, god of ecstasy (not the drug):

As well as my philoso-bros, Socrates, Antisthenes the Cynic, Chrysippos the Stoic, and Epicurus the... Epicurean:

All of the galleries were pretty magnificent to be honest. There was an especially nice exhibit on Native American culture and one on the emerging Islamic world, though for some reason I decided not to take any pictures, possibly because I am a horrible aesthetician. The other possiblity was that I was very hungry for delicious British cuisine. So, I made my way to a nearby pub, the Shakespeare's Head, to see what was cooking (and brewing). Once I arrived, one item immediately jumped out at me: the eternal bugaboo of British food: snake and pygmy pudding:

Okay, steak and kidney pudding, but come on, the local rhyming slang is priceless for this sort of thing. To be honest, I was a little unsure about this decision ,even as the plate was set down in front me. However, fortified by a pint of (passable) Abbot Ale, I decided to dig in, and the only word that can really describe it is: savory. Way, incredibly savory. The pudding itself was encased in suet, and was very hot. Not going to lie, I can totally see where people would not immediately reach for this dish, but I decided to go one through it. Overall, it wasn't terrible, but it is unlikely I'll order it again. Still, I did it, and for that, I am proud (I think).

That's all for this entry. Stay tuned for next time, when the elitism might rise again!

Birkbeck, UCL, and Bentham

Today, I decided to indulge the (mildly elitist) academic side of my persona, so I paid visit to Birkbeck College, of the University of London, as well as functionally adjacent University College London. As both of these institutions are located in central London -- within the Bloomsbury district -- there was little to distinguish them aside from well-placed signboards indicating which buildings were constituent parts of each respective institution. For example, the School of Law for Birkbeck College was demarcated by a simple, embossed gold sign near the entrance along a row of similar buildings:

Whereas UCL was more a city block set aside for near-university-campus-like purposes:

Despite the lack of a campus proper (as subjectively defined by a former Ivy Leaguer whose alma mater was basically the center and lifeblood of its city) each university's character shone through Birkbeck has a history as an institution designed to meet the needs of non-traditional students, and as such, the staff with whom I interacted were fairly informal and easy to talk to. UCL, in contrast, prides itself as London's global university, and as such the staff seemed to me of a higher calibre. This distinction is not to imply that the Birkbeck staff were anything less than courteous, professional, or helpful in comparison to UCL; rather, the different foci of each institution was evident in how it managed its personnel and made its information accessible. For example, when I inquired about graduate work at Birkbeck's School of Law, the graduate admissions counselor got up and went into another room with me to discuss my particular goals and interests, in order to determine the proper track for me within the school. When I made similar inquiries of the graduate admissions officer at UCL, the conversation was more focused on the procedural requirements for admission. Either way, both institutions are highly regarded within their particular departmental specialties, and I'd feel fortunate to be enrolled in either.

A highlight of my visit to UCL was meeting Jeremy Bentham, the father of utilitarianism and the granddaddy of contemporary liberalism, especially as realized through his protege and pupil, John Stuart Mill. While Bentham himself supported the goals of the then-named University of London, to provide a university education to all qualified applicants regardless of affiliation with the Church of England, he did not play quite the instrumental role in its founding as believed. Nonetheless, Bentham bequeathed his corpse to the university, under the adamant belief that a philosopher ought to inspire in death as well as life. As such, his embalmed body is on prominent display in UCL's South Campus, adorned in his own clothes behind protective glass. As you can see, this did not keep us from become fast philoso-bros:

Unfortunately, during the embalming process, mistakes were made, and his head was improperly preserved. Bentham's head has since degraded, so instead, a wax impression now adorns the body, while the true head remains locked safely in UCL's coffers (partially due to the fact that some people were whiny babies and were "disturbed" at the sight of the head). However, for those of us with a stomach for history/reality, an image of Bentham's head was stil available for photos. See:

After taking in some of the sights of UCL, I decided to head toward the Jeremy Bentham, a pub located near UCL named for my gracious host. It even bore his semblance:

To be honest, though, I was hoping to sample some more delicious British cuisine, specifically bangers and mash, but alas: the kitchen had closed a scant 20 minutes before I arrived. (O Fortuna! O Morte!) Regardless, I strode up to the bar and ordered a Kronenbourg 1664, a Euro lager with which I was unfamiliar. Word of advice: just because something is European, does not mean it is necessarily or categorically good or bad. However, for Euro lagers, however, my vote would be bad. The 1664 tasted like a European entrepreneur had drunk an American macrobrew; realized how low the bar could be for a liquid to be called "beer"; and then made his own version, with just slightly microscopically better taste. In short, a poor decision.

My next choice was a Wells Bombadier, a more traditional English strong bitter. This beer was a much better option, everything one might want in a pale ale, though otherwise a bit unremarkable (though certainly an improvement over the 1664). With that quickly quaffed, I took the advice of my new best friend at the bar and ordered a seasonal, the Hardy and Hanson's Rocking Rudolph. In addition to its colorful tap, SEE:

The beer itself was a solid English ale. I should mention that this beer was the one that really hit home with a big difference between US and UK bars: the UK non-lagers on tap are served closer to room temperature, whereas all American tap beers are served at around the same low temperature. Part of the reason is that the most popular American macrobrews are pale lagers whose lower quality requires a colder serving temperature in order to mask the imperfections in/bad taste of the beer. Another, corollary reason is that Americans seem to prefer their beverages colder than folks on this side of the pond. Personally, I am split: I still prefer my beverages cold, but at the same time, I like to taste my beers. Talk about first-world problems, amirite? That's all for this entry. I'll be posting something hopefully less classist next time (though, if you know me, possibly not). Cheers, Reese

Introductory post

Hi, all - my name is Reese, and I am living in London, England, for the next four months. Under the urging of several people, I have decided to document my experiences through the magic of Blogger. The official reason for why I'm in the United Kingdom will crop up every now and then, but for the most part, the focus of this blog will be on the sights, smells, tastes, and experiences of a first-time ex-pat (or quasi-ex, if you prefer) who has already done the touristy things associated with the city -- Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, the Tower, etc. More specifically, I will give my impressions of English food, beer, lifestyle, and overall culture from the eyes of a kid from the US who has a taste for delicious food and beverages as well as a near-insatiable thirst for understanding historical and contemporary material conditions (also, beer).

In short, I will endeavor to try something new and British (near) every day, and share my thoughts and experiences with you, the reader. By "something British", I will take it to be something quintessentially identified with or only available in the British Isles. In other words, I will tend to avoid writing about things such as Cadbury chocolate or Newcastle, and strive toward things like toad in the hole or a regional brew. Additionally, one of my flatmates, a native Englishwoman, has volunteered to instruct me in the near-alchemic processes of cooking -- in other words, be afraid.

And now, with the statement of purpose out of the way, I should start sharing. While I've been here since late Saturday, I hadn't really eaten or drank anything that fits my previously established criteria of "something British". However, after today, I feel that my first post should be about my first English pub experience.

In Holborn, London, there sits a pub called The Swan, which belongs to a family of pubs owned by Taylor Walker (which has apparently been in business under various names since 1730). The company emphasizes and strives to provide the authentic British pub experience [that it cleverly and conveniently did not explicate or elaborate upon] and the pub itself was warmly decorated around an ornate, standing-only bar. It was hardly rustic, but was certainly welcoming. Upon entry, I saw that the process for ordering was to get a drink a bar first (nice touch) then decide what to eat and order at the bar.

At the risk of sounding unoriginal, I opted for the classic (or is it hackneyed?) fish and chips, which came a side of green peas. When ordering, I learned that the traditional English way of taking peas was not whole, but rather, smashed or "mushy", so I settled on that. Since I was in for the traditional dish, I felt I should go all in and select an English pale ale. So, the first beer I selected was a Tribute Cornish Pale Ale, which was precisely what I needed. As an unabashed pale ale fan, I relished its zesty freshness as I settled before a television program/me on Canterbury Cathedral hosted by the now former Archbishop of Canterbury (not to be too excessively British or anything). Admittedly, the solemnity of Williams' closed-captioned exposition was somewhat offset by the blaring lyrics of "Don't Phunk with my Heart."

I finished the Tribute as my food arrived, and ordered another bitter, the Sussex Best Bitter from Harvey. While I had no complaints about the Tribute, I appreciated the aftertaste of the Harvey, as it reminded me of the spice associated with Belgian white beers. As for the dish itself, the mushy peas were, well, mushy peas. All the pea taste with the same pea flavor, just with a texture quite like mashed potatoes. The fish itself was not bad, though I must confess as I grow older, I feel I'm growing more averse to the taste of deep-fried batter. Still, I was raised close enough to the American South that I'll always say batter is better. The chips were fairly standard pub chips, thick but not so much as American steak fries. The portion was perfect, enough to fill one up without completely stuffing him. (Though, given my bulk, arguments can differ on that point.) Overall, though, a highly enjoyable first venture into British gastronomy.

Following the meal, I decided to enjoy a non-Newcastle brown ale to round out the visit. I selected a Hackney Southern brown ale, which was enjoyable though fairly unremarkable. Perhaps it's due to my rather uncultured taste buds, but the quality of brown ales is harder for me to discern, though I will rarely say no to one. I spent the rest of my time at the pub sipping my beer and watching a British game show wherein graduates of prestigious universities are pitted against each other in a quiz bowl-like competition. What was most fascinating was the fact that the contestants were fairly high-profile individuals, such as the author of "The Boy with the Striped Pyjamas" and local politicians and newscasters. Rather like Celebrity Jeopardy except with questions commensurate with the education of the contestants rather than their (relative) "star" power. Gotta love the little differences.

That should about do it for my first post. Tune in soon for further food, drink, and observation. And please, send suggestions.