(b)london

Take the Castles; America's got my fairytale.

Yesterday, I went to see Canterbury Cathedral and Leeds Castle. Big whoop.

Here is the most cathartic experience I’ve had whilst in London.

That’s right. I love Sex and the City. I wish I were Carrie Bradshaw. I will not spoil the movie for anyone, but I am so happy for so many reasons right now.

Much like the Les Mis/Harry Potter post, sad + happy = magic.

First half: I bawled like a baby who just lost their glow worm.

Second half: I fell for every ridiculous line and bawled again when I saw the shoe collection of Carrie Bradshaw, ‘journalist’. What I have learned from this movie is the key to my livelihood (read shoes, Manhattan apartment, ultimate everything) = book deals.

What this means is, Sex and the City was not only cathartic, but educational. It made me want to be a writer MORE, because writers get to run around in Manolo Blahniks and fall in love with Big and get cosmos with the girls and then write about it on my MacBook Air.

This, unlike the old British buildings (where Henry fell in and out of love with Catherine of Aragon, who he later had beheaded), this gives me renewed faith in the future of consumerism (designer bags! Mercedes Benz), capitalism (rich men = amazing penthouses for life!), and the American way (dream big little girl and if the shoe fits, buy it!).

Sarah Jessica Parker is more patriotic than Lee Greenwood, and she made me feel so much less guilty about it to boot.

Also, she bought a poor girl from the Midwest a Louis Vuitton. This makes her generous with her wealth.

So Sex and the City was educational, cathartic, and moral.

Okay, I’m stopping now.

Things I have learned:

-I will probably regret this blog post.

-THINGS I CANNOT TELL YOU. BECAUSE IT WOULD SPOIL THE MOVIE. 

Answers I still seek:

-How many quizzes can I take to prove I’m a fictional character in the next hour?

-When will the bootlegs be online?! 

Sighhhh in the city,

Lindsey 

Great Expectations met

Who thought I’d learn to love American art whilst in England?

Okay, well, not exactly learn to, but, you know, remember that I did in the first place.

But, I did find out I really like George Bellows. And I only found out about him about 80-90 years after everyone else. He was a satirist (shocking).

Also today I found time to finish my book in a little deli near the British Museum. I probably sat in there reading for a good hour and a half.  On the walk back to the Underground, I was like, ‘I should take a picture of that place. Besides the extra money I paid to eat there, it was good to me.’ When trying to get the epic shot, I realized there was a plaque.

The place where I had just been trying to innocently read my book used to be where Charles Dickens hung out and his friend/ relative lived. AND I READ A BOOK THERE. 

Basically this means that I have somehow the forces of Dickens have been transferred through Dave Eggers into me. Only hopefully less wordy powers I am given.

Things I have learned:

-British people don’t know whether to walk on the left or the right. This is because they drive on the left, but it defies nature.

Answers I still seek:

-I’ve been here for a month?!

Live from the BBC,

Lindsey 

Update: Brothel Raid

I never thought I’d live to see the day that I invaded a brothel (I might not yet, I still have to make it to Monday).

I am going with a senior reporter and the creepiest photographer, Rorye, I have ever met, along with some of my closest police friends, to raid a brothel. Hopefully there will be drugs (and where there are drugs, there is Amy Winehouse… my dream!) so we can bring dogs as well. I miss dogs.

Also, I get to wear either a stab-proof or bullet-proof vest. (How will I choose?!)

What I’m most scared about is the potential ride to the police station with Rorye.

I feel like the two guys are much more excited for this assignment than I am. I just really want to meet Amy.

Things I have learned:

-Fudgesicles always taste good in the summer even if it is only 60 degrees (Farenheit).

Answers I still seek:

-Brothel raid?

Keeping my clothes on,

Lindsey

I survived Gloria Gaynor*-style

After meeting a Carribbean woman wearing a pink cowboy hat with sequins, dodging a certainly unfortunate ride on the back of a motorcycle, a drug dealer, and several ‘dodgy’ men, I stepped onto the Bakerloo platform at Willesden Junction. This means that I did not get fatally shot.

I actually didn’t get shot at all. And because I wore my bullet proof vest, I deflected any and all flesh wounds as well.

Soon, I will stop wearing this stab vest- I mean bullet proof- I mean both. And then I will have street cred. Like when I go on a drug raid or dog raid with the police in the coming weeks. This is like a journalistic ‘COPS’ experience. Also, there will be dogs, which I love.

Things I have learned:

-I am extremely optimistic: a drug bust turns into playing with cute puppies.

Answers I still seek:

-How did I convince my boss to let me leave three hours early tomorrow if I promised to review a Jackson Pollock-Edward Hopper exhibition?^

Goot nacht,

Lindsey 

*I mention Gloria Gaynor because of the discotheque connection.

^I actually know why this is. Much like I can’t explain why Britain still has a monarchy, they can’t explain the American Jackson Pollock or the American Hopper. So they pawned it off on me, the real McCoy, so I can either fall on my face or bring them a truly inspired American piece.#

#Heck if I care, I get to leave work early and go see art for free. Duped those silly English twats again! (If you are keeping score, that is Lindsey: 2, London: 184739. I’m catching up.) 

Out of the Office, into the World

Finally. Out of the office. One interview at a convenience store this morning and now in the scary ghetto at a cultural centre (or -er for non ex-pats). In fact, when giving me directions, someone said, ‘Oh, you know. Where that shooting was a couple weeks ago.’

Brilliant. First and last time out.

If I make it back, they are sending me on police raids and tomorrow to an American art show.

Things I have learned:

-They hate Keira Knightley here. They call her Ikea Knightley.

Answers I still seek:

-Breakfast at Tiffany’s: a chick flick? Discuss.

Goodbye forever,

Lindsey

From Van Gogh to Kylie Minogue

When I woke up this morning, it was raining. So I went back to bed. When I woke up again, it was still raining.

In London, going back to bed does not make the rain disappear.

So, I made the executive decision to get out of bed. And that’s what great Americans do- make great executive decisions.

A big group of us went to the National Gallery in trafalgar Square. It was here that I saw Rembrandts, Renoirs, Van Goghs, Monets, Manets, and Degas(es). I’ve never seen so many names that have affected art so much jumbled into the same rooms together. And we only went to about 10 rooms.

We also saw this amazing work of Alison Watt. Ms Watt paints white sheets. Now that may sound boring or even so New Age it makes you want to die a little inside, but it was actually really moving art. The colors of whites and greys that she used to play with to show how class fabric can be were really impressive. 

After I spent $11 on a sandwich and Coke for lunch, we mosied on over to the Victoria Albert Museum. This is where I saw too much to mention.

I really wanted to go because of an exhibit displaying a large collection of The Supremes dresses, which, let’s face it, for any girl interested in 60s fashion are a must.

Once I bought my ticket for the exhibition, I had about 15 minutes to kill, so I decided to stay close by. I walked to the room across the hall. It was full of Raphael cartoons. And no, I don’t mean the teenage mutant ninja turtle. It was really cool, so I started taking pictures, like in every other gallery.

Until…

A curator came up, tapped me on the shoulder and politely informed me this is the only gallery in the museum I can’t take pictures in because the Queen owns those paintings and he’s really sorry but it’s just one of her rules.

I committed high treason today. Please pray for me; I may be hanged. They crazy up in here.

I won’t go into how much I loved the fashion or Supreme sections, because basically the only people who I know read this are my dad, my uncle, Natalie and occasionally Piyush, all of whom I would bore with the gory details.

When I finally found Natalie, it was in a room full of secrets hanging from the ceiling of VAM patrons and also miniature sets constructed for plays in London.

Last but not least, we ran into a reconstruction of Kylie Minogue’s dressing room with a bunch of her clothes.

This day was awesome.

We followed it up with a night at The Eagle, sipping strawberry beer (which is gross) and chatting it up.

Things I have learned:

-Walk The Line is better than anything on British television.

Answers I still seek:

-Will I wake up early a third day in a row to actually be productive?

Keeping it artsy and classy,

Lindsey 

The Kentucky of England

Yesterday we went to visit one of Jane Austen’s houses. While I am not the biggest Jane Austen fan there ever was, and much prefer learning about her love life, or James McAvoy*, getting out of the city and getting to see the countryside was the best idea I’ve participated in for a long time.

Alton and Chawton Village, like south central KY, harken back to slower life with yards and flowers and yes, even trees. Because Katie was so afraid we were perpetually lost, we asked for directions. And just like back home, they would give them to you kindly and using silly landmarks that any native would know. Country mice are nicer than city mice. This seemed especially true after our last Londoner encounter was with the misery of a woman who worked the ticket booth. She literally said she was having to “use (her) brain” and that is why she was being so upset. Sorry lady. Us good ole Americans use that sense of ingenuity everyday. Take a look at Henry Ford, or, I hate to harp on it, but Forrest Gump, American hero.

And although I’ve never seen a thatch-roof house in the good ole bluegrass state, I have seen both of my great-grandparents’ houses in Marrowbone and Summershade. And these aren’t at all close to 1800s technology, but they are simpler than your average modern dwelling.

Alton nor Chawton had horses, but we did see sheep, which are like England’s horses.

Things I have learned:

-I do not have asthma, London air is just smoggy.

Answers I still seek:

-Will I get to pet a sheep in the next five weeks?

I love you all most ardently,

Lindsey 

*

You can thank me later.