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