the drying of your tears

It's been a Radiohead sort of days lately. In Rainbows mostly, but the occasional single has made its way into the mix every now and then. Thom Yorke should be studied in high school English classes.

One of my pet peeves is when people talk about how they never update their blogs.

I never update my blog.

It's been getting dark a lot earlier lately, and on top of the undesirable darkness it's been getting rainy and cold. On Tuesday I saw London fog for the first time. I'm pretty sure it covered the entire south side of England. We drove through it towards Cambridge for what felt like forever. But T.S. Eliot was wrong, it was grey and white, not yellow. Suck on that Prufrock.

I've been grading papers for my TA job. I hate it. I can really only do about 6 at a time before I have to start fighting the urge to light the pile on fire. If only I had a match. I've learned that I would probably hate being a teacher.

I heard some people talking on the tube tonight when the Bakerloo line went down due to a "person under the tracks." They said something like this:

"People keep dying on the Underground. I know this isn't funny, because they're real people with real pain and everything, but those people really DO muck things up for everyone around them. I mean, the LEAST they could do is jump into the Thames or something that doesn't cause so many hold ups. Their inconsiderate way of life is probably why people didn't like them when they were alive."

Some people really are horrible.

Super Smash Bros.

I saw Emma Watson and the Queen in the same week. They were both pretty hot.

Red lights

I haven't written much on my blog. I think I should probably describe what the BYU Study Abroad is like in London. I'll be listening to David Bowie while I write this to get the creative nectar oozing. Inspiration breeds inspiration, but sometimes the ground is infertile. We'll see how this goes.

Note: Upon editing this post, I decided to start it off with a David Bowie clip to ease the blow of the terrible clip art that is to come. I apologize beforehand. I mean honestly, who sits down and makes clip art. Enjoy the Bowie.

To begin with, my week, beginning Sunday and ending Saturday, usually goes as follows.

Sunday: Spend around 5 hours in the morning for church. I take the tube from Queensway to Liverpool Street where I get onto a train to Ilford. The church is a 7 minute walk from the train stop. The ward has a lot of cultural diversity. Few whites; mostly Africans and easterners, with a small group of Columbians. Rewind to get my journey back to the London Centre, where I usually eat something, go upstairs and talk to people online. Then I have dinner + dessert (only night we get dessert), fireside, and usually studying for Monday.

(It's a bit frightening how every picture that comes up when you type in Monday is of some kind of depression and destruction. Come on world. Mondays are fun. Get the eff over it.)

Monday: Sleep through breakfast (I'll just say, I ALWAYS sleep through breakfast) till class from 9-9:50. Then most of the girls sit through a Jane Austen class while Ben and I go upstairs and wait for the kitchen to open at 11 after Theresa finishes cleaning it. I have a quick bite then go back to class for Humanities. I'm the TA. And as good as the class is, sometimes I wish I didn't have to sit through them. Then I go on adventures in London. Which often includes eating the 2 pound meal at Tesco, which comes with a small sandwich, bag of crisps, and high fructose corn syrup mixed with chemicals named after colors. We don't have FHE because we don't believe in FHE.

They're right, by the way. Every little really does help.

Tuesday: This image might not look like Tuesday, but you'd be wrong. It's the Tuesday pancake race in London! To be completely truthful, I have no idea what the Tuesday pancake race in London actually is, but I guess it happened on a Tuesday in London. My Tuesdays are just class. Three classes that take up 4.5 hours with 5 minutes between each. I think next week I'm going to the pancake race though because I've had enough of Tuesday class.

Wednesday: "Wake up you sleepy head, put on some clothes shake off your bed." Yep, David Bowie knows what Wednesday mornings are like. Gotta get up really early go on our weekly pilgrimages through England.

I get it. Mecca isn't in England. Deal with it.

Thursday: Same classes as Monday. Which would mean that if I googled "Thursday" I should also expect google books to do a search for the Garfield collection. But to spare this blog post from more Garfield, I'll just direct you towards John. Thursday nights are also adventure nights. Good for London walks, pub haunting, or book stores. Charing Cross Road has the best book stores in the world. And a Chipotle.

Friday: My Christian rock band (thanks Kohl) goes on tour somewhere in London. And by that I mean our group visits a culturally relevant site in city. Like Keats' house or Kew Gardens or Saint Pauls'. I usually use the rest of the day to go to museums or get lost in different parts of the city. It's also a good day for good lunch, especially fish and chips, bangers and mash, and kebabs. Taza's has the best kebabs in the world.

Moving along...

Saturday: Saturday means either or both Belgian waffles with chocolate and creme or/and Borough market. I take the Central line from Queensway to St. Pauls, cross the Millennium Bridge (the one they blow up at the beginning of the Harry Potter 6 movie), walk along the Thames, passing the Globe till I get to the market. It's always crowded with hungry people. Borough market has the best meat sandwich things in the world. They grill meats that have been ground and marinated in sauces, often mixed with fruit or garlic or onions, and put it in a hefty cheesy roll with a salad type stuff, onions, green sauce, red sauce, and mayo. Words really are inadequate to describe how delicious those things are. So you can look at the stand instead.

Saint Pauls' Saturday with Sarah and Ben!

Most weeks are iterations of the previous with slight differences in where I go and what I do, but generally speaking, this is it.

And now, as the curtain falls, I close with this:

(If you're British, don't watch.)

Beep beep

I don't see the point in studying for religion classes. I thought that they might help me spiritually, but they usually just make me angry. So instead of thinking about the 8 hours I spent studying for a test that ended up being full of minutiae, I'm going to post some pictures (mostly because Jeff Laidlaw told me to and I have to obey.)

Ruins ruins ruins.

Something about this picture of Penny makes me really uncomfortable.

Jolly ol' St. Nick! Sort of.

Look up. Canterbury.

Leaves.

Here on these cliffs of Dover

I was a missionary for 2 years and a monk for 2 minutes. Good thing, too.

The crisp autumnal air

London means literature, and literature means everything. By this logic, literature also means Ireland, which, I have to admit, isn't London. But I think everyone should read this treasure of a tale by Frank O'Connor, if not for literary value, then for pleasure. You won't regret it, I promise.

http://www.ireland-information.com/firstconfession.htm

Also, in case you want to listen to a nice short story instead of read one, let this load and give it a listen.

Enjoy.

She has nice sleeves on her wings.

I went to the Lake District two weeks ago. I went for a hike, I saw a cave, and I saw some birds and some trees. And I read some books and walked around York.

All the other birds were jealous, so they left Patrick alone this day.

Sometimes ducks stand in the shallow end and take breaks from the deep middle.

Laura, you fish, you.

I've been writing poetry lately. Here's my latest. It's an Italian sonnet.

The Bait of Battered Love

This morning sunlight filled my cluttered flat--

I woke embittered by my sleep cut short

And hid myself back in my duvet fort

To breathe new life into my cushioned slat.

No, I have never loved in all these years

No mum, no dad, no Laura to adore--

No pearled shell that washed in on my shore.

Oh tragic fate, I wear the crown of Lear.

But what’s that headached pounding on my door?

I stir from sheets still warm with stifled sleep.

Upon my porch I find, to my chagrin,

Some fish and chips left waiting on the floor.

I’m hooked and reeled from dreary waters deep:

The bait of battered love with salt and skin.

We Own the Sky

Have you ever heard of the Goddess Conference? It's this convention that happens once a year in Glastonbury where a bunch of hippie women convene and worship Eywa.

Luckily this Wednesday when I went to Glastonbury, they weren't there. I did, however, see the supposed burial site of King Arthur and Gwinevere. Heroes get remembered, but legends never die. After that we hiked up to the Tor. The Tor is covered in sheep poop. Liz, Ben, and I played a game where one of would start a story and then we'd each add to it. The details are lost to history, making it a true Glastonburian tale.

Fall means M83, colorful leaves, rain, and a bunch of holidays that I'm not going to be celebrating. EXCEPT GUY FAWKES DAY which will hopefully make up for missing Halloween and Thanksgiving. But it probably won't.

I'm going to end this post before I start rambling more.

Kenneth Branagh has a weird mouth

I'm watching the Kenneth Branagh version of Henry V for the first time. His lips sort of disappear when he's angry or emotional. Weird.

I went to Kew Gardens today. Unfortunately it rained all day, so I got pretty wet. Luckily there were some really huge green houses that were heated so that the tropical flora could flourish. It was pretty neat, and made me want to have an herb garden.

The end for now.

London FUNdon.

After the 81 stair ascent to my flat on the top floor of the London Centre, I sit Indian style (politically incorrect) on my bed in basketball shorts listening to A Postcard to Nina by Jens Lekman with the aftertaste of fish and chips in my mouth from the corner pub, the Champion. London really is the greatest city in the world. If I had to choose anywhere to live outside of the US, London would be at the top of my list. It's better than France, Italy, Spain, San Salvador (...I just remembered pupusas and am reconsidering this statement), Germany, Canada, Mexico, and South America. Much offense if you disagree.

London is such a comfortable city. I don't feel tied down by societal expectations (yes, I'm talking about you, Provo). From anywhere in the city I can walk in any direction and within a few blocks find the best foods from all over the world. It's rainy. The people are quiet, composed. Literature. Music. Theater. Accents. Different cultures around every corner. Papal visits. The Thames. The Globe. No language barrier. Roman, Anglo-Saxon, Norman ruins neighboring local business buildings. David Bowie.

It's magical. It has everything and more. It's like finding a golden ticket. Or discovering 20 dollars in your coat on the first day of winter. Or snogging Emma Watson.

Tangent:

I FOUND OUT WHO THE MURDERER IS IN BROTHERS KARAMAZOV. It only took me five months.

Yours truly,

Andrew Wiggins

Up and over we go

This is a bit overdue, but here are a few of my favorite pictures from Barcelona.

Gorgeous coastal city streets in the center of the city. Vespas, new cars, palm trees, exotic fragrances roaming like smoke, tickle my nostrils.

Paella paella paella! Lemons make shellfish and crustaceans smile upon my tongue.

Magdalena con chocolate, a delightful pastry from a cafe across the street from hostel.

Children popping the most enormous bubbles this side of the Atlantic.

Water fountain explosion. Hide your kids, hide your wives.

Colors, lights, colorful lights. Water. And yes, the fountain was better than the Bellagio.

And while the seagulls are crying

This morning I woke up early early early, ate breakfast, packed a sack lunch and boarded a coach with the 40 other students in my program. We drove for about three hours to Dover, where we visited the secret underground tunnels at the Dover castle. They were used during the Napoleonic wars and then were refortified and significantly expanded during World War II. They go so deep underground, and they reenact the way the lights would flicker when the bombs would fall.

The castle is amazing. It's so old, so historic, and towers over the city, overlooking the English Channel. It's unlike seeing the ocean from any other place in the world. Instead of a strip of endless sand that meets the beach, it's a series of grassy hills that end in tall white cliffs, allowing you to see an unobstructed view of the ocean. The green grass contrasts beautifully with the light blue water and hazy gray clouds.

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=41377718&id=17812842&comments&alert&ref=notif&notif_t=photo_comment_tagged

While I was there I listened to The Decemberists song "We Both Go Down Together." It was so cool to listen to that it there. From my personal "reading" of the song, it seems a lot like a modern day response to Matthew Arnold's poem Dover Beach. Instead of holding to love as the only source of hope in a changing world, Colin Meloy's characters jump to their deaths because not even their love could be accepted. It was so cool to hear it and look out on the ocean, see the seagulls circling above me, feel the cool sea breeze on my face. One of the coolest experiences I've had here.

We went to the Canterbury Cathedral and it was one of the most mind blowing buildings I have ever seen in my life. It is so much taller than I could have imagined and the ribbed vaulting makes it look like it reaches up up up all the way to the heavens.

I'm out of time, but here's a link to a picture of me in front of some ruins at St. Augustine's Cathedral in Canterbury.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?pid=41377727&op=1&view=all&subj=17814602&id=17812842&ref=notif&notif_t=photo_tag

Oh, and to finish the night off I played cards with my entourage for four hours. Got third place.

Also, I am afraid that the London Centre is haunted. But I don't want to talk about it because it just makes me scare myself.

I'll post pictures for real soon. I've been taking a lot, the bandwidth is just terrible here so it's going to be more of a project than I originally hoped.

The music divides us into tribes

I'm in London.

I've only been here for four days, but I've been keeping busy. One of my pet peeves is when someone talks about a new experience as if they've been doing it their whole life, so I'm going to try to avoid that.

The food here is anything but bland. Everything I've eaten has been incredible. I even dream about cheese sometimes. Really. Last night I was with a group of people I've met here and they were all eating cheese and crackers and I asked "Where did you get cheese from!?!?" and then I woke up.

Food I've eaten:

-The best waffles I have ever had in my life (with chocolate and cream)

-The best German street bratwurst with grilled onions and sauerkraut and dijon mustard

-Fish and Chips from an amazing pub across the street called The Champion

-Gelato, hazelnut, pistachio, and white chocolate

-Food from the London Centre, better than I expected, not as good as waffles

Classes here are neat. They require out of classroom experiences and write ups, which is good because I'm getting credit for doing things I want to do anyway. So I love it.

Yesterday I went to Portobello road where they have an amazing outdoor market. They had so many foods I wanted to try. So many. And I will eat them all. Pad thai, paella, fried sea food, bratwurst (in quite a variety), fish and chips. Mostly anything good. I didn't buy any trinkets, but on the way back to the centre I wandered into a corner book store and bought a copy of The Brothers Karamazov for 2 pounds because I only have like 2oo pages left and I want to finish it.

This city is vibrant and alive. It's so multicultural and rich with history that there's no way it will ever get boring.

Excerpt from an email to Ms. Meyer:

I just went out for like an hour and saw some pretty crazy stuff go down. First I walked down to H&M because they had some pretty cool shirts that I was interested in trying on for fairly reasonable prices. So I went in, picked one out and tried it on, but unfortunately two problems struck me that prevented me from buying it. First of all, I wear garments, which create issues at times when I'm trying to dress "fashionably." The other issue is that those clothes looked like they were made for a European man; I, sadly, have the torso of an American man and the legs of a Tongan woman (is there a better stereotype for someone with short legs and a big butt?). So it didn't fit.

As I was walking back toward my hostel in search of a restaurant I would like to try, I saw this tall, muscular man walking the opposite direction up ahead of me, maybe some 20 feet or so. A small group of people around him stopped and backed away a several feet, forming a 10 person semicircle around him. This man had grabbed a shorter, but not scrawny, man by the throat and was pushing him back toward the wall of the building on the road. I wasn't sure who the bad guy was. This man had his hand clenched around the smaller guy's throat and was staring him straight in the eyes, yelling at him. Another man was standing over three teenage hoodlums who were sitting down nearby. After a minute I realized that the choker man was stopping the choked man from robbing this group of three women with several shopping bags, and I think the kids might have been in on it too. All I know is it created quite a scene, and it was intense.

El Mac GRANDE (con papas y una coca)

I've had a nice, relaxing Sunday and Monday. I've walked around the center of Barcelona to some of the main Gaudi sites, had some nice food (including a delicious Big Mac combo... AMAZING ((why?))) and found some nice spots to read for my upcoming classes. By now I've done a lot of the "must sees" in Barcelona, so it's been nice to just sort of "live" here for a day or two and do not so touristy things.

I had an amazing falafel kebab today with hummus and a bunch of different toppings--they even had fried cauliflower--with a refreshing lemon Fanta! It was delicious. Then I ate churros with the thick hot chocolate. Again, amazing. And now I'm about to embark with my two hostel buddies, Sophie and Gabriel, to purchase some groceries from the market to have a home (hostel?) cooked meal on on top of the terrace of our 7 story building.

Gaudi drove an Audi

I've had a fun past few days! I made friends with the people in my hostel, which has been nice because now I have people to do things with.

Yesterday I went to the beach with this Spanish kid in my hostel. We met up with two of his friends, a girl from Germany and a girl from Hungary. We went down and swam in the Mediterranean sea, and uh... I had to keep diverting my eyes because in Europe, beaches are usually clothes optional.

Optional.

I wore mine though. And I was glad I didn't take my camera with me to the beach because that would've been bad. Last night after that I met some new people in my room and we all went down the famous street "La Rambla" where they have markets and street performers and food and all sorts of stuff. Very lovely, crowded night life. We walked down to the pier and saw an small army of sail boats docked in the harbor. We got some relatively cheap (and not very good) Italian food and had a good time walking back to the hostel.

So I've been taking pictures, but I can't upload them yet because my hard drive needs a converter and I don't think I'm going to be able to get one until I'm in London. So hopefully you can wait until Wednesday or Thursday.

Today was Park Guell, which has an extraordinary view of the city and a stunning display of some of Gaudi's most beautiful textiles and mosaics. Tonight is a famous fountain. Bye!

Barc-alone-a

Smoking smells terrible. It seriously baffles me that so many people smoke here. This morning around 5:30 a big group of French kids came into my room after clubbing with one of my roommates, and they were all smoking. I was already awake and about to leave, so I went outside and read some Shakespeare. When I came back an hour and a half later, my bed was dusted with cigarette ash. They even managed to get it on my towel. WTF. How do you say "bastards" in French?

After reading I ate here at the hostel. They don't have too stellar of a breakfast buffet, but it filled my stomach for free which is good enough for me. So I ate two packages of these "toasts" with jam, three bowls of cereal (one was special K and two of chocolate rice crispies), an apple, two glasses of orange juice, and one glass of water. It was really the first thing I ate since my flight in, so I took advantage.

But OMG my lunch was fantastic. There's this chic little restaurant across the street from my hostel called "Tapas Tapas" where they sell, surprise!, tapas. I got these fries covered in garlic mayo, three slices of fresh toasted artisan bread with crushed tomatoes and olive oil, and some AMAZING paella, flavored rice with an assortment of the freshest sea food you can imagine. Shrimp, mussels, oysters, scallops. This restaurant has a glass facade that looks onto the most beautiful street, with high rising traditional Spanish architecture all along the road. The buildings are so stately, , and they almost all have either geometrically arranged windows or balconies along the smooth stone front. It's absolutely gorgeous.

I live one block below "La Manzana de la Discordia" which is a series of modernista buildings including Gaudi's "Casa Batllo." After lunch and a walk down to the park, I decided to see what's above the Manzana de la Discordia. After about five minutes of walking I unwittingly stumbled upon Gauid's "La Pedrera" AKA Casa Mila. It's a strange looking building with the wavy facade. Breathtaking. I sat on a park bench up the street and read more of "The Merry Wives of Windsor" by Shakespeare for about an hour, then I decided to continue to stroll up Passeig de Gracia, the street all of this has been on. I strolled until dark, when the shops started to pull down the cages and lock their doors. Then the street lights turned on and the city looked stunning. The white lights shining up on rows of endless buildings that reach toward the night sky. It's magical.

Eventually I turned around and got back near my hostel, but I decided to wait about half an hour before going in so that most of my roommates would probably be gone and I could have some nice privacy in my room. So I went to a cafe just a little ways up from my hostel and got churros (spelled "xurros") and chocolate ("xocolala"). Possibly the best dessert I have ever had. The churros were short, thin, and curvy, and covered in sugar, and the hot chocolate was seriously thicker than if you were to melt a Hershey's bar on the stove. I dipped every single bite of churro into the semi sweet chocolate. Un. Real. I paid and walked into my hostel, turned on my computer, and now I'm here, ready for sleep and reading.

I'm from Barcelona

Let us go now you and I.

So begins my odyssey. After hours and hours of waiting in airports for delayed flights, sitting in ridiculously uncomfortable seats next to a tall person who took up all my leg room, after walking around confused for over two hours trying to find a bus or metro that would take me to my hostel, I am finally here. Barcelona. This is a party city. My hostel is a party hostel. Big time. But right now it's nice and quiet because my 5 French roommates left to go clubbing. So it's just me. Getting ready to shower and then try to overcome all my jet lag.

On the plane over I watched Date Night. It was fun, though I'm not planning on ever seeing it again. After that I watched the Dark Knight for the first time. I watched part of it before with my roommates, but we started it around 11 pm and I fell asleep. But all I can say is that Christopher Nolan knows how to make good movies. Seriously.

I'm hungry, but I'm more tired than I am hungry.

Buenas noches!

a room full of boxes

i hate moving. i mean, i really, really hate it. i have to redecide on a case by case basis if i should keep something that meant a lot to me during an important time in my life, or if i should just toss it out. i hope that i'm practical enough to throw away anything that has only served the purpose of collecting dust and instilling a spark of nostalgia in me once a year, but i'm not sure i am.

por ejemplo, i have a bunch of mo-tab cds from my mission that i haven't listened to since i got home. they just sit there. in a box. cds. i hate cds. but... isn't throwing away hymns some kind of sin? there has to be some hidden "thou shalt not" in the bible that warns against that. and these questions of eternal consequence only come up when i pack. i don't even think this much about eternal things when i'm at church.

i just got great news from jeff, my roommate. he's moving to another house this coming fall, and i was planning on moving back into my current house when i get back from london. but he told me that one of his new roommates is getting married in december, which means that there will be an opening that i can snatch up. which will be the best thing ever because he's one of the coolest people who has ever lived in provo. yeeeeeh.

remember, wiggins, you have to write a story this weekend.

oh, and i can't wait to see her in 8 days.

Everyone should own a Westy. Mitch and Amy, I envy you, and thank you for the nice introduction.

Since it's raining today, I will post a rainy day song for everyone to enjoy.

Guten morgen, Martin Luther

I'm reading "In the Beginning" by Oxford scholar Alister McGrath for my upcoming literature class on the Bible.

I've realized that I admire Martin Luther, although I don't necessarily agree with his doctrinal points of view. Or when he uses foul language. Which he did sometimes.

The story at hand goes as follows. When Martin was a young pup, his ol' pappy wanted him to make something out of his life. He urged him to study law, not only to better the family's standing in society, but for obvious financial gain from his son's legal prowess.

While he was preparing for law school, Martin Luther was riding his horse when lightning struck, throwing him to the ground. He cried out to St. Anne, promising that if she helped him he would devote his life as a monk. Then he changed the face of religion forever.

I need some lightning!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

we thought we lost you

This Thursday night I saw one of the best shows of my life. The Dodos opened for the New Pornographers at Pioneer Park in Salt Lake as a part of the Twilight Concert Series that amazingly puts on free shows to for the public. The only thing better than seeing the Dodos and the New Pornographers is to see the Dodos and the New Pornographers for free. Both bands put on an amazing show, and luckily they let me bring in my camera so I was able to capture a bit of the magnificence from about 50 feet from the stage.

A.C. Newman. All hail.

Dan Bejar liked to play a song, disappear for the next 4 songs, then come back out and play.

Neko Case's red hair is as beautiful as her voice. Ginger's got talent.

The porta potty king. Don't mess.

Kathryn Calder singing my favorite song "Adventures in Solitude." One of the highlights of my night.

I believe in the New Pornographers.

16th Annual Llama Fest

Llamas need braces.

Peacock wants to fight.

Zubas cleverly remove the finger from the equation.

I know you're over this but I'm not finished with your kisses

The Twilight Concert Series started tonight with an amazing set by Avi Buffalo. They blew me away. I can't wait to see where they go in the coming years... ya know, once they all graduate from high school.

I'm about to finish The Life Of Pi. This book is fantastic. When I saw the cover of the book for the first time I thought it would be some happy adventure story along the lines of Calvin and Hobbes.

I was wrong. This seems a bit more accurate:

Chris said that this book made him really want to eat a turtle.

We differ in a lot of ways.

Fistfulls of Glitter

A Montana trip is in the works. Chris and I are exploring the west, and while we hit the road will be listening to the audiobook of Travels with Charlie. We're going to gain insight into the lives of real Americans, just like John Steinbeck. Except instead of a dog, we have a ukulele. More to come.

Auto da fe

I am completely convinced that it doesn't matter where you live or what you do as long as you keep yourself surrounded by good people who inspire and push you. One of my best friends for life, Chris(topher?), just moved out here to work with me this summer. We sterilize oil wells and spray weeds. And also melt faces with our music. At the same time, we haven't actually played a single song together all the way through since high school. Which was actually a while ago.

It's both awesome and confusing that he's here--the only reason I imagine him ending up in Provo is because it is exactly the opposite of what anyone would expect him to do--but I have to say, it's good to have an old friend around. It's sort of like coming back to a book you read a long time ago that rekindles your enthusiasm for reading. His being here adds a little quirkiness to hanging out with my friends up here: Jefe (the boss), Lauren (pronounced LAW-ren), and my roommates.

It would be nice if M. "Mali" M. decided to come back for the summer. She's Lichtenstein's WHAAM. Turner's sunset. Twain's twang.

Here's to good times with good friends.