Lectures, seminars, and the lack of practice rooms...
Day one of school, it's seven after eleven, and I'm back in my room after an investigation of the need for personal tutors (bawk?) and a fruitless search for both practice rooms and used books (ah, how I long for the days when I could just wander into Storer and hole up in an empty room until my voice started to work again...). The summer has been wonderful, the fresher's week great for getting used to some of the crazy linguistics, but I think I'm about ready to have a schedule again (don't quote me on this a week from now), if for no other reason than my brain is contemplating a permanent vacation in Ireland.
Anyway.
It seems around here things either happen in spurts or get extremely prolonged. Grocery shopping is prolonged. Totnes was a brief glimmer of moments. The Fresher's Squash was excruciatingly prolonged. Church at the Exeter cathedral was positively anachronistic. And dinner at Matz's house just kind of capped the whole thing with a positive and extremely filling glow. Ellen and I considered rolling down the hill back in town afterwards because we were so full-starting with little garlicky bread stick thingies while Ellen, Matz, two other Kenyon girls (Nora and Laura, I think?), and I attempted to keep up the conversation while furtively or not so furtively admiring the stunning view from their living room window, continuing on to salmon and cooked vegetables (please, sir, can I have some more?), and ending with a nutty pie dish and tea (sorry, still don't like tea, but I tried stirring it around and sipping), I think we were all considering staking out their floor and staying. But, small house, professors, paid accomodations, you know... And despite their nearness to the town central of Topsham (which, refreshingly, isn't a throbbing metropolis and was dead silent on this rainy Sunday evening), their small and extremely quaint, garden banded house looks out onto huge stretches of pasture spotted with trees that, they informed us, often had the insane tendency to sport picturesque cows when it was mostly clear (though last night mist had blurred the horizon and sunk what must have been vibrant emerald to a watery, secretive green). Storybook. Seriously.
Oh, and speaking of food, while I'm trying to conserve on food until I learn what keeps and what I'll never eat again, cream teas are always going to be an exception-the Pezzers and I finally managed to track some down in Totnes, a smallish town off a rather fishy and ducky river that climbs the slope of a hill to the remains of a Norman fortress and boasts markets, tea shops, museums, and some extremely funny and strange graffitti and shop names (including a bank sign with a black rearing horse immediately dubbed "The Prancing Pony" [come on, we were all huddled until a church awning in the rain, of course the first thing that comes to mind is Fellowship of the Ring], the Ticklemore Fish shop, and a small image of a rat carrying umbrella and bag [a very British rat, I must say] sprayed onto the lower corner of a building). So after poking around the market (Ellen bought a Ron Weasley hat that's absolutely wooly and wonderful), scaling the slippery steps to the castle where we could walk the perimeter of the wall and look down into the tightly packed houses, bare green hills, or, farther, the river Dart as it made its slow way through the town, investigate the ancient latrine (not much of it left, luckily), pose for attacks on Normans or Saxons (we couldn't figure out who was what, and determined after I gave Whitney several conflicting orders that I would make a miserable general), wandering about the backstreets in search of somewhere warm and tea-shoppy, we finally ended up in a tiny little building squished into the main street down where most of the other Kenyon and study abroad students had already congregated. Several orders later (you have to take your order down, they don't come up) and a long discussion of the various sounds animals make in different cultures (we'd met up with Whitney's German speaking flatmate and Dennis, from...um...I think Denmark but I'm not sure), the scones showed up and were promptly smothered with clotted cream and jam, duly photographed for posterity, and absolutely demolished (very politely, of course). Mmmmmm. Probably some of the best food I've ever eaten. Even if they don't really go with hot chocolate.
All right, that's enough food. Must be lunchtime. But the rest of the weekend wasn't quite so food-oriented, except for the Saturday grocery shopping, which also involved a trip to the Exeter cathedral. Beautiful building, though it's so strange to just walk out from around Tesco and suddenly be faced with a towering, dull stoned facade with weatherworn carvings and lacquered rose window. I got more used to it in Ireland when we were traveling because it seemed we ran into a cathedral every hundred feet, but to to have it fifteen minutes away and available for attendance is incredible. And having plowed my way through nearly seven hundred pages of Pillars of the Earth and dug up some dregs of architectural history from my civ 1/civ II memory, I was able in part to appreciate some of the architectural features within, particularly the arches and the ceiling (amazingly delicate, a spiderweb of very orderly stone fluting that met and branched the length of the cathedral). And the organ pipes were huge. Floor to ceiling and as big around as the trunk of the tree in the Lafrowda quad (which looks decently aged and very robust). I imagine that's what gave the sound such a rich quality when we came back on Sunday for the service-Prez, Sarah Benko, Kate Brooks and I all tramping down through the rain (seeing a pattern here) to sit in the chilly space and listen to a surprisingly to the point and interesting sermon as well as a wonderful choir. Bwah. Though it was still unexpectedly funny to hear accents inflecting very familiar lines from the Anglican service (and it was Anglican, though my mind still automatically goes cathedral=catholic). Some of the older parishioners came up to us afterward and asked after our studies and the States; very friendly, more so even than in the States, though very proper as well.
Cut to the Fresher's Squash, which doesn't deserve much detail after that lovely, quiet morning (topped off with apple-cinnamon cider and a bagel with Whitney)-true to its name, it turned out to be insanely crowded in all three of the buildings that it had spilled into, and loud enough that all I could do was smile and nod at whatever the people at the table were trying to tell me. I ended up signing up for the creative writing society (debating whether that was a good idea; the magazine wasn't stellar, but then again, I have yet to find a student magazine that is), and the choral society (think community choir--classical stuff and a director who's supposed to be both talented and funny...though I don't know if he'll do the Doc Locke dance...), also putting my name down but not paying for (they give you trials, evidently) folk dancing (a little light on the step dancing, which was my main interest) and Footlights, a musical theater guild that's putting on Guys and Dolls this year (I just want to get involved in some way shape or form with the theater here, though it does require an audition and there were a LOT of people on that list...meh!). Swansigh, you worked tech for that one, right? Looked into the Equestrian team as well, but...em...quite a bit more expensive than Kenyon and apparently very hard core. I don't know if I can do another break-into-my-own type trial, particularly with the time committment, and especially if the girls turned out to be as "I am an Equestrian" with a capital E as they seemed. Yeah. Me being judgmental, perhaps. I would have liked to join just for the possibility of "trekking," riding out onto the moors and such, but it seemed it was a perq rather than a draw. Bleah.
And now off to find lunch, pay the people for my internet, search out a used bookstore for the rest of my books, and FINALLY start class (Kenyon seminar, yay!)...
Current Randomness: Matz told us a little bit about what we were going to be seeing in London on the Oct 15-17 trip, something along the lines of a Bollywood version of 12th Night (um...? curious to see how they manage that) and a whacked out rendition of Sweeney Todd (which should NOT be discussed right before dinner). Thank you, Matz. Oh, and speaking of musicals, I just...uh... preorderedbyamonthandahalf...the soundtrack for The Phantom of the Opera movie, which will be shipped November 23rd and then hoarded unlistened to until the movie actually comes out. Yes, I'm obsessed. No, I don't need kleenexes yet. Yes, I will be sobbing through the entire movie, even if it's not all it's cracked up to be (though that's looking less and less likely the more I hear of it). No, I will not be spending all my time obsessing about Phantom...I have some new Wicked fans to take care of...muahahahahaha...
Anyway.
It seems around here things either happen in spurts or get extremely prolonged. Grocery shopping is prolonged. Totnes was a brief glimmer of moments. The Fresher's Squash was excruciatingly prolonged. Church at the Exeter cathedral was positively anachronistic. And dinner at Matz's house just kind of capped the whole thing with a positive and extremely filling glow. Ellen and I considered rolling down the hill back in town afterwards because we were so full-starting with little garlicky bread stick thingies while Ellen, Matz, two other Kenyon girls (Nora and Laura, I think?), and I attempted to keep up the conversation while furtively or not so furtively admiring the stunning view from their living room window, continuing on to salmon and cooked vegetables (please, sir, can I have some more?), and ending with a nutty pie dish and tea (sorry, still don't like tea, but I tried stirring it around and sipping), I think we were all considering staking out their floor and staying. But, small house, professors, paid accomodations, you know... And despite their nearness to the town central of Topsham (which, refreshingly, isn't a throbbing metropolis and was dead silent on this rainy Sunday evening), their small and extremely quaint, garden banded house looks out onto huge stretches of pasture spotted with trees that, they informed us, often had the insane tendency to sport picturesque cows when it was mostly clear (though last night mist had blurred the horizon and sunk what must have been vibrant emerald to a watery, secretive green). Storybook. Seriously.
Oh, and speaking of food, while I'm trying to conserve on food until I learn what keeps and what I'll never eat again, cream teas are always going to be an exception-the Pezzers and I finally managed to track some down in Totnes, a smallish town off a rather fishy and ducky river that climbs the slope of a hill to the remains of a Norman fortress and boasts markets, tea shops, museums, and some extremely funny and strange graffitti and shop names (including a bank sign with a black rearing horse immediately dubbed "The Prancing Pony" [come on, we were all huddled until a church awning in the rain, of course the first thing that comes to mind is Fellowship of the Ring], the Ticklemore Fish shop, and a small image of a rat carrying umbrella and bag [a very British rat, I must say] sprayed onto the lower corner of a building). So after poking around the market (Ellen bought a Ron Weasley hat that's absolutely wooly and wonderful), scaling the slippery steps to the castle where we could walk the perimeter of the wall and look down into the tightly packed houses, bare green hills, or, farther, the river Dart as it made its slow way through the town, investigate the ancient latrine (not much of it left, luckily), pose for attacks on Normans or Saxons (we couldn't figure out who was what, and determined after I gave Whitney several conflicting orders that I would make a miserable general), wandering about the backstreets in search of somewhere warm and tea-shoppy, we finally ended up in a tiny little building squished into the main street down where most of the other Kenyon and study abroad students had already congregated. Several orders later (you have to take your order down, they don't come up) and a long discussion of the various sounds animals make in different cultures (we'd met up with Whitney's German speaking flatmate and Dennis, from...um...I think Denmark but I'm not sure), the scones showed up and were promptly smothered with clotted cream and jam, duly photographed for posterity, and absolutely demolished (very politely, of course). Mmmmmm. Probably some of the best food I've ever eaten. Even if they don't really go with hot chocolate.
All right, that's enough food. Must be lunchtime. But the rest of the weekend wasn't quite so food-oriented, except for the Saturday grocery shopping, which also involved a trip to the Exeter cathedral. Beautiful building, though it's so strange to just walk out from around Tesco and suddenly be faced with a towering, dull stoned facade with weatherworn carvings and lacquered rose window. I got more used to it in Ireland when we were traveling because it seemed we ran into a cathedral every hundred feet, but to to have it fifteen minutes away and available for attendance is incredible. And having plowed my way through nearly seven hundred pages of Pillars of the Earth and dug up some dregs of architectural history from my civ 1/civ II memory, I was able in part to appreciate some of the architectural features within, particularly the arches and the ceiling (amazingly delicate, a spiderweb of very orderly stone fluting that met and branched the length of the cathedral). And the organ pipes were huge. Floor to ceiling and as big around as the trunk of the tree in the Lafrowda quad (which looks decently aged and very robust). I imagine that's what gave the sound such a rich quality when we came back on Sunday for the service-Prez, Sarah Benko, Kate Brooks and I all tramping down through the rain (seeing a pattern here) to sit in the chilly space and listen to a surprisingly to the point and interesting sermon as well as a wonderful choir. Bwah. Though it was still unexpectedly funny to hear accents inflecting very familiar lines from the Anglican service (and it was Anglican, though my mind still automatically goes cathedral=catholic). Some of the older parishioners came up to us afterward and asked after our studies and the States; very friendly, more so even than in the States, though very proper as well.
Cut to the Fresher's Squash, which doesn't deserve much detail after that lovely, quiet morning (topped off with apple-cinnamon cider and a bagel with Whitney)-true to its name, it turned out to be insanely crowded in all three of the buildings that it had spilled into, and loud enough that all I could do was smile and nod at whatever the people at the table were trying to tell me. I ended up signing up for the creative writing society (debating whether that was a good idea; the magazine wasn't stellar, but then again, I have yet to find a student magazine that is), and the choral society (think community choir--classical stuff and a director who's supposed to be both talented and funny...though I don't know if he'll do the Doc Locke dance...), also putting my name down but not paying for (they give you trials, evidently) folk dancing (a little light on the step dancing, which was my main interest) and Footlights, a musical theater guild that's putting on Guys and Dolls this year (I just want to get involved in some way shape or form with the theater here, though it does require an audition and there were a LOT of people on that list...meh!). Swansigh, you worked tech for that one, right? Looked into the Equestrian team as well, but...em...quite a bit more expensive than Kenyon and apparently very hard core. I don't know if I can do another break-into-my-own type trial, particularly with the time committment, and especially if the girls turned out to be as "I am an Equestrian" with a capital E as they seemed. Yeah. Me being judgmental, perhaps. I would have liked to join just for the possibility of "trekking," riding out onto the moors and such, but it seemed it was a perq rather than a draw. Bleah.
And now off to find lunch, pay the people for my internet, search out a used bookstore for the rest of my books, and FINALLY start class (Kenyon seminar, yay!)...
Current Randomness: Matz told us a little bit about what we were going to be seeing in London on the Oct 15-17 trip, something along the lines of a Bollywood version of 12th Night (um...? curious to see how they manage that) and a whacked out rendition of Sweeney Todd (which should NOT be discussed right before dinner). Thank you, Matz. Oh, and speaking of musicals, I just...uh... preorderedbyamonthandahalf...the soundtrack for The Phantom of the Opera movie, which will be shipped November 23rd and then hoarded unlistened to until the movie actually comes out. Yes, I'm obsessed. No, I don't need kleenexes yet. Yes, I will be sobbing through the entire movie, even if it's not all it's cracked up to be (though that's looking less and less likely the more I hear of it). No, I will not be spending all my time obsessing about Phantom...I have some new Wicked fans to take care of...muahahahahaha...