London review 2016

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London Review 2016

London Review 2016

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... When a [wo]man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford."

Samuel Johnson

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London Review 2016

London Review 2016

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Meet London Review 2016 —Drawing by Maggie Keenan Tyler Akker is a sophomore studying Aerospace Engineering at the University of Kansas. He came to Lawrence from Bettendorf, Iowa. The trip to London was his second trip out of the country and his first time in Europe. Some of his favorite times in London were when he went exploring on his own and trying new foods.

Tyler got lost on several occasions but really enjoyed improvising plans with his new friends. It was on a failed plan that he got to eat dinner near Dennis Quaid. He plans to work at Tesla Motors in Freemont, California this summer.

Taylor Beaham is a junior from Kansas City majoring in Applied Behavioral Science. Her focus is in Early Autism Intervention and in addition to her major, she will graduate with both a minor in psychology and a fluency in American Sign Langauge.

Taylor will graduate in May, a year early, and has been accepted to the University of Kansas Medical Center to begin her Master's in Occupational Therapy. One day, she hopes to help children with disabilities reach their full potential. Taylor is Kansas born and bred and wants to eventually raise her family back in Kansas City, but until then, she has a passion for travel and wants to continue to relish in new experiences and adventure. Taylor’s favorite parts of London were the incredibly unique and vibrant markets, the amazing food, and the vocal talents of Adele. Basically, she loved it all!

Crystal Bradshaw is a junior studying English: Creative Writing at the University of Kansas. Raised in Jetmore, Kansas, she is a farm girl by heart.

Crystal is the author of Eliza: A Generational Journey, which narrates the story of her x5 great-grandmother.

Her future goals include establishing her own publishing company, promoting young writers’ works, and spreading the importance of reading and writing one’s story. Education has always been of great value in Crystal’s family. But to her, one’s education is worth nothing if it is not passed on to the next generation.

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London Review 2016

Megan Bricks is currently a sophomore majoring in Music Education with an emphasis in flute and minoring in Dance. She is originally from Des Plaines, Illinois, which is a suburb of Chicago, but somehow made her way to college eight hours away from her hometown.

Her favorite part about traveling to London was that she got the opportunity to visit and tour the grounds of Wimbledon, which has been her favorite tennis professional grand slam tournament since she was little. Megan also enjoyed London because she met two of her newest and closest friends. She aspires to graduate and get a job teaching high school band, but any music teacher position will suit her just fine straight out of college. During the summers Megan is a dance and arts camp counselor, where she is able to share her passion for dance with young aspiring students.

Rachel Dodson is a senior who is majoring in English. When she isn’t away exploring cities she’s perfecting the art of baking cakes and breads. She also spends time watching her favorite Kdramas and is always on the lookout for a new book to read. In London she appreciated the tube being her gateway to all the sights and enjoyed getting the chance to see a stunning performance of "Wicked".

Jake Doerr is a senior at the University of Kansas majoring in History and minoring in Public Policy. He considers his hometown to be Shenandoah, Iowa. Jake’s favorite parts of London were making some great new friends, experiencing British pubs, and getting to see actual Roman ruins. After graduating, Jake will be attending KU’s School of Public Affairs and Administration to work towards a Master’s in Public Administration. He hopes to someday work as a city planner and then return to a university to teach. In his free time, Jake enjoys cheering for the perpetually awful Cleveland Browns and the KU football team. When frowning at halftime (of either team’s games), he will think back to when he ate great food and saw amazing things in London, and smile.

Brett Doze is a junior from the small town of Syracuse, Kansas. After realizing he would never make it as a professional baseball player or model, he came to KU to major in History and Film and Media Studies. His favorite part of London was becoming a valued member of the “Oxford Frat Pack,” but he also loved the Harry Potter Studio Tour and eating amazing sushi. In his limited free time, Brett likes watching movies, listening to great country music, and rooting for his favorite sports teams, especially the Jayhawks. After graduating, he hopes to either teach high school history or be admitted to graduate school to conduct research in American history. He also hopes to be the proud owner of five fluffy woofers.

Jared Friesen is a junior majoring in English. Originally from the small town of Inman, Kansas, Jared is constantly in awe of large crowds of people. Majoring in Creative Writing, Jared was very excited to visit the city that had inspired so much great English literature. Some of Jared’s favorite parts of London were walking through seas of people in the markets, eating in the same booth as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, and ending the days at pubs while catching up with other members of the group. Some of his least favorite parts were forgetting to pack a jacket for the English winter, and the general mistreatment he experienced at the hands of the pigeons of London. Jared plans on travelling more after college, either for teaching English abroad or grad school.

Maggie Keenan is a sophomore at the University of Kansas majoring in English and Fine Arts. Maggie is from the Kansas City area where she grew up with three older brothers, a beloved dog, and very temperamental cat. Unable to decide on one favorite thing about London, she chose a close tie between the tea, fashion, art, and bookstores.

She’s in the process of researching a graduate school that will hopefully develop and challenge her painting ability. Her future plans? Maybe she’ll work in an art museum like the past two summers. Or perhaps she’ll be a librarian/starving artist. But if we’re speaking in terms of dreaming, then she shares the same dream as everyone else: being remembered. She wants to leave something so significant behind that they can’t help but hang it from museum walls.

“She never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn’t supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.” –Rainbow Rowell

Maddy Mikinski is a senior (scream) from Linwood, Kansas.

She was only majoring in journalism until she visited Mary’s office one time and came out a double journalism/English major. She loves going to Westminster Abbey because she likes to imagine how her own opulent coronation will go there someday. In addition to becoming Maddy, Queen of Scots, she hopes to become a published author and mother to many cats.

Kate Miller is a senior from Mission Viejo, California, studying journalism and theater. Although her parents took her to London and Scotland when she was two years old, this is the first trip to Europe that she can actually remember – and it was a highlight of her time at the University of Kansas. Her favorite part of London was the Tower, which she enthusiastically writes about in this book. In addition to traveling across the ocean during her last semester, she’s also the managing editor of the University Daily Kansan and a member of the University’s a capella group. After she graduates in May, she will intern as a features reporter at the Kansas City Star and see where life takes her from there.

Tessa Ng is a junior double majoring in Marketing and Supply Chain Management. She is an international student from a small island called Penang, Malaysia. Her favorite part of London is the number of languages spoken in the streets of the city and the experiences a music lover gets to encounter. She is excited to return to London in two months for a summer vacation. She hopes to pursue a career in Marketing in the States after graduation.

Jordan Nutter is a freshman at the University of Kansas pursuing a Bachelor of Science in Architectural Engineering along with a minor in Mathematics. At the University she currently researches in a structural engineering lab under Doctor Fadden, and is becoming interested in structural design. Because of this, she plans to continue her academic studies, after getting her BS in ARCE, to obtain a Master’s degree in Structural Engineering. After graduating, she hopes to work at an engineering firm on a team that focuses on structural design projects for large residential buildings. During her time in London she enjoyed site seeing, looking at buildings, tasting different foods, taking pictures, and making new friends.

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Grace Phillips is a junior at the University of Kansas majoring in Economics and minoring in Math.

She’s from Perry, Kansas, but pretends to be from Lawrence. After graduating from KU, Grace plans on getting her Ph.D. in Economics. Her research interests focus on early childhood and primary education as they impact social mobility and income inequality.

Her true dream, however, is to find a place of habitation with a yard, so she can once again own a dog. Hopefully, she will be reasonably close to some mountains, so she can go hiking on weekends with her dogs. She’d also like a few cats, but she isn’t sure what the right number is yet. Probably, just under the amount that makes you a crazy cat lady. Grace’s favorite part of London was the strong tea and sharp cheese she enjoyed between visits to eclectic bookstores and hiding from the group.

Amber Rayl is a graduating senior majoring in French and English. Before coming to KU, Amber lived in Portland, Oregon, where she spent her time hiking and cuddling her dog.

Her favorite part of the study abroad experience was the independence she felt and seeing the historic buildings, which she had previously only dreamed of being near. After graduation, Amber plans on living abroad in Europe, hopefully in England and hopes to successfully work in marketing and design for a larger corporation.

Bonnie Reinsch is a freshman majoring in Chemical Engineering with a pre-med focus. In her free time, she likes to read, cook, and pet all the animals. Her favorite part of London was wandering around and getting lost in different places. After graduation, Bonnie plans to go to medical school to get her MD and her PhD, and overall become a research oncologist.

Julia Reynolds is a senior at the University of Kansas, where she studies art history. Her emphasis is in nineteenth-century European art, with a focus on gender and visual representation. After graduating, she looks forward to continuing her studies as an MA student in Art History and Archaeology at Columbia University. During her time at KU, she has been selected as a Hall Center Scholar, served as the chair of Dean’s Student Advisory Council, and has both worked and performed research at the Spencer Museum of Art. While in London, she most enjoyed a good cup of tea, walking through the many Royal parks, and visiting bookshops in Bloomsbury.

The London Review was her second time in the United Kingdom, and she looks forward to returning often.

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Hanna Ritland learned a lot about life in Omaha, Nebraska before deciding she just had to be a Jayhawk. She is a Sophomore studying Strategic Communication with minors in Business and Dance. It is impossible for her to pinpoint a single favorite memory from across the pond, which she attributes to her new friends who made every day an adventure. Future plans? She wants to travel and work in a dynamic, fast-paced environment. On any given day you will find her taking photos, listening to music, and laughing at any joke, good or bad.

Emily Roberts is a senior double majoring in English Lit and Art History. She has just completed the coveted Trifecta and considers this to be one of her best accomplishments thus far in her twenty-two years. She is originally from Lawrence Kansas but wishes to someday live in the UK and attend grad school. And this of course, is all because of the inspiration that is Mary Klayder. Her favorite part about London is not only the diversity of people, cuisine, or culture but also the diversity of the neighborhoods and layout of the city. One day Emily would like to be working in a museum, or if possible, be working on children’s books that emphasize art.

Merrik Sanders is a sophomore English major from Cleveland, Missouri.

He enjoyed meeting up with friends and family, sitting in bookstores, and staying up all night hunting for Arabic food while in London. Though still wavering on what exactly to spend the rest of his life doing, Merrik expects to attend law school after graduation.

Merrik hopes to spend his golden years as “ol’ man Sanders”, the oddball English professor that ultimately retires onto a cattle farm to be alone with his books.

Katelyn Shirley is a junior double majoring in English and Art History.

The London Review was not only her first study abroad program, but also her first time travelling outside of the United States. She fell in love with every aspect of the city and hopes to maybe live there someday with her best friend Emily. Upon graduation, Katelyn plans to either attend grad school or begin a career as an animal sanctuary director.

Patrick Spanier is a sophomore at the University of Kansas double majoring in Accounting and Chinese Language and Literature. He is originally from the northwest suburbs of Chicago. His favorite part of London was experiencing everything the city had to offer with five of his new best friends, the Oxford Frat Pack, and of course, the pubs in London. After graduating he hopes to be named a Schwarzman scholar and then to attend the LSE to get his MSc in Accounting and Finance. Afterwards, he wants to work in big four accounting. In what little spare time he has, he plays bass guitar in an Indie rock band that is heavily inspired by British music.

Alexis Walker is a Global and International Studies major and Art History minor from Cheney, Kansas. Her focuses are Western Europe and Literature, Pop Culture, and Art. She is a sophomore and this is her third time visiting London, second with Mary.

Her favorite part about London is the amazing architecture and art that can be seen all around the city. She especially loves the area around St. Paul’s and the Millennium Bridge which offers an amazing juxtaposition between old and new architecture. Alexis already has an internship lined up in London for over the summer and hopes to go to graduate school at Oxford. After graduate school she hopes to get a job either promoting global women’s education or working as a curator for an art museum or gallery.

Mara Waltz is a sophomore at the University of Kansas majoring in English. Her hometown is Baldwin City, Kansas, but she currently lives in Lawrence, Kansas with her potentially homicidal cat, Buckle-up whom she utterly adores. Her favorite parts of London are visiting the tomb of Mary Queen of Scots at Westminster Abbey, spending hours on end curled up in a corner or on a couch in the multiple bookshops London has to offer, and simply walking around and experiencing the city firsthand. Her future plans are not set in stone, but she would like to attend graduate school in the United Kingdom and eventually return to America and become a professor of English. In addition to this, she would like to do some freelance writing on the side, mostly short stories and poetry. She plans to retire somewhere peaceful and open a small library that doubles as a home for cats where she can be free to write sad poetry and finally read all her books.

Alicia Whitson is a sophomore triple majoring in English, Political Science, and Women’s Studies. She can be found at almost any given time hiding under a blanket or muttering to herself about feminism. She loves coffee and tea equally but loves her cat Buddy the most. Alicia’s favorite part of London was buying way too many books and coming up with a best-selling novel series about weresharks with Maddy and Alexis. She plans to move to Canada and do more school after undergrad unless she lands a sweet publishing contract for the Shark Murders series.

Jack Ziegler is a freshman from Lawrence, Kansas. He studies Mechanical Engineering and Finance.

In his free time, he enjoys swimming competitively and learning to appreciate life. His favorite part of London was visiting the London Aquatic Center and swimming in the Olympic Pool. After graduating, Jack intends to explore his entrepreneurial aspirations for a few years before pursuing an MBA.

Mary Klayder is Associate Director of Undergraduate Studies in English and an Honors Faculty Fellow. She loves all parts of London and enjoys her regular return visits. London Review 2016 marks her 18th London Review and her 41st study abroad program as director. She plans to do more. Thanks to this wonderful group of students for making it such great fun to continue.

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Do What The Londoners Do

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When in London: Adventure Awaits! —Hanna Ritland Hakuna Matata!

What a wonderful phrase!

I had no intention of seeing a musical abroad, but when the opportunity arose to see The Lion King at the Lyceum Theatre, I wasn’t going to say no. Our tickets were at the back of the opulent theater, in reserved standing spaces behind the last row of seats in the balcony. When purchasing the spots, Jack, Brett, and I were hesitant. Standing to watch a 2.5 hour show in the far back of a theater?

It turned out to be ideal. The view was unobstructed, and as a short person, made the show that much

more enjoyable. I’d be interested in hearing what the people positioned in front of us had to say about their seats—it’s not everyday you have complete strangers practically standing over you in a dark theater.

The show itself was abstractly presented and our “seats” provided a panoramic view of the house and stage. Seeing The Lion King come to life on a stage in London, reimagined from a favorite childhood movie, was quite the experience.

But the night didn’t stop at final curtain call. Our trio headed to Sushi Samba, a popular sushi restaurant and club located on the 38th and 39th floors of the Heron Tower. What a night! My taste buds were shocked with several flavor combinations I would have been reluctant to try in the States. Eventually, throwing all caution to the wind, I ordered with10

London Review 2016

out looking at the ingredients. Albeit limited in my knowledge on sushi, I can confidently say this was the best meal I have had to date.

I am a firm believer of investing in experiences—and this was an experience of a lifetime. The atmosphere of Sushi Samba was dynamic, to say the least. Even the elevator ride was memorable…because the

only thing better than the food was the view, and the elevator provided a breathtaking view of the London skyline. Stepping off the lift, pulsing music and twinkly lights set the tone for the evening. Descending a spiral staircase, we were seated at a table situated on the outskirts of the room, allowing me to observe Brits in their natural habitat. The night flew

When in London Make the World a Better Place —Grace Phillips

by, and before I realized it, the three of us were in a quintessential black cab on our way back to the Grange Strathmore Hotel. We spent the fivemile cab ride singing along to our favorite songs and undoubtedly per-

petuating the American stereotype of being obnoxious.

Piling out of the cab, we crashed in the hotel lobby much to the dismay of the concierge. Eventually, the festivities ended around 3 a.m. with the three of us raving about the night. I can undeniably say that was the best night of my life—and all because I internalized the mantra, “When in London!"

When you exit the National Portrait Gallery onto Trafalgar Square, you step into an overwhelming array of street performers and crowds clamoring for a view. To the careless observer, it would be all too easy to dismiss the quiet man sitting hidden among the chaos. But the careful observer, who gives more than a cursory glance to this chaotic scene, will quickly notice the man has a truly touching and kind-hearted goal. Immediately in front of him is a collection of copper wire, tools, beads, a small box for donations, andclose to a hundred handmade rings. More importantly are the moving messages displayed on three different signs around him.

The first sign on his bead holder advertises “Handmade Ring Free, Everyone Will Be Happy” and the other two taped to the ground beside him announces “Handmade Rings Free, Very Nice Feeling to Made People Happy  Smile To Be Happy  Everyone Will Be Happy  Thank You ”. He sits quietly, making beautiful rings, handing them out for free, with a small box for donations, and trying to the make the world a happier, better place one ring at a time.

Do What The Londoners Do

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When in London: Spend your Saturday Morning Like a Londoner —Kate Miller On our last Saturday in London, I had one stop left to make – Kensington Palace and Kensington Gardens.

In no hurry, I sauntered out into the crisp morning air, armed with only my phone and my wallet, with no itinerary and no map beyond just getting there. Drizzle fell from the sky as I walked the empty sidewalks, as more sensible Londoners stayed curled on their couches drinking tea and reading sophisticated novels – or so I thought.

I reached Kensington Gardens and, much to my surprise, found myself in the middle of a bustling, yet relaxing, Saturday morning ritual. Despite the cold, countless Londoners – families and singles alike – had all wandered to the same place as me for a calming start to their weekend.

Dogs wandered through the gardens unleashed, dutifully following their owners simply out for a meander. Couples strolled hand in hand through elaborate gardens with gilded monuments rising above the tree line. A group of ambitious adults practiced their rollerblading skills on a gravel path right in front of Royal Albert Hall, and teams of young people added to the morning sounds as they matched up in games of rugby and football. I wandered alone through this, but somehow, I felt an integral part of the whole process.

Unaware of where Kensington Palace was located, I found I had unwittingly stumbled upon it as I continued to wander. I peeked up into the windows from behind a gate, but no Duchess of Wales waved back at me.

Magnolias, my favorite tree, lined the gardens, and children ran through a hibernating bush maze, calling out for their parents at the end.

I rounded the corner to find that Will and Kate played host to family gatherings every Saturday, practically on their front lawn. Small children and their parents had set up football

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fields right outside the palace, and giggles and cheers rose from the games as goals were scored and uncoordinated children tripped over their own feet. I smiled, thinking back on my own Saturday morning ritual of soccer with my family – played on a different continent but with the same amount of joy.

I finished my walk sitting next to a grand pond, where people gathered at one end to feed the waterfowl.

I had worried that I would feel uncomfortable wandering around that morning by myself, but as I gazed at the gray sky reflected in the calm waters, I felt a comforting sense of

belonging. I may have only spent eight days in London, but I had unconsciously followed a ritual many already had in place for their Saturday mornings. Followed by a hot chocolate and croissant for a snack, I had never felt so British in my life.

When in London: Appreciate Space —Jake Doerr The first thing to strike me on my return to the United States was the space between American buildings; the wide yards, the grid, the lack of “walkability.” I was concerned that I might view things as temporary, being a history major and suddenly deprived of the great amount of history in London. But what really got my attention was space; how does the American conception of space contribute to culture and what effect do the cramped quarters in London have on its people?

The Volume: I joked in London that Americans were “cowboys” (especially the Kansas variety) and had egos too large to inhabit homes which shared walls. The loudness of Americans in London was certainly unwelcome. Making an order at a UK McDonald’s or grabbing a drink at the local pub, I noticed that my default volume was a nine out of ten on the British scale. I cringed in the mornings as more and more Reviewers filled the breakfast space, bringing the volume of the dining area to a low roar.

The flip side of living in a society with less-entrenched social class differences (or at least views itself as open) is the presumptiveness.

Americans believe that they can assume class by their actions. They can speak louder and more authoritatively to imitate someone with greater control. With great space available, greater opportunities are available, and Americans feel that they must stake a claim. Entrenched systems of class and viewing class means that presumptiveness can only confer so many advantages in Britain. What you find is a culture that does not value assertiveness quite as much.

Making Do: A wide, green lawn and a new home represent the American ideal. Whenever a home is bought, an arms race begins. In order to build equity, appliances must be upgraded, counter-tops must be installed, and landscaping must be done; all provided that a perfect,

brand-new home wasn’t just purchased, in which case maybe just a few coats of beige paint are needed for the office and dining room.

I got a different sense in London about how the British value their space, and it happened sometime after I hit my head on a low doorway.

Space is at a premium, as Ben wryly put, “it’s an island, so we ran out of space some centuries ago.” Gone is Overland Park and its streets: 100th, 150th, ad infinitum, ad naseum. The value instead is placed on making places “homey.” Homes and shops aren’t necessarily a place where people put in practice their material ideal, but instead what makes them comfortable, which can include compromises. Although London is

certainly not insulated against the scourge of constant real estate development, cranes didn’t dot the sky and jackhammers didn’t assault the ears in the pricier areas of London.

London isn’t a paradise (it’s much too cloudy), not some anti-capitalist oasis that prizes its history of urban development, or some insular island which holds up politeness and moderation as its gifts to the world.

Instead, it is a place where space is at a premium, and has been for centuries. People , regardless of class, are used to living in close quarters and have adapted accordingly. It just so happens that this adaption has been mostly free of strip malls and drive-thrus.

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When in London: Do As You've Never Done Before —Katelyn Shirley The best part about traveling, for me anyways, is the opportunity it affords to try on new lives for size and work on figuring out who you are. I began taking big trips with my aunt and uncle when I was in middle school, but it has only been since I graduated from high school that I have been venturing out on my own.

I started with a road trip to Colorado when I was 17 and then I conquered connecting flights to New York City at 18. The Colorado trip left much to be desired, but I truly thought I found

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myself in NYC amongst the crowds and the noise and the quick pace of big city living. Up until this year nothing could compare. Everyone assumed I was headed to the Big Apple as soon as I walked off the field at graduation, bachelor’s degree – still hot off the press – in hand. My eightday London adventure changed that.

Sure, it is a different place than NYC, with different people, but the overall feeling of being there is what did “it” for me. I would say London changed me, too, but I think travelling itself

simply unearths aspects of ourselves that we have yet to discover from the humdrum of everyday life.

So, London, what can I say? It is a grand old city, comparable to those at home only in population and building size. The rest is history. Literally.

I could not walk down a street without stumbling upon some structure or artifact somehow preserved for hundreds of years in the hustle and bustle of downtown. This antiquity that is ever-present throughout is something I have only experienced in Plymouth, Massachusetts cemeteries and art museums. This pre1600s world is almost impossible to comprehend unless you are able to walk the streets and explore the buildings, as one would have hundreds of years ago. And doing this exploration, for the first time (especially alone) is unforgettable.

Sunday, our second day in London, I decided to slowly separate myself from the group I was with at the Camden Lock to see how I felt wandering by myself in the city. I started going off alone to visit different booths and food vendors, walking further and further away, but always returning to make sure I still knew where I was. Once I had done this routine enough times to feel silly I found the nearest tube station, messaged my roommate to say I was headed “probably to Westminster Abbey,” and prepared for my solo journey. Bladder emptied, oyster card in hand and camera on my hip, I stepped onto the subway with no real destination in mind. Several familiar stops came and went, but on an impulse I exited at Waterloo station, simply because I have a unique (and really unnecessary) fascination with Waterloo, Iowa because of novel (and now movie) Carol.

I followed the masses through the station, feeling more confident with each step that I had made the right decision – not just in venturing

The Art of An Inside Joke —Emily Roberts

When in London and when one is with a group of likeminded individuals, humor becomes the first connection.

Here is just a list of some starter inside jokes: 1. The antagonist goat of a recent underrated horror film out on my own, but also in choosing to spend the week in London. The people lead me along a sidewalk bordering an industrial area of town and eventually to a more open area teeming with tourists. They were swarming the London Eye. Of all places to end up I was pretty proud of myself for accidentally stumbling upon this attraction – my captivation with Waterloo prompting more excitement here than it ever could in Iowa.

By the time I was over this “accomplishment” I found myself being swept into a crowd that was making its way across a bridge, which (what do you know!) took me directly to Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. I snapped picture after picture, making sure to document the moment, but enjoy it as well. This side of the bridge existed a whole other world – my fourth “world” of the day. From Kensington to Camden to Waterloo and now Westminster I felt like a world traveler, completely alone,

but also part of something so much larger than I could ever imagine. I walked in circles, took the unbeaten path and made my own way through the area, throwing efficiency and really, time, out the window. I felt safe within London’s history and culture, safe amongst places and people I did not know.

This inclusivity that you sometimes feel in a new city is rare and should be taken advantage of. So that’s what I did. From that moment on I tried something new each day.

Whether it was eating squid, walking an unusual route, or trying out the famous cider – I feel like I did it all. And in my own way, too, which is the importance of such exploration.

I already knew I was gradually gaining my independence, London just made me realize I am fully capable of figuring out who I am by making my own decisions. Really. Nothing is off limits (in London or anywhere in the world) as long as it helps you find yourself.

2. The sounds that tube riders make 3. The hair styles of other tube riders 4. How to Fight in London 5. Love affairs… of anyone really 6. Nicknames like Blue Doug or Tina 7. Animals to chase after, to compare faces to, or to love 8. Going to the wrong cemetery but subsequently seeing a black cat which may or may not be a reincarnate of the above mentioned goat 9. Face swaps with art 10. And Randy Quaid

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When in London: A Dancer Sees the Royal Ballet —Megan Bricks

I started dancing at age three, and never did I think I would end up one day watching one of the most prestigious ballet companies perform right in front of my very own eyes. While planning for this trip, I was thinking of the stereotypical tourist attractions, but two weeks before we left it dawned on me that London has one of the most well-known ballet companies.

The next moment I was online trying to look up tickets, but unfortunately all of the tickets to see Giselle had been sold out. I was bound and determined to call or wait in line for a ticket anywhere in the Royal Opera House because five years ago I performed a number from this ballet with my dance studio. I didn’t care where the seat was; all I wanted to do was see them perform. It was a week before we left for London, and I was checking my phone in between my music history class and my music

theory class to learn that my mother had called the Box Office and found out that six tickets had been returned. My mother got online as fast as possible and bought me a ticket in the Orchestra Stalls to see the world famous Royal Ballet perform a ballet that I am quite fond of.

On Thursday morning, the day of the performance, I got up and made sure to eat a large breakfast

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because I knew I would be traveling all day. I was dressed in one of my favorite dresses and was extremely excited for this day. I took the tube from Gloucester Road to Covent Gardens, and once I looked up outside of the tube station, I was surrounded by a glorious market and soon found the Royal Opera House.

I couldn’t believe that I was actually there because I was just an American college student who is minoring in dance, yet I was standing outside of the Royal Opera House. I picked up my ticket, and my mouth dropped open by how gorgeous the ticket was on its own. I wandered around and found the gift shop until the ballet started. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to leave without buying something, which of course came true.

The moment had come for the doors to be open, and as I walked inside all I could see was gold and red everywhere. The ceiling was covered in gold, and all of the red chairs spreading across the entire room made me feel like I was royalty. I sat down and realized that I had the perfect seat in all of the Opera House.

This experience was almost life changing because growing up as a dancer all of your life, you always aspire to be a professional ballerina.

Ballet is my favorite style of dance, and I have always wished that I could be on stage performing, but I knew that wasn’t the plan for me. As I sat

there waiting for the performance to commence, I felt so thankful to have the opportunity to sit on the main floor and watch such talented dancers. The curtain began to rise, and the gloriousness began in all of its majesty.

The curtain fell for the last time, and I couldn’t form sentences to describe what I had just seen. My dance teachers back home dance professionally, but I had never been witness to such talented dancers in my life. I wished that I could relive the moment and watch it all over again.

I will never stop pushing myself as a dancer because I now knew how far a dancer could push themselves to obtain perfection.

Dance was where I first learned to communicate my inner thoughts and it has always been a gateway for me to understanding myself. That night I watched one of the most powerful performances of my life, and it truly changed me and who I am. There is a deep connection that a dancer forms with the creation of dance. Dance is a language that is understood most clearly by dancers. Audience members can watch and think that the ballet was just lovely, but they won’t ever be able to understand the true connection I had between all of the dancers on stage and the art form that I am lucky enough to call my passion.

When in London: Go Dogspotting —Jake Doerr Dogs. Hundreds of them or maybe thousands, moving in every which way. “It’s like a dog-show,” I blurted out excitedly. We first landed only five hours before in London on the trip of a lifetime. Five hours later we were waist-deep in dogs, real “woofers.”

Fancy ones. Ugly ones. A golden doodle with a snout resembling a goose bill. I nearly tripped over a slobbering bulldog while ordering wine. The London street scene was awash in them.

Brett, Jordan, Crystal, and My’s trip to Hampstead and Highgate Cemetery unintentionally revolved around dogs; giggling at dog memes on our group’s favorite Facebook page (which shall remain unnamed) while ordering coffee, being interrupted at the historic Spaniard Pub by whining dogs, and a spirited discussion over whether Scrappy-Doo’s addition to Scooby-Doo, Where are You? added to the show or if it was its “jumping the shark” moment.

Spotting dogs on the street was another way for our Americanness to shine through. While we oohed and awed as dogs passed, their visibly frightened owners tightened leashes. English dogs did not crave attention, but were firmly disciplined; we were not their first American tourists.

The sight of poorly-dressed American college students struck fear in the well-to-do of Hampstead.

There is really no way to justify the over-feeding of dogs. But when their photos are posted on Facebook walls, they can become something really special to bond over. Almost everyone has had a dog as a pet and nearly everyone on earth has seen one – but have they seen one that is particularly tubular, lethargic, and labeled as a “thicc salami” by a caring, but failing owner? No. Was sharing dog memes on a crowded tube in a global city where people walk their dogs a fantastic idea? Yes.

How to Properly Label a “Woofer” Adjectives: Majestic Big Thicc Angry Jumbo Heckin’ Round Wide Flying Chub Intellectual Happy Lazy

Nouns:

Potat Sausage Boi Loaf Cow Salami Bean Burrito Woof Wiener Bean Tater Croissant Puggopillar Loaf-woof Porker Couch Potato Corn-Doggo

Other Essentials: “Bork!” (substitute for “barking”) “Chicken nuggers.” (substitute for chicken nuggets)

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When in London: Find Your Favorite Market —Taylor Beaham

On the first week of London Review Mary asked us to share a fact about ourself that everyone traveling with us should know before going abroad. My sleep patterns are fairly regular, I am not afraid of flying, and I can get almost anywhere with the assistance of Google Maps, so what was the fact I felt the need to share?

Hi, my name is Taylor and I am what some people would call a shopaholic. I don’t feel the necessity to buy everything I see, but I love the feeling of wandering around a new place filled with items that I have probably never seen before. I can spend hours shopping in places even such as Target, so when I am put in spaces that hold foreign food, antiques, jewelry, artwork, and more, all bets are off.

I had to warn my travel mates that I would be going to as many markets as possible. I told them not to worry if they lost me because I would most likely be overwhelmed by the uniqueness and enormity of each place. I went to so many markets, and each were so special and amusing in their own way, so how am I supposed to answer the question that I keep getting from friends and family as I have returned home from London: “Which market was your favorite?”

Truth be told, I loved them all!

There was not a single day that I regretted wondering around a place for hours. However, it was Camden, one of the first market areas I went to, which truly captured my heart, soul,

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and stomach. A friend of mine studying abroad had been to the area the day before and she convinced me that it was a must see. I took the tube to Camden Town where a hipster atmosphere, which housed many tattoo parlors, thrift stores, and unusual street performers, immediately entranced me. The main street at the center of town is an experience within itself; there are many stores, stalls, and restaurants that begin to characterize the area. After walking down a ways, you can find the famous Camden Lock Bridge, which marks the best part of Camden, the Camden Lock Market.

Camden Lock Market is the original arts and crafts market; it houses hundreds of unique stalls that are filled with art work, furniture, jewelry, etc. The market attracts over 150,000 people each week and is open Monday through Sunday.

I entered into the market and began to meander my way through the numerous booths and packs of people. The colors were vibrant and the feeling of the area was energetic and cheerful. Not only did Camden have some incredibly artistic finds, but it also housed an enormous collection of fresh, multicultural street food. I swear that I spent hours just wondering around the food portion of the market trying to decide what type of food I wanted to dedicate my lunch time to. Everything looked and smelled so spectacular, but I finally

Other recommended markets in London‌ Brick Lane Market: a large flea market located in East End where you can find a collection of strange discoveries to buy and explore, along with an environment that makes for really great pictures.

Old Spitalfields Market: the original fashion and art market in East London is full of wonderfully unique arts and crafts that are often vintage or handmade. One of my personal favorites!

decided to go with Italian. The pasta was made right in front of me and the caprese salad that came on the side was as fresh as the ones I actually had in Italy. From crepes, to paella, to everything in between, Camden Market was a culinary adventure and an unforgettable experience.

Camden brought about some of my favorite food, my favorite drink, and best of all, my favorite purchase of the trip: a unique gold necklace made by a local artist that was made

out of a real acorn. Although Camden could possibly be marked as my favorite spot for markets in London, I urge all travelers not to forget to explore Borough Market, Old Spitalfields Market, and Portobello Road because these spectacular market scenes were also some of my favorite discoveries of the trip. To pick a favorite is really unfair, but I was truly delighted to spend my entire day in Camden, both eating and exploring like the trendy Londoners do.

Boroughs Market: one of the oldest and largest food markets in London, this place has a taste for everyone. Wonderful smells, fresh produce, and incredible food and drink stands fill the entire area.

Portobello Road: Running through the famous area of Notting Hill, this 2-mile long road is full of wonderful antiques, jewelry, clothing, and more. You can even spot a celebrity or two, if you are lucky!

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Parliament —Jack Ziegler The British Parliament is respected as the oldest parliament in the modern world. In fact, when someone says the world “parliament”, it’s generally assumed that he or she is referring to the British legislative body. Convening at the iconic Palace of Westminster, Parliament has existed more or less in its current state since 1265. Parliament is a bicameral legislature, meaning that is composed of two separate

what kind of surprises you would stumble upon. I would often set out with a particular destination in mind, only to accidentally stumble upon something else that turned out to be even better, such as a particular museum or a park. In this particular instance, I chanced to walk by the Horse Guards building during the changing of the Horse Guard. I found this event to be even more spectacular than the famed Changing

chambers: the House of Lords and the House of Commons. Members of the House of Lords are appointed while members of the House of Commons are democratically elected. When in London, I had the opportunity to visit both of these preeminent governing bodies.

I have always wanted to see Parliament. As one of the most famous as well as historic markers in London, Parliament was one of the top attractions for me in the city. After all, our own Congress draws much of its inspiration from Parliament. When it became Thursday and I had yet to visit the Palace of Westminster, I knew I had to take action. I got up early the next day and made my way toward the Palace. One of my favorite parts of traveling within London was that you never knew

of the Guard. The only part of the display that I found uncomfortable was the fact that the police officers overseeing the event were armed with assault rifles. This was quite surprising to me, and I found myself feeling disconcerted rather than comforted by their presence. After this unexpected detour, I continued making my way to Parliament. At this point I saw the iconic Big Ben, perhaps the most emblematic representation of the city of London.

When I finally arrived at the Palace of Westminster, I was taken aback at how empty it appeared. I expected to see swarms of camera-in-hand tourists, all clamoring to get a better look in the Palace. In fact, I saw very few people outside of the building, and almost none of them seemed interested in going inside.

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It was so barren that I had no idea where to go. Eventually, I found a security guard and approached him to ask for help. He pointed me in the correct direction, and I made my way over to the entrance to the Palace.

“Alright,” I told myself “this is where I’m going to find the long lines”. To my immense surprise, there was absolutely no line. I walked straight in to the Palace of Westminster without having to wait so much as a minute.

I did have to speak with security and tell them my intentions, but the process was painless. When I got inside, I finally got the level of security that I had been expecting. I went through the thorough security check, and finally I was ready to see Parliament.

As I walked through the Palace of Westminster, I couldn’t help but marvel at its beauty. The building is both immense and spectacular. I was then able to sit in on both the House of Commons and the House of Lords. To me, the House of Commons seemed more like an effective governing body while the House of Lords seemed more like a group of church officials and assorted elites getting together for a Sunday brunch. I was then surprised to learn that the House of Commons does, in fact, have considerably more power than the House of Lords.

Technically, the UK’s supreme power lies with its monarch, but the House of Commons is, in effect, the most supreme legislative power in the UK government due in large part to the curtailing of the power of the House of Lords. Unfortunately, David Cameron was not present during my visit to the House of Parliament; nevertheless it was a great experience and one of my most memorable in London. I look forward to going back when I’m more versed in British politics.

When in London: Look Both Ways —Jordan Nutter In case you have never been to London, let me point out one very, very, very important fact: they drive on the opposite side of the road. And the drivers have absolutely no fear of hitting you. I would know, I was almost hit more times than I would care to say or admit.

To help those of you who have never been to London before, I have prepared a list of crosswalk tips and tricks to keep you from looking like the confused tourist that I’m sure I appeared to be.

DON’T let being honked at dampen your day: The drivers there are horn friendly, and they will honk at you for pretty much any reason. If you even look like you’re considering to cross the street without the green walking man, then be prepared for a honk.

The crosswalks DON’T line up: The crosswalks in London are quite different from the ones in the States.

Long crosswalks will have you cross

to a median and then to the other side of the street. Honestly, I don’t know why they were made this way.

It is possible that this set up helps condense the walking traffic, since nearly everyone walks in the city.

Remember everyone walks in London, so DON’T bump into everyone: This one has more to do with people traffic rather than actual traffic, but I find it just as important. The streets of London are extremely busy in comparison to streets here, with the exception of large cities like New York City. People don’t like to be pushed and bumped around, so just be observant of those walking by you. And if you do happen to bump into someone, please, by all means, don’t say “excuse me.”

Don’t be that tourist! Either look both ways before you cross or wait for the green walking man.

DON'T get stuck in the tubes doors: London’s public transportation is called the Tube. The Tube is exactly like our subway system and they run throughout London. One of the best parts about taking the Tube is that they are typically very punctual until people hop on at the last minute or too many people decide to crowd on and block the doors. Don’t be that person holding up the Tube, just wait for the next one.

DON’T get hit, because it’s typically your fault: In London, if you cross a street without either the green walking man or a protected crossing path, and you are hit by a car, it is your fault.

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When in London: Use Technology Like the Londoners Do —Tyler Akker Watching basketball games In today’s society, a subscription to a cable provider comes with much more than terrible customer satisfaction and a satellite on your roof. Most providers will give you online access to major networks like TBS, ESPN, CBS, and much more. Now, these magical access keys work great in the U.S. but turn out to be a little tricky when you are travelling abroad.

The problem is that when you are in a country like England, and you visit a website, it adds a .uk to the

end. Even if you clear the .uk and try again it will simply reappear because the browser knows it is in the UK. Now you might be wondering why it’s such a bad thing that your browser

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thinks it is in the UK. You might even be a little excited by the thought your basketball game announcers will be British and use foreign expressions while still making more sense than Charles Barkley. Sadly, there is no escaping Chuck. The UK websites do not let you use your magic access keys to watch your games. To avoid such a problem, you have to download a browser add-on that allows you to change your location. The one we used was called “Hola!” and gave us the option to change to any country we wanted. With the browser set to U.S. we were able to watch anything on ESPN, TNT, and TBS which was great for the Big 12 Championship game and the first round of the tournament. Then came the second round game on CBS. Sadly, CBS cares way too much about their exclusive rights and managed to detect that the browser was trying to trick it and blocked us out. But we won so it wasn’t the end of the world.

Navigating the Tube An app I found very useful on my travels around London was the free Tube Map London Underground app.

The app doesn’t require wifi, which is a huge bonus for those without a data plan. It also has a very simple user interface that simply requires either your location or the Tube station you plan on using, and the station or landmark you wish to see. As an example, say I wanted to go from Gloucester Road (the station closet to our hotel) to Abbey Road. The app gives me the amount of travel time, what stations to get off at and what trains to take. It also offers alternate routes in the case of closures.

Navigating without Wifi Trying to avoid purchasing a data plan while abroad but worried about getting lost without the ability to get a route to your destination? Well then you are in luck because there is a simple way to navigate yourself without using any data. Just follow these simple steps.

1. The first step needs wifi so before you go out, look up your final destination on maps and put a pin on its location.

2. Take your best shot at getting to your destination.

3. Do one of the following when you get lost:

Option 2: Option 1:

•

Remember you put a pin on where you want to go.

•

Cry a little.

•

Open up maps and turn your location on.

•

Contemplate going to the airport and flying home right now

•

See that blue dot? That’s you.

•

You don’t even know where you are! Let alone the airport.

•

Start walking in a direction.

•

Is the dot getting closer to the pin?

•

Cry a lot.

•

No?

•

Have a stranger take pity on you and direct you.

•

Change directions silly.

•

Repeat until you are no longer lost.

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When in London: Eat Turkish Food and Buy Japanese Art —Grace Phillips My trip to London was not necessarily one of ‘firsts’. It is not the biggest, or the oldest city that I’ve traveled to-Istanbul predates it by centuries-and I can’t confidently say that I prefer English accents to Irish ones.

Personally, I am privileged enough to have traveled frequently, both domestically and internationally, to twenty states and five countries, indepen-

of the many restaurants and shops from all over the world. Even my short trip into a Sainsbury’s in search of a bathroom revealed a community teeming with racial and ethnic diversity.

Having studied Turkish for several years and frequently endured the question “Why Turkish?”, I was excited to learn London had a thriv-

markets by discussing the increasingly volatile happenings in Turkey.

The stall owner, a journalist by trade, lamented that running a stall selling traditional Turkish furnishings wasn’t the dream. However, like for many Turks, especially those journalistically inclined, it is safer for now to love the country from afar. His dream is to write and create. To add beautiful

dently and with family. These travels have been spread among both urban and rural areas and, as such, I am comfortable in a variety of settings.

London stands out the most to me not because of its bloody history, sprawling metropolis, or visible wealth, but because of its racial diversity.

When I traveled to Istanbul with my mother, I remember noticing that the sense of racial diversity was not as apparent as I expected, especially to my uninformed tourist eye.

In London, however, even a tourist would almost certainly take notice

ing Turkish population. I quickly put this knowledge to use by repeatedly gorging myself with decadent pieces of Turkish Delight, unavailable in the States. Having few chances to practice my language skills in Lawrence, I eagerly anticipated getting to put my two and a half years of studies to use. I used exactly three sentences while ordering a meal at a Turkish restaurant and a handful of other basic phrases at market stalls. Still an improvement on my opportunities in the States. I got to put my Turkish classes to use, yet again, in Camden

things to this world, and to someday create his beautiful writings, profitably in London.

I had expected to meet Turkish people in London, but I was unprepared for the large Japanese population and the significance of its cultural impact. Camden Market was filled with stalls selling Japanese art, anime, manga, and related merchandise. My second gift purchase in London, was ink prints of samurai by a local Japanese artist. The further I wandered into Camden the more anime and manga based stalls seemed

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to appear, all featuring the seemingly most popular anime in London, One Piece. Even a store hidden behind Portobello, selling only paper art and Hayao Miyazaki plushies, decorated its walls with hand draw One Piece fan art. In SoHo, I stumbled across a Japanese bookstore that is hidden behind a window plastered random

advertisements. Run by an elderly Japanese man, who does all of his accounting via calculator and paper, it felt like a wormhole to Japan with nothing in English and a sign converting the yen to the pound on the wall.

My cultural experience in London went far beyond just watching the

English. I was finally able to utilize the knowledge I’d gained in my Turkish classes. I also got to observe how Japan’s culture has impacted London. While London is one of the least exotic places I’ve visited, is also my first truly multicultural encounter.

Criminal Minds —Alicia Whitson The Museum of London was displaying an exhibit of items from Scotland Yard’s Crime Museum that had never been shown to the public. This display included the inventions of brilliant criminal minds such as: • • •

masks made out of their girlfriend’s stockings binoculars with spikes in the eyepieces a set of wooden legs with shoes to create footprints of a different size than the criminal's feet to throw the police off the trail

Unfortunately, the girlfriend of the first criminal reported her stockings stolen which is how the police caught him and his friends. The man with the ingenious footprint plan was caught because his footprints were left next to the false ones. One can only hope that whoever made the spike binoculars was more successful in their endeavors – but let’s be honest, they probably weren’t.

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Musical Marathon —Tessa Ng When I was planning the trip, I was sure of one thing: I was going to watch as many musicals as I could in London. For four consecutive days, I made sure I made it to the theatres no later than 10am to stand in line for the discounted tickets of the day.

My time was well spent as I watched four musicals for only £84.50.

The first musical I attended was Disney’s Lion King. As a huge Disney fan, this was a must see, as I

grew up watching Disney movies and singing along to all of the songs.

I could barely sit still as I sat in row E and waited for the show to begin. When they opened the musical with the famous “Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba” line (which means “Here comes a lion, Father”), I felt so nostalgic. My mouth couldn’t shut as I stared at the beautiful and unique costumes created to mimic the animals. It was amazing to see how

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the script was nearly identical to the movie. The funniest scene was Rafiki singing “Let It Go” (an obvious parody) to entertain Scar. I loved how they kept the musical updated by slipping in little details such as these.

Another fun twist in this musical was the looney state of the baboon—he mumbled a bunch of crazy words and laughed most of the time. However, my favorite element of the musical was the representation of the animals and its surroundings. The people behind the set and costumes are definitely musical and theatrical geniuses.

The second musical (which happened to be my favorite) was Wicked: The Untold Story of the Witches of Oz. I’ve wanted to watch Wicked live ever since I heard “Defying Gravity”. I was elated when I managed to grab a front row ticket for £29.50. Sitting in the front row, I was able to admire the details of the makeup and costumes. Being so close to the cast was also a huge bonus as well. As the first act was closing with Defying Gravity, I was singing (silently) along with Elphaba and Galinda. I nearly cried when Elphaba emerged as the Wicked Witch of the West toward the end of the song. The combined power of Elphaba’s and Galinda’s voices, along with the magic of “Defying Gravity”, sent thrills down my spine.

Besides that, I loved how the story incorporated the characters of the Wizard of Oz and how they became who they were (the lion, scarecrow, and tin man). As the musical drew near it’s end, Elphaba and Galinda (now Glinda) brought tears to my eyes once again with “For Good”.

Wicked is a story unlike any other; it teaches people that there are two sides to a story and to look beyond one’s exterior.

For my third musical, I was debating between Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Mamma Mia!. I grew up both reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and listening to the songs of ABBA, thus making it a difficult decision. Ultimately, I had to go with Mamma Mia!. I think I might have been one of the youngest people in the audience, as ABBA was not exactly famous amongst people of my age. Even though Mamma Mia! was a good musical, I was not

the storyline. I was a little nervous about the quality of the performance since half of the cast was made up of children. Man, was I wrong! The children, especially Emily-May Stephenson (Matilda), were spectacular. They sang every note on key and never missed a step in the choreography. The details and technology of the set was in its own league. The sets were made up of pieces (imagine a puzzle) that could be raised up to make a classroom or a bathroom.

I regret not watching musicals on my first two days I was on London, but rest assured, I will return to London to make up for it!

impressed by the set. The tickets were more expensive than Lion King (same price, drastically different seats), thus I expected more. What made this experience memorable was the audience. Throughout the musical, I could hear people singing along to every song. At the finale,

some even stood up to dance and sing along.

On the last day in London, I decided to watch Matilda (they released 16 ÂŁ5 tickets for people under 25).

Again, I grew up reading Matilda (detecting a Roald Dahl pattern here?), thus making me very familiar with

Awards for the Musical: Best Set: Matilda Best Costume: Lion King Best Choreography: Wicked Best Song: Defying Gravity, Wicked Best Actor: Craige Els, Miss Trunchbull, Matilda Best Actress: Emma Hatton, Elphaba, Wicked Best Audience: Mamma Mia!

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When in London: Take a Break from the Patriarchy —Grace Phillips In the center of Lamb’s Conduit Street, a short and pleasant walk from the British Museum, is an unassuming gray-fronted bookstore, quietly advertising “The Persephone Bookshop is Open”. Persephone is a beautiful, feminist bookstore that reprints neglected novels by midtwentieth century female writers. All books reprinted by Persephone have the same subtle grey color cover, intended to match the storefront.

The inside cover of every book features a unique and delightful pattern and is sold with a matching bookmark. The store is filled to the brim with shelves and haphazard stacks of these modest, elegant books. In the space between books and on top of shelves, the owners have decorated the store charmingly with pastel flowers, bright pottery, and a few miscellaneous posters of mid-twentieth century women. Persephone is sure to please lovers of Virginia Woolf, readers who grew up with Frances Hodgson Burnett’s Secret Garden and A Little Princess, and any other bibliophile who desires a truly memorable souvenir from London.

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The Quest to find Keith's... I mean... Marx's Grave —Crystal Bradshaw

It started out as a pretty nice day in England. I loosened my scarf a little and thought about unbuttoning a few of my heavy coat’s buttons. A sudden wave of chilly English spring air quickly changes my mind. To be honest, I had no idea know what we were doing. I was just walking with the group, taking pictures, breathing in the fresh air, happy to be in England.

It really was a beautiful English morning with gorgeous country scenery.

Eventually Jake, Patrick, Jordan, Brett, and I made our way to the Spaniard Inn, and I nearly gasped at how adorable it was. Inside, the inn was made of old, hard, charred wood. The chandeliers hanging over our heads gave off a medieval aura and I couldn’t help but think that the inn would make a perfect scene for a Lord of the Rings movie.

After a short stop, we then set off to find what I thought was Keith’s

grave. After a detour, we ended up in an open meadow with a breathtaking view. I’ll never forget it. I had literally felt a leap in my heart as I gazed all around us.

There were no cars.

No noise.

No people pushing, shoving, or yelling.

It was just peace.

Quiet, beautiful peace.

And I couldn’t help but think this was what I came to England for.

Peace.

At sunset, we were still searching for what I still presumed to be Keith’s grave. My feet ached and I could already feel the swelling that would hit later on that night. But my sense of adventure still soared as I turned my eyes to our next adventure. We eventually made our way into several wealthy neighborhoods.

Still we walked on until finally, we reached a cemetery, and began searching inside. I simply followed,

taking pictures and looking for the name “Keith” on the cemetery map we had been given. Suddenly, we stopped and I looked up in surprise.

We were standing in front of a grave with a large sculpted figurine of Karl Marx. We took some pictures and left. I was disappointed that we hadn’t found Keith’s grave but grateful for the adventure. A piece of my heart still soars with the clouds over the lush meadow to this day.

A day after I posted pictures of the journey on Facebook, Grace turned to me and asked, “Who’s Keith?”

“I thought he was guy who’s grave we were looking for.” I said, looking over at Jake. He shook his head and said that we had been trying to find Marx’s grave the whole time. I shrugged and laughed.

“Well, my one job was to take pictures. And that’s what I did.”

Moral of the story?

When in England, capture your adventures.

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The Quest to Find Marx's Grave —Jordan Nutter

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Do What The Londoners Do

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The London Aquatic Center —Jack Ziegler

When visiting any new city, I like to explore it as much as possible, and this was especially true with London. At the beginning of the trip, I made it a goal to see as much of the city as possible within my one week timeframe. I like to think that I accomplished this feat. From the first day I was there I explored the vast city, often simply meandering down unknown streets until I found a new landmark. Sometimes I ended up in undesirable locations, but these were the experiences which made my travels that much more exciting.

Even so, the overwhelming majority of my experiencing were positive and exciting. Nearly all I did was made possible by Google Maps. It is this humble app that allowed me to visit my top destination in the city: The London Aquatic Center.

Google Maps was the key to my successes in traveling alone throughout London and finding the Aquatic Center. With it as my loyal companion, I could navigate the complex city as if I were a local (as long as I had cell service). I could get from Gloucester Road to Stratford with ease, so long as my phone was charged, functioning, and accessible to data. In fact, this is what I did on

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our very first day in London. An avid swimmer, I made it a priority to see the London Aquatic Center. This is none other than the natatorium that held the 2012 Olympics, a pool which has hosted greats such as Michael Phelps, Cesar Cielo, and Nathan Adrian to name but a few.

I started out our first day of the trip with an English breakfast then grabbed my swim bag and set off to find the Aquatic Center. At this point I still had difficulties locating Tube stations, so it took me a while to even get on the subway. Luckily, after I found the Gloucester Road Station, I was in for relatively smooth sailing.

Nevertheless, the Olympic Park was quite far away from our hotel, so it took me about an hour to get there.

When I arrived at the Park, I knew it had been worth it. I found the Aquatic Center and walked up to the main entrance, and at this point my opportunism took over. I saw a large group of people who seemed to be on a tour walking into the Aquatic Center. As a faithful adherent to the “act like you know what you’re doing” principle, I pretended to be a part of the tour and walked straight into the natatorium without a second look. I had made it. It was a little surreal at

first just to be there, but then instinct took over and I performed the familiar routine of making my way to the locker room and changing into my swimming gear. I was ready to swim in the Olympic pool. I walked out onto the pool deck, imagining what had transpired here in the Summer of 2012. I imagined what it must have been like to be an athlete, walk onto this very deck, and compete head to head against the other greatest athletes in the world. I had watched the Olympic races live, as well as over and over again on YouTube, but nothing had prepared me for being in the actual venue. What made it even more surreal was the fact that I was one of two people swimming there.

Finally, I dove into the water. I was able to swim and practice in one of the nicest and most famous pools in the world. At one point, I was the only swimmer in the pool. After swimming for a while, I got out of the water and began to prepare for my next excursion. My journey to the London Aquatic Center and the experience of getting into the natatorium was nothing short of extraordinary. It was an experience that was born out of my love for exploring cities and is one that I will remember for all of my life.

When in London: Hate the Pigeons —Jared Friesen There’s something terribly wrong with the natural order of London, and it centers on the pigeons. While most human Londoners are welcoming, polite, and good-natured, the winged citizens of the England’s capital seem downright disdainful of the fact that this annoying sea of humanity has the audacity to live in their city. They are a constant presence wherever there are large masses of humanity, presiding over the goings on in silent judgment from the gutters above. They congregate in conspiratorial huddles next to cafés and stores. The London pigeons even regard native Londoners with a passing resentment. However, the vast majority of these aviars disgust seems to manifest itself through their treatment of the foreign visitors of the country.

Firstly, pigeons have become so accustomed to living in a city that many of them will walk places. They outright reject the greatest gift of their species simply because the pigeons of London have collectively decided that they simply don’t need to anymore. Wings folded sternly behind them, they waddle about the streets amidst the ankles of supposedly superior beings. The attitude with which they bustle about gives the distinct impression that whatever business they are on is infinitely more important than yours. It turns out that business is to make people appear foolish whenever possible. Numerous times I had to stop short in order make way for a pigeon that seemed in no way inclined to acknowledge my existence, and whenever they would deign to actually fly a few dozen feet, their favorite altitude was around head height. Many of my favorite moments at Covent Garden, Big Ben, and the Tower of London were marred, as I had to jerk my face out of the path of the latest pigeon that had decided to buzz me.

Apparently deciding that their ability to fly made them the highest of high class citizens of London, pigeons have overrun the great city. What’s worse, they even managed convinced both the native and tourist populations of humans that their harrying flocks are “iconic” and “endearing.” It is my opinion, however, that a country that prides itself on its manner should be appalled that their avian citizens should be so rude. In the opinion of this harried traveller, “When in London, hate the pigeons; they’ve got it coming.”

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An Artist Alone in a Museum —Maggie Keenan There is a cautionary feeling approaching an art museum, when you begin to consider all that it may hold. Consider, for a moment, if you scraped off every inch of oil paint that occupies the interior walls of the Tate. The paint would quickly add up, and would probably resemble globs of hardening fudge. That is all that’s inside the walls of the museum, isn’t it? Just a bunch of paint that’s been layered on a canvas?

I escaped the brisk air and grabbed a paper map on my openmouth journey towards a maze of doorways. With a mother who’s an artist, I’ve been to many art museums in my life. But like a kid in a candy store, there’s nothing better than walking into a museum for the first time. The Tate Britain was relatively empty, besides the hourly-guided tours and occasional group of snickering teenage girls. It was still pretty early in the morning. With a scuffed sketchbook held protectively in my grasp, I began my greeting of each canvas. The secret to being a true admirer of art is giving each work its own deserved appreciation.

Despite my confident walk through each hallway, I could not tell you 3/4ths of the artists whose work appears in the Tate. I can, however, tell you my favorites: JMW Turner, John Singer Sargent, Dante Rossetti, Francis Bacon, and William Blake (to name a few). One thing that art history professors always remember to emphasize is the fraudulence of the art on each slide of their PowerPoints. “This,” they say while pointing to the large projection, “This is not art.” The first time I heard this, I was pretty stumped. Later, they explained how a photo of artwork does nothing to represent the piece itself, that it takes traveling to see the art in person to really understand it. An example of this is in size. “57x93 inches” it said, as I leaned forward in my auditorium seat and squinted to read the fine print. I couldn’t understand the vastness of the painting 34

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John Singer Sargent's "Madame X"

until I walked into JMW Turner’s own gallery room. A heavy wooden frame added to its expansiveness and I froze at the forceful composition.

But where was the crowd? Where were the tourists and massive groups accidentally taking photos with the flash on? There were indi-

viduals in the room, but none were looking at the masterpiece: “Snow Storm: Hannibal and his Army Crossing the Alps.” There was no divider, no rope or sheet of glass to separate me from the painting. So I gratefully stood less than a foot away from the landscape, hands clasped behind my back, and allowed my eyes to search for cracks and thick paint. The museum was beginning to fill up as I headed towards a gallery crowded with frames and oil paint.

When I sat down to sketch the image in front of me, I witnessed not one, but two tour groups pass by the painting without the guide even mentioning the artist’s name. John Singer Sargent’s subject, Madame X, is elegantly posed, staring off into the distant as if begging you to photograph her. There’s a reason Sargent painted Madame X twice, he obviously found her worth documenting.

So why didn’t anyone else?

Before I bore you to death with more names of dead painters, let me inform you of one more thing. Having witnessed it myself, there’s a distinct difference between a visitor and local inside an art museum. For artists, “home” is at The Met, Nelson, Uffizi, Art Institute of Chicago, etc. Here are a few steps to look like you know what you’re doing, even if you don’t: 1. Look at an art piece for longer than five seconds. No need for a staring competition with each painting. Just find one that captivates you and acknowledge its beauty. 2.

Read the fine print on the card next to it; some poor soul stayed up late to research the context it contains. 3.

If you’re feeling really adventurous, bring a notepad or sketchbook of some kind. Don’t worry, no one will ask to see your drawing. Attempt to sketch the mass of a torso, not just a line down the middle. Challenge yourself to draw more than the ‘stick’ of a ‘stick figure.’ 4. When you’ve doodled enough, rest your fist under your chin, head at a slight tilt, and you already look like a pro.

When in London: Dress Like the Londoners —Jordan Nutter

Black, White, Grey, and Something Else London fashion is pretty well known for sticking to just three colors: black, grey, and white. Though their outfits might follow, what some may call, a drab color scheme they often spice it up with pops of color, like a bright red or a cobalt blue. This helps to keep their outfits fresh, but still within their main color choices.

Rocking a Trench Coat A wardrobe must for every Londoner is a trench coat. Women are seen sporting trench coats over their outfits everywhere. What’s the reason for this? Probably because it’s cold there, or at least it was when we went. Trench coats are also a popular fashion statement that most Londoners love.

Londoners Actually Walk Most Places, so Comfortable Shoes are a Must While heals may be cute, everyone knows they are a pain to walk in. The vast majority of people in London take the tubes or walk to where they want to go, so tennis shoes, loafers, and boots are a more common site than heals. Plus, they’re more comfortable.

Look in the Mirror and Take Off an Accessory...

When it comes to jewelry Londoners are rather minimalistic, a small pendant or a few bangles are perfectly fine, but large and chunky jewelry are typically a no go. Hats are great too, but if you already have an armful of bracelets, huge earrings, and a scarf then ditch it!

… and Add a Scarf If you’re going to London and don’t own a scarf, buy one! The scarf is probably the most well versed accessory in London. Everywhere you go Londoners can be seen wearing scarves. Whether it’s a huge blanket scarf or a small silk scarf thrown over their shoulders, every Londoners got one.

When in London: Mind the Gap —Amber Rayl

Mind the gap between the train and the platform.

Words no one forgets when they leave London, but often in our times of rushed ignorance, we hear the words but pay them little heed. Unless, of course, you are me and while talking excitedly with a group of friends one night at 10:30pm (completely sober, mind you), you happen to lose a leg…in the gap…in front of everyone… To make this story more complete, I will just add the fact that one leg had made it onto the train, while the other was in the gap, and instead of trying to pull myself out, like anyone else would have, I continued to laugh hysterically at how clumsy I was. Thankfully, the only person pulled me out in our group who wasn’t too busy laughing. So in case you thought the warning was for nothing….mind the gap.

When Feeling Drab, Add a Pattern Since London fashion consists of a color scheme that is rather lacking of color, patterns are often used to spice up outfits. And, Londoners are certainly not afraid to mix and match patterns when creating their outfit.

Don’t be Afraid to Bring Out the Fur For those of you who love to rock a fur coat, then you’ll fit right in with the Londoners. A trending fashion statement, and great source of warmth, is the fur coat. This also makes a great overcoat for women going out for the night.

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Harrods —Taylor Beaham The word luxurious does not even begin to do justice in describing Harrods. As one of the world’s largest department stores, Harrods is an upscale retail experience full of designer clothing, electronics, make up, jewelry, homeware, stationary, gifts, and so much more. Harrods also has numerous food and drink options to enjoy throughout your time in the store; to name a few, you can have high tea, sit around a champagne bar, or even indulge in a giant ice cream sundae from their famous ice cream parlor. From gowns that cost thousands of dollars to artwork made by some of the world’s most famous artists, a few items in the gift shop were about all that we could afford, but the whole experience was definitely worth it!

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Harrods 87-135 Brompton Road London SW1X 7XL England

It's a Small World After All —Taylor Beaham In the words of one of Disney’s most treasured rides, “It’s a Small World After All”. Here are 3 instances that prove some crazy, “small world” coincidences that happened when we were in London, over four thousand miles away from home.

1. Old Friend: Before attending a performance at the globe, a small group of us took the tube to the area and were in search of a fun place to eat. As soon as we exited the station there was an adorable pub right across the street. We stood outside and looked over the menu. As I read through the list of entrees, I heard someone call out my name; I turned around and saw a face I hadn’t seen in years. The summer after my freshman year in high school, I studied abroad in France with Experiment in International Living. Annlady was one of the American students (from New York) that went abroad with me. Now, almost 6 years later, I happened to run into this friend I had lost contact with over the years. At that exact moment, we both happened to be in London for the week outside of the exact same pub. What are the odds? I was totally in shock at how much of a crazy coincidence it all was, but it was great to catch up with an old friend!

2. KC in LONDON: On Saint Patrick’s Day, Maggie and I went on a St. Patrick’s Day Pub Crawl with a large group near Piccadilly Circus. This night was full of small world coincidences. First, we met a group of 3 friends and one of them happened to work in Kansas City; we were all able to talk about local spots and even our favorite BBQ places. The second, even more unexpected, coincidence came after the pub-crawl as we were on our way back to the hotel. We left the crawl early to catch the last tube back to our station, as we were about to get on the tube, Maggie ran into a whole family she knew from Kansas City. We knew Kansas City was a “small world”, but who knew it would be just as small 4,350 miles away.

3. BRANGELINA: On one of our last days, a large group of us went to explore Portobello Market. It was a wonderful day full of incredible food, colorful buildings, and shopping for antiques. I don’t think any of us ever expected to have the “small world” experience that we would at the end of the day. Spotted: a van pulling up, BRAD PITT stepping out, and ANGELINA JOLIE (and the kids) surrounded by body guards and paparazzi as they stepped off Portobello Road and into the van with Brad. What are the odds that we have a celebrity sighting of this scale in London? Apparently, pretty small.

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When in London: Windmill as the Londoners Windmill —Tyler Akker Did you open this book, see an article about windmills, and think to yourself, “Wow, I love windmills and I never find any high quality light reading about them?”

Well, then, today is not your day, my friend. There is absolutely nothing informative about the history of windmills in the United Kingdom.

But, if you are ever in Wimbledon, I recommend trying to find the Wimbledon Windmill Museum. It’s not easy to find and, honestly, I think the journey is better than the destination itself – mainly because the museum was closed, and honestly, how exciting can a Windmill Museum be if it is closed at 3 pm on a Tuesday?

When I started out for the museum, I saw that I just needed to kind of head straight and turn left and, sooner or later, I would find it. A hundred yards or so down the path I began to realize that I really had no idea

where I was and where I was going. I debated heading home, beaten and without having seen a single windmill, when I was suddenly surprised by two dogs emerging from a tiny path in the woods. Luckily, their owners were right behind them, so I couldn’t have been overwhelmed by

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I moved in to investigate the museum only to find a locked door.

I wasn’t too bummed by it, as my curiosity in harnessing wind for the purposes of milling had long since faded. It had shifted to finding my afternoon snacks.

Luckily, there was a café next door, and it was at that moment I realized there was a paved driveway right to my location. Meaning that my walk through the woods was completely unnecessary. The café had a variety of snacks ranging from those for humans and those for dogs. I picked up a chocolate milkshake and took a seat to relax. their combined cuteness with a desire to pick them up and carry them all the way home.

The path they had emerged from was enticing, and I decided to take a trip down the rabbit hole. I had to jump a fallen tree or two but, slowly, on the horizon, I saw the outline of a windmill. As I closed in, my ears received the glorious sound of barking dogs. It turns out that surrounding the museum are a bunch of fields where people launch tennis balls through the air that are retrieved by all likeness of dogs (some being retrievers).

I was in the middle of a sip when I received a quick lick on the leg.

Looking down, I found myself looking right into the big eyes of my new friend, Sally. Her owner, Mark, saw her interest and sat down next to me while giving her a treat purchased at the café. Mark and I chatted for a while about how he got Sally and the different vacations they had taken together. Sally has been to more countries than I have! I finished snacking and Mark invited me to go play some fetch with Sally. My adventure ended with petting Sally one last time and a long walk back to the Tube.

How to Sneak into the Secret Passageways —Amber Rayl

When I go somewhere, I am always looking for secret places, and often my curiosity gets the best of me. London was no exception. Example A: In the Tower of London, various areas were closed off for various reasons, but after paying such a hefty fee to enter, no amount of rope was going to stop me from exploring. I must first caution that if you follow my example and sneak into places, you have to be prepared for the consequences. I often played the cute, innocent American, who didn’t know any better. Anyways, back to the secret areas. The Tower had many places closed off. Some, I didn’t explore because I knew they were under renovation, and I respect that. However, there was a private chapel in pristine condition that only had a rope to prevent my exploration. I couldn’t help myself. I climbed the rope and quickly peaked around, but I always pull back before guards or the like can chastize me.

Example B: At Hampton Court Palace, I knew of the secret passages ahead of time and knew how to enter them (thanks to my obsession with history and documentaries!). The panel doors in the wall were easy enough to spot (I mean, really, who can’t see an obvious cut out door shape in a wall???). The only issue was getting past the guards. I skipped a few doors before finding a room without a watchdog. I carefully pulled the door open (it wasn’t even locked…score!). I snuck down a few stairs and perused for a few minutes before reappearing, just as a guard was turning the corner. I quickly shut the door and pretended nothing had happened.

This habit did catch up with me when I walked onto a filming set for a (sexual??) baking show. I knew I was in trouble the second I walked into the bakery and heard a man exclaim, “MMMM look at that chocolate”. Another thing I should have mentioned: I tend to say things out loud without thinking. So in response to his overly excited moan, I responded with “Ew.”. A woman immediately kicked me out and asked why I hadn’t read the Do Not Enter sign, well I paid for the full tour and this was a room. Too bad the castle shut before the rest of the exploration. Until the next secret passageway/ closed of area, over and out.

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When in London: Pretend You're in a Movie —Taylor Beaham

“Please close your eyes and put your right hand on my right shoulder”…These were the words that were spoken to me as three of us girls walked into to what was guaranteed to be the most unorthodox, yet thrilling, meal of our lives.

As a group of us sat in the lobby of our hotel on one of our very first nights in London, I couldn’t help but think about one of my favorite movies of all time. About Time, a romantic comedy set in London, tells the story of two young people meeting, falling in love, and navigating through life in the city. Since much of our group was not familiar with the film, I felt compelled to show them the touching movie that had given me a first hand look into the beauty and excitement of London.

Sitting on the lobby couches, about twenty minutes into the movie, we all watched as the main characters met for the first time in a restaurant

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where people eat completely in the dark. Yes, you heard me right. As we were watching this scene, I turned to my roommate who had also seen the movie before, and it was as if we had both decided the exact same thing at the exact same moment. We knew that we had to try to get into the restaurant that set up the fictional epic love story we had both fallen in love with. We got online that second and ended up landing a reservation at Dans Le Noir at 8:45 on Wednesday night, the only opening they had for weeks.

Dans Le Noir is a “blind dining” experience where waiters who are blind themselves serve guests completely in the dark. After placing both my hand and my trust on the shoulder in front of me that night, per our waiter’s request, he led us into a door where everything went pitch black. I immediately waited for my eyes to adjust, but when they never

did, I was left in a very vulnerable place, depending only on my working senses to get me through the evening. After a brief walk our waiter placed my hand at a chair. He told us that our napkins were in front of us and that our fork was on the left and knife on the right. As we stood behind our chairs, unsure of how or where to really sit down, our waiter’s voice was gone and we were left to start making our own decisions in the dark.

Eventually, with only a slight struggle, I plopped down in my seat and called out for my friends who were no longer holding on to my shoulders as they had been just seconds before. We all laughed and talked about our new surroundings and entrance into this foreign world. I could hear people laughing at the tables next to ours and I could even make out certain parts of conversations at the other end of the room. It was as if

losing my sight had intensified my hearing.

Our waiter, Jack, returned to the table with our “surprise” drinks. And just my luck, he also set down a bottle of water with three glasses right in front of me and said serving myself and my friends was all part of the experience. I felt around for the bottle and finally found the latch to open it.

I felt the height of the cup and carefully poured what seemed like an adequate amount into it. I laughed once again with my friends about how silly this all probably looked if anyone could actually see what we were doing. We continued to talk about what we thought our meal was going to be like or how this experience equated to other experiences, when all of a sudden, my friend sitting next to me let out a small shriek. Apparently I got over confident in my blind water pouring abilities and I had overflowed her cup. We quickly bounced back with only the minor dampening of all of our napkins and it was finally time to eat.

Part of the exciting, yet nerve-racking thing about this experience is that everything you eat is a complete surprise. Upon arriving at the restaurant, we chose between a seafood, meat, vegetarian, or complete surprise menu. We all chose different menus so we could have different experiences and also so we could try each other’s dishes; I chose the seafood entree. Jack brought us our entrees and explained that the shape of the dish in front of us resembled a Mickey Mouse head. Each of our entrées consisted of 3 "mini" entrées that we would try one by one.

I felt around the outside of the plate so I could determine where to place my fork for my first bite. I got lucky on my first entrée because the plate consisted of a delicious flaky fish that went right onto my fork and into my mouth with ease. As each of us at the table tried a new dish we

would comment on the textures and the immediate tastes or smells we sensed. We would make our guesses as to what we thought was in our mouths, all while really not having a single clue. I began using my fingers to slightly feel my food before maneuvering my fork and placing the food in my mouth. My sense of touch became something I could rely on much more because I had lost such another vital sense of mine.

At one point, I tried to get a bite on my fork, but it seemed to be a seafood pasta dish that was quite difficult to get a hold on. I got frustrated and simply stabbed my fork onto my plate, catching something,

Us diners with our blind waiter, Jack.

and quickly placing it in my mouth.

At first I enjoyed the immediate flavor of sweet chili, but then as I began to move the food around my mouth and chew, my senses instantly told me that I had just put an entire squid in my mouth. I could feel the rubber texture and tentacles that were attached to the head I had just bitten into. It was such a strange feeling for me. I am not a huge fan of squid in the first place, but because I could not see what was going into my mouth, I was forced to focus on the flavor (which I loved) and I was able to eat an entire squid whole, without engaging my gag reflex.

The art of sharing was something that was quite comical during our

meal as well. We all wanted a chance to try what our friends next to us were describing because everything was such a mystery. We would hold hands, helping each other grasp the fork of another and wait until that person made a comment about what they thought. It was a difficult, but fun process. Dessert was the same for us all and the surprise factor continued until the very end. There were different textures, temperatures and flavors all wrapped up into one dessert; it was as if it was telling its own complex edible story.

We continued to talk about everything that was happening around us throughout the meal and ultimately get to know each other better. The entire experience not only intensified other senses, but it truly intensified your ability to connect with the people around you. The darkness makes you feel completely uninhibited and we all tended to be much more candid and open. I was able to make stronger friendships with people who were strangers to me not so long ago. By stripping us of a sense that we so heavily rely on, we were able to feel vulnerable and focus on the senses and abilities we still held: the ability to hear, to taste, to feel, to connect. When we were all finished we ended the dinner the same way we began it. “Please close your eyes and put your right hand on my right shoulder,” Jack said once again. I placed my hand on his shoulder and thanked him for not only giving us aonce-in-a-lifetime experience, but for allowing us to trust him.

The whole experience was a scene right out of a movie, just like we had been hoping for. What was something that was not quite part of our fairytale movie experience?

Finding out that one of the dishes we tried included KANGAROO!

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My AdvenTEAures at Fortnum and Mason —Alexis Walker

Fortnum and Mason is probably one of my favorite stores in the entire world. I’m not joking. Fortnum and Mason is a department store right off Piccadilly Circus, in the heart of London. And the store is what I could only describe as the Tiffany’s of tea, but they also sell wine, biscuits, candy, porcelain, and fascinators. The London Review was not my first time in London, nor was it my first time to this wonderful store.

In 2012, my first trip to London, was the summer of Queen Elizabeth’s 60th year as monarch and all of London was festively decorated for the event. Fortnum and Mason, which has a long standing connection to the monarchy, had created a special tea called Jubilee Blend. This is when my love for tea was born.

Over the span of a week, during this trip, I went to Fortnum and Mason twice. I bought tea not only for myself, but also for friends and family who enjoyed tea we got them on my first trip. I then remembered that one of my friends likes fruit tea more than black tea and thought that it would

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be a good idea to go back and get some more tea.

Though­–to be totally honest–that wasn’t the only reason that I went back.

There happened to be a rather handsome man working there. Maddy was checking him out as he was checking us out. He also laughed at a Revolutionary war joke that Maddy told him. To her that was a sign that he was perfect.

If you ever have a chance to visit this store, I have a few recommendations. My top tea choices are firstly, Jubilee Blend, but I also have a love of Royal Blend, Queen Anne Blend, and Afternoon Blend teas. You can never go wrong with a classic Breakfast Blend or Earl Grey, as well.

Biscuits, or cookies in American, are also a must and Fortnum and Mason offers a great assorted biscuit tin.

Also while there, visit all the floors, even though I would never be able

to afford some of the fascinators and hats that are available on the one of the floors and the afternoon tea that is offered on the top floor costs about 50 pounds. Do check out everything Fortnum and Mason has to offer if you are ever in London; you’ll thank me later.

Lager, Bitter, and Cider Oh My! Pub culture a long way from Kansas —Jake Doerr and Patrick Spanier Rhys Ifan, relatively unimportant Welsh actor and musician, is quoted saying, “a pub can be a magical place.” After experiencing the integral part of London that is pub culture we can both attest to this truism. Shattering the preconceived notions set before us by Lawrence traditions such as Dollar Night, Q’sdays, and T- Shirt Tuesday coupled with the rowdy establishments that are Tonic and The Cave. We found drinking in London is not the guilty pleasure or slightly shameful vice it is here, but instead a casual everyday occurrence. The main reasons for the superiority of London’s drinking culture stems from the beverages themselves, which is perhaps unshockingly the most important part of drinking. Nobody in London drinks solely for the purpose of getting drunk, but instead drinks for the pleasure of drinking. Therefore, we committed ourselves fully to researching the best beverages in London.

Director’s (King’s Arms) (A-/B+) warm, darker/Amber no real after taste, masks in tongue, less hoppy would recommend for someone looking to make the transfer between wheat and IPA Billie (The White Horse) (A-) warm, lighter/Amber, more present fragrance, after taste is really hoppy, would recommend for Hanna (summery drink good for lighter) Nicholson’s free house (The Eagle and Child) (A/A-) warm, IPA, hoppy taste from the start that doesn’t really fade, very hoppy, local brew, mild/ flowery fragrance like perfume recommend for more experienced beers drinker who like IPA’s Bearhead (Spaniards Inn) (A) definitely one of the better lagers we’ve had wheat beer fragment present goes down smooth no bite, the standard by which all other lagers will be judged 1730 (Zetterman’s) (B+) dark ipa, house special, served cold, very fragrant, strong taste, odd aftertaste not on tab hurts the flavor

Guinness (Spaniards Inn) (I f*cking love it) Guinness is such a dark beer it’s in a league of its own non comparable to either a bitter or lager. Additionally, we find that European Guinness is far superior to American Guinness (since it’s most likely produced in Ireland). The foam tastes of ice cream and the brew itself leaves an aftertaste of lingering cream. The brew itself has a soft bite that immediately backs off; making a pleasurable experience from start to close Tsing Tao (Baozi Jia) (c+) Imported beer from China, berries in China town, served In a bottle, slightly sweater than a Budweiser but closer to a domestic than a lager All day IPA (Builder’s Arms) (A+) The standard that all other IPA’s are measured against, this bitter was pure nirvana Fullers London Pride (Munchkin Cafe) (C) Brett’s birthday beer, “tasted like an American beer” nothing spectacular, weaker lager, no aftertaste or fragrance, tasted similar to an American beer Irish peated ale (Ye Old White Horse) (C+) served warm tastes like an inferior Guinness, strong dark taste, no real foam, tasted kind of flat, odd aftertaste, goes down smooth and easy

Although nearly all of the pubs which we frequented looked similar from the outside – dark wood facades, beautiful windows, potted plants, and writing in gold – we were always pleasantly surprised by the cozy interiors. Drinks were not spilled and patrons were anything but unfriendly. As an added bonus, I did not once have to “unstick” my shoes from a floor which had not been cleaned – an all-too-common occurrence when frequenting Lawrence bars. No, popping into the pub in the afternoon to catch a rugby game was not an odd experience and a midday beer was not frowned upon. People of all ages frequented the pubs; eating quintessential English food and even sharing drinks as their children bounced upon their knees. Just as essential as the taste of any of the beers listed above to our pub experience was the atmosphere that we came to enjoy so much in each pub that we would visit; from Hampstead’s Spaniards Inn to the cozy Builder’s Arms in Kensington and from Oxford’s campus to London’s center. Pubs were our chance to experience English culture and cuisine, and, of course, enjoy some great beer.

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When in London: Have a Really Hard Time Deciding Where You Want to Eat Therefore Placing You at Coco Momo, a Local Café, Subsequently Locating You at the Same Eating Venue as B-List actor Dennis Quaid, Brother of Randy Quaid and Dad in Parent Trap —Emily, Katelyn, Tyler and Megan It was a dreary Friday night. Megan could not decide for the life of her, so we asked her where she wanted to eat but as the only hungry person in the entire group she still couldn’t decide. After Emily got really mad and frustrated with the situation, we went to the nearest, most affordable café in sight. We went inside and the lady showed us to our table and little did we know that a mere 25 feet away, sat the one, the only Dennis Quaid.

Oblivious to the whole situation, Megan and Tyler proceeded to the

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table. Katelyn swiftly turned to Emily and exclaimed in a hushed tone: “I’m pretty sure that’s the dad from Parent Trap.” Emily jerked around in awe and met the gaze of Mr. Quaid himself. “It totally iiiiisssss.” We rushed to the back and told our two comrades that Dennis was right over there.

Before the waitress could even ask our drink order, Emily asked with her hands to her mouth “Is that really Dennis Quaid?” And the waitress, who thought these were the stupidest kids in the world, smiled and said

“Yep.” This sighting was especially crazy due to the fact that a mere 24 hours before we had been bonding over our love of The Parent Trap.

We spent the next two hours trying to balance our meal and our desire to photograph such a gem of a man.

Emily and Megan decided to try and discreetly snap phone pics as they indiscreetly walked back and forth through the restaurant, embarrassing Katelyn and Tyler. After returning to the table, for the final time, Katelyn and Tyler examined their camera rolls only to discover several blurry pictures of nothing but the floor, table, and possibly the top of Dennis Quaid’s head. All the sudden, as we were still discussing Mr. Quaid’s acting career, he got up and headed for the door with his wife in toe. Megan and Emily once again mustered up the courage to ask him for a selfie but alas he was already half way down the street.

Sadly, we returned with no souvenir or proof of our encounter only our memories of the night to keep Dennis Quaid alive in our minds. We decided to harass the waitress again and asked if Dennis comes in on the regular. The monotone waitress told us that he visited at least once a month.

We celebrated our unique London find by going to the local pub and drinking the night away and had no pics to share on the GroupMe. Upon arrival in the US, Katelyn and Emily enjoyed a viewing of the blockbuster 90s hit, Parent Trap starring DENNIS QUAID.

Food Review: "Veni, Vidi, Vici " —Merrik Sanders Before anyone gets the impression that this article means anything, it doesn’t. The reviews herein represent only my very limited experience with a minute selection of London’s restaurants. That said, the best way to get to know a culture is through their food, right?

Now that’s over with, lets get into it!

Indian Restaurant: Masala Something?

Let’s just say that next time a restaurateur promises free appetizers in exchange for business, I won’t take it as a sign of confidence. In a town renowned for Indian cuisine, I managed to find a restaurant roughly on par with India Palace in Lawrence. I assume the owner thought he had tricked us silly Americans into thinking papadum, the Indian equivalent of bread sticks at Olive Garden, amounted to “free appetizers”. I wasn’t moved.

The food itself was good, but not all I expected given London’s reputation. Nothing we ate, including the Chicken Tikka Masala, specialty of London, was particularly impressive.

The highlight of the meal was the basket of light, warm and perfectly tough naan, the best I can remember outside Grandma’s kitchen. While I realize this review seems harsh, bare in mind that I gladly licked every bowl clean when the rest of the crew was full.

Overall Grade: B Arabic Restaurant: No Idea I should acknowledge an inherent advantage here: This meal came at 4:30 am, after an exhaustive, adrenaline-fueled quest that probably augmented, or at least highlighted, the flavor of the food. That said, this chicken shawarma was definitely the best I have had outside of Saudi Arabia. The meat was beautiful, bread was perfect, and the tahini was strikingly authentic. This was nostalgia in a bowl. No complaints.

Overall Grade: A

Sushi Shop: Wasabi Shortly after arriving in London, a fellow Reviewer informed me that she had never eaten sushi. Though understandably shaken, I immediately dedicated myself to doing that which any decent human being would: finding a suitable restaurant and shoving as much sushi as possible down her throat to atone for the lost years.

Despite being something of a chain restaurant, Wasabi was perfect for us: cheap, quick, and quality sushi. The wasabi itself was far stronger than one might find in Lawrence (I cried 3 times), which was an added treat for us both. Most importantly, my sushi virgin fellow Reviewer loved it.

Overall Grade: B+ Ethiopian Stand: Camden Market All credit to Crystal Brad, for when I was lost in the haze of Camden Market she guided me towards a small, previously unnoticed Ethiopian stand. While this was my first taste of Ethiopian food, the close resemblance to the Arabic cuisine upon which I was raised made me feel immediately at home. Amidst the mass of mysterious items I recognized lamb, rice, veggies, hummus, and a delightful dosa-like hunk of bread.

Other than that, I really couldn’t tell you what I ate. But I can tell you that I’d eat it again in a heartbeat.

Overall Grade: ABritish: Burroughs Market and Pub near Hotel Honestly, I didn’t expect much from traditional British food. I had been in-

formed that British cuisine was boring, bland, and in short, reflective of a culture that didn’t fetishize eating as much as Americans do. When I finally gave it a taste on the final night of the trip, I certainly didn’t expect the local food to outshine the Indian, Arabic or Ethiopian meals that I had already eaten earlier in the week.

Well London, let this serve as my formal apology. Take it with class. I had both Shepherd’s Pie and Fish and Chips, and I haven’t stopped thinking about them since. Both were the perfect combination of dense and fluffy, salty and sweet, flakey and meaty; both were more than I ever imagined British food would be.

Given their home court advantage, I felt reasonable in having held British cuisine to the highest standard of evaluation, and I can proudly say that the Motherland did not disappoint. If I wasn’t so certain of having won myself, this is where the trophy would be awarded.

Overall Grade: A+

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Dining in London —Jack Ziegler

England is known for its teas, but that’s about as far as its reputation goes for anything even marginally related to the spectrum of food. In fact, England is generally stereotyped as having awful food, a barren flavor desert compared to bountiful spreads of other European countries.

While I can’t disagree with this axiom in respect to the food that England claims as its own, the fact of the matter is that, in an era of globalization, any major city in a rich country is going to have delicious food, even if it’s of overseas origin. After spending a week in London, I found this to

be the case for England. The staple of fish and chips was just as bland and underwhelming as I expected it to be; however, the redeeming factor for London’s food culture is the widespread proliferation of international cuisine: French, Italian, Thai, Chinese, Japanese, and Indian to name but a few. In this regard, London excels. I had some of the best

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Japanese and Thai food of my life in the city. While the food diversity was superb, in my opinion the experience of diving is even more important than the food itself. It is in this respect that the United Kingdom differs most from the United States.

The dining experiences I had in London were not starkly different from those in the States, but there are a few notable areas where the two cultures contrast. You’ll notice the first of these differences right when you walk into the restaurant.

In America, you will generally be seated by a host or hostess and then promptly met by your server. In England, upon arrival at a restaurant, you’ll probably be ignored for a time before a member of the staff approaches you and puts you at a table.

This wasn’t a huge issue and could probably be circumvented by knowing a little more about the culture. The most surprising difference comes when the waiter takes drink orders.

In most American restaurants, it’s customary for the server to bring waters for everybody at the table.

On the contrary, in England, water is not free! In fact, it’s pretty expensive.

The waitress at the first restaurant I went to took full advantage of this. I said I would like water to drink, and she asked if I would like “sparkling” or “still”. As a stupid American, I of course had no idea what she was talking about, but I did also knew that I didn’t want to be seen ordering “sparkly” water, so I said that still

water would be fine. It turns out that still water comes in a glass bottle (not even a big one) and that this restaurant charged £3 for it, which converted to almost $5. Free refills were out of the question. This was a bit of a shock to me, as well as to my wallet, but it is apparently the norm in England. If you know the lingo, you can ask the waiter for “tap water”, but this is considered cheap, so you’re supposed to avoid it if you can. I found the overall service at restaurants to be generally comparable to that in America, though waiters are more attentive in America. Another significant dissimilarity is apparent when the check comes. Or, perhaps more appropriately, when the check doesn’t come. My friends and I often found ourselves sitting at restaurant tables after the meal and wondering if the wait staff had forgotten about our entire existence. Compare this to America, where your server asks you if you would like the check promptly as you finish eating, and you’re in for a bit of a surprise. In fact, our group dinner on the first night lasted an astounding three hours. It’s not as if this was a particularly posh restaurant either. After a few nights, I finally picked up on the nuance that servers won’t bring you the check until you explicitly ask for it. It’s seen as rude to bring a check without being asked, as if you’re being hurried out of the restaurant. In this way, dining seemed to be more relaxed in London. However, unless you’re up for an indefinite wait, you better ask for the bill during one of the sporadic instances when the server decides to check on you. The final major difference in dining culture comes in tipping. In America, tipping is mandatory; servers make their living off of tip money. In England, it’s not common practice to tip. This is a boon for those on a budget, but the allaround expensive prices of London more than make up for it. Overall, the experience of dining in London was very enjoyable.

Earl Grey & Existing —Alicia Whitson I struggle with being present. The past often cycles through my head in a loop as I try to analyze what I could have done differently to avoid even the slightest amount of embarrassment or awkwardness. Other times my mind wanders to the future – what I need to be doing later that night, what I need to be doing later that week, or what I need to be doing five years from now. All of this focus on the past and the future makes it close to impossible for me to enjoy more than a few minutes of the present at a time.

So I made a rule for London. When in London, don’t worry about your overdue assignments. Don’t worry about social justice and Donald Trump and all of the things you think you need to get done to make the world a better place. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. Don’t worry about making friends. And if any of these doubts and anxieties manage to sneak up on you in London, acknowledge them but immediately let them go.

Somehow, these ridiculous rules worked. The change of scenery and

people and lack of obligations allowed something to shift. I woke up each morning in London excited for a new day and went to sleep at night without feeling like I needed to do more in order to justify closing my eyes. I read for pleasure. I had amazing engaging conversations. I went to shows and watched them without checking my watch and tapping my foot until they ended.

I also drank a lot of tea.

One of our last days in London, Maddy and Alexis and I had afternoon tea in the hotel lobby. We sat by the window. There were tiny sandwiches and scones with clotted cream. I had two pots of Earl Grey with brown sugar and milk. We chatted about London – the things we’d seen and done. But the conversation quickly shifted to a woman wearing a purple shirt standing on a balcony across the street. Maddy asked why she was chain smoking for almost the entire two hours we were having tea. This quickly spiraled into the three of us creating an elaborate backstory for the woman in the purple shirt.

Talking with Alexis and Maddy over tea and scones, my fingers wrapped around my warm cup, I laughed so hard I teared up a little bit. There was no anxiety about what was going to happen in an hour or when we all came back to Lawrence. There was no needling thought in the back of my head that I shouldn’t be enjoying myself so much when there was so much homework that needed attention. I was simply there, in that room, drinking tea with my friends.

This feeling has been difficult to hold onto back in Lawrence. I can’t completely ignore everything and let myself float through life without a care. But tea is often what brings me back to the world around me when I find myself drifting away into anxiety about the past and future. The act of pouring a cup of tea itself is grounding. When I curl my fingers around a warm cup and breathe in, it’s easier to remember who I am. By the time I’ve finished my cup – or three – I feel like I exist again. And for at least a few moments, I’m present.

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When in London: Try Not to Only Eat the Food You Packed —Jordan Nutter I’ll admit, I am a rather picky eater.

Just ask anyone in my family, and they will tell you all about how annoying they find it. During my time in London, I actually managed to surprise myself, and my family, that I was able to find food that I would willingly eat and sometimes even like. So, I am proud to say that I didn’t eat the entire box of granola bars, jar of peanut butter, mac and cheese cups, bag of Chex-mix, and Rice Krispy’s that I packed as a “just in case I didn’t like anything.” Though I will admit that I ate most of the granola bars…I get hungry at 2 am sometimes and don’t feel like going out.

I tried several different cuisines such as Turkish, Japanese, and

Spanish. Honestly, Turkish food is not my favorite-sorry Grace. I had a pied that had a red sauce, with chicken, vegetables, and cheddar cheese.

It was pretty much like a football shaped pizza with really good crust, but the red sauce was not for me. I really liked the Japanese food with the exception of the desserts. I just don’t know why you would ruin perfectly good ice-cream by rolling it in sticky rice. But hey, to each their own, and some of the people loved it.

For my main course, I had a teriyaki chicken rice bowl that was amazing.

At the Camden markets, I ran into a Spanish food stall that had several authentic dishes. I had a delicious mixed pepper and cheese taco. This

When in London...Keep Diabetes in Check —Brett Doze Managing blood sugar levels, changing insulin pump sites and remembering to adjust your insulin levels can be difficult in the states. It’s even more complicated in London, where you cannot just run to the pharmacy or call your doctor if you run into trouble. Here’s some tips to my fellow type one’s with a useless pancreas: 1. Figure out how much supplies you will need, then pack double the amount. Put half in your carry-on and half in your checked luggage.

2. Do not take your pump through the traditional security scanners at the airports. Ask for a pat-down or to go through the newer scanners. It’s probably hard to have fun with a malfunctioning insulin pump (just my guess).

3. Pack plenty of juices or sugar supplements. You never know if you’ll have a week of consistently low blood sugar.

4. Plan on how to keep your insulin at necessary temperatures. They now make these things called “Frio Packs,” which are pretty “cool” (I’m sorry, couldn’t help it).

5. Give yourself plenty of insulin for meals EARLY. The carbs from the English breakfast will make you pay if you underestimate them.

Try to relax a little bit. You have done this for a long time and you know what to do.

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may seem rather plain, but with all the spices they put in it, trust me, it was far from plain.

Another part of my food adventure was trying all the desserts I could find, including pudding, cookies, and macaroons. I made the mistake of ordering pudding at one of the restaurants, only to find out that it is completely different from pudding in the States. So as a heads up to all of you who haven’t been to London, their pudding is weird. It has a moist brownie texture that is somewhat tacky at the same time, like I said it’s weird. The cookies were pretty good, my only complaint was that they used to much chocolate, which for most people would be a plus. I just personally prefer more cookie to my chocolate. Also, their cookies are huge, so that was a big bonus! Now macaroons are one of my favorite desserts, and London did not disappoint. I had several different flavored macaroons while there, and they were all great, minus the one that had a cream cheese frosting as its filling.

It was great getting to try different foods and flavors while in London, and I surprised myself by not being as picky as I thought.

Grabbing a Pint with Tolkien, Dickens, and Lewis —Jared Friesen

In England, you encounter history in ways you would never expect.

For myself, many of my interactions with that immense historical legacy occurred while I was eating. It turns out that many great and important historical figures were actually also real live human beings as well. In addition to this, they also did all of the same things that regular people do, namely eating, drinking, and hanging out with their friends while doing so.

One of the troubles with being historical figures being so famous, old, and dead is that they are often reduced to ideas - loose collections of trivia and achievements all wound around old paintings and pictures of very serious-looking dead people.

The name “J.R.R. Tolkien” is inextricably linked to words like “hobbits,” and “pointy-eared Orlando Bloom,” and Dickens is known as being both the chronicler of both Victorian London life and possessor of one of the greatest goatees in English literature. At a certain point, you hear these names and their accomplishments so many times that you become numb to the fact those names were attached to people who were just as real as you, that the books they wrote existed long before they were staples in almost every library in the world.

The trip gave me an opportunity to shake myself out of that point of view. It all started with our trip to Oxford, as I had heard from my uncle about a pub called The Eagle & Child was the favorite gathering place of a collection of writers known as the Inklings, [chief among them were C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien]. After patiently humoring the several other people in my group, I eventually suggested, with a somewhat manic urgency, that we all stop for lunch at The Eagle & Child. I was practically shaking at the bar ordering as I noticed the booth was available. Later that week, I made my own private pilgrimage through Hampstead Heath

to The Spaniards Inn, the favorite pub of Charles Dickens. I sat there in each pub, feeling the same grooves and notches in the wooden table and bench as some of the most prolific writers in the English canon, and enjoying meals at both. I took my time to just be normal, to eat and drink in comfortable place, to relax, and to reflect that they did just the same things in the same place.

Most of the time today, historic figures are encountered by people only through books and memorials, where they’re treated as something other than human, as ideas to respect and be awed by. However, when you get the chance to physical-

ly visit a place outside of that atmosphere, history becomes so much more than just words on a page. You realize that these people did small domestic acts too, like taking a walk through a gorgeous park or eating a meal at a favorite bar or pub. They had their own peculiar thoughts and tastes, favorite seat in the booth, and opinions about what the best beer on tap was. Going to the pub of some of my favorite authors gave me more than any guided tour of a museum dedicated to them could. Experiencing the same activities they went through bridged the decades and centuries between. These figures became relatable; they became people just like me.

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Hole-In-The-Walls —Taylor Beaham Some of my favorite experiences in London came from wondering around the city and discovering unique places by chance. In other words, I fell in love with the places some would call hole-in-the-walls…

1. Blessings Bar: One day I was wandering around the city on my own and I had just finished walking around Old Spitalfields Market. I realized my phone was about to die and since Google maps was my lifeline on this trip, it was critical that I find somewhere to plug in. I walked up the main street I was on, and just past a beautiful cathedral, I saw a cute little place that was illuminated by a neon sign reading "Blessing’s." Blessing’s Bar was such an adorable find. It is a fun and original independent bar that is almost completely lit by candlelight. I ordered one of their famous cocktails, plugged in my phone, and read my book in the candlelight until I had enough charge to get myself back home. It might have been an accident to stumble upon this unique space, but it was such a notable experience.

2. Sketch: Where do I even begin to start with this place? I have friends that are studying abroad in London this semester and some of their classmates had stumbled upon Sketch. It is not quite a “hole-in-the-wall” because you have to make a reservation for their high tea far in advance, but it is probably one of the most unique and unusual dining places that I have ever been to. The food and drinks are imaginative and bold and the décor of the restaurant is even more of an experience.

Each room has a special theme surrounded by different colors, art and music. Even the bathroom is designed after a space ship; with different vocal effects and bright lights, each guest enters their own “space pod” to go to the restroom. If you are in London, Sketch is a place that you must find and visit!

3. Queens Lane Coffee: Visiting Oxford was an incredible adventure within itself, but stumbling upon the longest established coffee house in all of Europe made it even more special. As a few of us got ready to leave Oxford, to head back for the Adele concert, we waited at the bus stop on a gloomy, windy afternoon. I peaked inside this coffee shop on the corner to get out of the cold for a bit and what I found was a part of history.

The small, quaint coffee shop was built in 1654 and was often a place where scholars from the past would debate issues of the times. With a laid back atmosphere and a variety of food and drinks, it was a wonderful hole-in-the-wall to stop in for a coffee at.

There is something beautiful about finding a place by chance – a place that not many other people can say they have experienced. There are so many famous things to see and do in London, so every once in a while it is nice to get away from the tourism and have your own adventures.

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When in London: Try Something New! —Bonnie Reinsch One of the great things about studying abroad is getting to try new foods. One of the best things I had in my time in London was the Padana pizza from Pizza Express on the first night. I knew by the smell of it that it would be my favorite meal for a long time, and that I had to tell everyone about it. So, when in London, I tried something new and, now, you can too!

PADANA PIZZA Ingredients: • ½ cup lukewarm water •

½ teaspoon active dry yeast

•

½ teaspoon honey

•

1 ½ cups all-purpose flour

•

½ teaspoon salt

•

1 small roll goats cheese, cubed

•

1 cup mozzarella (or more if you like)

•

1 cup cherry tomatoes

•

1 red onion

•

1 yellow onion

•

1 tablespoon butter

•

1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar

•

Salt

•

1 ½ cup spinach

•

Garlic oil

Preheat the oven to 500°F. In a large bowl, mix water, yeast and honey. Let it sit for about 10 minutes until it gets all foamy. Stir the flour and salt into the yeast mixture until dough comes together. You can use either a spoon or your hands for this part (although using your hands is a lot more fun!). If the dough is super sticky, add 1 tablespoon of flour as needed. Set aside.

Slice the yellow onion into thin slices. These slices can be whatever side you prefer, although they’re better long! Place a skillet over medium

heat and melt the butter. Add the onions once the butter is completely melted and stir to coat.

When caramelizing the onions, check them every five to ten minutes. This might take a long time, but caramelizing takes a while for the onions to turn out right! After around 50 minutes, add the balsamic vinegar to the pan. I recommend adding just a pinch of sugar to this to round out the acidic flavor of the vinegar to the sweet flavor of the onions. Salt the onions to taste.

Crush the tomatoes well. Mix in the garlic oil, and season to taste as necessary.

After the dough’s been sitting out for a while, roll it out as thin as possible into a circle or whatever shape you want, and place it on a pan.

Then, smear on however much tomato sauce as you want. Then, add toppings. The red onions should be

cut into rings, and placed on top of everything. Bake the pizza for 10 to 15 minutes. The crust should be crispy and golden. If it’s not, let it bake on a lower temperature to allow the crust to get crispy. Enjoy!

Did You Know? —Rachel Dodson The first time I knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore was when I found myself jet-lagged and in need of a lovely cup of coffee. I made my way to the café at the airport realizing I couldn’t be a purist Starbucks lover forever. I scanned the list of coffees and discovered they had my favorite flavor. Then I noticed at the top of the menu were the words in/out and I was puzzled. Hoping to find out the reason I asked the lady at the checkout what it meant. She said if I wished to dine in I would have to pay an eat-in tax, but not if I was taking it to go. Needless to say I took it to go.

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See What The Londoners See

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When in London: Learn to See Theater as the Peasants Do —Kate Miller When last Christmas rolled around, I was lucky enough to receive money from some of my relatives. I promptly spent it the very same day.

On what, you ask? The newest iPhone or an expensive pair of shoes? Unpaid credit card bills or outstanding rent?

No, I spent all my money on something that wouldn’t come to fruition for another three months: tickets to two West End shows.

I had never been so excited.

I’ve been a theater buff since high school and the prospect of getting to see some of the hottest shows out there was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. It didn’t matter that I knew the shows backwards and forwards, that I religiously belted out their soundtracks in the shower and ridiculously fantasized about playing the leads. It didn’t matter that I would know all the jokes and showstoppers or that I wouldn’t be watching the shows with virgin eyes. Broadway is my obsession. Who needs money for food when you can feed your soul with some of the best culture that London has to offer?

When my trip to London arrived in March, I packed my nicest sweaters and boots, preparing to treat myself

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to a night out at some of London’s swankiest theaters.

And I was not disappointed.

After sating my thirst for serious English drama with a traditional Shakespearean play, I was ready for my two completely different upcoming experiences – a tourist-trap megamusical in “The Phantom of the Opera” and a barrier-pushing satire in “The Book of Mormon.” I had already wandered up and down Covent Garden and Leicester Square – sites of theater history since the 1500s – and squealed every time I

recognized a theater’s name or the theater professional it was named for. But I was now heading into the heart of the magic, the stages where all the history had happened.

I could give a scene-by-scene recap of each but, as hardly anyone is as nerdy as I about blocking, vocal technique, acting choices and scenic design, I’ll refrain. But as I watched “The Phantom of the Opera” and “The Book of Mormon,” that was all I could think about. As my theater brain dissected each decision on stage, I realized I was jealous of those next to me who could enjoy the productions as a whole, without the critical eye I had been trained to use.

It’s because of this eye that “The Phantom” fell flat for me. The show which I had worshipped since I first found it, the soaring arias and rock ballads, and the elaborate costumes and stage – it all came off as overthe-top. For someone used to meaningful, minimalist theater where the work of the actors spoke for itself, I was annoyed at the extremes the show took.

Similarly, “The Book of Mormon” did the same – with disco ball lighting, intricately designed backdrops and extravagant amounts of jokes.

But, unlike “Phantom,” I enjoyed it

more than I thought I would a crude, satirical musical. Both are hot tickets on the West End, but I wondered how I could see both and have such entirely different reactions.

There was one difference between the two: While “Phantom” reveled in its intricate elaborateness, “Mormon” never seemed to take itself too seriously. And, as I digested both of the shows a week later, I realized that I, like the former show, had also been taking it too seriously.

While I sat taking note of everything in each show, I heard patrons around me enjoying every single minute, unhindered by the barrage of criticisms that flew through my brain.

The moments that were cheesy to me awed them; the plot twists I expected made them gasp in surprise.

They left the theaters tittering with amazement and appreciation, while I stewed in my self-created pot of criticism.

I thought seeing theater from the best of the best as a theater student would be invaluable. And it was, but not in the way I imagined. I realized I yearned for the days I could see theater as an uninitiated audience member, enjoying it for what it was – entertainment. By putting so strict a label on the show as “culture,” I had limited what I could get from it, and it turned into my biggest regret.

So, if I were to offer advice when viewing West End plays? See it as the common folk would.

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When in London: Stalk Your Favorite Authors —Maddy Mikinski

I love British literature so much that I’ve given it a pet name. Briterature is more myself than I am (Brontë); it’s a violent delight (Shakespeare); it’s my religion (Keats).

The best place to experience Briterature, by far, is Britain itself. Whenever I touch down at Heathrow, I feel the aura of Mary Shelley, Oscar Wilde and J.K. Rowling around me. Or maybe that’s just the jet lag.

This trip, I decided that I wanted to head out to famed Romantic poet John Keats’ home in Hampstead. I’ve been in the room in Rome where he wasted away and died, so I figured I’d see where he spent (relatively) happier years of his life in London. I enlisted adventurer and fellow litera-

ture nerd Alicia Whitson to come with me, and we were off.

We successfully took the Tube to Hampstead and exited the station

5 Books to Read Before Visiting London Watching the English by Kate Fox Anthropologist Kate Fox’s introspective study on her fellow countrymen is funny, smart, and invaluable to anyone traveling to the UK. Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel This first book in Mantel’s Thomas Cromwell series depicts 16th century London, which feels almost like another country entirely. You’ll probably get hooked after the first one, so pick up Wolf Hall’s sequel Bring Up the Bodies just to be safe.

Ed Sheeran: A Visual Journey by Ed Sheeran The “Thinking Out Loud” singer’s only official biography chronicles his pre-fame time playing gigs in London. He would sometimes play three times a night at three different pubs. The book is supplemented by drawings of Sheeran by his childhood friend, Phillip Butah.

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf Woolf’s story follows a day in the life of Dalloway and those connected to her. The book is as good as a walk through London.

North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell Though parts of Gaskell’s novel take place in London, the novel works as a look at attitudes towards the Industrial Revolution and the large divides it created in English society. Pick it up for the social commentary, keep reading for Margaret Hale and John Thornton’s repeated and painfully awkward encounters.

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in (what we thought) was the right direction. We walked about 20 minutes towards “Hampstead Heath” before we realized that we were, in fact, heading in the opposite direction. Later we came to found out that we’d actually wandered to the home of fellow famed Romantic poet Harry Styles. Realizing our my error, we quickly retraced our steps towards a bus stop that we hoped would take us to Keats’ house. The bus that takes you there only runs twice a day.

We ended up having to ride the bus back to the Tube station and walking from there. On the walk we I realized that the Keats house was actually closed on Mondays, and we wouldn’t be able to get in. Like true writers, we decided to hit up the pub instead. The Spaniards Inn was Keats’ local watering hole, anyway, so I figure we did okay.

At the bar, I continued my tradition of making every British person angry and drank my three-cube ice water.

We decided to brave the cold and sit outside. As we were sitting outside, a raven landed at our table near the tree where Keats composed some of his most famous poetry. I realized that I was having a cider where “Ode to a Nightingale” was written and staring at Poe’s ghost the whole time. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t actually found Keats house. Because there would always be Keats, and there would always be London.

When in London: Walk Across a Crosswalk —Hanna Ritland

London houses the most famous crosswalk in the world, much to the dismay of the locals who are visibly annoyed by the constant photography disrupting their commute. It’s really quite amazing how such a simple photo captured 47 years ago continues to draw all walks of life to an unassuming area in London.

Visiting Abbey Road was a mustdo for this Beatles fan. And of course, did I actually visit the landmark if there isn’t a picture documenting the moment? It was only after we queued and snapped a photo that we realized we walked the wrong way.

But that’s okay, such is life. Brett, Patrick, and I were too overly excited

to be thinking about our directions, and frankly, we just wanted a photo.

And with a 10-second window before a car came barreling down the road, we couldn’t be picky.

Music and memory are positively correlated, and The Beatles were a large part of my childhood. My dad introduced me to the band at a young age, and we continue to bond over our love for their music. As cheesy as it sounds, this personal investment made this experience that much more exciting.

So, if you’re ever in London, hop on the Tube, head over to Abbey Road, and snap a photo of you walking (the right way) across the crosswalk!

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When in London: Find Your Favorite Author's Grave —As told by Wilkie Collins (Katelyn Shirley) THE VOYAGE TO KENSAL GREEN The Events related by Katelyn Shirley, London Review student in the service of Mary Klayder, Professor.

In the first part of New Magdalen, at page one hundred and thirteen, you will find it is thus written: “A woman’s courage rises with the greatness of the emergency.”

Only a mere three weeks ago I opened my New Magdalen at that place. Only this morning (March thirtieth, two thousand and sixteen) came to my attention the story of a young woman, Emily Roberts, whose unfortunate tale I will do my best to relate.

Two hours have passed since my story’s source has left me. As soon as her back was turned, I went to my writing desk to begin the arduous task of recounting what I had heard. There I have sat helpless (in spite of my abilities) ever since, the events of Emily’s life so ill-fated that I must be careful in my account of her courageousness not to lessen the severity of the emergency with which she faced such a short while ago.

March seventeenth was to be a day filled with amusement for our dear Emily, one final opportunity to wander the streets of London in solace. Alas, it was not to be. You see, my lady takes an interest in the paranormal – graveyards, ghosts, witches – and I take an interest in them too. Fortunately for myself, though, I do not let such things clutter my mind in excess, unlike poor Emily, who (I am sorry to say it) became rather consumed by the notion of exploring such interests further than the safety of her literature.

She exited the Strathmore Grange hotel, her temporary Kensington residence for the duration of her stay in London, early in the morning, wishing to catch the Tube before workers clogged the Underground. Emily began her perilous journey to the infamous Kensal Green cemetery at Gloucester station, but it was not long before she transferred to the aboveground train on her way to a place about which she had only dreamed. The scenery, bleaker than the city (if you can believe it), chilled her to the bone. This was not a feeling with which my lady was familiar and I believe it was at this point that her mind began to misgive her. I have compared notes with others as to what they felt while they were in her interesting situation; and they have all acknowledged that, about a week before it happened, they privately wished themselves out of it. Unfortunately for Emily, she had no notion that at this point her luck had almost completely escaped her.

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She stepped off the train at her destination, minding the gap of course; there was not a single Kensal Green citizen in sight. In fact, there was not one living thing to be seen – the trees and grass were as lifeless as the town, but still she continued. It was not long before Emily’s determined step took her past several ominous brick buildings, the sight of which made her shiver. Increasing her pace, she nearly made it to the street corner, but as I mentioned before, luck was not with my lady on this fateful morning.

From the courtyard of the last brick building came a ghoulish sound, one that can only be described as otherworldly. When you get a sudden alarm, of the sort that Emily had got in this instant, nine times out of ten the place you feel it in is your stomach. When you feel it in your stomach, your attention wanders, and you begin to fidget. Poor Emily did more than fidget. Turning on her heel, her eyes searched the recesses of the tiny neighborhood, looking for the source of her disturbance. Perhaps, if she had determined the cause of her fear as something explainable the outcome of this journey might have been very different. But, you see, the unknown is oftentimes more frightening than that which is known, and this was the case with my lady.

Her senses heightened by the fear of her close encounter, Emily made probably the first decent decision of the trip’s entirety – to turn back. Realizing, in that moment, her desire to explore her ghostly fascinations had been fulfilled, and not in the way she had yearned for prior to her arrival in London. With this in mind, she hurried back to the station, pure adrenaline fueling the new courage she possessed.

Simply boarding the train back to Gloucester road calmed the nerves of our pitiable Emily, and she was nearly herself upon setting foot on the cobblestone street leading to her hotel. She climbed the steps slowly, accepting that (as far as she knew) nobody ever heard the like of her experience, and, consequently, nobody could be expected to believe it. I publish this story, however, in spite of that.

AFTERWORD In some of my former stories, the object proposed has been to trace the influence of circumstances upon character. In the present story I have reversed the process. The attempt made here is to trace the influence of character on circumstances. The conduct pursued, under a sudden emergency, by a young girl, supplies the foundation on which I have built this tale.

W.C. GLOUCESTER PLACE, PORTMAN SQUARE,

March 30, 2016

*Several lines from this piece have been borrowed from Wilkie Collins’ The Moonstone.

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When in London: Geek Out Over Historical Execution Sites —Kate Miller Seeing a place where people had been executed might not be everybody’s cup of tea, but it was exactly there that I found myself halfway through our London trip.

I had religiously read all of Philippa Gregory’s historical fiction about the Tudors and the Plantagents (Gregory being known as the “queen of British historical fiction”). I felt a particular connection with Anne Boleyn, the doomed queen of Henry VIII – though what self-respecting feminist wouldn’t? It was mainly for this interest that I found myself at the site of her death (and at the insistent of my mother, a fellow Anglo-fiction-phile).

After willingly paying the almost $40 ticket price, with a sense of almost morbid curiosity, I walked beneath the entrance gates, over what had once been a moat and lion enclosure, and into the place where so many prisoners and traitors had lived out their last days.

For a site of execution, it was ab-

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solutely beautiful. The central White Castle shone in the sunlight, which had arrived just in time for my visit. The parapets and surrounding walls stood tall and strong, looking out over a glistening Thames River and Tower Bridge. The trees had begun to flower, the grass a brilliant green, and I felt a contradicting sense of awe – at the terrible things which had happened here and the beauty it must have held in its prime.

At the end of a tour by a Yeoman Warder (who also happened to be the Tower’s Ravenmaster), I sat in the Tower’s chapel, looking at a stone floor by the altar. Not anything truly remarkable – after all, stone is stone – except for the fact that the bodies of three queens struck down in their prime lay resting under those stones.

It was humbling, to say the least.

I was in the presence of royalty. Ex-

ploring the crown jewels was neat, but it was nothing like what I felt here in the chapel. I’m not a religious person, but being in the presence of so much history was an amazing experience I had never had in our country that only just celebrated its 239th birthday. Here were queens 500 years old, whose names had

survived that half of a millennium to intrigue young history geeks like myself.

After paying my own silent respects to the brave women buried there, I explored the tower where so many had sat waiting for their execution. I ran my fingers over etchings from prisoners and sat at the very window that they would have, looking out onto their only view of freedom.

It was tragically beautiful, the same feeling I had felt when I entered the Tower. Every corner of the fortress had unique history, but there’s nothing like seeing the desperate carvings of those doomed to remind you those people actually existed. Trying to imagine how these people must have felt was impossible; it was an entirely different time that even my writer’s brain couldn’t wrap its head around.

And that was the feeling I had during my entire time in the fortress.

Try as I might, it was difficult to see these historical figures as real people, even when I stood in their recreated bedrooms, prison cells and liv-

ing quarters. The awe I felt was indescribable, and the four hours I spent there is, I hope, testament enough to what the experience was like for me.

Would I visit the Tower again, if given the chance? I would visit over and over again. It’s the only place in London I took a selfie – which, for

those who know me, is more proof than anything I could ever write to describe my love of this historical fortress. Is it odd for my favorite London experience to be wandering an execution fortress? Perhaps, but it’s an oddity that I’ll share with the world.

10 facts about the Tower 1. The guards of the Tower, the Yeoman Warders, are also known as Beefeaters. No one knows why.

2. One Yeoman Warder is a Ravenmaster, responsible for taking care of the ravens which live at the Tower.

3. Speaking of which, the ravens at the Tower are fed bloodsoaked biscuits in addition to raw meat every day.

4. There’s a rumor that the day the ravens leave the Tower, the British monarchy will fall. Therefore, the monarchy cheats by clipping the ravens’ wings, preventing them from flying over the walls.

5. The central castle of the Tower, the White Tower, was built by William the Conqueror in the 1000s.

6. The White Tower used to contain a “Parade of Kings,” which monarchs used to show off the history of the British monarchy.

7. The three queens buried in the tower are Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard (both wives of Henry VIII) and Lady Jane Grey, who reigned for nine days before being executed.

8. The crown jewels are on display within the Tower, including the ceremonial objects used in coronation ceremonies.

9. The tower used to hold a menagerie of exotic animals given to the British monarchy, including lions used to deter invaders.

10. Queen Elizabeth has a Queen’s House within the Tower in which she could reside if she wished to.

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I'm Not a Crier —Mara Waltz “I’m not really much of a crier,” I confessed to my fellow London reviewer on one of our first days in London, back before he knew better. This statement, which I then so fervently believed, would eventually prove itself to be quite untrue.

Although believing I was void of basic human emotion, I had decided many months before our week in London that upon viewing the very resting place of my beloved Mary Queen of Scots, I would allow myself a few discreet tears, nothing more.

However, as I emerged from the Underground that Sunday morning, Big Ben standing tall above the city and the sun nearly blinding me, my dream that seemed so far off and hidden by a thin layer of mist became a reality. I was within walking distance of the final resting place of my favorite person in history. The gravity of my situation struck me to the core; a wrenching pang in my chest caught the breath in my lungs. I stood in the middle of the sidewalk in awe, dumbstruck and inconveniencing every busy Londoner on their way to work.

As we neared the Abbey, I could feel the hot tears already forming behind my eyes. The attempts I so desperately made to control my breathing were miserably failing, and my fellow reviewers began to take notice of my plight. It became very awkward and I was quite relieved when the nice man at the gate told us there were no tours on Sundays.

“It’ll be alright,” my fellow reviewer told me, “we can come back another day when there won’t be so many people here to see you cry.”

Sure enough, three days later we found ourselves in the same place.

We stood before the entrance, just the two of us, him with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans and me pretending my insides weren’t quivering with anticipation and excitement and wondering if he would enjoy himself at all.

We stood in line, our bags and pockets were checked, our twenty

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pounds each was paid, we were given maps, and we were sent on our way. We tiptoed slowly through the first hall, being careful not to tread on the names of those buried beneath our feet and scowling at those who stepped carelessly, contributing to the slow deterioration and eventual disappearance of each name carved into the stone. I shared bits and pieces of my limited knowledge of British history with my fellow reviewer, hoping to make the visit more interesting for him, while also distracting myself from the anticipation I felt for what I knew lay ahead.

We happened upon it entirely unprepared. I stepped into the room

first, completely ignorant of its contents. A plaque on the wall just inside the door read “Tomb of Mary Queen of Scots.” I stopped dead in my tracks, tears immediately springing to my eyes. People behind us pushed past me as I slowly inched forward, hands shaking and palms sweating, into the small, overcrowded room. I felt the eyes of several tourists rest on me for a moment too long as tears began to flow freely from my eyes. I sensed that my fellow reviewer felt slightly uncomfortable standing next to the pathetic crying American girl in the tomb of Mary Queen of Scots, so I released him to go explore the “Poet’s Corner” while I spent some

time alone with a marble sculpture of my one true love, knowing her remains were buried far below my feet. Ignoring the large sign reading “NO PHOTOGRAPHY,” I rebelliously snapped a few shots of this marble sculpture that meant more than life to me in that single moment. I wasn’t going to visit the final resting place of my favorite historical figure and not leave without photographical evidence.

After spending far too long crying in her tomb, I returned to my fellow reviewer, eyes red and puffy, but heart soaring.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go?” he asked, noticing my reluctance to leave.

I somehow was able to reply in coherent English that I had had my fill of crying for the day, and that it was time to leave before it started all over again.

On the way out, after exploring the gardens and the gift shop, my fellow reviewer turned to me.

“I’m beginning to think you are a crier, after all.”

When in London: Have Your Sonic Screw Driver Ready —Grace Phillips

Cecil Court is a pedestrian street that links Charring Cross Road and St. Martin’s lane, and is mainly populated by bookstores specializing in antique and signed first edition books.

Hidden between these shops is Marchpane, a bookstore specializing in antique children’s books. Marchpane stands above the other stores, not for its merchandise, but for its eclectic decoration. Like many of its comrades, Marchpane is hardly bigger than a bedroom, but it somehow manages to fit two full-sized Daleks. Upon entering Marchpane, unsuspecting visitors are first confronted by a grey and black Dalek hung from the ceiling. When the terrified visitor turns to flee, in order, to avoid extermination, she finds herself cornered by a second red and silver Dalek, wearing a Union Jack as a cape, and carrying an autographed Tom Baker picture.

Alongside the Daleks rests gas masks, antique children’s toys, a plethora of science fiction posters, postcards, newspaper clippings, and a Holy Bible rested on an eagle stand. Out of all the Cecil Court bookstores, Marchpane stands out as the quirkiest bookstore well worth the visit for the bravest sonic screwdrivertoting tourists.

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When in London: Be Your True Nerd Self at Hampton Court Palace —Amber Rayl Flying over to London, I could only imagine one scene playing over and over in my head. The moment when I see the Churchill War Rooms finally?

Close. I kept imagining running my fingers across the coarse brick, dating back as far as the 1500’s. Now before this comes across odd, I want to mention that I am obsessed with history, old buildings, and getting to touch a brick that King Henry VIII may have touched – that is what I dream of. That’s not to say I adore King Henry VIII; he was deplorable but knowing I am touching a brick that millions of others have touched across centuries is a powerful thought.

While all the guards stood off in a corner (probably talking about the crazy American girl touching the walls and almost crying), I was in a state of absolute bliss at finally seeing a castle/palace and was too busy snapping photos to show my parents back in the States. I was even able to snap an extra special photo for my mom of me touching the dirty, once white wall inside the palace.

My mom, like me, has the same adoration for history and old buildings, but she has never had this type of experience. Before I left, my mom kept reminding me to take pictures of me touching the walls, since one of our ancestors very well could have touched that very same wall. I think we all see the similarities, and what Mama wants, Mama gets.

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Walking around Hampton Court Palace, it was easy to see how it was once a warm welcoming home for Henry and Catherine, especially looking at their private chambers.

However, there were other rooms, like the great hall, where Henry’s aloofness became apparent.

As I wandered through the gallery with all of the intricately painted faces staring back at me, I couldn’t help but imagine each and every one of the painted faces walking through the same gallery as me. The guided tour helped to set the mood by reenacting scenes in each room. In the great hall, there was a party, with loud, merry music and boisterous groups of men and women enjoying the feast. The tour also helped to give a unique perspective of the people I passed in the gallery, like mentioning how Henry’s only son, Edward VI, tried to paint himself as intimidating and powerful as his fa-

ther, but he was so weak and timid.

This is shown through his portrait, from his tiny body swimming in the very padded outfit to his baby face.

The most elaborate area of the palace, however, was the chapel.

Blue vaulted ceilings complete with flying buttresses lined with gold accents spans above visitors, who rest in the King and Queen’s areas from the balcony. I made sure to feel every dent and mark on the deep mahogany balcony. Randomly placed in the middle of the balcony is a recreation of King Henry’s crown, smack dab in the middle.

But hey, I don’t judge where they chose to put crowns and jewels.

As I exited the castle after a good two and a half hours, I felt extremely empowered and awed that I had to touch my beloved ancient wall one last time before being kicked out by the guards for closing time.

When in London: Go to the Churchill War Rooms —Hanna Ritland & Brett Doze Hanna Ritland: World War II has always piqued my interest. The psychology behind Nazi Germany’s rise to power and the intricacies behind the Allied war efforts is fascinating and impressive. History instruction in the United States naturally focuses on the American experience. My visit to the Churchill War Rooms provided a more accurate glimpse into the war efforts across the pond.

Stepping into the war rooms was about the equivalent to stepping into a time capsule. Only hushed voices in several tongues and the cheerful chatter from the cafe gave away that this preserved space is no longer in use. The audio reader acted as a guide, working its way through the rooms and producing the sensation of solidarity behind British war efforts. It was almost as if I were answering the direct-line telephone, executing Churchill’s demands, or transcribing shorthand notes in the call center.

Though not boots on the ground, these men and women played a critical part in defeating Nazi Germany and the Axis powers, truly elucidating the truth behind Churchill’s famous quote, “Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.” I now have a much greater appreciation for British wartime operations and enjoyed being a history fanatic for the day.

Brett Doze: As a history major whose favorite area of study is World War II, I’m always fascinated to learn more about this dark time in history. By visiting the Winston Churchill War Rooms and Museum, I was exposed to an interesting side of the war. It is a side that is often hidden in the history books, similar to how the operations that took place in the war rooms were hidden from the enemy.

The museum within the tunnels of the underground system is dedicated to the life of Winston Churchill, from his earliest days to his death in 1965. I got my fill of historical knowledge from a large room packed full of primary documents and materials from this man’s life. I had never seen such a well-constructed and informative museum dedicated to one person, and I’m not sure I will ever see another quite like it.

Next came the actual tour of the war rooms, better defined as the headquarters of operations between Churchill and his colleagues.

Cramped bedrooms and offices have never been more interesting.

With European maps littering the walls, multiple telephones on every desk, and a task for everyone that was involved, I tried to picture just how busy these rooms were during the war.

Perhaps the most exciting aspect of the tour were the human elements.

A small piece of the tour that I will

remember quite fondly came from a large conference room with huge maps attached to the walls. On one of the maps, a worker drew a small picture of Hitler, sitting down and giving viewers his famous salute. There is a surprisingly humorous characteristic to the obscure drawing, reminding us that while the workers in the war rooms were focused on the task at hand, they were still normal human beings.

The Churchill War Rooms provided a unique experience by defining a history that is often left untold. It’s not hard to find history in London, particularly related to World War II. All we had to do was walk outside of our hotel to see buildings that were created to replace the destruction caused by bombings. The war rooms are different in a way. Instead of focusing on the pain the war caused, they shed light on the success that came from the hard work and intelligence of those who made victory possible.

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When in London: Set Fire to the Rain —Maddy Mikinski

I attended my first concert at 15. It was the Black Eyed Peas with LMFAO and Ludacris opening. I stood in a pit of people the whole time. The woman next to me was eating pungent fish and chips. Someone spilled beer on me. I had a great time.

Ever since then, I’ve been a bonafide concert junkie. My collection of concert tees is one of my most prized possessions. From marinating in my own sweat at the One Direction concert to packing my best friend and myself into a tiny Minnesotan theater, those t-shirts represent some of the best nights of my life.

On Tuesday, March 15, 2016, at 7:30 p.m. GMT, I added a monumental t-shirt to my treasure trove.

On Tuesday, March 15, 2016, at 7:30 p.m. GMT, Adele came to town.

Last December, I took the necessary steps to see Adele’s glorious homecoming at London’s O2 arena.

These steps were: (a) lying to Adele by telling her I’m a resident of the UK in order to get presale, (b) waking up at 3 a.m. CST to wait in a ticket queue, (c) showering with the shower curtain open at 3 a.m. CST so I wouldn’t miss my buying window, and (d) neglecting to prepare for an ethics presentation I had later that morning.

The waking up early, weird shower experience, and 3-month wait were

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all worth it. It was like I was Charlie Bucket and Adele was welcoming me with open arms into her elusive chocolate factory.

Throughout the course of the evening, Adele made it clear that the entire city was her chocolate factory.

Adele is London’s hometown glory.

The O2 itself is only a 30-minute drive from the singer’s childhood home in Tottenham. Adele even borrows the name of the river that runs through her hometown for her “25” track “River Lea.” Adele in London at The O2 is probably one of the most

natural things I’ve ever experienced.

Being able to witness her first performance ever in that arena was earthshaking. Her Bond song “Skyfall” is one of my favorites and seeing it live felt like a little puzzle piece falling into place.

Adele reminded me why I love music so much. She added a context I never even knew existed. Seeing Adele in London is like reading The Odyssey in its original Greek. It’s like standing in the Sistine Chapel and staring at the ceiling. It’s like setting fire to the rain.

25 Steps To Seeing Adele in London 1. Lie to Adele on her website and tell her you’re a resident of the UK. (It’s painful, but necessary.)

2. Wake up at 3am Kansas to wait two and a half hours in a presale ticket queue.

3. Get your tickets, go back to sleep for 45 minutes, then go about your day as if everything’s normal.

4. Install a countdown app on your phone. Any countdown app. Just make sure that your countdown is accompanied by her badass Time magazine cover.

5. Realize that your tickets are getting mailed.

From England. Start to stress about them arriving on time.

6. Be assured Brigitte in Customer Service that you’ll get your tickets on time.

7. Stress about it anyway.

8. Stress about being able to get into the venue.

9. Tell yourself not to stress.

10. Have stress dreams.

11. Get your tickets four days before departure.

12. Treasure them.

13. Anxiously await March 15, 2016.

14. Take a 45-minute Tube ride to North Greenwich.

15. Take at least 1 minute to ponder the majesty that is The O2.

16. Have your customary concert hot dog and Diet Coke.

17. Find your seat.

18. Take another minute to ponder the majesty that is the inside of The O2.

19. Melt into a puddle at the first “Hello” 20. Constantly question whether you’re actually there and listening to that voice.

21. Laugh.

22. Cry. 23. Laugh while crying.

24. Realize that “Rolling In the Deep” is the best encore in the history of encores.

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When in London: Make Art, See Art, Live Art? —Emily Roberts

London. A city of diversity surging with an inspirational energy. A city for works of art that you may never see again in your life, but when you stand in front of them you know that a master once stood where you stood. Art can bring us together. Many artists explore what it means to be a part of a certain culture whether it be where they were born or where they ended up.

I asked myself what I would paint or draw or photograph as I walked into the glorious Victoria and Albert

museum. Alone, I was left to contemplate not only the meaning of the artworks but also what it meant for me standing in front of carefully curated selections divvied into determined categories and labeled as such.

What does it mean to be categorized as East Asian art? Or lumped together as “silver” works? Why not put the theater exhibition with the fashion exhibition? When entering a museum I agree to participate in someone else’s thinking, someone else’s categories. Could I, one day, determine these categories? But this is all rather beside the point. Musings of a curious art historian really.

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tive but not overwhelming and only adds to the art works within. Each room becomes something to discover slowly. There are built-in replicas of rooms from centuries ago as well as a compilation of recent theater innovations. My favorite room displayed fashion-through-the-ages.

You go around in a large circle seeing how clothes can become works of art. The exhibit begins with 18th century fashion and works its way up to the postmodern styling of today.

I couldn’t help but wonder if there were ever people roaming the halls of the museum dressed in the lacey, tight costumes from mid-19th century.

Who were they? The Queen and King themselves?

I live the art, when in London. I become a part of the aesthetic, adding my tasteful but noticeable touristy touch to every scape I stand before.

There is a certain cinematic quality to London where you become an actor in a movie when you walk across the beautiful millennium bridge, or eat in a quaint pub, or ride in one of the bright red double-deckers. London makes me famous.

Through my photo lens I make the art too. My large Polaroid camera

hangs around my neck marking me as an outsider. Click, buzz, whip! And all of a sudden I’ve captured London.

London is my muse and model.

When in London, see what the Londoner’s see. They have access to some of the most priceless pieces of art ever made, which, in simpler terms, is access to an education most of us don’t receive due to distance. I find myself intrigued. I find myself inspired and ready to go back and learn more. London is my teacher and I am her avid student.

When in London: Get Lost in British film —Brett Doze I have always loved film. I didn’t see many movies when I was younger, but I considered a trip to the cinema an adventure and usually walked out with some type of overwhelming emotion. Whether it be amazement, joy, or utter disappointment, I never left a film without a feeling. That’s why I became a film major my freshman year at KU, and that’s why I knew I had to make film part of my travels in London.

The first attraction that I sought out to suit my thirst for British film culture was the Harry Potter Studio Tour in Leavesden. I became a “Potterhead” when the first film was released in 2001. In 2011, after seven books, eight movies, and ten years of growing up with “the boy who lived,” I thought my childhood fascination had come to an end. The tour proved that I was very wrong.

The chills came the minute our bus arrived at the studio. When I walked in the front door, I had to take a moment. I looked ahead of me and saw two young boys dressed completely in Hogwarts student attire. I gazed above me and saw posters on the walls, including the three main actors (both young and old), Michael Coltrane as Hagrid, and of course the late, great Alan Rickman. Then I noticed the flying car from the second film positioned in the air as if it was really flying. I thought to myself, “this is as good as it gets.” I had no idea.

The tour that followed included everything I could’ve asked for. I walked through Hogwarts’s great hall, explored Hagrid’s hut and Dumbledore’s office, and stood before hundreds of props and costumes from the films. Then I entered Platform 9 ¾ to hop aboard the Hogwarts Express before coming face to face with elves, dragons, and werewolves (I know, I’m a geek.) Sadly, after making my way through Diagon Alley and witnessing the beauty of a scale model of Hogwarts, I reached the gift shop, signaling the end of my experience. What were actually a few

hours of amazement felt like a couple of minutes.

Time really does fly when you’re having a blast.

The other attraction that summed up my film experience in London was the “Bond in Motion” exhibit at the London Film Museum. Sadly, I cannot say that I have seen many Bond films, but I have a fascination with the character. Not to mention that I think “Skyfall” is one of the most exciting films of the last five years.

This Ian Fleming character is such a huge part of British culture, and specifically film culture, that I couldn’t miss the exhibit.

The “Bond in Motion” attraction was not quite as interactive as the Harry Potter tour and definitely did not have the large scope. Still, it was an exciting adventure into movies that are distinctly British. The exhibit consisted of a number of vehicles from the Bond films, along with a few props and costumes worn by actors such as Daniel Craig and Sean Connery. As I walked through the aisles of the museum, I observed slick Aston Martins, beat up dirt bikes, and futuristic mini-submarines. To say that I was a little underwhelmed by the exhibit would not be false, but if this didn’t make me crave a dry martini “shaken, not stirred,” I’m not sure if anything will.

As I experienced the craftsmanship behind British film firsthand, I also caught myself observing the people around me at both attractions.

While at the Harry Potter studio tour, I heard at least three or four different

languages as people of all age ranges made their way excitedly through the elements behind the Harry Potter film phenomenon. My observations at the Bond exhibit were different.

I was easily the youngest attendee at the time, and I’m almost certain I was the only person who was not British. That’s when it hit me. James Bond is the quintessential British film series. It relates directly to the British people and it’s an iconic piece of their culture.

Harry Potter is not exactly reflective of British people in this way.

Instead, it’s a representation of the city of London. While James Bond is known worldwide, he does not have the global impact and reach of the boy wizard. When I think of all the cultures that have grown to love Harry Potter, I now think of the different cultures I experienced in the city of London. This is the biggest thing I took away from these two film attractions, and it reminded me why I find film so...well….magical.

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8 Days of London —Tessa Ng As March 11th drew closer and closer, I was getting more and more excited about spending my Spring Break in London. I started packing my luggage a week early. I did last minute research to add more places into my itinerary. I was asking friends, “Any recommendations for London?” My friends and family were just as excited as I was and they wanted to know everything I was planning on doing in London.

After the amazing trip, I was asked, “How was London?” Because we did not have the whole day to chat, my reply was almost always “It was awesome!”, which did not even begin to describe what I experienced in London. Thus, I wanted to use this article to sum up my 8 days in London: Day 1: I woke up excited for our morning walk around London with Mary and the group. To our dismay, our guide did not find her way to Grange Strathmore. However, that did not stop me from having a great first day out in London. Together, Amber and I headed to the most photographed spot in London: Big

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seum of London (It takes stamina to view everything in this museum), St. Paul’s Cathedral, and The Tempest at Shakespeare’s Globe. As a Business student, the Bank of England Museum was the highlight of the day as I learned about UK’s economy and currency, and touched a real gold bar that was worth £352,470.

Ben and The Houses of Parliament.

Like typical tourists, we took photos in front of Big Ben, in the iconic red telephone booth, and stared at the beauty of Westminster Abbey. After a short shopping trip on Oxford Street, the day ended with a plate of sushi and TV in the hotel room.

Day 2: Borough Market, The Monument of Great Fire, Bank of England Museum (I cracked open a safe and got a gold bar…pin), The Mu-

Day 3: Trip to Oxford—Blackwell’s Bookstore (a 134-year-old bookstore with a Guinness World Record for its Norrington Room), Covered Market (Moodog Mothership: British beef steak pie with mash, gravy, peas, Cheddar, and crispy shallots), St. Mary’s University Chapel and tower (a climb up the most narrow spiral staircase to get to a beautiful scenic view of Oxford). I spent most of my time in Oxford scouring through the massive book collection at Blackwell’s. I definitely need to make another trip to actually visit the colleges there.

Day 4: Getting used to the Underground, the British Museum, Mrs Kibble’s Candy Shoppe (shelves of

Day 7: King’s Cross and Platform 9¾ (sending photos to my brother to make him jealous), the Wallace Collection (beautiful collection of paintings and furniture), St. Christopher’s Place, final shopping trip at Primark, Matilda the Musical (well worth the £5), final group dinner at Hereford Arms (finally had British fish and chips), and squeezing everything I brought and bought back into my suitcase (it was not an easy task).

candy of every assortment), Disney’s Lion King, and dinner at Wagamama’s with the group (get the Mochi ice-cream). I found Paddington Bear and a blue Stormtrooper at the Toy Store.

Day 5: Started the morning off at Buckingham Palace and the Victoria Memorial (no changing of the guards but chased after soldiers on horses to get a picture). I then headed to M&M’s World (where you can see M&M’s parodies of the Beatles at Abbey Road, Sherlock Holmes,

and Star Wars), Chinatown (I found Chatime, a drink popular back in Malaysia), National Portrait Gallery, Tralfagar Square (which was flooded with levitating Yodas and “statues”), Harrods, and Wicked the Musical (see article for review).

Day 6: Victoria and Albert Museum (truly amazed by the size of the exhibits), Rasa Sayang (savoring every bite of the Indian Rojak and Lor Mee after being deprived for seven months), and Mamma Mia! (a great treat for all you ABBA fans).

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When in London: Geek Out at Scientific History —Bonnie Reinsch

Going to London, I wanted to see all the famous tourist attractions.

Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, Big Ben, and basically every other historical attraction in London was on my list of places to go.

However, as a chemical engineering major, I made it my mission to go the Science Museum. Now, I’ve been to science museums in the past, but they were nothing major.

This was major.

I went alone, which was probably a good idea considering I spent three hours wandering around with my mouth open like a surprised fish. I couldn’t help it! Here I was, surrounded by all these things that

I’d learned about in my classes for the past 19 years. My mind was actually blown. I made my way to the first exhibit I saw, which happened to be on Churchill’s involvement in scientific development in World War II. The first thing I saw was Rosalind

world of science was too much to handle at once.

I do remember two exhibits in great detail. The first was the medical exhibit, and, as a pre-med student, I fawned over the first smallpox vaccine, an EMI brain scanner, and joint replacements. It was like the museum knew I was coming!

The second was an exhibit dedicated to the future of science. The two most notable things about this exhibit were vantablack and Robobees. Vantablack is the darkest material ever made by man and abFranklin’s photograph of DNA that was taken using X-Ray Crystallography. The second thing I saw was part of Watson and Crick’s original DNA model. I’d just learned about all these famous scientists, and here I was looking at their work. I was so happy I think I cried a little.

Honestly, the rest of the science museum was a blur after that. Everything was so overwhelming, and the impact of seeing all the creations of those who paved the way for the

sorbs 99.99% of light. I’ve only heard about it, so getting to see the effects of vantablack in person resulted in my crying a bit on the inside. Robobees are going to be the coolest thing we have in the future. Like bees, they pollinate flowers and do all that good stuff. But what else can they do? They can carry out MILITARY MISSIONS. Yes, tiny little insects are

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the future of our military. Our future should be very interesting!

I don’t even know what I felt when I was there. Excitement? Yes. Amazement? Yes. A little boredom? Maybe, but that’s because lines for exhibits have a tendency to be boring! Although I’m not 100% sure what I felt at the museum besides awe, I do know that my trip to the science museum was definitely a great way to begin my week in London!

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When in London: Fulfill Your Childhood Dream —Megan Bricks

On our last free day in London, I had one stop that I had to make before I came back to the United States. I couldn’t leave London without visiting Wimbledon.

I started playing tennis in elementary school and fell in love with it at first sight. It became a ritual to watch all four major tennis tournaments throughout the year: US Open, French Open, Australian Open, and Wimbledon. My favorite tournament to watch was Wimbledon because the professionals played on grass courts, which I have never done still to this day. I told myself at a young age, that maybe someday I would get to go to Wimbledon and see it live. Well I did the next best thing, I got to tour the tennis club.

Wimbledon is a suburb of London, which allows you to escape from the hustle and bustle of the city life. I stepped off the tube and started the long walk to the land of tennis for my dream to come true. Walking into the gates gave me a rush as I imagined what it would be like walking through

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those very same gates three and half months later at the start of the tournament.

When I was growing up my role models were often professional tennis players because of the physical strength and mental strength that goes into the game. As we toured the grounds and walked past the Order of Play board, it suddenly hit me that I was here in the flesh and blood. Wimbledon is full of tradition shown by the lack of ads throughout the grounds and the white outfits that the members of the club wear during the tournament.

I got to stand just a few inches away from the grass on court number 19, which is where John Isner played the longest match in Wimbledon history totaling eleven hours and five minutes. I remember exactly where I was when I watched this match on television in my living room

back home because it was changing history. An American tennis player changed the course of history at Wimbledon, and I got to stand extremely close to the court where that happened.

Our tour guide told us about everything going on at Wimbledon, which was very exciting for me to hear. We were told that they have started the process to add more seats and a roof to court number one, which is one of the two courts where the top players play their matches. Court number

one and Centre Court are the only two courts that are only used the two weeks during the championships and never used at any other time.

The last stop on the tour was in the stands of Centre Court, which made my heart beat a little faster. This is the court where all of my idols played and won in the finals at Wimbledon.

This was the court where my love for tennis began, and there I was standing in the midst of all of the seats.

The tour concluded and I couldn’t stop smiling because even though I wasn’t watching a live tennis match, I had the opportunity to stand in the arena where dreams came true for my favorite tennis players. Tears started to form in the corner of my eyes because I was at Wimbledon, fulfilling my childhood dream. The order of play from the last day of the 2015 Wimbledon Championships and the score of the Men’s Singles Final are all still posted, which made it feel like I had been there to bear witness upon all of the gloriousness that Wimbledon has to offer.

To Londoners it might be just another sporting event, but to me Wimbledon was a life changing ex-

perience. I grew up trying to embody the top players on the courts of Wimbledon, and during my spring break my sophomore year of college there I was wandering around the empty courts to take in all of the tradition and love for a sport that emanates from the grounds. The London Review allowed me the chance to stand where my idols have fought

long and hard battles. I got to walk the grounds that millions of people each year walk on for two weeks of the year. I got to become a part of the Wimbledon history, as well as Wimbledon becoming a part of my history. One is never too old to fulfill a childhood dream.

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City from Above —Rachel Dodson The London Eye may seem like a typical tourist destination, but it’s a must for anyone who enjoys sightseeing. It offers the best views of everything from Big Ben to Westminster to the House of Parliament and is an opportune place for picture taking. You only need to have thirty minutes free in your schedule to take a ride on the 135 meter tall London Eye. There are thirty two different bubble capsules that you can ride in and the pace is slow making it feel as if you aren’t even moving. In fact I thought the London Eye hadn’t opened yet since from afar it looked like it had stopped.

Luckily I continued on my way and after crossing Westminster Bridge discovered it was open and there were only a few people in line. I had gone on a weekday, around 10:00 in the morning, when it had just opened so this probably attributed to the short line. I practically sprinted to the front and reached the boarding area where I joined about six others to step inside the moving capsule. Inside there is plenty of space to walk around and for those who are in need of a rest or, in my case, a place to put all their shopping purchases there is a long bench in the middle. There are also four spots where one can stand on fake footprint stickers placed there for optimal picture taking sights. For those of you wondering, like me, what each building or landmark you are viewing there is an iPad located in each of the four corners to provide you with this information, and you are also given a synopsis about when it was built as well. And if you’re a foreigner who doesn’t speak English you can change the language settings. At the end you are alerted where to stand if you would like your picture taken for purchase when you get off the London Eye. And, there are many other souvenirs waiting for you as there is a gift shop, conveniently placed, just next to the exit line.

So, take the chance to visit the London Eye, and bypass the long lines by coming close to the time it opens and have the opportunity to get a full-sweeping view of the city from above.

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When in London: Say Goodbye to Museums —Julia Reynolds

As an art history student who is deeply interested in nineteenthcentury European art, I expected to visit many art museums in London. I planned out trips to the British Museum, the National Galleries, and the Tate Britain. However, the most I saw of an art museum was the exterior of the Victoria and Albert, which I passed by while looking for a suitable ATM the day we arrived.

The exterior was quite lovely, with an imposing brick façade and a great archway decorated with stone sculptures, but I felt no real inclination to go inside. The lines were long, the school children were plentiful, and frankly, I much preferred my lunch at Pret A Manger and the stroll through Kensington Gardens I went on that afternoon.

Initially, I felt disconcerted by my lack of interest in art museums, but over the course of my stay in London, I developed a more positive perspective on the way this shaped by experience. When I visited London previously, I had attended the Matisse exhibition at the Tate Modern, seen the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum, and viewed the Arnolfini Portrait at the National Gallery. While I’m very grateful for those past experiences, in many ways, I was unimpressed by how the art was displayed in these gallery spaces. When I studied the Arnolfini Portrait in my Northern Renaissance class, we carefully deconstructed who might have commissioned the image, the technique used to create it, and where it was placed in the home. None of this analysis was present in the National Gallery. Instead, the portrait was hung against a bare white wall, surrounded by a golden frame.

By not going to art museums, I opened myself up to a variety of new experiences in London. I had time to truly explore the city, and learn more about its culture and history. I visited Buckingham Palace, Camden Market, and Covent Garden; people

watched in Kensington Gardens, Regent’s Park, and St. James’ Park; and had tea in a wonderfully small, and cozy shop in Bloomsbury. My

experience became my own, rather than an exhaustive list of museums and cultural sites to visit, and I’m glad for it.

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When in London: Explore the Museums —Bonnie Reinsch

I love the Natural History Museum here on KU’s campus. I’ve been going there on field trips since I was little. The museum helped spark my interest in how the world developed and what is on Earth, as well as what has been on Earth. However, there’s, surprisingly, not many fossils or other natural history museums in Lawrence. The only other natural history museums I’ve been able to go to were in Washington D.C., and I haven’t been since I was little.

So, I had my mind set on going to the Natural History Museum in London. I figured that it was a large enough city that they probably have a good Natural History Museum, right? Wrong.

They had a great Natural History Museum.

Picture the museum from “Night at the Museum”. That museum was su-

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per cool, especially with all the dinosaurs and all the exhibits around the museum. London’s Natural History Museum was SO. MUCH. BETTER. I walked in knowing I wanted to see the dinosaurs. I mean, who doesn’t love dinosaurs? I was not prepared for the dinosaur exhibit. Not at all.

They had dinosaurs hanging from the ceiling, dinosaurs still fossilized in sandstone, rebuilt fossilized dinosaurs, and even a motorized T-rex! I felt like a little kid in a candy store and couldn’t get enough of the dinosaurs. It was amazing getting to walk around and explore what had walked the earth millions of years before humans have even existed.

The rest of the museum had various models of animals, like elephants, manatees, and even a dikdik! I loved going around and seeing all the animals and learning about

them, as they had so many different kinds that I haven’t learned about in detail before.

I ended my trip to the Natural History Museum on a high note: the rocks and minerals hall. My major deals with a lot of the rocks and minerals and I was so excited to see everything. When I got to the elements in their various raw forms, I was literally crying on the inside. I went with Kate, and I thought it was hilarious and totally predictable how she made it through the entire hall in the time it took me to get through the first fifth of it.

The Natural History Museum in London was absolutely incredible. It was beautiful inside and out, and I can’t wait until I eventually go back to London so I can see everything again!

Bath Explored —Rachel Dodson Take a chance to escape the busyness and hype of the city and visit Bath. It’s only an hour and a half train ride from London, and Paddington railways is a five minute walk from the Paddington tube station which makes for easy travel. The train ride offers passengers a view of the countryside as well as traditional English homes clustered together in various spots along the way. If it’s getting close to lunchtime or you’re just in need of a snack there are drinks and food available for purchase on the train. Once I arrived at Bath I found an info booth for visitors where I was given a map and the attendant circled the tourist’s spots I should visit.

Then I set off for the walking part of my journey and after passing, and going in, many little shops I reached the square where the Roman Baths, the Bath Abbey, and even more shops were located. As I was listening to a street performer playing a trumpet and the chatter of those

gathered around enjoying their visit I spied the Fudge Kitchen. This is something not to be missed—particularly if you have a sweet tooth.

Noticing the free sample sign I immediately went inside to discover you can watch them make the fudge as well, which was an added bonus. After purchasing a slab of salted caramel for about five pounds I went to tour the Roman Baths.

These are fascinating for anyone interested in ancient relics, but only held my attention for a short while so I left after a quick tour. The Jane Austen Centre was my next stop, but I decided to take a detour when spotting the Museum of East Asian Art along the way. This museum was

quaint and had some amazing artwork on display. Then I went on to the Jane Austen Centre where, much to my dismay, there were no more open tours available. So this is something all you Austen fans should look into ahead of time. Deciding to carry on, I made my way to the Fashion Museum which houses a collection of modern and historic clothing. There you can find gowns from the House of (Alexander) McQueen to Dior. It is a designer and fashion lover’s dream especially since photographs are permitted. And if you have money to spare, you can always head to the gift shop where you can find treasures to bring home. This turned out to be my last stop on my route before I made my way back to the Paddington railway station. My final place I was going to tour was the Bath Abbey. But, when I went to peek inside, the lady at the entrance said that it was closing. So, next time I’ll make sure to look at the open hours ahead of time. Although I didn’t go to the Bath thermal spa I got the chance to rest my weary feet on the train ride back to London where I was, once again, ready to be plunged into the mayhem of city life.

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As London Sleeps —Merrik Sanders The rhythm is different. That’s the first thing you’ll notice as you leave your hotel at 3am, no motivation except a vague hankering for granola and a thirst for adventure. You’ve heard all semester that London never sleeps, but that’s a lie. She sleeps silently, and you’re grateful for that.

Perhaps as a natural consequence to the oppressive commotion of business hours, London’s late night hours are startlingly solemn. The rapid heartbeat of hurried footsteps and drivers late for work to which you’ve become so accustomed has suddenly flat lined, replaced only by the light rustle of wind and twitter of a confused bird in the trees.

“No less confused than we are”, your fellow thrillseeker points out, “why did we come out again?”

Maybe it was that third cup of complimentary tea the concierge provided that finally woke you to the realization that you weren’t in London for sleep. This would be the first, but not last, of the week’s all-nighters. Within minutes you realize that nothing in Kensington stays open this late, and the frightening question emerges: Do we return home, tails between our legs, and say at least we tried? Or do we leave the bubble?

The Gloucester tube station is closed, and the cold wind is picking up. You huddle together behind a mattress sized bus station Burger King advertisement for over half an hour before surrendering to the chill, and waving down a taxi. Despite the interesting political debate and advice about avoiding the “idiots” of late-night London, you can’t help fixating over the cabbie’s strange habit of finishing sentences with the statement, not the question: “do you understand me”.

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Nothing is open. Late night eateries are closing left and right as you approach the front door. Only the casinos are stirring now, like a cacophonic symphony they crawl out of their hiding places to cast the streets in effervescent red and provide refuge for the dwindling night owls of Piccadilly Circus left searching for

4:30am, and you’re huddled together in an old-fashioned telephone booth feeling more connected to London than ever. A street sweeper ambles by, peering into the booth and you can’t help but wonder if he interprets your refuge from the unforgiving wind as representing some sort of romantic, unifying moment.

purpose in their insomnia. It reminds you of her question: “Why did we come out again?”

“Hey, my friend! Hungry?” You turn to find a small, Arab-looking man standing inside a shawarma store no wider than that bus stop back in Kensington. You cannot contain a relieved smile. You get two chicken shawarmas with extra tahini, your favorite meal as a child and her first experience with Arabic food. As the owner turns to feed another late night patron, this one too stoned to articulate an order, you excitedly scurry away, looking for a hideout to devour your prize.

Maybe it does.

Dawn looms as you leave the booth, and the steady rhythm of London begins to return. As the night departs, she takes with her the casinos, night owls, and the intangible spirit of possibility that seemed to have invaded and captivated you both since you left the Grange Strathmore.

Though sleep deprived, balancing on sore legs, dreading the long walk home and still slightly unsure of why you left the hotel at all, you find yourselves oddly satisfied.

This, it turns out, is why you came to London.

The Aftermath —Mara Waltz The sun had just begun to peek over the horizon as we arrived back at the hotel, and the realization of the long day ahead of us started to set in. We were going to spend the entire day at Oxford University on zero hours of sleep.

“I’m really not that tired,” I said as we entered the lobby.

My fellow reviewer looked at me with tired eyes and voiced his opinion pertaining to my sanity, or lack thereof.

“We’re not going to survive this,” he replied.

After a few minutes of staring blankly at the TV in the lobby, we decided to go shower and get ready for the long and seemingly impossible day ahead of us. It was only after nearly falling asleep in the shower that I realized the gravity of the situation.

We ate our breakfast strongly resembling zombies, receiving confused and somewhat sympathetic glances from our fellow reviewers and the hotel staff. The hour-long bus ride consisted of discussing literature and basically anything else in the world in order to keep each other awake. Upon arriving at Oxford, we were both delusional and on the verge of passing out from exhaustion. During our short tour of the campus, we slowly trudged at the back of the group, debating whether or not we should find the student housing and sneak into a dormitory for a nap.

I twitched back into consciousness and I was across from my equally exhausted reviewer, drinking tea that I didn’t recall ordering. My eyes burned from the need to rest and I could tell he felt the same. We stared at each other without speaking, now fully realizing how utterly brainless we were. I don’t remember finishing the tea. I don’t remember walking to Blackwell’s. I don’t remember any of the books I admired.

When reflecting upon this day, my fellow reviewer told me, “I don’t

remember ever being so upset in a bookstore in my life.”

I must say, I wholeheartedly agree.

Being the lover of books that I am, I had high hopes that Blackwell’s would wake me up a little and help me survive the day. While it was a lovely and beautiful bookshop, I wanted nothing more than a bed at that point. In fact, I didn’t even need to be a bed. I would have settled for a bench, or a meadow, or even the cold, hard concrete. We were the walking dead, wandering aimlessly around the campus of Oxford University, scaring the tourists.

I snapped awake again and we were in a small café with another reviewer (who actually slept the night before) eating sandwiches. He poked fun at our current sate and inquired as to why we were stupid enough to think we could spend an entire day at Oxford half dead. Neither of us responded. I don’t think we knew the answer to his question, nor did we have the energy to argue.

After eating and wandering around the multiple tourist shops, we headed over to the reception hall for our wine reception. Little did we know, there would be an hour-long talk about the university before we got to down a couple glasses of cheap wine and go home. We sat there, heads hung in

chairs that may have been uncomfortable if we were conscious.

It was as we were walking away from the reception hall with two glasses of wine in our system that I found myself once again twitching back into consciousness, and the realization that we were finally returning to the hotel fully hit me. I was flooded with relief.

We passed out on the bus and it was sheer luck that we woke up in enough time to make our stop. I don’t remember what Tube line we took to get home, or really any part of the trip from the bus stop to the hotel.

Because we were delusional, we decided we should try and stay up a little later, just for fun. We collapsed on the couch in the lobby and within minutes, I was asleep.

“Mara, get up,” he said, who knows how much later. “Time for bed.”

“We’re so dumb,” I said, getting up from the couch.

“Yeah, probably. But it was worth it, right?”

“Yeah, you’re right. It was definitely worth it.”

So with a mumble of farewell and a weary smile, we went our separate ways. Back to our separate rooms, where we both collapsed and instantly fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

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Diversity in London —Crystal Bradshaw In January, I found myself in Rabat, Morocco. And to myself I thought, “Wow this is really nice. Better soak it all in because I don’t know when I’ll have the chance to travel like this again.”

And then nearly a month later in March, I found myself in London.

London!!

I went with no plans except just to make it there. Just to be able to set on a bench and gaze at the horizon, soaking it all in that I was really in London.

London. *sigh* Right off the bat, I noticed the diversity that Mary had promised me would be there. On our first study abroad trip together to Costa Rica in 2014, I had blended in perfectly. In Morocco, I blended in perfectly. But I was anxious that I would stick out like a sore thumb in London, the one minority in a sea of white. To which Mary immediately responded, “You’ll fit in perfectly. Just wait and see.”

And she was right. I did.

In London, there are Indians, French people, Spaniards, Germans, Russians, Moroccans, and other Africans. And to be honest, the British might nearly be the minority!

But most of all, I discovered that London possibly has the largest population of pigeons. There are TONS of pigeons. (Note: Millions and trillions of them).

They flew in my hair and swooped right up in my face.

Everywhere I turned no matter where I traveled in England, I was always bound to find the plucky little buggers cooing and waddling after me, their round eyes staring me down.

Black Cultural Archives in Brixton, England *shudder* But somehow reof true peace, the warm sun soft as gardless of how large a mass of pigeons flew overhead, I I held my steaming Nigerian food to never saw one person—not a single my face. London had everything for one—get pooped on. And for such me that I hold dearest.

The food, the language, the cula large bird population that Engtures, the people. land has, it was amazingly clean.

It has everything that I feared it The only extremely poopy area that wouldn’t.

I witnessed was the river walk in the And that is why I love London.

Kensington Gardens. But the scenAnd Mary for getting me to go. ery was beautiful so it was well worth it.

London is so diverse that even their birds are all different with multiple breeds of swans, geese, ducks, sparrows, etc.

But to be honest, I greatly enjoyed the diverse beauty of the place and greatly appreciated it as well.

My heart swelled in joy as I walked down the market places and my ears soaked in all the conversations in Spanish, French, German, and Russian. I closed my eyes in a moment

Ethiopian Food—Injera (bread) with various meats and vegetables

Sudanese Exhibition at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS)

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Hate these little buggers

Do You Permit It? —Alicia Whitson “Finish both of us at one blow,” said he.

And turning gently to Enjolras, he said to him: “Do you permit it?”

Enjolras pressed his hand with a smile.

This smile was not ended when the report resounded.” – Les Misérables, Chap. XXIII Seeing one of my favorite musicals live for the first time was magical. I can’t deny that my heart beat faster when the tempo increased or that I gasped even when I knew a plot twist was coming. The set was gorgeous and the choreography was engaging.

And yet the thing I took away from the Queen’s Theatre production of Les Misérables was something that never happened in the show.

There’s a scene near the end of the musical after the group of young student revolutionaries – Les Amis de l’ABC – decide to stand and fight. The glorious barricade crafted out of patriotism, old crates, and broken chairs doesn’t hold. Everyone but Marius dies in the battle.

The music swells as a red flag continues to wave above the bodies.

Marius sings a sad song about furniture. The audience cries.

And, according to the stage version of the musical, Enjolras dies alone.

In Victor Hugo’s novel and the 2012 film, Enjolras dies holding Grantaire’s hand. This may seem like a minor detail, especially when considering the scope of the musical. Jean Valjean is still chased by Inspector Javert and their scenes are intense and compelling. Marius

and Cosette fall in love beautifully.

But to see Enjolras’s body draped over the side of the barricade without Grantaire by his side before the fall left an empty feeling in my chest that not even the closing reprise of “Do You Hear the People Sing?” could fill.

Enjolras is described as fierce and dedicated – cold in his relationships but passionate in his pursuit of justice. Grantaire is apathetic and melancholy. He cares little for the revolution and drinks more than he should.

Enjolras, the marble lover of liberty, is consumed by his passion for the revolution. Grantaire rambles for pages about how meaningless life is.

But Grantaire, the man who believes in nothing, believes in Enjolras. And Enjolras, the man who loves no one but his country, lets Grantaire hold his hand as they die. Their relationship is the reason I read Hugo’s novel all the way through. It’s the reason

I watch Les Misérables every few months and spent a considerable amount of time reading Barricade Boy fan-fiction.

In the production I saw in London they don’t stand together at the end.

Grantaire never asks, “Do you permit it?” and Enjolras isn’t smiling as he dies.

Fortunately, the absence of a final grand romantic gesture isn’t the only thing that struck me about the performance. During the song “Drink With Me” Grantaire sings a verse questioning whether their lives mean anything – the only time we see him vulnerable in the musical. After he sings this verse, he goes to grab his bottle of wine but Enjolras rushes over to him while another revolutionary picks up the song. Enjolras takes the wine from him and kneels by Grantaire’s side. Enjolras talks to Grantaire quietly as he sobs into his hands.

While I would have loved to see Enjolras let Grantaire take his hand, if I’m being honest, I’d seen that before the London performance.

The intimate moment during “Drink With Me,” however, was a side of the relationship that I had never considered.

Enjolras combating Grantaire’s nihilism with logic and passion pulled on my heart strings in a way that what I was expecting to see couldn’t have.

Ultimately, that’s what I realized I love about theatre. Each performance can bring something completely unexpected to the audience, even if they’re like me and have way too much background knowledge and know every lyric by heart.

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St. Paul's to the Tate Modern, and Everything In Between —Jared Friesen On the last day in London, I made it a point to find a great view of the city from as high up as I could go.

Quickly deciding that even though the Shard stuck up higher than any other building in London, I would never be able to find my way to it in the amount of time I had left in the city. Instead, I decided to visit St. Paul’s Cathedral.

St. Paul’s is one of the tallest points in London. Its dome is 365 feet high, and it takes way too many stairs to climb to the two walkways circling the dome on the outside. However, out of all the things I saw in London, experiencing the city from the open

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air 365 feet up was amazing. Over looking the Thames, I was able to trace much of my wanderings from during the week. It was a bittersweet moment, knowing that I’d be leaving it all soon.

Walking out of St. Paul’s, I decided to take the long way back to our hotel. This was mainly because I wanted to spend as much time in the city as possible, savoring each footstep through the beautiful city that perfectly balanced the old and the new.

This spirit is really exemplified by the other reason behind why I took the long way back. Leaving St. Paul’s, you can walk in a straight line south

and cross the Millennium Bridge to the Tate Modern.

The contrast between the three could not be more apparent. St. Paul’s is everything thing you think of when you think of historic London: spires piercing the sky, a brilliant white exterior contrasting against perennially overcast English skies, and austere statues gazing down on the streets beyond the wrought iron fence. It’s the final resting place of two of the greatest heroes of British history, a monument to the history of a nation and an empire. Across the river, the Tate Modern’s central chimney towers over the low buildings surrounding it. The thick, minimalist geometry of the Tate Modern's exterior houses within it an astounding collection of some of the most brilliant pieces of modern art. The museum serves as a monument to innovation and invention, where the latest in arts and culture are on display for the world.

In the grand scheme of London, the distance between the two is almost negligible. Even so, that short walk in a straight line sees London change almost entirely. The modern office buildings surrounding St. Paul’s line your way to Millennium Bridge, while the Tate Modern towers over historic neighbors like the Globe Theatre. Linked together by a bridge named after a burgeoning future, these two icons serve to encapsulate all that the city is to me.

London is a place of unimaginable history, where the past is present on every street alongside the leading edge of modern life. Other cities may boast a fusion of the two as well, but London is unique in this blend.

Neither aspect, old or new, historic or modern, is favored over the other.

Rather, London is a city constantly evolving and changing with the present, but never failing to make sure that it carries its past proudly along with it.

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THE SHARK MURDERS VOLUME I: (WERE)SHARK IN THE WATER By: Nancy Antoinette Lord Cliff Weaselcliffe… w​ as sitting at his desk, brooding over all his

shark documents. He had just been appointed Chief Wereshark of the North Atlantic Clan of Weresharks. He had to be aware of everything that was occurring in the Were community and unfortunately there was a lot of activity. And not good activity either… people were dying. He had to think about that later though. He had duties as a Lord as well as Chief, and tonight he had accepted an invitation to a ball. He had a general distaste for balls, but he had business with one Sir Gregory Churchgrove. To get to the Earl he’d have to swim his way through a sea of simpering young ladies and their even more annoying mothers all trying to corner him. Life was hard as the most eligible and wealthy bachelors in all of Great Britain. He had to stop thinking about them before he changed his mind about going to the ball tonight. Putting it out of his mind he called for his valet to help him into his special suit, made especially to keep his rough skin cool when he is out of water for long periods of time. He striped off his day shirt and stretched his muscles, running his fingers through his blonde, medium length hair. He examined himself in the mirror he takes in his dark brown eyes, strong cheekbones, and long straight nose. He practiced his polite smile knowing that showing his teeth could frighten normal humans and finished dressing in his elaborate formal costume. Leaving his chambers he looks at the papers on his desk one more time, but turns and leaves before he gets caught up in his work again. Getting into his fancy carriage he gets ready for the short ride over to Hawkmoor House. He neither liked or disliked Lord Hawkmoor, but he knew that the man probably did not like him. That was of no matter to Lord Cliff however and he just shrugged these thoughts as he descended the steps of his carriage when he arrived at the ball.

Lord Morris Hawkmoor​… ​emerged from the lake, his abs glistening in the

sunlight as salty drops of water cascaded from his dark locks. His favorite lake was almost directly behind his estate- sheltered by shrubbery that was tall enough to give him privacy when he wanted to be alone but short enough that he could show off when he wished to be seen. He lazily dried off and dressed to head inside. His staff was preparing for a ball he was throwing later that night- his worst adversary and greatest foe, Lord Cliff Weaselcliffe was rumored to be in attendance. He was insecure- he knew what for: Weaselcliffe was the only other to know his greatest secret. The knowledge Weaselcliffe had- the things he had seen- could shatter the facade that was Lord Morris Hawkmoor with a few simple words. The last words Weaselcliffe had spoken to him were still ringing in his ears. ​I know​. ​I know what you are. ​Hawkmoor clenched his hand into a fist and before he realized what he was doing there was a gaping hole in the side of his home. He screamed a silent scream. He should not be letting this man affect his emotions in this way. No man would cause him

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to lose sight of his goals. His hand relaxed. He straightened his shoulders. He took a deep breath.

Lord Morris Hawkmoor was ready for the ball.

The Honorable Miss Rosanna Churchgrove...​quaffed her tea. Her flowing auburn tresses caught the afternoon sunlight and glinted off the surface of her Earl Grey. She rolled her glowing green orbs and then directed them at her best friend, brash American Lily Boone.

Lily was discussing a recent trip to the opera she took in which a member of the gentility, she wouldn’t deign to say which, flashed her ankles in an apparent seduction attempt directed at poor, crotchity Lord Whitson. Lady Lucille was always trying to sink her teeth into whatever old batchelor she could tempt into her...drawing room. The sooner her husband died, the sooner she would get her dower allowance and be ready to marry again. It was distasteful, really. Rather than dwelling on Lady Lucille’s humiliation, Rosanna decided to focus her mental energy on the ball she was to attend that night. The ball was to be held at the mysterious Hawkmoor House. Lord Morris Hawkmoor was newly arrived in London.

According to Rosanna’s mother, Hawkmoor had just recently returned to England after the death of his parents in Rome the previous year. According to Viola Churchgrove, he was young, handsome, and looking for a mate. She had seen his black carriage roll past their Grovesnor Square address many times, the tinted windows shielding anyone riding inside.

The night before, safely tucked into bed where no one could hear, she’d said his name, practicing for their inevitable encounter. Each time it had rolled off her tongue like a ripe gooseberry. She knew what meeting Hawkmoor could mean for herself and her family. A companion. A title. A fortune. She was ready.

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London School of Economics —Patrick Spanier

The initial aim of the founders of the LSE was to create an institution for the betterment of society, and that remains its goal today. The school is a public research institution teaching only the social sciences, in fact it is widely considered the world’s leading social science institution. The campus is a lively place to be in the heart of London, being a cultural and financial hub. The campus is a microcosm of the city in the sense that it is culturally diverse, representing over 150 nationalities. The students and faculty of LSE are the reason for its high academic rank, and at LSE they less so study the social sciences, but shape them.

LSE’s campus is a village in the center of London, with many iconic buildings to go along with the Universities prestigious name. A few of the building that was built on LSE and consists of the schools crest and moto. “Understanding the meaning of things.

The school has produced many notable alumni in the fields of law, economics, philosophy, history, business, literature, media and politics.

Around 45 past or present presidents and prime ministers have studied or taught at LSE, and 28 members of the current British House of Commons and 46 members of the current most important buildings on campus are the British Library of Political and Economic Studies, the old building, new academic building, and Saw See Hawk student academic center.

The British Library of Politics and Economics runs through 50 KM and has an iconic spiraling staircase. The Saw See Hawk student center is an architecturally awarded building, housing café’s pubs, and night clubs for the students. The New academic building houses LSE’s public lecture series as well as a rooftop terrace with a stunning view of the London skyline. The old building is the first

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House of Lords have either studied or taught at the School. To date, 26% (or 12 out of 46) of all the Nobel Prizes in Economics have been awarded to LSE alumni and current and former staff. Out of all European universities, LSE has educated the most billionaires according to a 2014 global census of dollar billionaires.

While walking along the streets of this vibrant campus I fell in love.

The LSE has one of the leading MSc Accounting and Finance graduate program in the world, it is currently my top choice for graduate school.

Therefore, while touring the campus, I toured it as a perspective student, mainly trying to realize whether or not I would be able to picture myself walking around this campus and the answer was definitely yes. I was given the opportunity speak to their recruitment office, tour the student union, sit in on a lecture pertaining to IFRS accounting standards, and meet with the dean of admission for their MSc Accounting and Finance program. The whole experience was extremely pleasant and I hope to return one day as a graduate student.

When in London: Crash a Few Poverty Seminars —Grace Phillips

My time in London took an unexpectedly political turn when I received a Facebook message from Amanda Shriwise seemingly out of the blue. The stars (and, my access to free Wi-Fi in Foyles bookstore) aligned just in time, so that I was able to attend the UK Administrative Justice Institute (UKAJI) and Centre for Analysis of Social Exclusion (CASE) joint seminar’ “What do we know and need to know about the impact of benefit sanctions on particular groups?” with only an hour’s notice.

This election cycle American politics, at both the national and local level, are obsessed with social safety nets and poverty. In an American way, we tend to assume these discussions do not take place in Europe. Political sound bites tend to refer to Europe as socialist nations who offer a plethora of broad sweeping social programs. The reality is, of course, much more complicated than that. My night discussing unemployment sanctions, revealed that the UK is struggling with similar issues as the United States in terms of social safety nets and poverty.

The seminar focused on the impact of sanctioning unemployment benefits on welfare exit, employment, and poverty. In recent years the UK has increased the number of sanctions to incentivize employment and welfare exit. Like the reduction in TANF benefits in Kansas, there is no clear linkage to increased job numbers and insufficient data on welfare exit.

The discourse around limiting benefits and poverty mirrors issues seen in American politics. Presenters, such as Dr. Anne Powers, a professor at the LSE, discussed the many unrecorded issues within the system.

Policymakers tend to be ignorant of real world problems that low-income individuals face. Limited access to transportation, child care, and information limit individuals’ abilities to meet the benefit requirements. En-

acting sanctions doesn't take into account increased rates of evictions, debt, stress, and food insecurity. Dr. Powers’ research indicates these factors have a paralyzing effect on job searches due to the enormous increase in stress and instability.

For me, the seminar proved to be fascinating and eye-opening. I found my current internship at state level policy advocacy group, focusing on the middle class, relevant to much of the discussion. Many of the points

brought up by UK non-profits and Dr. Powers are reflected in my current work. The discussion on both sides of the issue is mirrored in the debates in the Kansas and the National Legislature. Until then I had just assumed that a single payer health care system was followed by large social safety nets. The seminar disavowed me of those notions and revealed a heated debate, with familiar rhetoric.

Image from Arron Reeves presentation http://sticerd.lse.ac.uk/dps/case/events/Sanctionsslides.pdf

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When in London: Attend the School the Londoners Do —Tyler Akker The following is a play written to convey my experience at Oxford. After our tour of the campus by Amanda and Kelsey, I set off to find the engineering department. The play begins when I enter the engineering building. The following conversations are paraphrases of what was actually said but the tone and message are as I perceived. The story pauses when the narrator speaks and allows for insight into Tyler’s mind.

N: Tyler enters the building to find a secretary on his left. She is busy and does not seem interested in Tyler at all.

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T: “Excuse me, I was wondering if I could take a look around the facilities?”

S: “No, sorry we are not in term” T: “Aw really? That’s too bad, I have been filling out an application for graduate school here and was just conveniently here on break” N: Suddenly, the secretary is much less reluctant and has a little excitement.

S: “A grad student? From the States? Here, let me call someone for a tour! What’s your name sweetie?”

T: “Tyler” S: (Laughter) “That’s such an

American name! Kathy! We need a tour for an American grad student.”

N: Tyler sits down and looks at some informational packets. He is still a little creeped out about the weird laughter over his name. An article about gas turbine aerodynamics catches his eye just as Kathy enters. *Enter Kathy* K: Enthusiastic, “Well hello there!

Are you ready to see the facilities?”

N: Tyler and Kathy head to the elevator and she presses the button to the 8th floor.

K: “So what about Oxford engineering interests you the most?”

N: Tyler’s blood pressure spikes, knees weak, and arms get heavy.

He wants to throw up already, last night’s spaghetti.

T: “Well…… it’s no secret that your department is at the forefront of research into gas turbines and I was intrigued by the research possibilities.”

K: “Well, we are a very research oriented program! And you can expect a lot of one on one time with your overseeing professor.”

N: Tyler and Kathy exit the elevator. A security guard sits just to the left of the elevator. Tyler tries to re-

main calm as they proceed through several sets of locked doors. Maybe it was the paranoia but it felt like every other door needed an access card. The room they end in is a classroom but unlike any of KU’s. It has that Goodwill Hunting style white boards that can be rotated around.

There are about 15 rows of seats with 8 seats in a row.

K: This will not be your typical classroom, it is much too big for graduate studies. But you would be expected to host lectures here about twice a term” N: Slightly turned off by the idea of giving lectures, Tyler wants to clarify what he just heard.

T: “You’re saying I would be required to teach?”

K: “Did you not read about that in the prospectus?”

N: Tyler thinks he is busted. He debates going out the window. Then he remembers they went to the 8th floor.

His next thought is to just pass out.

Just go all boneless and let them carry him down.

T: “Well yes I saw something but I thought it was like something we have in the States. I did not understand that it was a full on lecture.”

K: “Oh! Well I hope that doesn’t turn you away! It really is a great experience for our students.”

T: “I don’t know Kathy, you may have just lost me” K: “Well I am sorry I was just…”

T: “Oh no Kathy I’m kidding!”

N: The two share awkward laughter and a sigh of relief.

K: “Let us continue to the library” N: Kathy and Tyler head to the library. The library also doubles as a study room with a fantastic view of the campus. Trying not to look like a tourist Tyler casually heads to the window.

T: “What a fantastic view. Would you mind if we stopped to for a photo?”

N: Tyler snaps a quick picture and they continue you on the tour. They visit a few more rooms while talking about the various professors and their research. The tour concludes back on the bottom floor where the two part ways and Tyler exchanges one last encounter.

T: “Thank you all so much for this tour. It really helped me decide that this was the right choice for graduate school.”

S: “Goodbye Tyler! HA! Tyler. Well that is just some name.”

N: Tyler then leaves, proud of his accomplishment and still confused about this strange joke about his name. As he exits the building he does a solo fist bump and melts away into the gloomy day.

The Concorde —Tyler Akker When it comes to aerospace engineering, the British remain closely bonded to their greatest contribution to the field. I am talking of course, about their decommissioned supersonic passenger jet: the Concorde. The Concorde was created in the 1970’s by a coalition of British airliners in hopes of transporting passengers faster than the speed of sound. It went out of service 13 years ago because of the inefficiency of supersonic flight. But when you walk around London, the Concorde appears synonymously with double decker buses and the London Eye. The plane has a very distinguished shape with swept back wings and a bent nose.

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Ashmolean —Alexis Walker The Ashmolean is a fabulous museum recommended to me by an alumna we met in Oxford. The Ashmolean is one of the oldest museums in the UK and is the first university museum in the world.

It houses a large collection of art and archeological artifacts ranging from ancient Egyptian and Assyrian pieces to modern art including an exhibition on Warhol. As my focus in Global and International Studies is literature, pop culture, and art, I like to take advantage of any and all art museums that I can. Also, most museums in Europe are free to visitors, so visiting them is a fun and cheap activity when traveling.

I was especially excited to go to the Ashmolean because I was with Alicia and Bonnie. Neither of them have taken an art history class, so I was able to impart knowledge on them about art and the socio-historical contexts behind a few of the pieces. They will have to tell you how well I did at being a tour guide, but I like to think I did pretty well.

After we spent about an hour wondering around the museum, we decided to get lunch on the top floor of the museum. The Ashmolean Dining Room is a fantastic little restaurant; it would be more fantastic in the summertime when you could eat on the rooftop outside as well as the little enclosed top floor. I got the chicken, which was served with a roasted onion purée, spinach, and mushrooms in a red wine jus (whatever that is). It was really a nice eating experience, but what really set it over the top was the incredibly polite waiter that talked to us and asked us where we were from and what we were studying. As it turns out he just finished his bachelors in history and politics from Oxford and was saving up to get his masters. Did I mention that he was cute too? When I came back and told my mom this story she asked if I got his number. I didn’t so I guess I’ll just have to go back and get it.

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Even the Homeless Read —Maggie Keenan Living in America, you may have noticed the repetition of certain letters glowing in the sky: yellow, green, and red. McDonalds, Starbucks, and Target decorate our cities like Christmas lights. In London, the British equivalent of these stores would be Boots, Prêt à Manger, and, well, bookstores. I found that “what’s the best bookstore around here?” was asked just as often as, “where’s the best place to eat around here?”

When it came time to pack for my trip across the pond, the most difficult part for me was deciding on which books to bring. My bag was packed nine hours before my departure, but it took two trips to the bookstore the week before to really prepare for the trip.

Despite my bad habit of unknowingly mimicking a British accent, I like to believe that my appreciation for literature was one factor that helped me fit in. Now what was the fascination with reading in London and why are we lacking that in the

states? The tube was a library in and of itself, with various forms of reading from kindles to school textbooks in people’s laps. Although headphones appeared to be the most popular London trend, perhaps we can assume that some people are actually listening to audio books. Probably not, but it’s a nice thought.

It was a Sunday afternoon when I wandered into my first bookstore

Polaroid of a book shop

abroad. Accustomed to the large gaps between Barnes and Noble bookshelves, I was surprised but charmed by this store’s cramped quarters. There was an intimacy to it, with books kissing covers and allowing for no space in-between. Dark wood shelves covered the floor to ceiling; in fact, there were no walls at all for the front door was attached to an expansive window.

With no need for wall paint, the book covers decorated the store with an array of color. To walk from front to back required deciding on which oneway path to take, because of two dining room tables that blocked the center. These tables were a beautiful mess of books stacked high with no sense of organization.

My next morning in a park was spent guessing the book title of the people on a bench across from me, rather than reading my own book I’d brought. When I got back to the hotel I stretched myself out on the

couch like a cat and began to admire the ceiling. I noticed bookshelves on either side of the window in this sitting room when we first arrived, but now I was looking at the leather bindings harder. After a little thought and confusion, I realized that the bookshelves were fake and actually painted onto the wall. I couldn’t believe the necessity that the hotel felt to have books in the room, but maybe for the book’s vulnerability they decided it was safer if they were simulated.

In a country full of foreign dialect, books are the common language that’s spoken. They are bought and appreciated, read and worshipped.

That’s what I love most about London, that there’s a curiosity to learn.

I was strolling the sidewalks in Oxford, on my way to the Eagle and Child, when I passed a homeless man sitting in a doorway. Having already witnessed the poverty on the streets, what stopped me about this man was what he had in his hands: a worn book, small enough to fit in his pocket. The pages were tattered, as if creased and turned on countless occasions. I couldn’t help but think, ‘When in London, even the homeless read.’

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China in London —Patrick Spanier As a Chinese Language and Literature student, I enjoyed having the opportunity to see influence of China on the already international city of London. This influence was present in a few different ways. Throughout the week I was able to see that Chinese culture has a significant influence on the city of London, and that influence will only grow with time.

Through visiting Chinatown, viewing the East Asian exhibit at the British museum, and listening to a lecture by the UK ambassador to China, this impact was made clear.

One day, members of our class decided to drop by China-town for lunch after spending the morning at

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the Imperial War Rooms. Chinatown has been a part of London since the 18th century when Chinese traders from the East Indian trading company moved to London. With the passage of time, Chinatown’s location has changed. Presently, Chinatown is defined as the area in and around Gerard Street, where it has been since the 1950s. Just like the first Chinatown, the area we visited was a vibrant activity center, filled with diverse people from all around London both shopping and eating.

Traditional characters were used on the majority of the building, but mandarin was being spoken among many of the locals. Our group ate at

a restaurant named Baozi house, which was delicious. One interesting thing that we noticed in the restaurant was that they had pictures and paintings of Mao Zedong. Additionally, there were panels that gave a brief plot summary of one of the five great Chinese novels Journey to the West.

Another area that had strong Chinese influence was in the East Asian section of the British Museum. The East Asian section of the British museum was extremely impressive.

It had a variety of different exhibits and texts about various parts of ancient Chinese culture. They had porcelain on display with explanation of ancient Chinese trade. They had bronze ritual vases which, in ancient times, were used for ritual communication and offers between the ancestors. They also had Daoist religious figures on display with descriptions of the main three ancient Chinese religions: Confucianism, Daoism, and Buddhism.

While the visiting of Chinatown and of the museum were both fun out of classroom learnings experiences, the majority of the new more relevant material I learned about China’s effect on London came from a lecture given by the UK ambassador to China at the London School of Economics. London School of Eco-

nomics (LSE) is a public research university and arguably the world’s leading social science institution.

One of the reasons it is held in such high prestige is because of its reputation of leading the field in global relations and international studies.

In accordance with their reputation, LSE put on a series of public lecture series about UK Chinese relations.

I was able to attend the last lecture

in this series, which was a speech and dialogue from the UK ambassador Barbra Woodworth entitled “UKChina: Stock, Shakespeare, and Satellites”. The topics outlined in the speech was about how UK and China are working towards a golden age of public relations. It then examined this relationship from three standpoints: government to government, business to business, and people to

people. She then went through five proofs that the two countries were working towards this golden age: Top land exchange, Stimulate Economic Growth, Incorporation of International Affairs, The Next Generation, and The Rule of Law. The discussion afterwards looked at how what was going on in China and what was going on in the UK would affect these relationships, how this relationship would affect others mainly their relationship with the United States, and how the two would be working to align their policies to work towards the same goal, mainly economic growth. The one irrefutable conclusion gained from the speech was that China’s influence on London has become significant and will only be growing for the significant future.

My week in London was a fantastic chance for me to learn about the increased influence of Chinese in London. Through visiting Chinatown, viewing the East Asian exhibit at the British museum, and listening to a lecture by the UK ambassador to China, this influence was made clear. It will be both interesting to see the future development between one of the world’s greatest nations in one of the world’s greatest cities.

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My Ancestral Journey as an Author —Crystal Bradshaw Prior to 2015, I did not have much experience traveling. My first international trip was a travel writing trip to Costa Rica in 2015. Now, only a few months into 2016, I can finally call myself a world traveler. Within two months, I packed in two international trips to Morocco and England. The first was for a women’s leadership conference. The second was another travel writing trip.

I recently published my debut novel, Eliza: A Generational Journey, in December of 2015. The novel narrates the life of my black x5 great grandmother who was enslaved for a part of her life in Kentucky; so when I went to Morocco, I took my personal copy with me as a I made the symbolic journey back to my ancestral roots – Africa.

And with England, I did the same thing.

Another deceased relative of mine, Robert Llewellyn Bradshaw, was the first premier and national hero of St. Kitts and Nevis. He often traveled to England for independent talks and helped push for the formation of the West Indies Federation. Other important government officials and he would often meet in the Lancaster House and carry out long, tense political discussions. As I stood outside the gates of the Lancaster House, feeling my novel shift in my backpack, I couldn’t help but feel x5 great grandmother peering curiously

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through the bars along with me.

I so badly wished that I could hear what she was thinking.

The life – her life – that I had researched for so long would’ve never allowed her the traveling opportunities that I have now. Which is why no matter where I travel, I always take her along with me.

Who thought of all places, my family members played a huge part in British history?

No one. Not even me.

I come from a farming community that my family has homesteaded in for over 130 years. In 1879, Grandma Eliza and her family brought the Bradshaws from Kentucky to Crystal Bradshaw posing with her novel at the UniverJetmore, Kansas, where sity of Oxford. Photo courtesy of Mary Klayder we reside now. Because I am a farm girl, I often get So as I stood, still looking up at poked fun of for my love of the coun- the Lancaster House, I couldn’t tryside or when I claim my Western help but think that no matter where Kansas roots. But one thing that I stepped, I was transported across my hometown and genealogical re- generations and through time, alsearch has taught me… is to not be ways standing on the same soil my ashamed of where I come from and ancestors had stood on centuries my love for history. and centuries ago.

And England has a TON of history.

And that is something I will never And my family is part of that history. be ashamed of.

Handwriting —Alicia Whitson The British Library is home to over 14 million books. From the moment I walked inside, I was in awe. In front of me was a temporary exhibit that celebrated Lewis Carroll and his Alice books. To my left was a room full of manuscripts and beautifully printed religious texts. King George III’s book and map collection is in a glass case in the center of the library. People study in desks set up around it – casual research next to books that once belonged to a king.

The reading rooms are open to the public but I didn’t have two forms of ID on me. I was content to know that research and knowledge surrounded me and someday I could come back and be a part of it. I headed toward the exhibits.

The first thing I saw in the British Library that made me tear up was the original manuscript for Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Carroll was a photographer and to keep children entertained while they sat for their pictures he would tell stories. Alice Liddell was one of these children and afterwards she begged him to write the story down. The first manuscript of what eventually became a best-selling children’s book was handwritten with beautiful callig-

raphy and illustrations. It was meant as a gift for a young friend and the care and time put into it shows how much Alice meant to Carroll. I stared at the book in the glass display case for a few minutes, before I had to pull myself away.

The Sir John Ritblatt Treasures of the British Library Gallery is home to important documents like the Magna Carta, a Gutenberg Bible, Leonardo Da Vinci’s notebook, and original Beatle’s lyrics written by hand. The first section is music: beautiful pieces in the composers’ own hands. I stood in front of works by Handel, Beethoven, Chopin, Debussy and tried to catch my breath. Next was literature: a letter penned by Percy Shelley, Jane Austen’s writing desk, one of John Donne’s poems.

I could list every single item in that room – manuscripts, historical documents, gorgeous Bibles and Qur’ans. Because every single piece of paper there left me in awe.

But the document that struck me the most was

Olive Wharry’s scrapbook. Olive was a suffragist who was arrested in 1913 for burning down the Kew Pavilion. She had also been arrested for smashing windows and taking part in other activist campaigns. During her 18 months in prison, she kept a scrapbook that documented her experiences and the experiences of other suffragettes. I finally let the tears that had been building up all morning fall as I stood in front of her scrapbook. The page that was open under the glass was two pictures of the Pavilion, pre- and post-fire. Underneath she had written, “Before v.

After!!” in careful but excited cursive.

It looked so much like something me or one of my friends would write and

I felt an intense sense of kinship with this girl born in 1886. Her words in her own handwriting made her feel more real than I’ve ever felt about anyone in history.

Books are everything to me, but it’s easy to forget that the printed words on paper were once the frantic scribblings of passionate people who are honestly more similar to me than they are different. It’s sometimes hard to see myself as a writer, as somebody who is worthy of the ink I put on paper. But now I’ve seen the handwriting of the people who inspire me and it’s a lot easier to compare their handwriting to my own.

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When in London: Try a New Form of Tourism —Brett Doze

I have always practiced a distinct form of travel and tourism when I go on vacation. I’m usually the family member who likes to have a solid itinerary. I take hundreds of photos.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I have at least fifty photos of stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame stashed in a closet somewhere. I’m also the one usually lugging home the most souvenirs. To put it shortly, I’m that one guy who annoys the rest of the group with his distinct planning and desire to record everything about a trip.

When I was preparing for London, I pulled up a Word document and started to plan. I listed the necessities: Big Ben, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, etc. After spending some time on Time Out London, I struggled to compact everything London has to offer into a realistic number of attractions that I wanted to visit. Then I saw a picture on Facebook. It consisted of a large number of people on a sidewalk, looking down the street excitedly at an unknown attraction. Every person in attendance had their phone out, taking pictures of whatever it was ahead of them. But in the center of the photo stands an elderly woman, just watching, with no phone in hand.

She was taking in the moment, while everybody around here tried to capture the moment stuck behind their cellphones. In this moment, I thought to myself, “Brett, you’re gonna be that old lady.”

When I got to London, I stuck by this proposition. I only planned for one attraction—the rest was up in the air. It did not take long for me to take on the role of “the follower.” I would learn the plans of other people in the morning, ask if I could tag along (of course the answer was always yes, I’m not that annoying), and end up having the time of my life. I took some pictures, but not so many that I was constantly behind my phone— though I must admit that I could not help but make an exception for the Harry Potter Studio Tour. As a result, I was rewarded with observations of

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little pieces of London that I would not have noticed otherwise. These included diverse cultures, breathtaking architecture, and grumpy pigeons that provided me with way too much entertainment.

I also spent very little money on souvenirs. Instead, I invested in experiences that I would not normally have. I dropped about $100 at a sushi restaurant and ended up eating the best food I have ever had. I spent some cash on tickets to stand in the back row for The Lion King and was completely blown away by the spectacle. The memories created by events such as these are much more valuable than any material object.

So, what is the verdict on this new form of tourism? The truth is that I

could not have enjoyed London to the extent that I did if I had done it any other way. The greatest rewards for this step outside of my comfort zone are the friends I made because of it. If I had planned out my whole trip like normal, I probably would have spent much of my time on my own, scrambling to get to every attraction I wanted to see. Instead, I ended up with a group of peers who would have made this trip great even if we had traveled just down the road to Kansas City. Before I knew it, I was part of the so-called “Oxford Frat Pack,” and I would not have it any other way. Pictures and plannedout travel is great, but this tourist got much more out of taking it easy and being a “follower” in London.

When in London: Throw Your Anxiety and Fears to the Wind —Amber Rayl In the days leading up to our trip, I felt myself falling into a pattern.

Imagine the plane ride, panic. Think about being in a big, new city, panic.

Being away from home? Oh ho ho, no, panic. This exhausting pattern is something I am very used to. Having de-realization/de-personalization, I work in steps towards something that scares me, but in this case, I threw caution to the wind.

Heading to the airport on departure day, my hands were sweaty, my brain, foggy, and I was trying to pretend my body wasn’t shaking. Once I was on the international flight, I was calm…too calm. It was like my body knew that in this moment, it wasn’t a time for panicked worry. For the first time since my anxiety started, I felt completely calm on an airplane, but not just any airplane. No, this was a huge flight that was over the ocean for 6+ hours.

The touchdown in London went perfectly, and besides the travel sickness that accompanies airline food and sitting in one position for longer than recommended, I walked out of the plane feeling confident and for the first time in 6 years, alive.

Sleep deprivation has never been my friend and usually fuels my worries, but in this moment, I couldn’t

care less. I ran around town with friends, taking millions of pictures along the way, until the sleep deprivation caught up with me at 2pm; a twohour nap had never felt so good.

Now one situation that has never failed to trigger my attacks is transport: planes, cars, buses, all of them mean fear for me so going into the tube station where I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, was the epitome of my worst fears. After taking a few deep breaths, I stepped onto the platform and was amazed by the lack of tightening muscles.

My next obstacle was my fear of heights, but not just any heights: bridges, towers, and high-rise buildings are particularly scary for me. I walked across four bridges my first day alone and lo and behold: my throat didn’t start closing. During one of my adventuring periods, I visited Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park and went up the ArcelorMittal Orbit, which is over 300 feet in the air

with a 360-degree observation deck.

I only felt a little scared toward the end of the visit, but I never once felt anxious.

When I was originally planning my trip to London, never in my lifetime did I ever think that I would completely let myself be free and enjoy myself in a foreign country. Coming home, I felt refreshed, ready to take on the world, and stronger than ever before.

I think this is why it’s so important to step out of my comfort zone, so I can force myself to enjoy everything this life has to offer.

P.S. I haven’t had a panic attack since arriving back (that’s almost over 3 weeks of no panic!).

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When in London: Be Impulsive! —Taylor Beaham How do you commemorate a trip to London? Get a tattoo, of course.

she created a sketch that was absolutely perfect and exactly what I had been Our week in London gave me so looking for! I loved the demany incredible opportunities and sign, but I still was extremenew experiences, but I had this itch- ly hesitant about putting ing feeling throughout the week that something so permanent pictures, although wonderful, would on my body. After my dad not nearly be enough for me to carry passed away, my mom and this trip with me forever. I toyed with I got two very small, hidden the idea of designs before we left tattoos in his honor, but told the states, but I am not someone to ourselves that these would get a tattoo without deeper meaning. be our only ones. After all, I wanted a small tattoo that would how many places can you symbolize the individuals that make put a tattoo on your body up my family. My family has always that is both discrete and been the most important part of who tasteful?

I am. When my dad passed away As the week went on, quite suddenly, almost 5 years ago, I kept thinking about the it put us all to the test. The only thing possibility. I would pass a that got me through the devastating tattoo parlor or look up reloss of my dad was having my mom, views of places in London; the idea brother, and sister there to lean on. of getting a tattoo in London was Over time, we have all begun to heal exciting, but not all that practical. At together and come to realize that my the end of the week, I was walking dad will always be a part of who we around London by myself and had are. Therefore, I wanted a symbol the sudden urge to find a tattoo that would represent the unwavering parlor immediately! I called around connection of family. to some well-known places in the I asked my very talented room- area, but no one had availability mate to help create a small design with such late notice. This probably that could encompass the 5 mem- should have been fate, or a sign bers of my family. On the first day from my father, who actually hated in London, she played around with tattoos, not to get any more of them creating a design out of the first ini- on my body; however, the next day tials of my family members’ names; my roommate Maggie and I were

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walking down Portobello Road and something just came over me.

I saw a sign for Portobello Piercing & Tattoos and I decided to walk right in. They happened to have one slot open that morning because it was so early. I handed her Maggie’s design and told her that I wanted the design extremely small on the back of my neck. I was heart broken when she showed me the smallest size that she could do; it just wasn’t going to be concealed enough for the placement that I wanted.

On the spot, I came up with the new idea of having five very small dots placed in a horizontal line along my neck, each one representing a member of my family. I explained to her what I was thinking and she went back to the drawing board. As we waited for the artist to sketch the design herself, I was still talking myself into and out of the idea with Maggie. Maggie pulled out 50 pence and said, “Heads you do it, tails you don’t” and it landed on HEADS. Yes, the final decision might have been slightly impulsive, but for the rest of my life I get to have something that reminds me of the magical city I got to explore and the people who are most important to me. When in London, right?

When in London: Get Out of Your Comfort Zone —Megan Bricks

I will admit that I was a little nervous going into the trip having never been out of the country before. I also easily get lost while looking at directions, but I never knew how much traveling to London would get me out of my comfort zone.

I don’t usually do well with going to new places and not knowing where I am, but I didn’t let my anxiety get the best of me and instead used the tube map to figure out where we should get off or just wandered around the city not knowing where I will end up. I had to let go of my ways and let myself take in the environment around me.

One of my favorite experiences was going out with friends to dinner and then to the pubs afterwards.

I don’t ever have time to go out, so it was fun to spend time with my friends that I made while on the trip and really get to know them. One night my friend group was going out to a pub, but I needed to start writing

my music history paper, so I brought my laptop with me and wrote my entire paper at the pub. I am so glad I chose this instead of staying at the hotel because I got to be involved in the conversations.

Getting lost in London is sometimes one of the best things you can do because on Wednesday morning I ran into a huge dog park and the next thing I knew, I turned around and was standing directly in front of the Royal College of Music.

If you are ever somewhere and don’t know what to do, you should just wander around and let yourself get lost because you never know where it will lead you.

Two nights when we were taking the tube back to the hotel, there was a mariachi band playing as they walked down the train.

This was one of my favorite experiences because wherever you went in London you were always surrounded by music. These men would hop on the tube

just to perform amazing music for the people on their way home. In the Underground stations for the tube there were countless musicians with extreme amounts of talent.

I highly recommend to everyone that they should study abroad because it gives you an experience unlike anything you have ever done in your life. While waiting for our Shakespeare play to start, I got to eat Turkish food because that was the restaurant that was recommended to us. I never once thought I would end up eating Turkish food in London, but it was a truly delicious meal.

While in London I let myself get outside of my comfort zone. I didn’t want to miss a single second, so instead of going to bed early because I was tired, I went out and experienced the town with my friends, which is something I will never forget. One of my friends who studied abroad in Germany for over a year told me before I left that I would love every second of it and to do as much as I can because I will have to come back to KU at some point, but the memories I created in London will last a lifetime.

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When in London: Welcome Your Past, Present, and Future —Amber Rayl When I was a little girl, I would always dream of far away lands filled with adventures, castles, and amazing experiences. I would tell my grandma everything, and we would pretend together. On her old, white Windows computer, we would constantly search images of new countries.

We began to make a mental list: England, France, Belgium, Italy, Greece… Our talks were filled with ideas of what we would do there, but there was a catch; Grandma wouldn’t take me abroad or far away until I was older, and my parents were okay with it. Sadly, that moment was never realized for us as the summer of my 5th year, she was diagnosed with stage 4 melanoma. She knew she was dying, but you can’t tell a child that.

Flash forward three years, it was October, and we were mourning the loss of my hero. My spirit was all but crushed from losing my best friend.

Although my grandma never made it to neither my 18th nor my 21st birthday, I did finally make it to one of the places on our list: London. Although I had always wanted to travel, it didn’t feel fair to travel without my travel buddy because why should I get to see everything, when she couldn’t see anything? Then I started think110

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ing more and more about what she would really have wanted me to do.

Would she have wanted me to sit around wallowing in self-pity over her death, or would she rather I go and experience all of the places she never made it to? In my heart, I knew it was the latter.

Signing up for the London Review was my first step, my heart pitterpattered in my chest not sure if I should be doing this. Then came the contract, everything felt like a dream.

Finally stepping onto the plane, I couldn’t believe I was doing it, but I knew that I was fulfilling a dream that my grandma and I had envisioned long ago.

While in London, I made sure to visit some of the places we had discussed: the Tower of London, Big Ben, Hampton Court Palace, Buckingham Palace, and the entire time, I took millions of pictures as if preparing myself to show her everything I did. To pay homage to my dearest grandma in London, I drank more tea than I have since she passed, albeit with much less sugar than her sweet tea (which I think my body was thankful for).

As I walked around the city, I began to reflect

on how her death impacted me for the…better. I became much more independent. I learned to believe in my abilities and myself. I started to pay attention to things I otherwise never would have. She also instilled her love of Princess Di in me, whose face was everywhere in London.

In such a large overwhelming city, I didn’t feel so alone. Maybe it was all of the Princess Di memorabilia, or maybe it was because I knew she was there with me. Who knows.

There’s only one thing left to ask: Grandma, are you proud of me?

When in London: Break the Rules —Julia Reynolds I vividly remember my English 105 course with Dr. Mary Klayder. My first college English course, we read everything from Christopher Marlowe to Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Toni Morrison. While Dr. Klayder is one of the most open-minded and tolerant professors I have encountered at the University of Kansas, she did have one request for our final papers: that we not write about the last paragraph

of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. Although I avoided repeating this cliché at the time, I will now do so with abandon.

Fitzgerald concludes this paragraph with the line, “So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past”. And in many ways, this line is an accurate account of my time in London. When I participated in the British Summer

When in London: Form a Friendship That Will Last a Lifetime —Megan Bricks On the first day of the London Review class everyone haphazardly filled in the circle of chairs we formed upon arrival.

During the classes leading up to the trip, very few people ever spoke to each other, so unless you knew someone before the class there was next to no conversation to be had between classmates.

As we left for London I was afraid that I would not have fun because I didn’t know anyone in the class. But the moment we boarded the first flight our entire class started bursting into loud conversations with each other. I guess you need to spend hours on a 747 on the way to another country to get everyone in your class to talk to you.

On our second night in the hotel I decided to start on homework for my music history class, which I enjoyed because I wasn’t procrastinating on writing a paper. Katelyn wandered into the lobby after her Jack the Ripper tour, and because we were the only two people in the lobby at that point, she came and sat by me. We started talking and I helped her decide what to order to eat.

Who knew that a friendship could start while discussing a prawn sandwich in the lobby of the Strathmore Grange, late at night, while most of our classmates were out at the pubs? After that night I fell into Katelyn’s “crowd” with Emily and Tyler. From then on we hung out every single day, exploring the streets of London and laughing at the silliest things – the infamous Black Phillip, Dennis Quaid and Tyler’s love life.

Institute in 2014, I traversed a number of the same streets and squares, and visited the same markets as I did for London Review. I had new experiences, of course, but in general, my trip to London felt much like a time warp.

Walking along Millennium Bridge calls to mind especially clear memories. When I shut my eyes, I could picture St. Paul’s at sunset, framed by the modern metal suspensions of the bridge. I’ve spent many hours in this area of London and they’ve begun to blur in my mind. I see myself with my cousin, with my friends, and finally alone as I cross over toward the Tate Modern, moving from past to present. Regent’s Park came at me in a different way. While I visited for the first time on London Review, I could imagine my most admired literary characters taking nearly the same steps as me. Mrs. Dalloway, Lucrezia, and Septimus too must have passed by Queen Mary’s Gardens, and seen the roses in bloom, children on the boating pond, and trees cooling their branches in the water, just as I did.

Even though I made return trips to Borough Market, and Camden Lock, Portobello Road perhaps mirrored my first trip the most distinctly. Rain fell lightly, with colorful houses that stood out bright and cheery against the dreary grey sky. I visited familiar stalls selling luxurious silk scarves, Italian leather, and hearty baked goods. My purchases were nearly identical to those I made on BSI: four richly embroidered scarves, a small blue purse, and a strawberry jamfilled doughnut. As I stood eating the doughnut beneath a storefront awning, I noted that it tasted nearly identical to the one I had before.

Despite being on a different trip, with a different group of people, at any given moment, they could have been the same. As Fitzgerald insinuated, ultimately, we may only be reliving our past.

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Lone Ranger in London —Tessa Ng As a seasoned traveler, I was experienced with doing research and planning for my trips. I never go on a holiday without a detailed itinerary of places to visit and eat. The idea of wandering about an unknown city by their lonesome may be daunting to some, but I was ready to take on this challenge. I was determined to go to all of the places that I was interested in, as it was a short trip (it is not easy to cram London into 8 days). So here are my tips for exploring London alone:

1. Plan Ahead Always, always plan your trip before arriving at your destination.

I can already hear some people saying “No, you’ll miss out!” The key here is to keep an open mind— having an itinerary does not mean you are obligated to strictly stick to it. My itinerary helped me fully utilize my time in London. With planning, I was able to visit places that were situated in the same area, thus minimizing the need to hop on subways or busses (which adds to the overall travel time between places).

2. Be Alert This is a no-brainer. From the moment I stepped out of the hotel room until I returned at the end of the day, I constantly reminded myself to be alert to people and my surroundings. Waiting at the Underground stations always made me nervous. Is someone going to grab my bag? Will someone accidentally push me down onto the

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rails? Is anyone following me? Being the paranoid person I am (better safe than sorry), I always made sure my bag was close to my body and in front of me. That way, no one could grab my bag, cut the straps or slash it open. Next, I always looked at the people around me.

If someone looked suspicious, I would casually move further down the platform. Do not worry about offending that person; you’ll never meet them again. Lastly, when I was out at night, I always concealed my pepper spray in my pocket with my fingers on the pump so that I would be prepared to pull it out if I was ever faced with an assailant.

3. Do Not Look Lost London is tricky to navigate around. Google Maps sometimes makes little alleys look like regular roads, thus making it easy to miss.

However, to avoid being marked as a tourist, I tried to conceal the fact that I had directions on my screen. Every morning at breakfast, I would look at the directions to my next destination. This gave me an idea of where I was going without constantly staring at my phone. I repeated this step before I left for my next destination. If you have to pull up the directions when walking, do it subtly—make it look like you are texting or scrolling through your Facebook feed.

Wondering around London alone is not all don’ts. There are perks of being a lone ranger. I got better seats to musicals at a good price, as I could fill the empty single seats.

I did not have to sacrifice going to places that did not fit my interests. I could switch up my plans at any moment and I could go at my own pace.

However, most of my photos were selfies (better than no photos!).

No Place Like Home —Rachel Dodson

Little did I know when traveling to London I would transported back to Kansas by a stage production. I went to see a performance of Wicked at the grand Apollo Victoria Theatre, an Art Deco inspired building. Inside the building, theater goers are transported to the ocean by use of interior design.

The theater seats and floor are covered in an aqua patterned fabric that resembles waves or perhaps scales of a fish. Pink tiered ornate light fixtures, in the shape of shells, adorn the walls.

And there’s a giant mechanical dragon prepared to take flight hovering above the stage. In the foyer there is dim lighting and a faint glow of green light (in honor of Wicked) adding to the ambiance. There is a bar and Oz boutique in the foyer as well. The Oz boutique offers the usual souvenirs—everything from t-shirts,

to bags, to CDs, and of course the official playbill. At intermission you can either stand in the mile long bathroom line or take the chance to try a tasty treat, like a mini ice cream cup, available at one of the carnivalesque vending carts. All these design elements ensure that theater goers have a wondrous experience. But, it’s the musical itself that lets you escape reality for three hours, and once you enter the world of Oz you don’t want to leave. The stage is lit and the well-designed set makes the story come alive. And, it’s this set that, in once scene, resembles Kansas by use of stereotypical images such as sunflowers and the iconic yellow brick road. So, if you’re missing home while traveling abroad, head to the Apollo Victoria Theatre to see Wicked, a musical not to be overlooked.

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Remembering My Papa, While in London —Grace Phillips

Six years after he died, my grandfather, Oliver Phillips, continues to impact my life in ways I did not anticipate. Having worked as a Classics professor at KU, his memory is all across campus. Professors frequently recount the academic incarnation of my grandfather. London, however, forced me to remember him in ways that had been buried under these many academic renditions.

The British Museum’s controversial display of the Elgin marbles which, tends to evoke awe and sometimes anger, had a different emotional impact on me. As a child, I spent every Wednesday with my grandparents, Grandma Shirley and Papa. Instead of telling me typical Grimm Brothers' fairy tales, although he once read me Briar Rose, Papa spent countless hours reciting his child-friendly versions of Greek mythology.

When I was little, I was obsessed with these myths. I spent hours rereading a children’s encyclopedia about Greece and its mythology, which eventually had to be bound with duct tape, and asking Papa numerous questions about myths and Greece. My favorite goddess was Athena. The goddess of wisdom, and war. He used to regale me with promises of trips to Greece as my personal overly educated tour guide.

My visit to the British Museum served not only as a reminder of the

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tour I would never get, but of all the small details about Papa hidden in my memory. My experiences at KU are a constant reminder of his academic life and accomplishments, which over time have overshadowed his other characteristics in my thoughts.

While the Elgin marbles were perhaps a more obvious reminder of him, markets proved to be uniquely and unexpectedly linked to one of those forgotten quirks. While I have no memory of him shopping, the markets provided a definite reminder of Papa’s love of hats. Every cluster of stalls, that alluded to someday being a market, without fail had toppling stacks of hats containing the several herringbone hats. The hat that as a child was synonymous with Papa. Bald and fond of walks he was hardly ever seen without one. An uncommon style in America, the herringbone hat was present in every tourist shop or clothing stall and served as a constant reminder of Papa’s favorite hat.

Things that triggered memories of Papa were seemingly inescap-

able in London. Paddington Station reminded me of Papa reading me the beloved children’s novel. Seeing The Tempest sparked discussion between my mom and me about the Shakespeare book he and Grandma Shirley had given me. Through dinner conversations with Mary and my travels around London, this trip has forced me to remember my Papa, Oliver C. Phillips, as a Professor, polyglot, bibliophile, world traveler, eclectic hat lover, and most importantly my adoring grandfather, who never stopped doting on his granddaughters.

When in London: Stay in London —Emily Roberts The bench was damp with the morning dew…and possibly pigeon poop. I sat anyway and felt the gravel beneath my shoe. The dogs whizzed past and so did that one guy who really just needed to practice his skiing. The sun desperately wanted to break free but the clouds just squeezed tighter and tighter. The haze settled nearer the building and finally over my feet. What was in the air today? I couldn’t quite say that it was fresh air but the London fog filled my lungs. London sprayed me with its no. 5 fragrance – wet grass, pollution, and that scent that comes with cities that have been around for many centuries: the smell of old buildings. It sounds terrible, I know, but it felt like home; it felt comfortable. My eyes would close and open and each time a new scene laid before me.

The trees grew from the muddy ground where they twisted, turned, and climbed. I imagined faces ap-

pearing on the knobs of each tree like something out of a Tolkien novel, only fitting I suppose. They grew into monstrous creatures that could dust off the dirt and start walking around the park. They looked like they have seen some shit through the ages and their wisdom could surpass any history book. What could they tell me about London?

Next, I turned a corner and suddenly a great church* stood before me shrouded in a mist. A perfect silhouette shown through. Was I in London or on the moors? I had found a piece of English country in the middle of London. It took my breath away. I continued to stroll through the park disappearing into the fog but never losing sight.

London is my perfect home. I can find the countryside, art museums, and Dennis Quaid. I can eat whatever cuisine I like (except maybe Mexican…Kansas has you beat there, London!). I can go out and have a

good time by myself at a pub or with a group of friends. I can be comfortable with myself, something I have never experienced in my twenty-two years in Lawrence, Kansas. London gets me moving, it gets me out and about.

I can see anything I want. It scares me just enough to keep moving, to keep me walking and traveling.

Here is a place where trees can talk to me, inspire me, and teach me.

The churches will never stop being beautiful and the green spaces will always let me breathe. Every neighborhood welcomes me into their little square.

I wonder which Sainsbury will be mine when I come back? How many times will I have to buy an oyster card because I left mine somewhere? Will it finally rain when I’m in London next time? Where will my local pub be?

Will it end with an “arms” or start with a “head”? Who knows but I know I’ll see you again, London. Until next time.

*Albert Memorial

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When in London: Unite the White Rose and the Red —Maddy Mikinski "We will unite the white rose and the red: Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, That long have frown'd upon their enmity!"

– William Shakespeare, Richard III In Taylor Swift’s smash hit “Wildest Dreams,” her love interest suggests that they “get out of this town / drive out of the city, away from the crowds.” Being the Swift disciple that I am, I decided to take her up on it and head out of London. My destination of choice was Leicester and my travel companion was a long-dead king.

King Richard III is a source of endless fascination for me. From a literary angle, he’s been vilified by Shakespeare to the point of infamy.

From a journalistic standpoint, the Tudors employed such effective propaganda against him that the repercussions are still visible today. From a historical stance, he represented the last of a prominent, far-reaching dynasty that shaped England’s history forever.

When Richard’s remains were found underneath a parking lot in 2012, I knew I had to make a pilgrimage. I had to see the spot where everything ended and began.

I found out relatively last minute that I would be going to Leicester alone. I’d be getting off the train alone, finding my way to the visitor’s center alone, and returning to London alone. It was a little daunting, but my need to actually see Richard’s grave overwhelmed my anxiety. Nevertheless, before leaving my friend in Birmingham, I obsessively mapped the route from the station to the burial site.

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About halfway through my train ride, I realized it didn’t matter.

As I watched the English Midlands zip by, I realized the kind of independence I had gained. For the first time on the trip, I hadn’t been passed off to someone. I hadn’t been Red Rover-ed from one friend to another or from one friend back to Mary. I was actually venturing out on my own. No one would be meeting me at the train station. No one would be there to guide me through Leicester. No one would help me get home. I had to do it myself, and it was empowering.

I was able to spend all the time I wanted with the artifacts and articles without worrying about holding any-

one up or boring them. I could ponder and obsess all I wanted. It might have been the most relaxing part of the trip.

Over the week, and over my last four years at college, I’ve been constantly surrounded by others. I’ve had roommates and classmates and coworkers. Romantic poet Lord Byron (and my problematic fave) once wrote in his journal, “I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.” Only on the train to Leicester did I realize that I’d been craving alone time for months. I’d been out and about so much that I needed to drive out of the city, away from the crowds.

Thank You! You're Welcome! And Sorry!

—Merrik Sanders

To the receptionist whose name I should’ve gotten: For sitting up with us all night, and bringing us free peppermint tea in exchange for exhausted conversation: Thank you. I’m not sure what we would’ve done if you hadn’t recommended Piccadilly Circus for late night eats, or warned us about the price of taxis.

Because we weren’t as wild as the previous college group, who drank from eight o’clock until sunrise in the hotel lobby, getting progressively louder and more inclined to practice gymnastics across the room: You’re Welcome. We told you that our calmness was a result of being English Majors, but if you want to believe that Kansans are naturally more mature than Texans or Pennsylvanians, that’s fine too.

For doing yoga on the floor of the lobby, just outside of your line of sight and therefore forcing you to rush in: Sorry. I didn’t realize that when two college students stretch beside each other behind a sofa, adults presume we’re being cheeky.

To the lovely women that waited on our breakfasts: For asking whether I wanted tea before I had sat down long enough to miss it, and remembering that I prefer brown toast over white: Thank you. I’m not sure if you know how much I love food, breakfast in particular, but you will forever be in my London hall of fame.

You once forgot to bring individual toast platters for Mary and myself, making us instead share a single serving. Because we both held in our rage, and managed to be civil despite clearly wanting to fight each other for the last piece: You’re Welcome. I presume that news of a college student being strangled to death with a scarf would probably drive down ratings at the Grange Strathmore.

For not knowing how to eat a croissant like a human being, stealing a container of strawberry jam, and eating while still at the buffet table: Sorry. I appreciate your tolerance; my mother wouldn’t have been so forgiving.

To the entire staff of the Grange Strathmore: For housing a bunch of loud, arrogant, and (sometimes) drunk college students, and facilitating the week of our lives: Thank you. We didn’t tell you often enough in London, but I hope you could sense at least a fragment of our appreciation. From the unassuming woman that miraculously cleaned our room everyday to the stone-faced receptionist that

mumbled goodbye every time we left, I can only tell you now that we appreciated all your hard work.

For accepting one receptionist’s positive opinion of Donald Trump without a single word of protest: You’re Welcome. You have no idea how hard that was for some members of the group.

For never getting your names, being sometimes a little too loud, and for not telling you all of this before leaving London: Sorry. Hopefully this letter makes up for our silence in some small way, at least until we meet again.

Sincerely, Those Quiet Kids

Trafalgar Square —Hanna Ritland Blue sky, live music Throw a coin and make a wish Food on steps with friends

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One Day at a Time —Mara Waltz My name is Mara, and I have an addiction. It started at a young age, but it wasn’t until many hours spent in London bookshops that I was able to recognize it. There are five stages that lead up to addiction, and I am writing this in hopes of saving some poor souls from the dark path I have gone down and may never escape.

Step One: Experimentation Being so early on in the addiction, experimentation can be tricky to spot. Signs of experimentation vary drastically from person to person, but there are a few common themes.

For example, reading multiple books from several different genres at one time is a very important indicator of experimentation. I brought three books to London with me; The Faerie Queene by Edmund Spenser, Hollow City by Ransom Riggs, and Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. In addition to these, there were about five other books back home (all from different genres) of which I was currently reading.

With reading multiple pieces from different genres, comes the purchasing of several books to the point of building your own small library. During my exploration of London bookshops, which I will explain further, I purchased two books by Leo Tolstoy, the complete works of Matthew Arnold, and a small pocketbook of cat poems; none of which relate much to each other. If you begin to show signs of experimentation, let someone know. Catching the addiction process during this stage is vital in preventing a lifelong battle that is nearly impossible to win.

Step Two: Regular Use After experimentation comes regular use. Once hitting this stage, it becomes significantly more difficult to curb the addiction process, but it is still possible. When you’ve progressed into this stage, you will be reading nearly everyday. In fact, you may begin to contract feelings

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of incompleteness or inadequacy if you have not picked up a book in a few days. While regular use may not seem like a glaring issue, it is a huge and incredibly important stepping stone in the addiction process.

Because of the jam-packed days I spent in London, it was sometimes difficult to fit my nightly reading in.

The first few days, before we found our first bookshop, I began to feel the suffocating sensation of withdrawal. I hadn’t breathed in the calming scent of a worn novel, nor had I heard the shuffling of pages turning and I was beginning to feel restless. So when we stepped into South Kensington Books one afternoon, I felt an irrepressible burst of happiness well up in my chest and tears may or may not have come to my eyes. Flooded with relief, I immediately headed for the classics section, fully emerging myself in my own little world I had tucked away in my brain specifically for the exploration of bookshops.

While these feelings of relief and utter happiness may sound positive, they can potentially lead to detrimental consequences. Such sensations indicate dependence, which I will address later.

Step Three: Risky Use Risky use is quite similar to regular use, but, hence the name, is even more dangerous. This stage is perhaps the “point of no return” for literature addicts. Risky use involves not only feeling uncomfortable after not reading for a while, but begins to take over your life. At this stage, you begin to blow off responsibilities in order to read, and often spend more and more time alone in that special “corner” of your brain I mentioned earlier. You begin to shut out other humans and fully emerge yourself in the world of the specific novel you are reading, which can lead to delusional thoughts of actually residing in that world.

Hatchard’s bookshop in London was the perfect location for such

delusion to take place. For hours, a fellow reviewer and I sat curled up on a cracked leather couch on the second floor of Hatchard’s, hardly ever speaking to each other and ignoring the world around us. We more than likely received more than a few glances from various onlookers who began to notice our unnatural indulgence in such a trivial activity.

When reading literature begins to take over your social and academic life, it is absolutely vital to seek help.

From this stage on, it is extremely difficult, if not impossible to return to a normal lifestyle.

Step Four: Dependence At this stage, you will cease to have control of your body and mind.

You will begin to fully rely on literature for survival. Reading books, buying books, sniffing books, and pretty much anything to do with books will constantly be on your mind. Your body will begin to shut down after going more than a few hours without opening a book. You will need to be in the presence of at least one book at all times. Comfort can only be found either in your ever-growing personal library or a bookshop. You will no longer be able to refrain from purchasing books once you step foot into a bookshop. All your money will go to buying various forms of literature. You will spend all your food money on books, causing you to mooch off your friends. You will begin to lose weight because your friends are tired of buying you food.

Everywhere I went while in London, I carried a book with me in my bag. I purchased at least one book at nearly every bookshop we entered in London. These bookshops included Hatchard’s, Waterstone’s, Blackwell’s, Book Mongers, and South Kensington Books. I even visited some of these places multiple times, further feeding my addiction. At the dependence stage, it is impossible to take on the burden of combatting the addiction on your own. It is impera-

tive to seek help before it’s too late, if it isn’t too late already.

The Final Step: Addiction As all the previous steps develop and progress, you will develop a fullblown, undeniable, hardly combatable addiction. There is no longer any question as to whether or not you have a problem. Your friends and family notice it, strangers notice it, and even you notice it. All your money is gone. You’ve filled up multiple bookshelves and still have stacks of books lying around. You think only about the book you are currently reading, the books you intend to read in the future, and the books you

intend to buy in the future. It dominates your life; your relationships will suffer, and you are left with only your fellow literature addicts to keep you company. After all, they’re the only ones that understand you and tolerate you.

While in London, I found a fellow addict. We are both done for. There is no hope for us. Hopefully through this article, I am able to prevent others from falling into an addiction such as ours, as well as provide specific signs of each stage so loved ones and friends are able to recognize a problem and seek help as early on as possible. If you run the risk of becoming a literature addict,

don’t visit London. They’re all addicts over there, and will even encourage you to become like them. Before visiting London, as far as purchasing books goes, I was two months sober.

Since returning, I am back at square one. Beware of the literature addiction. Once you have reached the final stage, you can only be “cured” by professional treatment. By keeping all five stages in mind, you can more easily detect literature addiction not only in others, but in yourself, as well.

My greatest wish is for none of you to end up like this addiction has left me: poor, hungry, and antisocial.

24 Songs London Reminded Me Were On My iPod —Bonnie Reinsch I’ve had my iPod since I was in middle school, which was a solid 7 years ago, and, more notably, have not cleaned out my iTunes library since I got it. While in London, I thought it would be fun to go back through all the songs I had on my iPod. Was it fun? A little. Was it disturbing? Quite. It was nice to remember some of the songs on my iPod, but others made me cringe and want to forget those early years. So, here’s 24 songs I forgot were on my iPod. Maybe next time I hear them, I’ll think of my London adventures, rather than anything ca. 2009.

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Battlefield – Jordan Sparks Hips Don’t Lie – Shakira ft. Wyclef Jean Bring Me to Life – Evanescence Shake It – Metro Station What Makes You Beautiful – One Direction Welcome to the Black Parade – My Chemical Romance Big Time Rush – Big Time Rush Crush – David Archuleta Cha Cha Slide – Mr. C The Fox – Ylvis Live While We’re Young – One Direction Mr. Brightside – The Killers One Time – Justin Bieber One Less Lonely Girl – Justin Bieber Eenie Meenie – Sean Kingston and Justin Bieber Bottoms Up (feat. Nicki Minaj) – Trey Songz Can’t Be Tamed – Miley Cyrus Gangnam Style – PSY Low – Flo Rida Mambo No. 5 – Lou Bega Rubber Duckie – Sesame Street Tik Tok – Ke$ha Rude Boy – Rihanna Naturally – Selena Gomez and the Scene

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"Is That Something Important?" —Jared Friesen I grew up in a small town where I knew where every street went, and that no matter where I was in town I was never more than five minutes from my house. After three years at KU, I can safely navigate my way to numerous pizza places and the movie theater. Between the two, the only landmark of note is arguably Allen Fieldhouse. Neither of these towns could be said to have neighborhoods, individual parts of the town are their own self-contained communities. They are easy to figure out; you won’t find anything unexpected in them.

The first day in London was a bucket of cold water. The city is a knotted mess of streets and neighborhoods presented in the most familiarly foreign setting possible for a native English speaker. Bound up in this maze of winding roads is a city that has knit itself together from its legacy of innumerable eras, making space or filling gaps as needed.

There is no grid, no logical way that you can think to divide the city, and it makes to no effort to be that way.

In every neighborhood and on every

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block, the new is stitched to the past, and it is up to you make sense of all the pieces.

While walking around London, I was constantly amazed by how surprised I ended up being at every turn. My first example was our hotel’s neighborhood, which was located in Kensington and bore all the hallmarks of Victorian-age Hausmanization. Row upon row of whitewashed, four-story apartments with wrought iron fences along the sidewalk brought to mind scenes of Paris, but one look down the alleyways in between and I found brightly painted backdoors and cobbled streets, reminiscent of all the stereotypes of quite English towns.

Later on, indeed that very same first day, I took the Tube to Covent Garden to walk off jet lag. I’d done very little research on the different districts in London, and only knew Covent Garden from reading about it in Great Expectations, and even then, I was expecting an actual garden or park of some sort. I came out of the Tube station to find a sea of people out shopping, and realized

that Covent Garden is actually a covered outdoor market. It was my first taste of the near-constant state of surprise with which I would wander around London for the next week.

Numerous times I considered myself genuinely lost. After the initial fear and anxiety, eventually I learned to trust my ability to find my way back to a Tube station and began to take in the scenery around me. To me, wandering around London made me discover it. I was led where I wanted to be, with no hurry about when or where I needed to be. My greatest concern eventually became that I didn’t know enough about London, that I was constantly missing something. Memorials crowd every park, historical buildings squat between modern brownstone flats, austere museums square off against fashionable boutiques in bustling squares, and community gardens materialize out of nowhere as you round corners. After wandering through Covent Garden and down a narrow alley (which seemed appealing because it led to the Thames), I found myself in Whitehall Park, finding Big Ben completely by accident after having been in London for all of six hours.

I say I was constantly surprised because my expectations often were proven to be wrong, if I even had them to begin with. I went to London with next to no plan of what I might see, or what sights were worth seeing over others, and that was the best thing I could have done. London is a city that defies you knowing it after one visit, because you are constantly feeling as if you might have missed something, wondering if that last building you passed was something important. However, I am glad I didn’t know much about London when I went - I ended up letting the city teach me about itself at my own pace. It didn’t matter whether or not I hit all of the major sites and attractions, the “important” things. Everything I did see was important, to me.

Watching the Americans Watch the English —Alexis Walker

Part of the curriculum for this class was to learn about the culture of London through both experience and a book called “Watching the English” by anthropologist Kate Fox. This book is a collection of helpful insights and tips to being cultural aware when in London. As an Englishwoman who immigrated to America and then returned to her home country as an adult, her comments on her countrymen are both humorously self-deprecating and incredibly intelligent. Her anthropological analysis of human interaction in the UK made me want to take a closer look at how my peers would act or adapt to the culture around them.

As this was not my first trip London I was excited to watch my classmates experience a place I already knew and loved. What I didn’t take into account was the cultural learning curve that many weren’t aware of. As a seasoned traveler I knew how to change my mannerism, language, and clothes to fit into my surroundings. I prefer to travel like this in order to experience the truest atmosphere of that place. If I acted like an American, I felt like I would disrupt

those around me and not experience London like a Londoner would.

I found, though, that not everyone wants the same experience I do.

While I choose to experience it by embodying it, other choose a merely observatory role in their learning. I had a hard time grasping this at first, and a lot of the time I wrote their actions off as American ego getting in the way of some of my peers true London expe-

rience. But truly all I did was hurt my own experience, by worrying about what my fellow classmates were doing. London is a city of diversity and you can’t walk down a street without hear at least 5 different languages being spoken. It’s okay to stand out in that city, just as it’s okay to fit in.

While trying to watch my American peers and observe their reaction, I really just ended up reflecting about myself and how everyone engages differently with the world around them. Studying abroad is the best way to not only learn about a different place and a different culture, but also to learn about yourself.

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When in London: Give a Shout Out! —Hanna Ritland I'd like to thank London for introducing me to these fit birds.

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When in London: Hear What the Londoners Hear The whole purpose of a study abroad trip is for students to be taken out of a familiar context in order to learn. So here are some of our actual sentences taken out of context, you can learn about us.

• “There’s these really fat pigeons, and I’m like, ‘Those could feed a couple people.

Just skewer on of those suckers. That’s what I’d do if I was homeless.” – Crystal • “I’d hold your bags, but I’ve got butter on my hands.” – Unknown • “I think there’s bread in my shoe.” – Jordan • “Everybody always dies” – Mara • *nods solemnly* “I like cheese.” “Ugh, cheese is so good.” – Jake and Hanna, on food • “I’m not incompetent right now!” “No, you’re incontinent.” “We’re on a different continent, you guys.” – Katelyn, Jared, and Megan, on bathroom habits • “My fingernails don’t grow as fast here.” – Katelyn • “When you get to know someone you just come out of your shell, like a little oyster with a pearl inside!” – Hanna, about Brett • “I’ll throw a grape in your drink too!” – Katelyn • “Ooo, what’s that big pointy thing off in the distance?” – Jared • “Ok, that looks like a word.” – Tyler • “I love shopping, and I love clothes.” – Jack • “I never went for the goat sacrifices, but I would go for the dinners afterwards.” – Mary • “That’s just a dirty, dirty pig.” – Jake • “I’m having trouble looking up food because I’ve eaten so much cheese.” – Mary • “He gives me so much anxiety, I just wanna shake his head!” – Hanna, about Jack • “It’s funny! Laugh!” – Katelyn • “I just love eavesdropping on all the Spaniards around because they have no idea, and I’m just like, ‘Yes you should buy that scarf for her. Yes, it is a good idea.’” – Crystal • “What’s that little knobby place between Japan and China?” “Yep, that’s Korea.” – Jake and Jared, demonstrating American knowledge of geography • “Frog-tea is my fave meme!” – Jake • “I just want to be a little 19th century lady.” – Julia • “Oh! I thought those were water stains, not farm animals.”

• “My nose was stuffy, and I was sad.” – Julia • “At least I have underwear. That’s always a plus, guys.” – Amber

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