"I Don't Need Your Attitude. I Already Have One" (#6)

Or so the gift shop magnet read...at one of the gazillion or so shops in London, or maybe it was Warwick; I'm losing perspective. What I have not lost perspective of, however, is the way different groups of people behave--be it locals in a pub or hotel, or other tourists at a main attraction. And attitudes mean the world...so relax and enjoy yourself.

In general, the service staff in restaurants is extremely pleasant--regardless of whether a service charge is included in the bill or not. A very congenial man named Alan made our dining experience at Ebury's in London an absolute delight. He was popping over occasionally to ask "what else we wanted" (he was quite the salesman) and he had no problems teasing us after we ate dessert when he saw us spying another, saying, "Now you've had yours already," with a chuckle, "but you could have had that one!" He never rushed us; we sat and had several leisurely courses, with plenty of time to talk, eat and drink. I've noticed in general that all service staff here are polite about allowing you to enjoy the food and take your time rather than the typical American rushed service with a check dropped annoyingly before you've finished eating. Even though our wallets may be lighter after a meal that takes a few hours vs. a few minutes, we are ultimately happier and more satisfied with the experience. The word 'experience' being the key word here: McDonalds or Starbucks--fast, rushed and isolated--is not an experience; choosing a variety of food and wine to be shared and enjoyed with family or friends involves a social interaction which creates an experience. Alan even brought us some complimentary truffles to eat while we drank our coffee, which he said were only for special customers; he seemed to go out of his way to make our experience pleasant and comfortable, treating us more like friends than like business.

So...an A+ for restaurants and pubs we've experienced so far. Hotel staff is a bit different. Our hotel in London seemed like they wanted to please but didn't always follow through. While the concierge was extremely pleasant as he took us to the reception desk, the scowl from the woman behind the desk confirmed she wasn't really in the mood to serve. As she checked us in at reception, she was short with us about our reservations ("that room is already taken") and didn't seem interested to learn that we were meeting up with my parents who had already checked us in. It certainly did not feel like "the customer is always right" attitude that I have been used to at American hotels--there was very little patience and definite annoyance about our trying to clarify the situation. While she may have said, "Sorry about your wait," that didn't really communicate what we wanted to hear (since we hadn't really waited but rather just hadn't been listened to at all) when we finally got our room key. No sympathy or smile whatsoever. Extremely irritating--don't even get me started on how we didn't receive the message waiting for us at the reception desk describing where we were supposed to meet my parents upon checking in (until they requested it sent to them two and half hours after we arrived!). It thoroughly confused me on who was supposed to be right and who was wrong--was it really a chore for reception to listen or give us a message? Were we supposed to be more prepared than that in a foreign city? But...alas, we were in their hands, so we just had to be patient and deal--at least the lobby was nice to look at while you waited.

Tourists anywhere are usually plain annoying: taking up large amounts of space, stopping in front of your walking path to take a picture of something and, in general, just not getting how things work. I find myself trying to be a tourist and yet not seem too touristy. I try to take pictures quickly, sometimes even as I am moving, to not interrupt the daily flow of traffic in the city (usually some of my most fun are my spontaneous quick snaps--see left). I also try to follow the guides inconspicuously, asking a question of a guide if it seems convenient, but mostly trying to just experience things on my own and follow the rules, signs and plans laid out for tourists. I really was annoyed at Warwick Castle when these French girls kept going backwards on the Steep Stair Walking Tour, ignoring the numerous signs of "One Way" and "Do not enter!" They were not only breaking the general flow, but they were obstructing the ability of others to complete the tour effectively (these steps and passages were barely wide enough for a person; there was a definite reason for the one way)--they didn't seem to be embarrassed or bothered at all by their disregard for the rules. I have accepted the fact that many people will cluster together, smush by your side, and "cut" you in line to see what they want to see at main tourist sights--there is no easy fix for that; there are just too many people who are too anxious to see whatever church, tomb or castle relic might be there so you just have to be patient. I do find myself breaking free of the crowd whenever possible, though, and foregoing a prolonged "close encounter" so that I might just breathe and not have 5 strangers sweating upon me. I also would sacrifice my spot in line to let families stay together because I remember being young and touring sites and the truly intimidating feeling of being surrounded by strangers and not knowing just where mom or dad may be--and it is easy to get separated in the large jostling crowds.

My biggest insights are probably not that insightful...be patient, look around, and follow the crowd. Enjoy the time you have despite any negative experiences that arise. Appreciate the good service, good food and time you are given to just be. Go stop in The National Gallery on your random free hour and see some Van Gogh--we did and it was fantastic--or step outside to browse the sidewalk artists who sit all day and constantly create on a whim of inspiration--absolutely, Mary Poppins! Time seems of less consequence here--except if you are trying to catch a train...but there will always be another, so enjoy yourself and experience something. No rushing please :)

Bored Byron (Newstead Abbey Reflection)

Poor Byron. Living in the lap of luxury in a grand manner, surrounded by plush gardens and grounds. Actually, though, I can kind of see his point. Upon entering the grounds of Newstead Abbey, you can't help but be amazed by the splendor of the gothic architecture and extensive detailing in the gardens. However, for a person like Byron, who enjoyed the company of others to an extreme, it probably would get a little lonely on the isolated grounds. Or maybe it was just the scary gothic face that greeted him at his own front door every day. The formality and solemnity that you feel as you walk through the main house makes you feel as if you should tiptoe and whisper--somehow I don't see Byron being one to tiptoe through anything (just look at his clothes!). A prevailing feeling of darkness seems to almost suffocate you throughout most of the interior. Cold stone is only occasionally interrupted by warmer wood paneling--but the haunting gothic is everywhere, literally reaching out of the wall even to give you much needed light. The Abbey is a place that has been ripped apart by disputes of the Catholic church and Henry VIII and haunted by "the Black Monk"--a far cry from the Happiest Place on Earth!

The gardens in contrast offer a peaceful and more open, comfortable place to wander about with your thoughts--they do make you appreciate nature, so it is obvious why Byron may have become reflective here and wrote about his "Oak Tree" and also wanted his beloved dog, Boatswain, to remain in a tomb outdoors (see left) in one of the gardens versus anywhere in the Abbey. Even the gardens, though, are quite structured and more formal (English garden right) than the wild landscapes of Scotland that Byron so desires in his poems. Overall, the place would have been too repressive for Byron, who needed life and wildness to satiate his journeying mentality. Even the gift shop was a bit boring--little English trinkets from here and there (a variety of authors) but it could have been a lot more interesting by embracing the wild side of Byron and having more things with his funny quotes on them rather than just bookmarks of famous English authors and whatnot.

Newstead is much more formal and repressed than Sherwood Forest or the Yorkshire moors; clearly the authors were influenced by the settings around them. Although all seemed to desire the wild and free, Byron seems to be the most affected and the most unhappy by his living circumstances. He is the only one to truly leave and abandon entirely his true place of residence, seemingly without much remorse--he calls it only a "pile" upon returning to see its deterioration. The Brontes seem to accept more of a balance between life in the wild and life in their "civilized" homes; Emily has her "wild" characters return to a house at the end of Wuthering Heights, suggesting the two can mesh together successfully. Even in the tales of Robin Hood, Robin regularly ventures to town to have a little fun with the locals (including the Sheriff of Nottingham), but he doesn't seem to bear so dark an attitude as Byron, who seems to find Newstead a place of death and suffering, regarding his former place of residence. For a brief moment, I felt his torture behind a gated garden. Similarly, though, all the stories project an appreciation for the wild and freedom of nature--each author preferred the wild and felt more at home there than in an indoor structure; after my visit to Newstead, I must say that I was much more comfortable and at ease with my thoughts in the exterior landscapes of the gardens--my favorite of which was actually the more modern Japanese garden that I could actually interact with on stepping stones. I guess I, too, sing Freedom!

Photo Story: Sherwood and Nottingham

In exploring the various time periods and cultural mindsets of our literature in the course, it was fun to try to find visual representations today while we explored Sherwood and Nottingham. Here is what I found:

Picturesque: the beautiful and classic landscapes





In Sherwood, I was particularly drawn to compositions that contained paths and light (left and bottom right); in Nottingham, the brilliant flowers (top right).

















The Romantic: beautiful and melancholy

Decaying trees in the forest were surrounded by other life which I found sad, but comforting. I much preferred the weeds growing out of the stones lining the path to Nottingham Castle. They simply struck me as beautiful, bright and soft even though they are technically viewed as "unwanted" growth.










The Sublime: uplifting and spiritually awe-inspiring
















Again, I was drawn to the light in the woods and how it played upon the massive trees. One tree in particular struck me as a sentinel to the heavens--I couldn't comprehend the trickling pattern of light and shadow; all I could do was wonder at its beauty and power, and assume that the light was coming from the divine. He seemed to have arms reaching out, both guarding and separating the forest from the skies.




The Modern: contrasting images that call up new interpretations and relationships in the world

The empty beer can abandoned in the tranquil woods--I couldn't think of a better image that shows how man has destroyed nature: literally polluting the natural with our self-serving ways (no, it was not mine!).












Also, the view from the dark, safe and natural wood into the stark and obvious contrast of a modern housing development.
Lastly, a few trees had been carved and manipulated into new art--it shows the functionality of the landscape and potential for re-inventing old forms.

Robin's Hood (a.k.a. Sherwood Forest )

Just to say "I'm going to Sherwood Forest today" sounds a bit fanciful, like "I'm going to the moon today." It conjures up images of men running around in green tights, arrows flying past your head and carts selling the "wares" of the day bumbling and jingling over dirt paths. In reality, Sherwood is no more these things than the moon is made of cheese (but it is still nice to imagine the flavor).




The museum was quite bi-polar its focus, a bit of fun and a bit educational, which clearly was geared toward children. Maybe bi-polar is a bad way to think of it: maybe it's more like 'you can eat dessert, but need your veggies, too'. The first part has the interactive walking through the scenes and history of the tales--my only wish is that there was a canal of water and small boats that took you through, a la "It's a Small World" (that would fully Disney-fy the experience). I particularly enjoyed the digestive sounds you could hear after you made a Merry man eat a certain wooded plant ("Mmmm..."--very Homer Simpson, or, "blekkk, ugk, ugk"--heard if what you ate killed you)! After dessert, the museum fills you with veggies (very Robin Hood--fun first, then business): you walk through a scientific exploration of the Forest, learning about the different flora and fauna--not really my thing; I get why it's there, but I like dessert better. I guess it is important to science and some people like that, but who really is reading Robin Hood as a biology text book?

The gift shop, however, gets you back to the fanciful so that you aren't totally annoyed that someone made you eat vegetables. It is filled with costumes and stuffed animal versions of the characters as well as all kinds of "weapons" and trinkets to get your brain back to the idea that you are, indeed, on the moon and it is time to sample the cheese! Very satisfactory on the whole.

Sherwood Forest puts you right into the stories. You feel healthy and alive walking through the calm woods surrounded by trees that are several hundred years old. It helps you imagine that a story like this could have actually happened amongst these trees. I particularly enjoyed trees that had become hollowed out with age; I could imagine them as hiding places for Robin and his buddies when the evil Sheriff's men were riding about hunting them down. Sadly, I did not hear any hoofbeats while I leisurely crept about the paths, but I could feel nature protecting me all the same. Walking around solo gave me the true feeling of not only exploring and serenity, but I knew I was on my own and had to fend for myself if anything were to happen. Even though nothing did, it put me in the independent mindset of a man who has been exiled from town and now must figure out how to care for himself away from all that he knows.
On the whole, Sherwood was an enjoyable trip. For a lover of the stories, I recommend the dessert that lets you have the fun of being a part of the stories, and don't worry about veg--mom will forgive you just this once!

I'm a newbie here, please forgive me! (#4)

Everyday I spend here, I seem to learn something new--these are both pleasant and unpleasant experiences. For example, "service" is often included--it's nice for those who hate math and struggle to figure out how much to tip; however, it is a difficult habit to break when you are used to shelling out extra $ as a thank you. We learned the mistake of tipping one of our first nights here; it is such a foreign idea to think that someone would be offended by you giving them extra money for their service, but the stares you will receive upon dropping that extra pound on the counter strike immediate and confusing guilt in your heart. I had never considered that a tip could be viewed as a snob giving away charity---yikes! A pleasant surprise has been travel by train: I absolutely LOVE it! I was a bit nervous about how all the boarding and ticketing worked the first time, but I truly enjoy the ease of hopping up without crazy security staring you down (like in airports) and find myself much more relaxed and comfortable to watch the countryside whoosh by me as I eat, read or listen to my ipod--I have no problems falling asleep feeling totally safe and knowing that a pleasant announcement over the intercom will announce the next stop. Hostels, on the other hand, get mixed reviews in my book. If I am in a room with all people I know, I have decided they are just fine--no different than a sleepover of sorts. The concept of being a room mixed with any kind of stranger--be it man, woman, child or the occasional "uncertain"--quickens the pace of my heart and makes me sweat. In Edinburgh, for example, I literally felt feverish trying to fall asleep in a "mixed" room; I felt like I was in a horror film, afraid of everything that could be in my bedding, and everyone who might be after me in my own room or the hostel itself. I refused to take off my long-sleeved pullover for fear of what might touch my skin, even though I also felt I was dying of heat and thirst. I have decided that it is no wonder Americans don't really buy the whole hostel idea; we are much more self-indulgent with our hotel rooms for the individual, and I have realized that I'm ok with indulgence in this respect!

How do I deal with all of this new, you ask? Well, that's easy. You just deal. I felt bad about the tipping insult, but didn't want to offend more by continuing to apologize or discuss it. At home, I most certainly apologize profusely and try to explain myself if I feel I have made a mistake--I'm not sure why I didn't do the same here; I guess I just felt so out of my element I wasn't sure of the right course of action. At home, as far as travel, we just don't have as many exciting options. Usually, I stick to what I know--cars--because they are always available. We just don't branch out with our modes of transportation as much. I truly wish we had a similar train system, though! In general, at home I feel I ask more questions about new things that come into my life and I am not embarrassed to do so. Here, I feel awkward asking sometimes, as if someone will be annoyed with me not knowing in the first place. (I am pretty sure a street vendor in Edinburgh was thoroughly bothered, and said as much, when one in our group asked if there was a street market that day--we still don't know if it was just because it was Sunday or not.) So, I cling to the group a bit more here than I would normally; it just feels safer in numbers and, if we all make the same mistakes, I don't feel so bad.

Being surrounded by a totally new culture and customs, I find myself much more shy than normal, which totally surprises me. I rarely feel this way so it is somewhat uncomfortable at times. It makes me more aware of how visitors to America must feel at times, not knowing the unspoken rules we take for granted. On a smaller scale, it gives me a perspective on students who are new to my classroom or the school in general, and how scary or awkward it might be for some of them. This experience is making me really lean on my observational skills so that I might accept the new and surprising things that appear with more grace. Being open-minded and able to adapt is definitely a life-skill! My goal is definitely to avoid insulting any more locals and to learn more about cultural norms prior to engaging in them.

Eating, Entertainment and Washing....Daily? (#5)

Adapting....isn't it wonderful? In theory, yes. In reality, eh, not always. The whimsical days at home, eating at any hour I pleased and whatever I was in the mood for at the time are gone--here are the days of regimented eating hours and limited choices. Where are we--the army? No, we are simply eating dormstyle in Harlaxton with 3 squares a day, or about the towns of Haworth or Edinburgh where food isn't served past 9 (10, if you are lucky). Luckily, I am mostly ok with trying new "cottage pies" (definitely it is NOT a pie) and hot banana tacos---fantastic in name but, in actuality, not so hot (see pic right). Thankfully, peanut butter and toast is always on hand to swoop in when needed (only during dining hours, of course). I also find myself filling my water bottle and taking it everywhere because I do not know when I will see water again--sounds very dramatic but it is true that you just can't find it sometimes. My consideration of food must be quicker than at home when I might wander to the fridge three times and opening cupboards endlessly looking at what I know is already there; I have to make snap judgments which makes me feel a little like I am on the front lines, or under cannon fire, and a life might be lost if I choose wrongly. So much pressure, but what can you do? As Robin Hood says, "What is done is done; and the egg cracked cannot be cured" (Pyle).



Entertainment is actually quite refreshing here. Again, you must work just slightly harder than at home to achieve entertainment: no tvs in your room, laptops to carry around with you at all times, etc. It is not all that painful to walk the 3-4 flights of stairs and part way across a manor to gain access to your internet or an amazing home theater for viewing just about any film you desire. I find myself reading more for entertainment and interacting more with my peers, which is ultimately more satisfying than other enjoyments anyhow. Oh, and having a library within my own residence is quite fantastic--dream come true! So...essentially, Harlaxton and our "travel lodging" (sounds much more agreeable than "hostel") are improving my entertainment on the whole because I am much more engaged and active with my own thoughts and other human beings. Acting out America's Next Top Model at the Edinburgh Castle succeeds as Oh-so-interesting compared to just watching it on dvr'd television!



Washing....here comes the EH. Washing should not be all that different; we do have access to showers at every place we've stayed and, yes, I have all the toiletries I need. However, the flashbacks of dorm showers have returned! It actually does make a huge difference to carry around your shampoo, soap, etc. in a little plastic baggie, which inevitably has no place to sit once you actually make it inside the shower and have taken painstaking care to hang your robe and towel somewhere they will remain water-free. There is almost always a moment whilst my face is slathered in stringent facewash that a loud crash erupts from the little baggie sliding off whatever precarious faucet ledge I have decided is an acceptable shelf. This results in my jumping in horrific tension at the sound while I remind myself that I cannot open my eyes just yet until all soap has been rinsed off. And don't even get me started on the hostel showers--I am sure they are just dandy; however, we all mostly determined we would rather be "rugged travelers" (to put it nicely) than partake in a hostel shower. The fear of the unknown--largely guided by American horror films is everywhere.



Overall, the changes here have made me appreciate using all minutes of my day productively. I know that it makes the most sense to get up for breakfast and take with me items for class or leisure rather than trooping up and down the stairs over and over again. I plan my days out to fit everything in and save time rather than lie around waiting for the divine inspiration for my eating, showering and entertainment. I love food--so the adventurous part of having to choose new things to eat has been fun; the cravings for pizza, skyline or a Jersey Mikes sub at 2 or 9 pm has been a change. I can't decide if this new plan is making me eat healthier or not--on the one hand, I am working in the "veg" that I often seem to slight; on the other, they have dessert at every meal. The change in entertainment will perhaps inspire me to work harder at home to cut some more TV out because I forget sometimes about how much I appreciate other forms of entertainment. Lastly, I have realized that I take for granted and desperately appreciate feeling clean and having my own personal shower space already constructed for me. I have never pined for shampoo before this past weekend away.

Haworth, Yorkshire (a.k.a. Bronte Land)

Visiting Bronte Land, or Haworth (Ha-wuth), was like stepping through a time machine into the days of Charlotte and Emily. My favorite part of the museum was listening to Sue, our guide, discuss the history of the Brontes through photos. The stories are what make their world come to life; Sue's tales of Branwell Bronte's (the girls' brother) raucous behavior as well as Charlotte's dislike for her own personal appearance made the family more accessible on a personal level. In turn, these descriptions invigorate any previous reading of the texts as you can see the motivation behind some of the characters and how closely related they may have been to the writers themselves. Sue's talk of the Brontes and their daily habits made the family and their surrounding areas come alive.

The Bronte Museum itself is filled with primary source documents and historical items--everything is there that can come right out and pinch you as if to say, "It really did happen. They really existed and this is where Jane and Catherine and everyone else came from, too." Charlotte's indignant letter about the specifications of making of her wedding dress is Jane refusing wedding proposals until it is just right for her. Emily's massive dog Keeper's collar and her own detailed watercolor of the half-bull, half-mastiff reflects his importance in her life; her preference to him over most human companions (other than her own family) is much like Heathcliff's preference for the wild moor. Catherine says, "he's a fierce, pitiless, wolfish man....and I am his friend" (94) in her attempt to explain Heathcliff to Isabella Linton, much like Anne and Charlotte Bronte may have had to explain their sister Emily to friends who didn't understand her standoffish ways. Only Emily's family seemed to understand and accept her for who she was, much like it seemed only Catherine Earnshaw loved and understood Heathcliff.

Each artifact from the family is a reminder of what their lives were like--isolated, full of imagination, and yet, full of early deaths. Small tablets listing the poor health conditions of the town reinforce why the bleak graveyard outside the parsonage (the Bronte's home) is stacked with graves, according to Sue 42,000 bodies buried there, and why further burials were not allowed in the same space. Emily's "dark" world of Wuthering Heights doesn't seem so dark anymore--her reality was people dying left and right from unknown conditions. It is no wonder both Emily and Jane exclude the role of a biological mother from their novels almost entirely and include the deaths of other important females such as Helen Burns and Catherine Earnshaw Linton--this was their life, too; their own mother died at such a young age that the girls scarcely knew her and their two older sisters also passed by about the age of ten. One museum sign posts a critic's early review of WH: "There is an old saying that those who eat toasted cheese at night will dream of Lucifer. The author of Wuthering Heights has evidently eaten toasted cheese" (Bronte Museum, 2009). While Emily's story is dark and twisted, her experiences with life and death assuredly intertwined with any strange and personal mind dwellings of her own. Their surroundings forced the Brontes to create their own worlds full of new people and adventures, but they also infused realism into their romantic ideals because they were writing characters and settings based largely on what they saw around them--people who dreamed of better, healthier and happier days with freedom and choice rather than isolation and control. The museum also emphasizes the Bronte sisters' strength in their words and actions in sharp contrast to their brother who could not seem to show the same confidence in his artistic endeavors or willpower in his daily life--both Emily and Anne reflect this same experienced female confidence in their heroines.

The gift shop at the museum is filled with many, many versions of the Bronte sisters' books, books about the family themselves and also various maps of Yorkshire and the moors. Its emphasis seems to build on historical knowledge of the Brontes and the time period--it reflects just how real these stories were in description of the land and daily life. The only truly fanciful ideas were the roles of the women in the books which, while they may have reflected the Bronte sisters' ideals for women's future of independence and strength, were not a reality for the whole of women in their time. Newer, graphic novel versions of both Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights reflect the timelessness of the stories and ideas in them--going on personal journeys, fighting for what you believe in, showing strong will and character to succeed or else dying in relinquishing these traits. The many maps available call attention to the importance of the landscape---it is interesting that places the Bronte sisters would have relished in exploring independently, today we mostly prefer to feel guided and safe upon. I think Charlotte, and definitely Emily, would be annoyed at the maps--they would probably prefer we embrace the wild and venture out onto the moors on our own path.

On the moors, you truly do feel alone--free with your thoughts and able to make your own choices without anyone's judgment or leading. You can feel just as the sisters might have tromping through damp nature--with the exception of the ultra lightweight dresses they would have worn with a little cloth to cover their feet in the cold, brisk weather; these were some tough ladies in their day or any day! The views are spectacular and help create that feeling of nature in abundance and in sharp contrast to the isolated homes perched on steep hilltops. It is no wonder that young Cathy and Heathcliff would find it "one of their chief amusements to run away to the moors in the morning and remain their all day" (41) as it would provide a nice escape from the strict rules inside the house where they might be "banished from the sitting-room, for making a noise, or a light offense of the kind" (41). The weather is fickle: wind whips and rain falls softly only for a moment or two as you pick your way amongst sheep and their abundant dropping and then the sky will soften and sunlight dries you almost instantaneously. The moors truly reflect the good and the bad, the wild and the calm of nature and, always, the choice to embrace it or to reject it. As we reached the site of Top Withens (a.k.a. the plausible inspiration for Wuthering Heights), I was fatigued but in awe that a house would be so remote, so a-shambles and yet so chilling: it fits the novel to a tee. Nature has literally taken over, as young Catherine Linton and Hareton would have loved, and exposed the entire interior. Just before leaving, my leg was stung by a nettle growing out of the stones of the house itself--brief, but a palpable piercing--and I thought it was much like Heathcliff himself had reached out as a gentle but sharp reminder that this was his space and it was my time to move on.