LONDON REVIEW: TASTE OF THE THAMES 2019 by KU English Department Abroad

Section Title

London Review 2019

Table of Contents About the Authors

Recipe for a Good Time

Food for the Soul

Recipe for Disaster 69 Experimental Cooking

Maryâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Golden Jubilee 99

London Review 2019 1

London Review 2019

About the Authors Kathryn Ammon is a senior at KU, studying History, Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, and Political Science originally from Fort Worth, Texas. The London Review was her first study abroad; her only regret is that it took her four years to finally meet Mary Klayder. Her favorite moments in London include making new friends and reconnecting with alumni, Evensong at Westminster Abbey, and Jenny Holzer’s exhibition at the Tate Modern. Kathryn fell in love with London, and is looking forward to visiting again, and again, during the year she’ll spend getting her Masters in Equality Studies at University College Dublin.

I’m Ash Aranda, I am also first-gen, Latinx and a Taurus. This has been my third year at KU, in Visual Art, Film and Media Studies and Sustainability practices. I came to London for the pop culture satiation, and to start inappropriate dance parties with my best friend.

Grace Brunner is a sophomore studying English and Political Science. She is interested in a career in public policy or in the non-profit sector. Grace is passionate about ethical service and is a co-coordinator for the Center for Community Outreach and is involved with KU’s service sorority Omega Phi Alpha. The London review was Grace’s first time traveling abroad and her favorite moments in London include seeing broadway legend Patti Lupone perform in Company on the West End, wandering the streets and finding cute shops and cafes to wander into, and being in the presence of the works of her literary heroes at the British Library.

Jack is a second-year student studying Supply Chain Management and Business Analytics from Overland Park, KS. He decided to attend the London Review to have an academic experience outside of the business school, to engage with the university honors program, and to experience one of the world’s great cities! Find him shooting a ‘thumbs-up’ in nearly every photo he’s a part of.

Joseph Denning is the guy in the front. He is a senior studying Neuroscience and Linguistics from Richlands, NC and Overland Park, KS. Joseph can be seen in Lawrence performing at KU Improv practices and shows, gathering brain data for his honors thesis, or petting the nearest dog. In this photo, Joseph is doing what he loves the most, adventuring with friends (specifically, going to do karaoke in a laundromat).

Jackson Dinsmore is a sophomore from La Crosse, KS studying Biology with a minor in Psychology. During his free time back at KU, he likes to volunteer, play sports, or go to the movies. In addition, Jackson also loves to try new things and explore the unknown, so walking aimlessly around London was right up his alley! He wishes he would’ve woken up earlier while abroad, but staying up late in the lobby or out with friends made it all worth it.

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Alissa Gilmer is a sophomore studying Political Science and Sociology. Taking a big leap out of her comfort zone, Alissa joined this spectacular group of students in hopping the pond. After this experience, she is resolved to continue traveling in the future.

Jamie Hawley is a third-year student from Salina, KS majoring in English, political science, and communications. She was ecstatic to return to London after first traveling on the BSI, and spent most of her time wandering around museums, talking about the zoo, and thinking about Harry Potter. She wants to thank everyone who let her tag along on their adventures. That was super nice of them.

Hattie Hobart is a junior from Hutchinson, Kansas majoring in environmental studies. Her goal is to experience as much of the world as possible before graduating from the University of Kansas. The London Review completed her attempt at the Mary Klayder trifecta, and she is incredibly grateful for all of the experiences and friendships that each of these trips have offered her.

Charles Jetty is a student from Madison, Wisconsin.

London Review 2019

Yeyoung Kim is a senior at KU studying psychology. They hope to attend medical school so they can be deeper in debt and end up as a psychiatrist. Their hobbies include reading, video games, and traveling. Yeyoung’s love for travel clashes with their love of staying indoors, though. Brett Knepper is a firstyear student studying Creative Writing and Journalism. With a deep passion for literature as well as a love for travelling, he hopes to continue venturing to and writing about locations such as the one pictured here (the pub frequented by C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien). Kayla Lawson is a senior, studying Psychology and Political Science. She actually got accepted into the Master of Social Work program here at KU while on the trip. Having a passion for English history, she spent a great deal of time at historical sites like the Tower … and doing Harry Potter stuff.

Kyle Paddock is a Junior at KU studying English, History, and Spanish. Speaking, reading, writing, and traveling are his passions. He hopes to combine all four of these loves into a career in helping and teaching others. London is Kyle’s favorite city. He enjoyed tremendously experiencing it again with some fantastic people. Currently, Kyle is working on a thesis regarding adoption and identity, which he hopes to one day turn into a non-fiction book to help others in the adoption process. You can find Kyle sipping tea at a sidewalk café and exploring a new city. “Tomorrow is a new day, so enjoy today for all its beauty.”

Shih-Yen Pan is a senior studying sociology and mathematics from Zhubei City, Taiwan. After this trip, he can finally say that he has studied abroad while studying abroad in the U.S. It should be noted that he enjoyed the trip so much that it significantly worsened his conditions of senioritis. Now, all he thinks about is graduation. Future participants be warned.

Subin Park is a sophomore at KU, majoring in biology. Despite her acceptance to Pharmacy school, she decided to pursue her dreams of becoming a Physician’s Assistant just recently. She has travelled to two trips so far with Mary, Travel Writing in Costa Rica and the London Review. She is part of the Peer Health Ambassadors with Watkins and a Social Media ambassador for KU Amnesty International. She likes to dance to K-pop in her free time. This was her first time in Europe and she enjoyed trying different pastries in various bakeries in London.

Lang is a senior from College Station, Texas studying Economics and Mathematics. He chose to take part in the London Review after having a stellar class with Mary Klayder and hearing amazing stories about the trip from friends. He had huge expectations for the trip, and once again, the University Honors Program exceeded all expectations.

Gage Phillips is a Junior studying Computer Science. He hails from the “far away” land of Hays Kansas, and was looking to knock a few firsts off of his list. First time flying? Check. First time out of the Country? Check. The U.K. has plenty of things to see and do for one as curious as Gage, and presented a very welcome change of pace from semester after semester of engineering coursework. When he’s not saying something sarcastic or witty, you’ll probably find him quietly listening; this is when he does the best learning.

Catherine Prestoy is a student at KU studying Women, Gender and Sexuality and Journalism. She is no stranger to study abroad programs, as she has participated in two programs to China and one to Japan. As a senior transfer student in the Honors Program, she applied to the London Review seeking to further acquaint herself with the department and experience a new study abroad program. She enjoyed seeking live music in the city and exploring the lesser known parts of London.

I am Paola Soyumi Ramirez Peña, a thirdyear English & Sociology major. I am the oldest of four, work at the OMA & Trio offices as a peer educator, and part-time corn farmer. During my short time in London, I saw my favorite musical & spent a memorable vacation with my best friend in the world.

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Natalie is from O’Fallon, MO and is a sophomore at KU studying pre-pharmacy (but was recently accepted into pharmacy school for Fall 2019). She is a two time intramural girls basketball champion, winning both in Allen Fieldhouse. She is the current secretary for the club Best Buddies, which serves to provide adults with disabilities an environment for inclusion and friendship. While in London, she was the most likely to eat dessert at any given time because she said they were, “Here for a good time, not a long time” (and she has a dangerous sweet tooth).

Omar Williams is Junior at KU currently studying English with a minor in Sociology. He is the youngest out of four, a first-generation college student, proud parent, and a Navy veteran. The London Review presented the perfect opportunity for a nontraditional student like himself to engage with a new culture and not be away from his adorable daughter for too long. While in London, he was most likely to roam the city with his Airpods. Also, during his trip to London, he was determined to take a picture next to the David Bowie mural.

Nicola Santangelo is a freshman majoring in speech-language-hearing. Her goal in life is to become a speech-language pathologist for children. While in London, she enjoyed wandering around with her friends. This was her first study abroad trip, and after an amazing time, she hopes to have the opportunity to go on another one.

Gwendolyn Sibley is a junior at the University of Kansas. Like many English majors, she enjoys reading and trying new things. She also has love of paper and all things stationery related. This was her first study abroad trip, and she is excited to someday go again! She also designed the front and back cover.

London Review 2019

Emily Sonsthagen is a Junior at KU. She is double majoring in Psychology and SpeechLanguage-Hearing with plans to pursue a graduate degree in Speech Pathology. Emily’s highlights of London include getting lost at Oxford in the rain, wandering through back alleys, taking pictures of every flower she saw, and drinking rosé. This picture was taken at the Tower Bridge ft. our old, constant friend, the London wind.

Cameron Wood is a freshman studying English from Lawrence, Kansas. She decided to do the London Review because since she is from Lawrence, she wanted to make sure to get out of Kansas as much as she can, and what better place to go to than London?! She also wants to be an editor and was excited to be able to create a magazine with her fellow students and friends after spending a week abroad.

Recipe for a Good Time

London Review 2019

Exploring Jet Lagged and With No Clue Where We Were Going Nicola Santangelo

When we first got to London, Cameron and I were determined not to sleep the day away. We were going to make the best of our very first day in London. We got to our rooms, quickly changed, then with absolutely no plan for the day or any idea of how to navigate London we headed toward the tube station. Our only goal of the day was to not be in the hotel. When we arrived at the tube station we realized we had no clue how to use the tube or figure out the maps, and recalled how directionally challenged we both were (even in Lawrence). After a quick discussion about some picture on Instagram of the colorful houses on a street in London, we decided to go to Notting Hill Gate. We located the stop on the map, not a huge challenge as the stop was literally labeled Notting Hill Gate. We completely guessed which train was the correct one, stepping on the first one that came because Cameron stated that it â&#x20AC;&#x153;lookedâ&#x20AC;? like the right one. She had no certainty in her voice. Somehow the tube we had guessed on ended up pulling up at the correct stop. When we heard the announcer say Notting Hill Gate we both looked at each

other, completely shocked we had actually managed to navigate the tube system. Following the arrows to Portobello Road Market we wandered through the colorful streets of Notting Hill. It was a beautiful day, and when I first saw the row of colorful houses it hit me that I was finally in London, actually exploring the streets which I had been so excited to wander through for months. The combination of the trees in blossom, the clear blue sky and the colorful houses made me forget how tired I was. We wandered through the market; I had already eaten, so I was very full. I still had to try my hardest not to buy the donuts or crepes from the carts that lined the streets. I picked out all the foods I would try when I returned again. After getting lost wandering the streets of Notting Hill, pointing out every single colorful house I saw (they never failed to excite me), we decided it would be a good time to go see Kensington Palace. It was only about a ten minute walk from where we were so we decided to go for it. A few wrong turns later we found ourselves at

our destination. We admired its size and then decided on a stroll through the park. While enjoying the beautiful park scenery, the jet lag began to hit me. I was completely exhausted. The espresso shot I drank earlier had been fueling me, but once it was gone all I was left with was tired feet and a very foggy brain. At this point all I truly wanted was a nap, but the determination to waste no time was still there. The jet lag truly catching up to us, we decided to take a break and stopped in an italian restaurant for a glass of champagne. We sat in the restaurant talking about what we were excited for in the week ahead, eventually we decided we were ready to make our way back to the hotel. Siri told us the nearest tube station was a 15 minute walk. Siri was lying. We went back to the same area the next day, and found there was a tube station about 3 minutes away from where we had been. Maps had led us astray on our already tired feet. After a very long walk back to the hotel we decided we finally deserved a short nap before dinner. Looking back at this unplanned messy day I realize it was one of my very favorite memories. It was filled with moments that I know will be the memories that for some reason stick in my head ten years from now. The spontaneity of everything we did made the entire day seem like a true adventure.

Recipe for a Good Time

Nomads

Joseph Denning When you’re traveling to a famous city, there’s an enormous amount of pressure to do all the touristy things before you leave. “Oh, you’re going to London? You HAVE to go on the Eye.” Westminster Abbey, Big Ben (sadface), Parliament, Piccadilly Circus, the Tower of London, all of these things seem vital to visit before the week is over. I found, however, that the most formative experiences on my trip weren’t visiting the most famous places. Instead, I found a great amount of joy simply wandering around. Walking the city with friends. Finding things I would’ve never Googled. If you just explore around London, you are bound to find something beautiful and breathtaking. That’s exactly what happened when Shih-Yen, Gage, Gwen, and I walked around Brick Lane. We spotted some graffiti and ventured down to look at it. We followed down a path with walls that hadn’t a spot of unpainted brick. Eventually, we spotted two potential areas for exploration: a playground and something underneath a bridge that seemed from afar to be a maze of street art. In order to save the best for last, we opted for the playground first. Thankfully, it was empty, so no locals could guffaw at our goofiness. We laughed at our inability to climb high and then marveled when it could actually be done. (Side note: Gage is a good climber.) Finally, we made our way back to the street art. As we entered, we saw a sign that saw “Welcome to the nomadic

London Review 2019

Community Gardens”. I imagined this place as debris left by a hurricane that people had artfully made beautiful. There were canvases of landscape paintings. There was a boat decorated with the image of a kraken overtaking a city that was made into a children’s playhouse (climb at your own risk). Nothing was left untouched by an artist. Near the entrance was a place where you could donate and/or re-

ceive things like books and clothes. Someone near the entrance loudly mentioned that everyone who works in the nomadic Community Gardens is a volunteer, the project was not government funding, and donations would be appreciated. At this point, I had no British money, but my generous friends were willing to spare some for one of the hidden treasures of London.

The Graffiti Garden Gwendolyn Sibley

ing place for many, and one could imagine the garden come alive at night–not only with art but with the people who would enjoy themselves around it. The space, which

could have been a dead end for many a thing, have become alive with the creativity of people and their want to gather and enjoy the small pleasures of life.

London thrives with energy: people shopping, eating foods from places afar, and especially traveling from one part of the city to another. Yet, with all the city industry that encompasses London, the British still adore their green spaces, and make it a necessity in their everyday life. This was one such green space of group of us meandered into after a long day of marketing. It was a large park, with some playing frisbee with their pets and others just walking the pathways that had been put along the sides. But what made this park exceedingly notable was its walls that spanned the length of the park, and were covered entirely in graffiti. Now, we from humble Kansas might see this as intense vandalism–but to all those concerned I will ease your conscience. For this graffiti was not vandalism, but artistic masterpiece. Each had individual style, presenting characteristics that made each one inherently different from one another. Some had been built on as new artists had come, making each piece have layers of not just paint, but identity. The path of graffiti led under a bridge and through a colorful gate, leading further into a secret garden. What many would call old junk–children’s abandoned play places, dilapidated chairs and bikes, and broken down cars had been reimagined as canvas. No building or object was left to to bare simplicity alone, all were given new life through color. The garden led to an outdoor bar that was evidendently a gatherRecipe for a Good Time

These Are All Facts Not Opinions Emily Sonsthagen

It was the last late-night run to Tesco for Natalie, Jackson, and I. Stocking up on chocolate for the night, we were greeted by two Londoners. One adorned in a “Happy Birthday” sash, neither one sober, they proceeded to tell us silly Americans what chocolate we should buy and even went so far as to rank them for us. Birthday-sash boy backed up his claims by saying he used to work for a chocolate company, so his rankings were “all facts not opinions.” So determined was this man that he even gave Natalie his phone number so we could update him on what we thought and see if our rankings matched his. Ultimately, after

much deliberation by the three Americans, we determined our final ranking. If the birthday boy is reading this, we are sorry our ranking is different, but these are all facts not opinions. Here’s our list: 1. Cadbury Dairy Milk Chocolate- This ranking was in congruence with the Birthday boy’s ranking. It really is a classic and a must-try. 2. Fruit-Ella- We got the strawberry flavor and our socks were truly knocked off. It was one of the last ones we tried but Jackson made the bold claim by saying, “I’d be com-

fortable moving Fruit-Ella to second” and we just couldn’t argue with that. 3. Cadbury Caramel ChocolateIf you love caramel, you will in no way be disappointed. Would highly recommend. “Best chocolate to caramel ratio”-Jackson. 4. Galaxy- The second Londoner we met actually ranked this as his first choice. We were less impressed. However, after a full day of traveling home to Kansas, my tired self was attempting to rally the courage to start my homework due the next morning, when what did I discover? This chocolate bar in my backpack. And in that moment, it was the only #1 in my eyes. (P.S. it also has a slightly nutty flavor if you’re into that). 5. Mars Bar- Eh it has caramel and that nougat stuff they put in 3-Musketeers. 6. Ripple- This one was also highly praised by one of the Londoners, however, being the chocolate connoisseurs that we are, we were not impressed. The main take away from this bar: weird texture.

(The actual text to Chocolate Man himself).

7. Mini eggs- What a fun Easter candy you might be thinking to yourself. Wrong! The flavor was less than outstanding, and the chalky exterior of the egg was not worth the calories.

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In conclusion, I hope this helps future generations of Tesco customers find a chocolate they will enjoy. If you can’t choose just one, it definitely won’t hurt to try them all!

London Review 2019

The Murder of Thomas Becket Shih-Yen Pan

Canterbury Cathedral, the original of which was destroyed in a fire and rebuilt in the 10th century, is more than 900 years old and has been intricately linked with English history for more than 1400 years since St. Augustine first came from Rome to Kent in 597 A.D. The land and building of the Cathedral (from Latin cathedra for “chair” and Greek kathedra for “seat”) was granted by the local King Ethelbert whose Queen was a Christian. As we can see, from the very beginning of its life, the Cathedral has taken a controversial role in the history of struggle between Church and State. One of the most famous stories of such struggles and one of the reasons why it is one of the world’s most notable pilgrimage site and a world heritage site today was the murder of Archbishop Thomas Becket that took place in the Cathedral in 1170 A.D. The murder of Thomas Becket involved mainly two Henrys - King Henry II (with whom Becket had a long-time feud) and his son Henry the Young King - and four knights. When the Archbishop of York and other Bishops in England crowned Henry the Young King, they breached Canterbury’s privilege of coronation. As a consequence, Becket excommunicated them. When King Henry II heard about this, legend has it that he said, “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” In the same account, four knights interpreted these

words as the Royal Command to arrest the Archbishop of Canterbury, so they set out to Canterbury to take Becket to Winchester for treason. Becket refused to go when they first confronted him. When the knights decided to kill him, the other monks tried to prevent their entry, but Becket stopped them and said, “It is not right to make a fortress out of the house of prayer.” The four knights then entered and announced, “Where is Thomas Becket, traitor to the king and country?” They found Becket near the door into the crypt downstairs and stroke several blows to Becket’s head with their swords, one of which sliced the top of his crown off his skull, scattering blood and the brains onto the stone floor. After his death, there were several stories about the body of Thomas Becket. One of them was an event of miraculous healing from sickness by drinking Becket’s

blood. For this reason, the body of Becket, now considered a martyr and canonized by the Roman Church as St. Thomas, was stored beneath the floor in the crypt to prevent theft. It was later moved to a shrine in the Trinity Chapel in the Cathedral before it was destroyed by, guess who, yet another Henry, King Henry VIII, who ordered the obliteration of Becket’s name during the Reformation and the Dissolution of the Monasteries. Recently, a piece of Becket’s bone, believed to be a fragment of Becket’s arm, was returned to Canterbury. The whereabouts of the other parts remain a mystery. Meanwhile, visitors to the Canterbury Cathedral today would see a candle lit at where the shrine of St. Thomas used to be and sculptures of Thomas Becket on columns and shrines at different locations in the Cathedral, some of which have a sword on his head.

Recipe for a Good Time

London Record Stores Jackson Bryan

On one of the final days of our trip to London, I decided to take a few hours and partake in one of my favorite hobbies: shopping for records. Berwick Street in Soho is world renowned as one of the greatest areas for record shopping in the entire world, and being an avid collector I knew I had to peruse several of the stores. I first became aware of the streets prominence in the world of music when I noticed it was the subject on the cover of Oasis’ 1995 album, “(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?”. Although I knew it wouldn’t be the most convenient thing in the world to haul a stack of LPs back to the states, I had to have some musical mementos of the trip to help me remember my short

time there. I’ve found that music often takes me back to points and my past in much more fulfilling ways than a simple photograph, so I knew I had to pick up several albums that captured my interests and feelings at the time of the London Review. While browsing the incredible selections of Sister Ray Records, I stumbled upon Fugees record “The Score”, a long-term favorite of mine. I was immediately reminded of the sheer amount of Latin and Caribbean-influenced music I had heard in the clubs and pubs of London over the past week and thought the Carribean-American group’s third album would be a great reminder of these musical moments. To me, music holds a powerful correlation with memory, and I was glad to be able to pick out a musical memento from one of the world’s great record stores that I will cherish for years to come. 14

London Review 2019

Night at the Ballet Alissa Gilmer

Mary Shelleyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Frankenstein is a beautifully crafted, literary masterpiece. Before my trip to the Royal Opera House to see Frankenstein, the ballet, I was worried about how this verbose, elegantly written story would play out in the absence of words to carry along the plot. Arriving well before the ballet began, it was a delight to wander the gold and red accented halls. At each turn, a new costume stood on display. Swan lake, Romeo and Juliet, and many more ballets were represented in the stiff tulle tutus and broken in shoes. Climbing to floor five and far to the right, the seats were full side view, but seats nonetheless. From the first chord the orchestra played, we were all leaning over the railing, increasing our view from the highest gallery. The Opera House strives to make the arts accessible to people from all walks of life, and this was reflected in the outfits I observed that night. With seats ranging from five pounds to upwards of two hundred, all sorts of people

enjoyed Frankenstein. There were jeans and polos, simple dresses, suits and gowns, and even tuxes. The women were done up with full faces of makeup, and men looked dapper with the handkerchiefs in place. As the lights dimmed, the differences between us all disappeared, as we were thrown into the story of Victor and his monster. The music the orchestra played was perfection, and one was likely to forget it was live for they never missed a note or got off time. The dancers on stage told their story with grace, with passion, without words, but clear all the same. The best of the scenes, in my opinion, were those of the struggles - the fights between characters. As they danced, they fought, and pretended to be harsh, but the lifts and the throws remained gentle. It was only an illusion, the violence at hand. The dancers as much of actors as anyone I had ever seen, and their job made more difficult for the lack of dialogue. The ballerinas make it look so easy, a feat I know is not such. I danced for fourteen years in a studio setting, and the things that they did were physical feats, absolutely amazing. Topping off the dancing, the music, and the crowd, were the costumes. The dresses flowed freely and moved with the womenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s leaps and turns. The coattails of menâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s suits did much the same thing. The principles changed costumes, but the colors of their different costumes stayed the same as a way for the audience to pinpoint the main characters. This simple little aide was a facilitator to following the plot; I admit I had recalled little of it from my high school English days. At last the lights came up, when the show came to a close, and as a whole, the theatre hurried out the doors. As I ran to the nearest underground, the magic of the dancing and beauty of the music remained, even as the squealing of brakes and murmurs of late night travellers enveloped my senses. Recipe for a Good Time

A Trip on the London Eye? Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll Take Two Natalie Rushing

When I went to London with my family back in 2013, I felt like I had done it all. Well, everything except the London Eye because my Dad didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to wait in line. Flash forward to the year 2019, now 20 years old, and the number one thing I still wanted to do in London was go on the London Eye. I was able to rally together nine of my classmates to take on the Eye with me on Monday. First of all, if you are a student and you visit London, bring your student ID! We were able to get tickets for the Eye for only 16 pounds (normally 30 pounds) after showing our student IDs. Once we all arrived and got our tickets from the ticket booth,

we braved the very (very) long line. Surprisingly, the line moved quickly. The Eye never stopped moving, and around 25 people got in one pod at a time, so the line was not nearly as bad as it appeared. After initially stepping onto the Eye, I was so excited and running around the pod like a toddler. After more people got on, I claimed my spot so I would have the best view, of course. After we had barely moved up at all, I thought the view was absolutely beautiful and took way too many photos to count. I was too happy to even think straight and realize the view was only going to get better the higher up we went. Al-

London Review 2019

though it was moving quite slowly, we eventually were pretty high, which is when I was really blown away. I could see the city for miles thanks to not only the London Eye, but a nice, sunny day. This view was, of course, followed by a million photos of the sights around me and a group photo that a nice lady offered to take for us. The 30 minute ride felt like 5 minutes, and sadly was over before I knew it. I would have gone around a dozen more times if they would have let me, but I was very happy I finally got to check that off my list of things to do in London. Little did I know I would not only get to ride the London Eye again, looking at the beautiful city at night, but I would do it for FREE! Skip forward to Saturday, our last night there. Mary mentioned to me that a walk along the River Thames at night is beautiful and would be a fun activity to do on our last night in London. I mentioned it to a few people, and only Emily and Jackson seemed excited about it. After our last group din-

ner, the three of us went to Tescos, so we could eat chocolate on our walk, because why not? Getting this chocolate was a lot more of an adventure than we planned on it being, which that story can be read by Emily on page 12. Long story short, we left with 7 types of candy and headed on our way! We figured seeing the London Eye lit up at night would be pretty, so we took the Tube to the Westminster stop. We took a lot of photos on Westminster Bridge of the Eye lit up and Parliament and Big Ben, or what was left of Big Ben. As we walked along the bridge, we got closer to the London Eye, which at that point I could tell it was still moving. None of us

were sure if it was still open, and although Jackson and I had both been on the Eye this trip, Emily

had not. I was very willing to spend another 16 pounds to take another trip, especially to see the city all lit up. As we got closer, it was evident the ticket booth was closed. It was kind of sad, but we just continued our walk down the river, which was in the direction of the Eye. We could soon tell there was no one in line and it appeared to be closed. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask if they were still open, so I went up to the one worker standing there and asked if they were closed. She quickly said, “No, but we’re about to be so hurry in. Hurry in.” For a split second I was

confused at what I was hearing, but asked no questions and just ran on through with Emily and Jackson. At this point, I am smiling from ear to ear and the only way to describe my mood is just so giddy, which according to Dictionary.com means, “make (someone) feel excited to the point of disorientation.” I just could not believe this was actually happening to me! There was a couple already there in line, probably excited to get a pod to themselves, and then we showed up… whoops. The next pod comes around, and the five of us get on

the last pod of the night. I am overwhelmed with joy and just truly feeling so thankful for this entire trip that I was lucky enough to be on. The three of us then decided what better time to eat our candy? We opened one candy at a time and each ate a piece, until we finally had our ranking of 1-7(this will make sense after you read the other article mentioned earlier). Cadbury milk chocolate was voted unanimously as number 1. In between bites, we walked around the pod just taking in the breathtaking view, even if some rain hindered

our view just a bit! As I’m sure you know the drill by now, admiring the city was followed by a ton of photos being taken. I even took quite a few photos for the couple with us to make up for us crashing their party. Of course, the ride did have to come to an end, but we all got off still so happy. As you exit the Eye, you go down the ramp and end up in a small gift shop. Of course I bought a shirt to commemorate this great night. Jackson bought an entire book about the Eye, which came with a large photo and multiple small photos of us taken on the eye, a digital version of the picture, and a keychain. After that, we felt our night could not get any better, and decided to hop on the Tube and head back to the hotel, very happy and full of chocolate. Without sounding corny, I like to consider this one of the best days I have ever had, and was a fantastic end to our amazing class trip to London. Recipe for a Good Time

Movie Magic

Kayla Lawson, Subin Park, and Jamie Hawley Kayla Lawson

Given the fact that Harry Potter was created by a British author, it comes as absolutely no surprise that it is a very big deal in London. And, of course, being the Potterhead I am, I wanted to take full advantage of that during my trip. In particular, the craftsmanship behind the movies has always intrigued me and the opportunity to see a collection of sets and props from the films was irresistible. The Making of Harry Potter Studio Tour in London was the peak of my very Potter experience during our trip. Getting tickets was a nightmare, I spent about three hours trying to snag more than one for the day. But it was well worth all the trouble. When you enter the actual studio, the first thing we were greeted with was the Yule Ball ice sculpture and costumes. The actual sculpture was breathtaking in its color and attention to detail. It set a high bar that was to be surpassed over and over again. Getting to actually walk through the Privet Drive set and see Dumbledore’s office in person was surreal. However, I think my favorite part was going through the section dedicated to effects. I never realized that the set of the Leaky Cauldron’s inn was, in actuality, an

optical illusion. The chair in the picture below is a tiny model. It starts off with walls as tall as you would expect, only for it to shrink as it stretches toward the back. It was just fantastic to see such examples of the filmmakers’ ingenuity in person. Overall, it reminded me just how much I loved the films, flaws and all. I may or may not have teared up slightly upon seeing the actual Hogwarts castle model. I loved finally getting a time turner necklace and going through it with two wonderful people. It made for one of my favorite five hours in London!

Subin Park

Unaware of the popularity of the Warner Bros Studio in London, we figured out that the tickets to the studios were sold out until May only a day before we left for London. Kayla miraculously found

a couple of tickets that were 45 pounds each (abot $57) but the tour was well worth the price and magical. The location of the studio was far out of the zone from the hotel area, so we left early in the morning and took a train to Watford Junction. We managed to find a fast-track ticket that took us to the studio just on time. As we passed through the Hogwarts gate and entered the studios, we were first encountered with the Great Hall. The costumes of most of the professors (Dumbledore,

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Hagrid, Mcgonagall, Snape, etc.) were exhibited. All the costumes, wigs, and paintings were created by artists hired just for the production. It was amazing to see the family tree wall painting from Sirius Black’s house in such a close prox-

bring Hogwarts model to Warner Bros, Studio Tour London, the film’s model making department spent eight weeks transporting the model and reconstructing every tower, bridge, and tree on the castle grounds. For the first six films, the model was filmed in front of a green screen. That footage was combined with visual effects to create the incredible views of the castle seen on the big screen. The model was mostly used to film the exterior of Hogwarts. The castle contained intricate details of every brick and window. In the souvenir shop, I got a milk chocolate wand and three character enamel pins. Sadly, I lost the Hermione pin in London.

beak the hippogriff! Drinking butterbeer in the cafeteria! (It’s the same butterbeer they serve at the theme park, and if amortentia was real, it would smell like this butterbeer to me.) Jamie Hawley And of course, of course, the The level of detail in this place crown jewel of the whole thing, was unreal. Every prop table, every the model of Hogwarts castle. Gorimity because it looked just the costume chest, every remaining set geous in its creation and presentasame as I had seen in the movie, piece appeared to be hauled out tion, it stood as the epicenter of and although it looked ancient I and put on display, resulting in an knew that it was crafted for the overwhelming amount of stuff. Stuff the Studio Tour experience, breathmovie. It must have taken forever in display cases! Stuff on sets! Stuff taking and overwhelming. Looking to design all the props needed on walls! You could stand and stare at it, I was suddenly struck by just before the lengthy filming began. at a dressed set for ten minutes and how much work had to go into the Harry Potter films, and how many There were many different commit- still not notice every detail. people were involved. At the end tees for the film including animal This is why it took us five trainers. Hedwig was played by four hours to get through it all. different snowy owls, each trained Granted, we are Potterheads. for specific actions. Cool fact: Fang Collectively, the three of us prob(Hagrid’s dog) was played by nine ably felt more interest and excitedogs! Towards the end of the tour ment in our surroundings than we passed by Diagon alley, the high whole groups of people combined, street in the wizarding world where and that’s saying something, given Harry visited in Harry Potter and the where we were. But from 10am Sorcerer’s Stone to get his wand at to 3pm, we absorbed so much of the tour, just past the castle, was Ollivander’s, and retrieve his parHarry Potter content that it was ents’ fortune at Gringotts. difficult to fully comprehend it all. a room covered wall-to-ceiling with wand boxes, each of which bore Finally, we got to the site of Of course, I had my favorites. The the Hogwarts model. The actual philosopher’s stone! Dumbledore’s the name of a crew member. Thousands of people worked to make castle took years to build, and to pensieve! Both iterations of Buckthis series a reality. Thousands of them. Harry Potter is certainly not without its flaws. It’s full of plot holes and outdated tropes and a creator who doesn’t know when to quit. (You can stop, JKR. We give you full permission!) But there’s something about the way people have reacted to it that is truly inspiring. Harry Potter has a way of drawing people together, and it has given us a world full of joy and hardship and frustration and so much love. Everything else aside, that’s pretty magical to me. Recipe for a Good Time

Matilda is Good for the Soul & Here’s Why... Cameron Wood

While I am a huge fan of Matilda the musical now, I cannot truthfully say I was very excited to see it at first. This is because I originally wanted to see Les Miserables but unfortunately it was sold out the night that we were planning to go. This left us with a number of options for a musical, and eventually we came to the decision that Matilda would be our best bet. While I did realize that Matilda would most likely be good and the storyline is obviously great, it was difficult for me to get past not being able to see Les Miserables. Now looking back, this was a blessing in disguise. I had never seen Matilda before and have seen Les Miserables once in New York City. Now, I am very grateful that I so reluctantly bought a ticket to see Matilda. The stage was lit colorfully, with letters spelling out hints for the show. The children came out with a bang, performing memorable songs with matching choreography. As the show began to carry on, I could feel myself slowly begin to let go of the unfortunate incident mentioned before and started to really get into the show. It became almost difficult for me to not watch with a smile on my face, and the whole audience seemed to have the same issue. The props and stunts were eye catching as a little

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girl was “thrown” into the air by her pigtail braids. At intermission, the excitement did not end. We were able to enjoy cotton candy, ice cream, and stand-up comedy during the break. As the show continued, I realized how much fun the audience

as a whole was having. Although the show was not as mature and dramatic as Les Miserables would have been, it was fun to be kids again with our cotton candy, sing along songs, and comedy that made the whole place feel warm and cheery. The entire show ended with screams as confetti was shot out at the audience, the perfect ending to a fun, colorful, and exciting performance. Going to see Matilda taught me to always try something new when you can, because you never know just how much fun you will have doing it. I will always remember Matilda as a time when my friends and I had a great time together enjoying a show that made us smile and want to dance. Walking out of the show that night, I can confidently say that we all had smiles on our faces and confetti in our hair, and I cannot think of a better way to end a night in London.

Our Cup of Tea

Emily Sonsthagen ft. my mom, Lisa I would highly recommend anyone who is interested in the true, English high tea experience to do so at the Kensington Palace. My mom and I went on a beautiful Wednesday afternoon for high tea. It was a chunk of change at £30 a person. With an exchange rate of 1.32 and a £15 tip, we came to a grand total of $99. But before you get too hung up on the price and whether it’s worth it, just listen to how cool it was. The tea didn’t take place in the usual Orangery as it was under reconstruction, so it was instead held in a tent! Some of the reviews online were disappointed with the change in setting, and considering it was $99, I understand where they are coming from. However, it was by far one of the poshest tents I’ve ever been in, complete with chandeliers, flowers, and amazing service, so in my opinion, the tent was nothing to scoff at. As a true American, born and raised, the only fancy tea experience I had to compare my time in London to, was the infamous 4th grade trip to the American Girl Place in Chicago. There my mom, doll, and I enjoyed the finest tea Chicago

had to offer. With that as the pinnacle of my tea experiences, I have to admit that Kensington Palace thoroughly exceeded my expectations and, to much surprise, gave the American Girl doll tea a run for its money. As I’m writing this, I am enjoying the English Breakfast tea I bought at the gift shop to really bring me back in time to that moment. I’ve never been that into tea, but I think it’s safe to say London has changed me. For the actual high tea my mom ordered the Palace Earl Grey and I went with Earl Grey Blue Flowers. We were both happy with our selections and would highly recommend either. Tea was accompanied with a threetiered tray of everything you could ever possibly want to go along with

your tea. From sandwiches, to scones, to the true star of the show being the adorable fancy cakes on the top tier, all of it was impeccable. After much deliberation, I have decided that my favorite was the strawberry fluffy cake while Lisa votes for the classic chocolate layer cake. (For a complete menu with descriptions, look at The Pavilion Afternoon Tea at https://kensingtonpalacepavilion.co.uk/). Overall, high tea at Kensington Palace was a major highlight of the trip and made me feel pampered like a queen. It was a great motherdaughter bonding moment and one that neither of us will forget. To sum it up in the words of my mother, “that’s not something that you can do just anywhere.”

Recipe for a Good Time

Football Londoner Style Omar Williams

During my experience as a Londoner I took the “go with the flow” approach. This approach led me to join Charles, Jack, and Lang in attending a football match between the Queens Park Rangers (QPR) and Rotherham United. Both teams were terribly ranked in their league with the Queens ranked at 17 and Rotherham United ranked at 22. Although both teams were terrible, I was caught off guard by the immense number of fans and supporter in attendance. For a regular season QPR home match the team attracted 10,800+ spectators. Even though the opposite team traveled nearly 200 miles to compete they still had a good size crowd of fans in attendance, and even at times seemed to be louder than the home crowd. This was amazing and validated that London lives up to its reputation of diehard support for its local football clubs. This was my first soccer (oops I mean football) game ever, so I wasn’t really sure what to expect. While watching the game and learning the rules I couldn’t help but observe the crowd and notice how invested they were in this football match. When the momentum of the game was in favor of the home team you would hear roaring chants from the crowd, and see people on their feet. When

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the Rangers missed opportunities to score a goal (which they had several) the crowd would let their disappointment be known. Perhaps some of the best commentary throughout the game came from the spectators sitting behind us. There was a moment in the game when a player from the home team seemed to be injured. Two players made contact with each other leaving one of the players laying on the ground. The medic ran onto the field to aid the player at that moment someone from the crowd yelled “give him some f**king wisdom while you’re out there.” The man was obviously voicing his displeasure with the player’s performance. Many people in the crowd saw this play as a foul but when the play recovered and started walking another spectator jeered “at least f**king limp or something.” While the game itself was very interesting, the colorful, and comi-

cal commentary coming from the stands was just as entertaining. The following day we learned a very important lesson, never wear a rival football club’s scarf on the day of another team’s football match. Poor Charles learned this as we were traveling on the tube the following evening. The QPR scarfs were blue with white stripes vs. another team playing that evening whose scarves were red and white. A group people wearing red scarves began at snickering him for his support for the Rangers. As we went back the hotel we had a good laugh about the whole episode and admired the Londoners commitment to their respective football clubs.

Makeover Montage Ash Aranda

Before we left for London, Mary emphasized how posh we’d be living. I consider myself low to mid maintenance, so any ideas of splurging went over my head for the most part. However, to supplement that attitude are my impulsive tendencies and extremely high willingness to risk. So, to counteract that chaos, I scheduled a nail appointment with my best friend and a hair appointment for myself. Nails, because I never do them. My hair because, unfortunately, some months ago my last impulse was to bleach all of it. I had spent days since then wincing every time I woke up and saw the yellow strands. I needed to do something, anything about it, and I wanted it to happen in London because I miss the influence of city styles. After a Google search for something that wasn’t run of the mill, I found Hershesons’. Their website was clean and organized, a place different than any shop I had ever been to, and I booked the appointment for the beginning of our week. Waking up on Monday in London was something straight out of a comedy, I fell getting out of the shower on to the wall directly across, landing on my nose and sliding down on my right side. This nervous energy was sustained all the way until and through the nail appointment, I had a kind of restless feeling. And my body was mildly sore from the morning. This subsided when the nail artist finished creating these fun silver transparent stars on my hands. I walked out of WAH with a kind of determination, listening to music through Soho blocks feeling closer to my own element. I deserved to have a look. I walked past the door of Hersheson’s multiple times because there was no handle and it was covered in moss and floral elements. The anxiety returned. I eventually found my way inside, attempted to check in, was told I had accidentally double booked, corrected

that, and I sat down trying to be as small as possible. The space was kind of “too cool.” I felt unsure if someone like me belonged there. There were plants and neon lights everywhere, round mirrors and sleek minimal design, dark tones. All things I secretly love, so maybe I was just in disbelief I had found the place. My hairstylist was Harry, a tall goofy British man. He sat me down, saw my mess. “So…what are we doing with this?” I sighed, told him I didn’t know, and that I was just wanted to grow it out in way that looked better than its current state. He then proceeded to fluff it up, throw it around, nod to himself, and then magically held it in place into something that I could tell would look good. I was sent to have my hair washed, and the assistant washing it had such a pleasant

voice, and the water and the soap and the lighting all felt amazing. They had amazing customer service. And I finally took a breath. I let myself be the one who wasn’t running the show. After some weird conversations about my Americanness but general kindness, Harry did right by me. I’ve always wanted a mildly short shag that looked/was low effort, and he did just that. I paid, walked out, and stood on the sidewalk. I felt like I had new skin. Permission to indulge in a way that was comfortable for me. Picture me later, speed walking to our West End show in the Oxford Circus lights, tote shopping bags in my arms, a box of chips in one hand and my phone in the other, listening to my playlist and doing my best to think about all the money later, because I was cute, and in a way, resting.

Recipe for a Good Time

“Candy from the Trolley, dears?”: A Cursed Child Review Kayla Lawson

To the shock of no one, I am a just a touch bit of a Harry Potter nerd. As such, of course I read the infamous script of “Harry Potter and the Cursed Child” and absolutely … hated it. As someone who has taken many courses in classics, I am no stranger to consuming theater via script. I found that the plot was messy, as was the characterization of beloved characters. However, I heard that the production was incredible and wanted to witness it for myself, mainly to see if it could change my mind on the play. As a production that originated in London, it only seemed fitting to see it while in England. I ended up opting to see both Part I and Part II on the same day, meaning that I’d be by myself in Soho from about 12 PM to 10 PM. On my own for the first time abroad. That was a long stretch of

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time to be off on my own while traveling for the first time ever. I was nervous, but equally hopeful that it would be worth it. And it was! The technical feats behind the play were positively marvelous, especially the effects used to indicate going back in time and all of the techniques used for spells. All of it made magic actually feel real for a spell of time, which is not easy to do. And, of course, the costumes and makeup were well done. It’s hard to make a character with Voldemort’s design (chiefly, his unfortunate lack of a nose) look good on stage without the help of post production effects, but they pulled it off through the use of classical stage magic: brilliantly done makeup. There were plenty of other highlights as well, Jonathan Case’s portrayal of Scorpius Malfoy was

particularly endearing and charming and he stole the entire show. He managed to get the audience clapping twice during heartwarming scenes through his acting alone. On a similar level to an excellent Scorpius, the absurd humor was also very important to the enjoyment of the show. Every joke landed and got a laugh from the audience, me included. I thought the jokes were terrible in the script, but the delivery of the actors made an entire world of difference. My only new grievance with the production was the acting of a very important character, Harry James Potter. I believe it was likely more the fault of the directing than the actor, Jamie Ballard, who I’ve seen in television media. Yet the majority of his lines were still delivered in a fashion reminiscent of the “I’M IN A RAGE!” line from A Very Potter Sequel. I wish I was just being hyperbolic. There were times where I heard a few snickers from other audience members during certain parts where it severely detracted from serious moments in the play. While this was a serious issue, it was still minor compared to the exceptional performances from the rest of the cast. The Verdict: I’d give the play eight chocolate frogs out of ten. I still don’t like the script and believe it to be—by far—the weakest part of the production, but I’m definitely in the camp that thoroughly enjoyed the play. It was a fantastically magical experience and I’m very glad I took the plunge to go to it by myself.

*Has No Plans* â&#x20AC;&#x153;Well We Could Go Look For a Pub?â&#x20AC;? Cameron Wood

While in London, there were many times when we found ourselves between plans and that no one really had any idea what we wanted to do next. Usually, shortly after this dilema emerged, we would decide to go to a pub. Pubs are an easy find in London, as they are conveniently located every ten feet. While they are common in London, every single one is different. Each one a hidden gem within the streets of London. One of my favorites was The Churchill Arms, a vibrant pub filled with flowers and the best Thai food I had ever tasted. While we used going to a pub as a default plan when we

ourselves to have time to just hang out and chat made the experience of the entire trip that much more memorable because it is a lot more fun to travel with friends. From funniest the college stories to fairly heated political discussions, each and every pub brought us closer together. I also learned a lot about the country from sitting in a pub. I would watch soccer fans cheer on

their team and guys celebrating St. Patrick's Day London style. While going to a pub may not seem like the coolest thing to do in London, they are home to some of my favorite memories of being abroad, and bonding with both my friends and the culture. There is a lot more to chilling in a pub with four random people than it seems, and I am definitely grateful that we failed to make secure plans so often.

couldn't think of something else to do, I personally think that some of my favorite memories were spent in them. We would spend hours just talking and getting to know eachother better while feeling more like locals than tourists. It was away from the bustle of the London streets and a relaxing way to rest our feet before going to our next destination. I had more laughs and made more memories with friends in pubs than I could in any museum or tour. The food is always great, and the drinks are always better. The fact that we allowed

Recipe for a Good Time

The British Library: Billy Shakes, Some Old Lady’s Desk, and a Scuffle Grace Brunner & Jackson Dinsmore

Upon entering the Sir John Ritblat Treasures Gallery of the British Library, one’s eyes must adjust to the dim lights that are juxtaposed with the luminescent glow of the displayed documents. The knowledge that centuries of history surroundsevery step fills each visitor with an innate sense of purpose and wonder. As one begins to inspect the historical documents on display, the first thing to draw attention is the works of famous composers. The yellowed pages of sheet music that once belonged to the likes of Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven were particularly captivating through their imperfections. Each scribbled note and erased line reminds one of the reality of these composers, figures that historically have been revered and memorialized as rising above the normal constraints of humanity, as some indescribable superhuman talents that composed the epic scores we now know. However, in that moment the realization arises that these composers were simply people who once scribbled

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out their mistakes in the midst of translating a masterpiece composition from a mere thought into a reality. And these dots on paper, these were the translation key. The literary documents in the room span over centuries, with the incredible works of key literary figures such as Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, Oscar Wilde, and Sylvia Plath. As we struggled among the masses of school children to see the writing desk of Jane Austen,

projected for all those around to overhear were the schoolchildren’s conversations inquiring why the desk of “some old lady who wrote books” is so important, and then witnessed the captivation and awe once their teacher explained the significance of the writing desk, and of every historical document in the gallery. Among these aweinspiring works of literature and bits of history, we found ourselves discovering a similar newfound

love for history and literature, as had these children. Handwritten Beatles’ lyrics, drawings from da Vinci, and international maps & works of art adorned the remaining walls of the muted, dark gallery. While libraries are known for serving as the vaults for collections of literature and the past, we’re not sure if we’ve ever been in the presence of one document so influential and authoritative as the Magna Carta. Reserved to its own room in the gallery and literally translated to “The Great Charter”, this document from 1215 was revolutionary in establishing rule of law, defining human rights, and acting as one of the first steps for England becoming a parliamentary democracy. We had decided to save the best for last and were making our way through the throngs of schoolchil-

dren to the Magna Carta when five security officers rushed past as if an issue of national security. Inside the Magna Carta room, we could see the remnants of an altercation, as the security guards pulled two men apart. Was this a mere coincidence? Or a present-day representa-

tion of the inherent power struggle demonstrated in the Magna Carta? We may never truly know the answer to this question. However, our experience did teach us about the importance and inspiration of literary history, and also how to get kicked out of the British Library.

Tea Listings: Alissa Gilmer Ahmed Tea ● 10 bags, English Breakfast ● 10 bags, Ceylon Tea ● 10 bags, Darjeeling Tea ● 10 bags, Earl Grey Tea ● 10 bags, English Tea No. 1 ● 10 bags, English Afternoon Fortnum and Mason ● 10 bags, Earl Grey Classic ● 10 bags, Afternoon Blend ● 10 bags, Smoky Earl Grey ● 10 bags, Queen Anne ● 10 bags, Royal Blend ● 10 bags, Breakfast Blend Twinings ● 40 bags, Camomile & Honey Miscellaneous ● 4 bags, hotel breakfast Grand total: 164 teabags Returned from London

Recipe for a Good Time

Concerts and Bad Band Names Catherine Prestoy

The funk guitar riff blasted from the speakers, all around me was movement, dancing, laughing, pushing. I didn’t know any of the words and I didn’t care. For once, I’m just going to let my brain shut up and dance. The entire time building up to the trip, I repeatedly told everyone that the one thing I wanted to do was see a live performance in London. So I did what anyone else would do, looked at a bunch of showtimes and listened to a lot of music on Spotify that I thought looked interesting. That’s how I landed in a show for a band called Patawawa. I’m not kidding you that I listened to their music for about three minutes, I knew nothing about this band. But damn, are they good live. I made it a mission for myself to recruit people to come with me and my targets proved to be the only ones in the hotel lobby at the time; Gwen, Omar and Charles. Gwen was immediately in, Omar was in only if we found him something to eat, and Charles was in only because I said I’d pay for half of his ticket. We were the perfect rag-tag team. The entire trip to the venue, my mind was buzzing with anxiety. What if the show actually sucks and I promised these guys it was gonna be great? What if we end up in the completely wrong place? What if we don’t make it on time? I later realized these anxieties were stupid as soon as the first note sounded from the opening act. The spacious venue was lit by dim blue and red lights and surrounded by disco balls. I nudged 28

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my way to the front with the rest of the group and started bobbing my head with the music. The singer/ keyboardist was a younger looking dude wearing a dadlike Hawaiian t-shirt. His music was a harmonious mix of electronic and indie. “This next one is about when I got stood up three times by the same person, it’s called ‘Honey,’” he said. It started off with a soft piano tune, and then immediately changed into a full-on bop. I looked around me and Gwen was dancing, Charles was bobbing his head and Omar was “leaning into it.” “Enjoy Patawawa,” the singer said as he made his way off the stage and to his friends, but not before Omar stopped him. By this time the background music was back

on and I had no idea what Omar was saying to this guy. The singer leaned into Omar’s ear and said something, Omar drew back with a confused look and then nodded. The singer smiled and turned back to his friends. “What did you say to him?” I asked. “I wanted to know what his name was.” Omar said. “So what was it?” “I don’t remember. Manta ray something? Mantaraybryn I think.” I thought he was messing with me, but the singer’s name actually is Mantaraybryn. Not as bad as Patawawa I guess.

By the time Patawawa started, a curly haired dude and a 70s dressed woman strutted onto stage and launched into their first song. A disco guitar riff rang from the speakers and everyone immediately started dancing. The singers’ energy was explosive and contagious. Every music break was welcomed with the singers dancing energetically. Their voices were harmonious and powerful, everything about their music screams to the listener, “Get off your butt and start dancing.” So I did just that. I danced through every song and nudged my way forward so, by the end of the show, Charles, Gwen and I were right in front. I smiled like a little girl when I made eye-contact with the singers and jumped around to the beat. This is it. This is exactly what I wanted.

“Goodnight everyone! We are Patawawa!” the male singer yelled. I turned to Charles and said, “So would you rather have been here or a pub?” I asked. “Oh no

question,” he said. “Definitely here.” Gwen and Omar nodded in agreement. Hell yeah. I wobbled over to the merch stand to find the male singer engaging in conversation with a couple. “Hey man, can I buy a shirt off you?” I asked. He gave an energetic yes and immediately after hearing my accent asked where I was from. “America, Kansas specifically,” I said. Gwen added, “If you throw a dart at a dartboard the shape of America and hit dead center, that would be where we’re from.” He laughed and handed me a t-shirt. “You guys should really come to America,” I said “Oh, I don’t know if we’re good enough,” he replied. “You definitely are,” I said.

Recipe for a Good Time

What is your legacy? Paola Ramirez

This story begins with a failure and ends with two girls sobbing over Hamilton. After an hour of waiting outside of the Victoria Royal Theatre and watching people ahead of us in the queue secure tickets, Ashley and I called it a night and made our way back to our hotel room. We came back the next night determined to make standing in the return ticket line worth the effort. Our patience was rewarded with producer box tickets which were half the price of regular seats. Ashley asked how i felt after buying our tickets and my excitement would not let me formulate words. I mumbled some incomprehensible phrases and whispered screams. We were about to see the international sensation, 11-time Tony winning, Hamilton in London with a personal butler. How could this be real? After the initial shock, I settled into my seat and treated myself to a congratulatory glass of wine. I had spent months listening to the original Broadway soundtrack, streaming bootleg videos, and analyzing the plays musical motifs. The Hamilton buzz paired with knowing the entire plot through the soundtrack created incredibly high expectations. I was concerned that this meant that I would be disappointed, but those fears melted 30

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away as soon as the first beat dropped. What struck me most as I watched it was how familiar the characters felt. I had fleshed out Aaron Burr in my head, I created choreography, I felt like I had already smelled the wooden stage. This viewing was more of a return than an introduction. The thing that first drew me to Hamilton, and what I maintain to be the true genius of the play, is the honesty of the characters flaws and the redemption they find in legacy. Hamilton is arrogant and obsessed with work, Burr is vindictive and feeble, Angelica lusts after her sister’s husband, and Jefferson is a privileged romancer. Yet, in all these faults, all I felt was recognition. Those were my friends on stage. The characters were imperfect and eager to create something that will age well, which is a familiar pressure for college students that will soon be entering the workforce. The resolution of the play is driven by Eliza’s commitment to maintain Hamilton’s legacy. Applied to my life, the hope is that the temporary commitments I have made in college will flourish into something I will remember fondly and with pride. I know that the London Review trip has already earned that recognition.

Custom’s Man Alissa Gilmer

After a sleepless, six and a half hour, cross Atlantic flight, all I wanted was easy passage into the United Kingdom - no tricks or gimmicks. However, my lovely customs official this fine morning did not have an easy passage in mind. Walking from the queue to the customs desk, Brett stuck out his hand to present his passport. I knew this was about to get interesting when the man forcefully handed it back claiming “Ladies first, we have manners here in England”. He asked us what we were doing here, we answered studying abroad. “Students, then, I take it?” To prove ourselves in this statement, he said that we must know, the US presidents by order… At this point, I’m 30 hours gone no sleep, but what were we to do but try. 16th Lincoln. Then one we didn’t know. Present backwards, sure. “Trump, Obama, Bush, Clinton, Bush Sr” on we went, as many of our classmates got through their line and left. At last it seemed he decided that we were good to go. Then he offered some advice: “The airport bar is one floor down, you two are legal now”. As we walked away, a little stymied at this man that we’d just met, at least I can say his greeting was one I won’t forget.

London in Bloom: Wandering Kew Gardens Hattie Hobart

Kew Gardens are out of the way. If you didn’t know about them you would be hard pressed to discover them on your own. I wouldn’t have known about them had my mom not told me about how wonderful they were. She told me about the beautiful greenhouses with their verdant displays of greenery from around the world. They have palms and water lilies, and the feature of the season: the orchids. The displays were spectacular, and the orchids were in full bloom, covering entire walls of the room that mimicked a rainforest. Without my mom’s recommendation, I never would have discovered this out of the way gem. The day that we took to explore the gardens was perfect. It was a breezy spring day full of sunshine that made you want to be outside. It was a welcome break from the dreary Kansas weather we had recently come from. I would have been content just wandering the paths that meander from greenhouse to greenhouse and around the perimeter of the property. The magnolias were in full bloom and you could see the world coming back to life through the daffodils that were peeking out after lying dormant all winter. However, the colors that permeated the outside were no match for what waited in the greenhouses. The Palm House is one of the older buildings within Kew Gardens. It’s also one off the biggest greenhouses I have ever seen! It is filled to bursting with exotic plants of all shapes and sizes. As soon as you walk into the building you can understand why. The air is thick and humid, and immediately upon entrance a thin film of water seems to collect on your skin. You can feel the rainforest roots of these plants, and you can smell the richness of the soil in the dampness. The Palm House’s luscious displays of verdant, exotic plants rivals the splendor of the rainforest.

Another exhibit that truly captured me was the orchid display in the Princess of Wales conservatory. The building itself is an architectural masterpiece, with the points of its individual rooms rising like mountains out of the park grounds. Inside you are immediately greeted by a desert climate, filled with dry, sandy soil, cacti, and to my surprise, orchids. As the rooms continue, the climate within gets continually wetter. This culminates in a central room that imitates the climate of the Palm House, but instead of being met with a wall of green, you are shocked by a room of color. There are orchids of every shape, size and color that are accentuated by a multitude of other tropical flowering plants. They cover every available surface of the room; pil-

lars, walls, you name it! There is bound to be an orchid on there somewhere. The Kew gardens are so unique. They are as beautiful as all of the masterpieces in the Tate museums, but in an ephemeral way. They highlight the natural world’s beauty and the English obsession with cultivating the exotic into something tamer. It is an overwhelmingly beautiful experience, and it will forever be a highlight of my London Review experience.

Recipe for a Good Time

Hotel Lobby Shenanigans Charles Jetty

Shenanigans are an essential part of human existence. Without them, our lives would be anticlimactic greyscale vignettes. It’s hard to crawl out of bed in the morning without at least the possibility of engaging in some shenanigans that day. Thankfully, London is a city ripe with them. Regardless of what borough you travel to, there is a significant chance that there’s some good-natured tomfoolery to experience. And there’s no place in London where more shenanigans ensue than the lobby of the Grange Strathmore Hotel. For one, the staff of the hotel are kind and accommodating to the point that the sacred laws of hotel lobby etiquette fly out the window. If your group wants to break out into an impromptu choral rendition of OutKast’s Hey Ya!, the fun police will not come calling. If you want to have a halfcoherent argument about the sunk cost fallacy, the lobby is your oyster. Hankering for a poker night? You’ve come to the right place. The lobby serves not only as a place for shenanigans, but also a place to convene to discuss past and future shenanigans. At night, tales of being pickpocketed or witnessing a man who can beatbox and play the harmonica at the same time are recounted. On any given morning, you could walk up to the lobby with no plan for your day and be whisked away into a day of fun. Any emotion you feel over the course of your trip will surely be duplicated when you ponder it later in the lobby. The hotel may as well broadcast a bat-signal of Mary’s face from the rooftop during nighttime and other prime shenanigan hours, so that shenanigan-doers know it is safe to return and share your stories. In reality, there is no need, as the lobby will always be a welcoming haven to the nomads of our program.

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Ten Things to See at the Natural History Museum Jamie Hawley

1. The most complete Stegosaurus skeleton in the world. a. He is BIG. And FRIEND-SHAPED. 2. Escalator to the center of the earth a. Ever wonder what it’s like to be swallowed whole? Find out here! 3. Earthquake simulator a. Kansas has some earthquakes, but not like this. 4. Whale skeleton a. Whales shouldn’t be this big. No living creature should be this big. 5. Birds a. Bigger than you thought they’d be! Smaller than you thought they’d be! Exactly the size you thought they’d be! 6. Giant animatronic T-rex a. It’s like Jurassic Park but slightly less exciting. 7. Rocks a. So! Many! Rocks! You wanna see a rock? They’ve got that rock! 8. School children a. They’re all in uniform and have never seen a skeleton before! 9. Faded taxidermied mammals a. They’re very old! Which is good, because that means they aren’t killing new ones. 10. The most gorgeous building you’ve ever seen in your life. a. Seriously. Just stand outside and stare at it for a while. It’s gonna melt your eyes.

The Average Man's Review of Some Not So Average Food Lang Perdue

London is a place full of a wonderful mix of different cultures and the food may be the prime example. It’s difficult for me to remember how many times I took a bite of food and said, “this is the best *food* I’ve ever eaten”, but it was quite a few. I will now do something completely American and talk about a few of these restaurants and compare them to restaurants in the good, old United States of America.

Pubs There are pubs on the corners of every street in London which made me think that they would all be the same, but I have never been so wrong. Each individual pub had characteristics which made it a unique enough experience that I understood why people have preferred pubs. Here are a few of my favorites Waxy O’Connor’s- This place was an amazing pub that mixed the different identities of London perfectly. There were sections for Scotland, Ireland, England, among various others and each had their own decorations. The beer was tasty as always, and the live music being played from a hidden alcove added to the ambience. At Waxy’s, the experience is more than worth than the fight for a table. Churchill Arms- Churchill Arms blew me away because the entrance and the bar look like a standard pub, but the real secret is hidden about 50 feet away. Once you go down the hallway, you enter a Thai restaurant decorated with typical pub décor which perplexed me. When I ate there, I was extremely tired, but the first bite of the Pad Thai instantly gave me life. Churchill Arms, without a doubt, serves the best Thai food I’ve ever eaten, and the clash between the pub décor and Thai food was incredibly endearing. The Chequers- The only place checking in from outside of

London, this pub in the heart of Oxford defined the stereotypical English pub experience for me. While the weather was rough outside, I sat inside with friends at a huge table/couch and talked for a couple of hours. The pub served the traditional pies, burgers, and a wide array of beers that could be consumed while simply enjoying the company of the people around you. Chequers is a place that I would want to go with friends after a long day and forget about everything else.

Assorted Foods Pizza Express- When I first heard the name of the restaurant, I was expecting something similar to a Pizza Hut or a Pizza Shuttle, but I was blown away at the eloquence

of this pizza restaurant. Everything was much nicer than I expected and the pizza and doughballs I ate were fantastic. I think it’s safe to say that fast food pizza has been ruined now that I’ve had a slice of perfection from Pizza Express. BrewDog- In the middle of SoHo, Brewdog looks like a run of the mill burger restaurant, but a neon sign about anarchy and burgers drew me in. It’s extremely difficult to beat a place with multiple bars, an elevator system for the food to be delivered, and their own selection of beer. Also, the burger was the best burger I’ve ever eaten so that always helps. Basically, take your favorite sports bar and upgrade every aspect from the environment to the food and you have BrewDog.

Recipe for a Good Time

The Cathedral at the End of the Rainbow Natalie Rushing

After a lovely morning well spent with Laura, Kyle, and Gage at the Tower of London, we took a break by having a nice lunch at the Italian restaurant Strada. After our two hour lunch, I really wanted to go to St. Paul’s Cathedral, so we headed over there as a group. Upon entering, we decided to split up and enjoy the Cathedral individually. Sadly, no photos were allowed inside the cathedral. On the bright-side, it allowed me to really take in all the sights around me, which were absolutely beautiful. The sculptures, the detailing on the walls and ceiling, and the grand dome were such a sight to see. I am sad to say that since I do not have any photos of the inside, my image is already fading. I was only there less than two weeks ago! However, the way I felt inside the Cathedral is something I will never forget. I just had such a feeling of awe as I walked around and admired everything around me. After walking along the entire Cathedral Floor, I decided it was time to endure the many steps it would take to get to each of the three galleries St. Paul’s has to offer. After climbing 257 steps, I made it to the Whispering Gallery. This gallery was still inside the Cathedral and brought me closer to the top of the dome. I was able to look over the railing and see the Cathedral Floor, and above me I could see the dome paintings more clearly. My headset told me why it was called the Whispering Gallery. One person is supposed to stand on one side of the circle and another person stands on the other side. One of them whispers something into the wall, and the message travels along the wall and the other person can hear it. This sounded super cool, and I really wanted to try it. Since I wasn’t with anyone I knew, I approached a random older couple and asked if we could try it together. I just walked about 15-20 feet away instead of halfway around the circle, and the man tried whispering 34

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through the wall. Sadly, I could not hear one thing. It was crowded up there and quite a bit of talking was going on. Maybe if it were quieter it would have worked. Guess I will never know! After the Whispering Gallery, I climbed up 119 more steps to get to the Stone Gallery. This led me to a door that went outside. At that point, I was fairly high up and the wind was pretty strong. The view was nice, but tall metal bars and concrete columns were put up around the gallery, probably for safety reasons. This made it harder to take photos and really appreciate the view, but regardless it was still a great view of the buildings around me. I was only in the Stone

Gallery for about five minutes, and returned back to the stairs to head to the final gallery. I thought that view was nice, but I had no idea what view was awaiting me. At this point, the steps were steep and very narrow. A few people in front of me had to stop and take a break because they were so out of breath. I think my excitement of what the final gallery had to offer enabled me to push through quickly without stopping. After climbing the final 152 steps (528 steps total from the bottom to the top), I finally arrived at the Golden Gallery. I was immediately awestruck as I looked at the view in front of me. This time, there were no tall metal bars or concrete blocking the view.

Stone Gallery

Golden Gallery

My initial view was in the direction of the London Eye and the River Thames. As I slowly made my way around the circular gallery, I was able to see, what felt like, the entire city. I couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t stop taking photos, and although amazing, none of them could capture what I was seeing in that moment. After a few trips around the gallery, I was ready to start making my trek back down when Laura appeared. This was ideal so we could take photos for each other. Shortly after Laura arrived, the wind became very strong, and it started to rain out of nowhere. By this time in our trip, I figured out random rain here and there is nor-

mal in London, but the wind being so strong really made it pretty cold. I was ready to call it a day when I looked to my right and saw a rainbow! This rainbow was so bright, clear, and had every color in ROYGBIV. Seeing it from this high up and with the city behind it, just made it look ten times better than it would have looked from the ground. Even though the wind was absolutely insane, Laura and I quickly took photos with it. We then looked further to our right and saw the rainbow turned into a double rainbow on the other side! Obviously, we quickly got a few more photos with it. Then just like that, it was gone.

What are the chances that we happened to be at the tippy top of St. Paulâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Cathedral when a rainbow came out of nowhere? It was fun, spontaneous and just made me feel so lucky. After the rainbow disappeared, we were pretty wet and cold, plus we had a group dinner to attend soon, so we headed back down. Only 528 steps later, and we made it back to the Cathedral Floor. The photos I took make me laugh because my hair is wild and my face is funny due to the wind, but it captures a time where I felt pure joy. I will cherish those photos and memories forever.

Recipe for a Good Time

Rolling Like a Stone in London Brett Knepper

If you’re like me and you enjoy the best of what classic rock has to offer, then you’ve likely heard of a London band called, “The Rolling Stones.” This group hit international stardom all the way back in 1965, but since then, their ties have only become more prominent in various locations scattered across town that pay homage to the famous rock band. Located on Baker Street, immediately across the road from a large Beatles souvenir store, is a smaller building adorned with a sign, “It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll.” The sign features an artist’s rendition of a pair of Gibson Flying V electric guitars and pays homage to a 1974 Rolling Stones track by the same name, which often considered among the group’s most wellknown recordings. Stepping inside the store, you’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer volume of band shirts with colorful logos, shot glasses with the iconic tongue logo and posters of almost every size, from concerts to album covers. The assortment of collectibles line the aisles and walls, barely leaving enough space between to see the black paint of each panel, which acts to contrast the memorabilia. Among the large collection Rolling Stones keepsakes is a plethora of merchandise dedicated to the clas-

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sic and contemporary rock scene of London and England, itself, showcasing artists from David Bowie and AC/DC, to Queen and Pink Floyd. But the store’s focus is clearly in its Rolling Stones merchandise.

If you ever sought something with the famous tongue plastered across it, you’d find it here. Everything you could imagine is in stock -- from records, t-shirts and guitar picks, to coffee mugs and keychains. Some items even border

on the absurd, such as tongue necklaces and salt and pepper shakers. The store is stocked to the brim with The Rolling Stones. As someone who prefers band shirts and would willingly pay a king’s ransom for anything Stones related, it was already as if I had discovered a little slice of heaven. But, that wasn’t even the most interesting part. On the wall behind

If you’re more epicure than collector, another Rolling Stones attraction may satisfy your palette. In the Phillimore Gardens sets a small restaurant, owned by former Rolling Stones bass guitarist, Bill Wyman. His eatery, called, “Sticky Fingers Cafe,” features an American style menu, serving a variety of hamburgers, barbeque and British chips. While the restaurant’s name may make people think of getting messy over lunch, “Sticky Fingers” is actually the title of one of the Stones’ best-selling albums of which Wyman was a part. The restaurant is not only a nice place for delicious food, but also serves as a museum of sorts, featuring some of the greatest

Rolling Stones decor you will ever find. Lining the walls are posters from various Stones tours and albums. In the back, you’ll find two perpendicular walls with Bill Wyman’s own guitars hanging for all to see; one is signed by the bassist, himself. Surrounding two separate sections of the restaurant are the Pièce De Résistance, eight of Wyman’s gold records spanning his years with the Rolling Stones, 1962-1993, including Aftermath, Exile on Main Street and Let it Bleed. There is even a platinum record to go along with the gold from Sticky Fingers, which is found on the first wall at the front of the restaurant. If you’re a fan of the Stones, you won’t just want to come in, sit down and eat. You’ll find yourself wandering through the restaurant and capturing a few pictures. Of course, don’t forget the food entirely, because it’s pretty good, too! For the true fan of rock music and memorabilia, visiting London must include a stop at “It’s Only Rock and Roll,” and Sticky Fingers Café. In addition to providing a snapshot into the roots of English rock bands, you will be setting yourself up for a “rockin’” English vacation.

the counter, there were several rows of band photos and albums, which were being looked over by a cashier who I can only surmise was praying someone would take them off his hands. They weren’t just framed photographs and records, however. These were the “crème de le crème” for a true Rolling Stones collector and each featured autographs from the band. It’s not often you stumble across anything signed by the Stones, let alone dozens of items all in one place. But, to make it even more memorable, several of the collectibles included the signature of long deceased Stones member, Brian Jones, which in itself, provided a truly one-of-a-kind item.

Recipe for a Good Time

I Love the Zoo Jamie Hawley

I love zoos. Always have, always will. I come from a zoo family, and I have seen my fair share of domestic zoos in the U.S. But ZSL? It’s my favorite zoo. I might go so far as to say it’s one of my favorite places. Let me explain. The most critical part of a zoo is its layout. Not only in terms of having enclosures and exhibits that are good for the animals, but also in terms of making sure that the zoo itself is easy enough for patrons to navigate. You ever been lost in a zoo? It’s not the worst thing in a world, but if you’re going to start to panic, it’s best not to do it right next to a tiger’s cage. Doesn’t really help your blood pressure. In this respect, the London Zoo is close to perfect. Each exhibit flows smoothly from one to the next. You start in the aquarium, and the aquarium spits you out by the reptile house, and the reptile house spits you out by the gorillas, and the gorillas happen to be right next to the tigers. If you follow the natural path and the helpful signs, you barely need to look at your map. There are indoor exhibits and outdoor exhibits and exhibits where there’s no glass between you and the monkeys. They’re just there! In front of you! You could touch them if you wanted! (Not really. There are friendly zookeepers nearby, preventing you from touching the monkeys, who look very

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part of a community of zoo-goers who are doing an admittedly odd thing, which is going to a place where you can look at animals who are kept in enclosures and put on display. Even though we’re strangers, we’re also engaged in some form of cooperation. If an animal does something interesting, we point it out. If an animal is hard to spot, we help others know where to look. If a machine is broken or an animal is off exhibit, we let others know. I experienced this both times I’ve been to ZSL, even more so most recently. We’re all in this together, in a way. We’re all here to learn and have fun and (usually) spend a day with our friends and soft and will definitely bite you families. Even though I wasn’t doand steal your cell phone.) (The ing the third thing, I still felt inmonkeys, not the zookeepers.) cluded. I still felt like I was part of But while the layout and exhib- something. Which is a weird thing its are stupendous, there’s someto say about the zoo. thing else about ZSL that keeps I understand that some people drawing me back in. Both times don’t like zoos. I get it. There is I’ve visited ZSL, I have gone alone. something that feels icky about Going to the zoo alone is very them, even now. But ZSL is a nonstrange! I found myself wanting to profit and is doing a lot of good talk to someone about the animals, work with research and conservaeven if the animals weren’t doing tion efforts, as well as a movement anything particularly interesting. to reduce the use of single-use plasI spent a lot of time snapping my tic in London. That’s good enough friends and family back home. for me. It has to be. Even if it’s a But while I did occasionally wish fiction, I will not feel a fool to have for companionship, I also never believed in a place focused on furfound myself feeling particularly thering curiosity and empathy and lonely. The thing that really strikes yes, even a sense of community. I me about zoos is that even when have to believe in it. you’re there by yourself, you’re still That’s why I love the zoo.

GRLS

Paola Ramirez Wah Nails, located in the heart of Soho, was a stark contrast to all the nail shops I have ever visited in the US in two very crucial ways: the workers had ownership of their labor and they clearly loved their craft. This love translated into beautiful nail art and a welcoming environment which was far from the manufactured. I mentioned how refreshing the attention to detail in decoration and customer service was to my nail artist Micah Hendricks who summed Wah up by describing it as “a vibe, not a business”. Wah is a two-floor nail boutique covered with quotes and pictures of iconic femmes of color. Rihanna graced the walls alongside pink holographic streamers and a playlist that had hit after hit. Nao’s Bad Blood played as Micah described how freelance work and her social media presence landed her a spot at Wah. Micah had been doing her friends nails since high school and started seriously considering beauty school when she graduated. We talked about college, work, and more generally about the passions that drive us. We agreed that no matter what your creative outlet, there is a way

to get paid without compromising what you love. We speculated about whether we would raise our imagined children with corporal punishment, public schools in London, and about being the children of immigrants. Despite having grown up in vastly different environments, we were able to relate to each other and this reveals the connection I have always assumed between women of color. The conversation and comradery Micah and I built over our

hour together is such a crucial part of womanhood, survival, and even joy. The transactional nature of our encounter did not stop us from creating something authentic and in fact, I was glad to pay her for the art she created and the company. Towards the end of our time together, Micah and I talked about the transformative power of female friendship and left it at “you gotta support your girls!”

Recipe for a Good Time

To Buy or Not to Buy Yeyoung Kim

It was too early in the morning to get up, but I managed to drag myself out of bed. The plan was to go to Portobello Road, and Mary said going early was the best time. I grumbled to myself, “Is it really worth it?” I went, though, and had to drink an obscene amount of coffee to wake up properly. When we got there, there were stalls lining the street and the stores in buildings were all already open. There was a huge variety of things one could buy. There was even a section of the road that was devoted to selling fruits and

vegetable. It was like downtown Mass Street, a flea market, and a farmer’s market all rolled into one. It was early on browsing through the stalls when something caught my eye: a pair of vintage boxing gloves. I enjoy boxing as a hobby, so I already owned a pair of gloves, but these gloves called to me. I doubted I would actually use them to box, but I knew if I did get them, I would hang them up in my room. I looked at them for a good

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few minutes before I walked on to see more of Portobello Road. I kept those gloves in the back of my mind, though. I took a break in a bakery where I sipped on a coffee and munched on a pastry. It was a good place to rest and talk with other people from the group. Some of them had already bought something and others were waiting to find that one special thing. I had bought souvenirs for my family but nothing for myself yet. The road was long, and I felt like the stores and stalls were endless. The whole time I wrestled in my mind if I wanted to buy those boxing gloves. I wouldn’t get them, I’ve already spent too much money. No, I would get them, they look cool and I’ll only be here once. I went back and forth like this in my head. I finally decided I would buy them, but I had no cash

on hand and the stall I saw them in wouldn’t accept card. I had to borrow money from Mary (which I paid back almost immediately), but I had to practically sprint back near the start of the road to meet up with her. As I sped past down the direction I had come from, I noticed that it was very crowded and only an hour had passed since we arrived. Mary was right about going early. I also passed by performers singing or playing instruments. I wish I could’ve stopped and listened to them, but I had a goal in mind. After I received the money from Mary, I went back to the stall to buy those boxing gloves. While the lady packed them away in a bag, she said to me, “You’re the most decisive person I’ve met today.” If only she knew the mental struggle I went through to buying those gloves. It was all worth it.

Food for the Soul

London Review 2019

The Pursuit of Peacocks Alissa Gilmer

“The most docile peacocks in London”, the article claimed. And so I decided to make my way to this place called Holland Park. Past a brick wall and a wrought iron gate, I was met with a place of dreams - a peaceful haven among the busy London streets. The first thing that I noted as I made my way inside, was my relief I wore my boots as I began to slip and slide. Mud lay underfoot and the path began to thin. I soon found ivy covered ground surrounding me, and then, the path continued forward into a green wonderland. As I pushed aside branches and my boots got caught on roots, I realized this was not the place my peacock pursuit would prove fruitful. Regardless, it was peaceful on those ivy lined paths, and I remember wishing I could make the moment last. As I left the trails for solid ground, scraping off my boots, I soon wandered into a garden of pink flowers and green hedges. It reminded me of France, laid out symmetrically with plants well groomed. A statue stood center stage and watched over it. I once again revelled in the colors of

London spring. Green and pink and purple staring back at me. But then I frowned as my eyes looked all around, no peacocks in sight. Still, the garden was a secret I discovered on my own. A beautiful expanse of flowers, hedges in perfect rows.

Continuing the search, I came across another place. To think what I’d have missed in my haste… a Japanese garden with a flowing waterfall exuded serenity. I walked around the pathway, across a little bridge, took pictures of the flowers, and watched the koi fish swim. But yet again I hadn’t found the creatures that I seeked. The pompous bird, the peacock, my trip could not yet be complete. Finally I found it, a wooden fenced in pen. I walked in and I saw them, a peacock and peahen. She was brown with small blue accents. He was just as one would guess, magnificent and beautiful, the full tail folded behind him. Of course that wasn’t good enough, I wanted to see more. They started far apart from one another but then the winds changed. As the peahen wandered closer, and the male turned her way, he lifted up his feathers in the full-on display. That’s what I had come for. The peacock in full glory. A trip to Holland Park that made my London story. The simple task of seeing them turned into so much more. The journey was the best part, and the reason my encore.

Food for the Soul

Union Jack: The “Dos and Don’ts” of London Jackson Bryan

On the eve of the London Review, I sat quietly at my kitchen counter in Overland Park, Kansas pondering travel plans for my first journey to the UK. Surrounded by my family, I began to explain to my parents and sister the simple excitement I felt about my forthcoming independence in one of the world’s greatest cities. Hearing this, my Mom was quickly reminded of her own first journey to the country in 1994. Being the enthusiastic and incredibly thorough person she is, she presented me a detailed list of London “dos and don’ts” she and her brother created during their short trip on a scratch sheet of paper from London’s Regency Hotel. In reading the list, I quickly found the difference in my Mom and I’s approach to travel to be

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both humorous and endearing. Perhaps a result of our differing personalities, (my proclivity for introversion and aversion to planning was strikingly clear) my plans did not include many of the sites recommended in her brief-butsincere listing. The personality of her family shined clearly through list, recommending an Italian restaurant in Covent Garden that noted owner Antonio Carlucci as a reference (with whom my outgoing Italian grandfather no doubt insisted having a conversation with over some red wine). There was, however, one site that my Mom recommended above all… and that was the Tower of London. Initially, I reassured my Mom I would go to the Tower, as I had long been interested in English history after an

influential AP European History course I took in high school. Upon my arrival in London, however, I became much more interested in immersing myself in the culture and everyday life of the average Englishman than going to destinations I perceived as too “touristy”. Each day, I was greeted with a welcome call from my Mom or Dad in the lobby of the Grange Strathmore asking about what I did that day and what I planned to do the following day. The truth, as I often told them, was that I really didn’t know what I was going to the next day: and that’s how I preferred to travel. While some may see the constant texts urging “when are you going to see the Tower of London? I really think you should!” as an annoyance, I found it to be wonderful symbol my parents’ love persisting despite our obvious differences. With the small taste of international independence I was granted in London, I gained some insight into how my life may be in the years following college: in few words, messy and exciting. I never did visit the Tower of London on the London Review, but instead had some of the happiest experiences of my life by forging my very own “dos and don’ts” of London.

Third Time’s a Charm Hattie Hobart

This is the third trip. The final adventure. The last hurrah. The trifecta has been completed. It feels right to be finishing where I started. London is timeless, and the experiences I’ve had here will absolutely last a lifetime. Mary’s trio of trips are not like anything else. They are full of wonderful people that become integral to the memories that you make in these places. When I stepped onto the plane to London the first time, I was just a freshman. There was no way of knowing what kind of wonderful summer I was in for. Coming into it, the entire group was comprised of strangers. Then the magic of an English summer took hold. We ran through the streets of London like an old-fashioned Kansas thunderstorm, soaking in as much as we possibly could before moving on to York, Edinburgh, and the Isle of Skye. The month was over before we knew it, and I had been drawn into the promise of adventure that each of Mary’s trips offered. Costa Rica was next. I couldn’t go back to London after I had just left, and so the tropics became the place to be. That winter was a particularly cold one, and the warmth of the Costa Rican climate, from the hot springs to the cloud forest to the beach, were the answer to my winter time blues. I left Wich-

ita the first day reveling in the fact that this adventure came with built in buddies, as some of those that had been on the British Summer Institute would be accompanying me to San Jose. Over the course

of the week we climbed volcanoes, rode on horseback to majestic waterfalls, and clumsily learned to surf. It felt like a month’s worth of activities, as well as a years’ worth of pineapple, had been packed into just ten days. We traipsed through the country singing terrible renditions of wonderful songs, talking to locals con muy poquito espanol, and thriving in the sunshine. Ten days. That’s how long London part two lasted. How is it that a week and a half can feel like both forever and an instant at the same time? This trip was much like the first. The group had met a few times, but due to the constraints of a classroom and the interruption of not one, but two snow days we all felt like jetlagged strangers upon arrival. This didn’t last long. Mary has the unique ability to bring people who didn’t know that they needed each other together. This time, wandering the streets of London was less of a whirlwind of activity, and more about watching my new friends see it through fresh eyes. Each of Mary’s trips has taught me about perspective, but the last one in

particular due to the contrast of our experiences. Feeling like a seasoned professional has its benefits, but being accompanied by fresh faced newcomers allowed me to experience London anew. It didn’t feel as though the two weeks of the British summer Institute were competing for recognition with this trip, they were simply built upon as I know they will continue to be in future trips. Completing the Mary Klayder Trifecta will always be one of the highlights of my college career. Not only for the opportunities it gave me to escape Kansas, but also for the memories and friends that have come along with them. It might be the most expensive t-shirt I ever earn, but it will be the most valuable conglomeration of laughs, perspectives, and lessons in independence. The trifecta showed me new cultures, foods, and it taught me to always be curious about the world around you, no matter what is going on in the news or in your own personal turmoil.

Food for the Soul

An Ode to Pret Charles Jetty

The contemporary discourse regarding art is in woeful shape. For too long, art critics and the intelligentsia have pondered the anachronistic question “what is art?” If our society was truly cultured, we would instead ask “what is sandwich art?” Sandwich artists rank among the most unfairly maligned groups in the world. Many critics posit that something as simple and formulaic as putting chicken, lettuce, and bacon between two slices of bread does not constitute art. Clearly, these uncultured swine have only ventured into consumerist pits of despair such as Jimmy John’s and Subway, where soulless assembly line employees hastily scrap together your meal. Talk about wham-bam-thank youma’am! Worse yet, the “sandwiches” sold by these used car salesmen are advertised on the basis of length as opposed to artistic quality. No, despite all their hokey jingles, the five dollar footlong will never truly be art. Its mere existence constitutes an appalling affront to true sandwich artists and the fruits of their labor.

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A true sandwich has character, depth, integrity, blood, sweat, tears, love, and lust all wrapped up within the perimeter of its crust. True sandwiches are more than just a meal, they’re a form of expression. When you take the first bite of a true sandwich, you are immediately whisked away to a plane of higher consciousness and fantasy. Sadly, due to society’s retrograde ideas about sandwich art, true sandwiches are in short stock. In fact, they have only one remaining safe haven in the world: Pret a Manger. When you first hop off your plane at Heathrow Airport in London, you’ll notice something strange. Your body will be subject to involuntary movement-- almost as if there’s an unseen force tugging you in a random direction. No, this is not the brisk London wind or some unadvertised side effect of jetlag. Pret is the center of gravity across the pond, and the laws of London physics are taking their effect on you. A word of advice: don’t resist. You will succumb eventually, as Odysseus did to the sirens, yet there will be no crew to tie you to the mast of the ship

to stop your fatal over-indulgence. What’s more, the longer you wait, the longer it will take you to have the psychedelic, meditative, metamorphic, and artistic experience that is eating Pret. Whether you opt for their Mona Lisa, the chicken bacon sandwich, or one of their various other Monets, you will not leave disappointed. In the process of eating the sandwich, you will be forced to ponder some of the great epistemological questions of our time. If you read previous London Review publications, you will notice that many others before me have sang the gospel of Pret. Fittingly, articles about Pret in the London Review are about as easy to come by as Prets are on any given London city street. I am merely the latest in a long line of prophets. Hopefully, I am the most influential yet, and can put an end to blasphemous mockery of sandwich artists worldwide. For few of their ilk still remain, and if we don’t pay them their due respect, we may wake up one day to a Pretless world.

NB? No Biggie Yeyoung Kim

Being gay is hard. Being nonbinary is even harder. It’s not something most people think about, but it’s part of who I am. I don’t shout to the world about my identity, but I answer truthfully when people ask what pronouns I use. It’s always amusing to me to see people assume that I’m a man and then quickly backpedal and apologize after they find out I’m not. I don’t mind. After six years of it, I’m used to it. Most people use she/her pronouns for me after, which doesn’t bother me, but it was nice to have my identity validated on this trip. I told people in the group what my pronouns were, and they accepted it without any questions or arguments. It was a nice change of pace to have people know about they/them pronouns already without me having to go through a long explanation about what being nonbinary is. Since most people assume I’m a man, I usually try to avoid using public bathrooms when possible. I feel uncomfortable going into the women’s bathroom. And since I don’t identify as a man, I also feel uncomfortable going into the men’s bathroom. If I do have to go, I try to tag along with someone who most people would assume is a woman. London was amazing because there were accessible bathrooms that were unisex. This isn’t something that’s common in the US, or at least it’s not something I’ve seen very often. The bathroom stalls were also fully blocked off, unlike in the US where you can still see people’s feet. I could go without feeling like people were judging me. I’m really glad I went on this trip. I made friends with other people who were queer, and I felt accepted by the group. It wasn’t a big deal to them how I identified, which was a relief. Other people would be stuck on whether I was a man or woman. Some people even question why I “dress as a man” (shout out to the security lady at the airport). But on this trip, I was just able to be myself. Food for the Soul

Architecture: London’s Living History Kyle Paddock

On a gorgeous Thursday free, I decided to wander around South Kensington just to absorb the architecture and ambience of this gorgeous part of London. Immediately after beginning my journey, what struck me the most was the presence of the color white in many of the buildings. White creates such a clean feeling whilst maintaining a sense of timeless authenticity and grandeur. As cliché as it sounds, it felt as though I had stepped foot into a novel. This one, however, had no particular narrative—no particular characters. Rather, the story being told was the story of everyday life, past and present. One cannot help but find one’s head perpetually looking up and around at every little nook and cranny that each edifice has to offer. As I continued down, I walked back to many of the same places that the group as a whole explored during the London Walk. One place—or should I say places— that drew me back a second time were the Mews that peppered the streets. These mews were at one time stables and paddocks with living quarters above them. It simply fascinated me that these pieces of living history were still there almost exactly as they were hundreds of years prior. The only main difference is that they are now solely

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residential and are occupied by the upper-crust, who are often absent except for when it convenes them. How incredible that! It seems that a once bustling area of horses and commerce is now an abandoned alley for those who would prefer to escape to the English countryside. The final piece of architecture that stuck out to me were the plaques that denoted famous individuals who lived or worked in a particular building. From Virginia Woolf to Winston Churchill, one is never robbed of an opportunity to immerse oneself in the city’s high-profile past. The plaque that stuck out the most to me was that of renowned author and poet,

T.S. Elliot. Elliott was born in St. Louis and immigrated to England through his career and heritage. He lived and worked in London until his death, where he requested to be buried in the county where his ancestors immigrated from some three hundred years prior— Somerset. This sparsely populated county was also home to my ancestors who also immigrated to the Midwest. His story seemed like a novel in itself, perfectly fitting with the architecture all around his plaque. I suppose the combination of the architecture and the plaques paint the most eloquent image of London. This city truly is living history.

On Travel Guilt Paola Ramirez

Just as you say love liberates, Ego binds. A mother will hold you for nine months ultimately releasing you into the world and asking it to be kind. You will grow and desire to leave the home you have known to float through new thresholds. Your mother will say “Remember what I have taught you” and you will prepare your bags Armed with patience, honesty, and compassion you will embark sometimes forgetting humor, joy, and the womb which set you free. But return is possible if you remember to leave ego at the door and humbly ask Love to come home.

Food for the Soul

Support for Military History, but No Support for Veterans? Omar Williams

During my visit to London, I had the opportunity to visit the Imperial War Museum (IWM) exhibit located in Lambeth. The IWM exhibit consists of three major exhibits and I had the opportunity to visit two of them. Visiting the IWM exhibit was one of the highlights of my trip because the museum covered two of my favorite units from history class WWI and WWII. The exhibit consisted of plane replicas, and film depicting an early 1900’s England in response to the rising threat of German aggression. My personal favorite feature of the museum was a replica of a trench, depicting the trench warfare tactic used during the first world war. As an American, seeing the war from the perspective of an ally country was very interesting. The United Kingdom is one of the United States oldest allies, so I expected the narrative surrounding their involvement

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in the war to be fairly similar. Although during the Global War on Terrorism exhibit I did note how the exhibit mentioned the controversy surrounding the United Kingdom’s decision to support the U.S. in “the war on terror.”. This is mention worthy because I have yet to see any museum or display in the U.S. that challenges American intervention in the middle east. Another component of the IWM I got to visit was the HMS Belfast which is moored next to the London bridge on the Thames river. The HMS Belfast is a Royal Navy ship that is renowned for its role in several major naval battles fought in the Atlantic during world war II and fire support offered during D-day. Touring the Belfast was something that captured my interest because of my service as a sailor in the US Navy. There is something about the naval culture that still fascinates me even though

my days as a sailor have come to an end. Although the ship belonged to a different country being aboard felt very familiar. Touring the Belfast brought back memories of my time in the navy. For instance, the ship had a sick bay(clinic) onboard displaying the medical and dental services offered onboard ships. As a former Navy Corpsman(medic) this resonated with me because of the 1,200 sailors I use to care for as a clinic manager aboard the USS America. It was intriguing to know that the experience of the modern day sailor does not stem too far from the experience of sailor’s in the 1930s. As I walked throughout London, viewing the monuments commemorating WWI, and their royal military, it seemed to project the image of patriotic support for their military. During a conversation with a local Londoner in which I revealed I was a Navy veteran, I

asked what kind of veteran support systems does London provide for UK veterans? The gentleman responded by saying that the only services provided to veterans are those service to help severely disabled veterans and the widows of veterans. As I talked to the Londoner, I recalled a moment on the tube when an amputee that was also a homeless veteran came around asking for financial assistance in order to afford to stay at his hostel for another night. The Londoner continued to explain that a significant amount of the homeless population in London were homeless veterans. When I questioned why is there such a lack of veteran support systems and why the UK’s Veterans Agency does not mirror the US Veteran Affairs systems? He replied by saying “many people view system such as those as nationalistic and prop up the military.” His reply left me in disbelief. I wondered how could country proudly project a patriotic image with its monuments, boast about its role in both world wars, and capitalize off of it military history museums, but yet fail to support the servicemembers that it puts into harm’s way?

Food for the Soul

A Crosswalk Ash Aranda

I’ve never been on an international vacation before. Most of the cities I have traveled to I visited frugally with my immediate family. My dad does professional sound and so at least once a year we trek to a city, where he does intensive labor and sound mixing for a week while the rest of us get to explore a new place and squeeze into a small hotel room. Those trips have formed who I am as a person, and they influenced my picking the London Review because a week in a new city is something I have tried before. When I asked my dad if he wanted anything specific as a souvenir from London, he said: “Mamas, there are three things I want from you for this trip.” Notice, how this doesn’t appear to answer my question. “The first is that I want you to take lots of pictures and videos. I know you have a great eye for that, but you forget to sometimes, so don’t!” I’ve been on trips before alone, and family would give me flack for taking pictures of trash cans but not my surroundings or my own face. So, this demand seemed fair. “The second, or really all I want Ash – is for you to have a good time. Say yes to people, try new things. Don’t limit yourself baby.” I am the champion of self-imposed limitations. I’m learning to undo this slowly, but my dad says this because it’s become a lot more evident at this point in my life. I was staying in a degree program that did not nourish me and holding on to a job that suffocated me until the point of the plane taking off, and I left them behind me. “The last one – and I like really don’t care how corny you think it is or cheesy or touristy or whatever - you better do it Ash – is I want you to go to Abbey Road. For me please.” This one genuinely caught me off guard. He was smiling, and

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maybe he sounded kind of wistful, but it wasn’t because he couldn’t go and see for himself. I think it might’ve been pride for me being his kid. In mental cassette video memories, I could see CDs he had burned for me growing up that I scratched from over-use and handling, all the shirts I grew out of, championing George as my favorite, bands covering Beatles songs in Spanish outside of Disneyland and on boardwalks. More recently, I remember singing yelling Don’t Let Me Down with my drunk friends on our way to a party up the hill, with the windows open and the cold air accepting our rage. In the time between those points, my heart hardened against art that I believe is mediocre or maybe even violent. The Beatles are no longer the peak of romance to me, even in Spanish. It’s been a while since they were in my personal library. I’m all about smashing pedestals and repatriating credit, I expect better of the heroes I choose and I hold myself accountable to investigating what their values were and are. Arrival near Abbey Road on a quiet Wednesday morning looks like walking out of the Underground at St. John’s Wood, and down to the right about two blocks. It looks a little timeless in this area, but not to the degree of say New Orleans. When you approach the crosswalk, there are a bunch of small excited groups trying to walk past what is an active street. You can’t enter the recording studio or its parking lot, a small wall encapsulates it, but the wall is covered by signatures and hearts and lyrics and quotes and names. I walk the crosswalk by myself while my best friend records me, and I do the same for her. There are few others I would have wanted to visit this place with. As we walk along the wall, I see the name JESUS with what I assume was the names of the rest of a family. That’s my dad’s real first name,

and his dad’s, and ironically my partner’s. You can’t enter the studio, but there is a small shop. Along the hallway to the entrance is a timeline with Beatles’ history, but also that of the studio. Bits like, “The score for Raiders of the Lost Ark was mastered here in 1981.” are mentioned. Upon entry there is lots of cool merchandise that is Abbey Road branded, sure to satisfy most music nerds. I probably spent the biggest lump sum here, mostly on gifts for others, things I knew they’d love. The walls of the store are covered in pictures of artists who have been here. There aren’t a lot of exhibition type displays – but there’s a lot of writing and books available for purchase and looking through. I felt happy to have been the one to make it all the way to this fantastical if intimate corner of history that intersects with my personal familial one. That interconnection doesn’t always feel possible. When you walk back out, there is a camera that live streams the crosswalk so that people can watch online and create gifs of your visit. My parents caught me and Paola waving, and called us too. There now exists a small ten second gif of us dancing and jumping at Abbey Road in front of the low- res delayed camera. See, I could write for days about ways I feel oppressed, by art or otherwise. But upon leaving the studio, with my family and friend in heart, I felt that a circle had closed for me. Leaving an academic department that did not nurture me was the right choice, moving on from a job closely aligned with those studies was going to be freeing. I felt a creative nudge. It said to me, I am my own canon, my art history is increasingly intertextual, and I don’t need precedents to be wonderful and magical in my own way. And globally, there are people who feel the same way. I am unlimited and resilient joy, truly something.

Self Care in 360 Degrees Joseph Denning

I love museums. The amount of history and knowledge in one place astounds me. I was a huge fan of the Victoria and Albert, the British Museum, the Tate Modern, and the National Gallery. Each of these places was chock-full of history and beauty. I couldn’t believe I was surrounded by works by Van Gogh, da Vinci, Monet, Picasso, by parts of the Parthenon, the Rosetta Stone, or even just a little rhino from 25 AD. The Science Museum stands out to me, however, for completely uncultured reasons. You see, the Science Museum has a flight simulator. After a couple of taxing days, I was looking for a mental break and something to keep me going

for the rest of the week. The Science Museum had that in their Fly Zone, an area perhaps geared towards people slightly younger than I, but nonetheless appropriate for my mental state. I went there with Charles, who was undoubtedly in the same frame of mind. We first did a VR experience in which we virtually landed on Earth from the International Space Station. That was pretty cool, but not exactly what I was looking for. Instead, we found that in Fly360. But first, an aside. The Fly Zone had four different experiences and they offered a buy one get one half-off deal. This came with the asterisk that this does not apply to the Fly360 (which we found out after we did the VR). So, there was no reason for the guy working there to give us any kind of discount, but he did. In fact, he got

us a better discount that if we just paid for it half-off. That guy was very cool, so shout out to him. Anyways, Fly360 is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. It is a small flight simulator built for two people that has the capabilities of flying a full 360 degrees. We watched this thing could go upside down, do barrel rolls, really anything you wanted. As the people before us were leaving, they said “that was the craziest thing I’ve ever done”. So we knew we were in for a great time. Charles and I had an agreement. We were going to do everything we could to make the ride as wild as possible, with no regard

to what our objective was. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be much of an objective. We could shoot at seemingly nothing and avoid the ground, but that was about it. We did not avoid the ground. We did go upside down for absurd lengths. We did giggle like schoolchildren. It was like a rollercoaster, except we had the controls. Getting out of the flight simulator, Charles and I suddenly had a second wind. The adrenaline of the ride gave us the energy we needed to continue exploring London for the day. So, no, it wasn’t the most scholarly journey on my trip, but it was a necessary one.

Food for the Soul

The Tortoise Keeper Emily Sonsthagen

Visiting Oxford was by far one of my favorite days in London. Walking around Kew Gardens or visiting the London Eye I was my full tourist-self but there was something about the town of Oxford that made me feel like I could actually live a real life there. After spending much of that day envisioning my dream life at Oxford, I’ve ironed out most of the details and come to the conclusion that my life would look a little something like this: Upon getting accepted into Oxford, I would make my way there with only a handful of my dearest possessions (only one suitcase like in the movies). I would then wander the streets hopelessly, again like they do in the movies, until all of the sudden I would befriend a frail but spunky little Oxford-dwelling woman. We would then make a deal that in exchange for room and board at her cottage, I would help take care of the sheep on her farm (we passed a sheep farm on the bus ride into town it is seriously a place, and this will seriously be my life). After acquiring housing, I would finally be able to call myself an official Oxford gal. I would then ride my red, vintage bike I had packed in my single suitcase, to class each day, where I would learn from the very best professors

and spend hours upon hours simply reading in the library. Going to Oxford really made me want to switch to an English major just so I could read classics in the library all day. Oh! And in my dream life I would definitely have those really cool round glasses that make people look really smart. You might be asking, what more could one possibly need in life? Has Emily, with her glasses and sheep farm, reached the pinnacle of Oxfordliving and fulfilled all her dreams for this lifetime? I am so glad you

asked because the story of my dream life continues. You may not be aware, but the most distinguished, honorable title one can achieve in his or her lifetime is that of the tortoise keeper. Each of the 38 colleges in Oxford has their own tortoise and along with it, a student position, again one of great honor, the tortoise keeper. Once a year, the tortoises are brought together under one roof, and some crisp lettuce is placed in the middle of the room. From there, one can only hope their college’s tortoise is the one to reign champion over all the others. It may seem like a silly dream, but I believe in order to complete the picturesque view of my life in Oxford, I will and shall be named the tortoise keeper. While wandering the streets of Oxford that cold, rainy day a beautiful soul with the name of Grace Brunner said these exact words to me “I can see you as the keeper of the tortoise.” To say those words struck a cord in me would be an absolute understatement but with that my mind was made up. Mom and Dad, I’m going to Oxford!

London Review 2019

My Perspectives in London: Then & Now Nicola Santangelo

When I was 10 years old I went on the London Review. I went with my entire family; we stayed in the same hotel with all the college students and attended the group activities. My favorite babysitter randomly also attended this trip, as a student, which made it even better for me. It was a dream come true, traveling in an amazing place with my family AND college students whom I idolized. In my head even as a 10 year old there was only one thing that would make it even better… actually being a college student on the same study abroad. I watched all the students be independent and make friends, and I wondered what it would be like to have that independence. So when the opportunity arose to actually go on the same trip I was thrilled. I would finally be one of the big kids. I did not realize how different my perspective would be. When I arrived in London I assumed things would be familiar. I thought I would walk into the lobby and recognize it completely. Instead, walking in it felt unfamiliar, the whole hotel did. I could not remember my environment, instead I could only remember very distinct, very random memories. I remember playing a word game with a college student in the lobby, but not the lobby itself. It’s funny what my memories pick out as important, what 10 years later are the details I actually remember about the trip. I remember sitting in Byron’s Burgers with a group of college students, and my family, having the time of my life. I remember how when I was 10 I thought it was the funniest thing ever that a burger place had my dad’s name. Every time I walked past Byron’s Burgers this trip I could picture my family and the college students sitting there. I don’t remember some of the things one would expect to while in London. I don’t remember the London Eye or the Tower of Lon-

don: two of the biggest attractions that London is known for. One of the biggest differences between my experience as a child and my experience now is my perspective. I have lost the childhood perspective and energy I had when I went before, but I gained independence. When looking at the London Review book from when I was 10, I first read the article my favorite babysitter wrote about me and my brother. She said we never got tired. My first thought was how drastically that changed. I was drained almost the whole trip, surviving only on espresso shots every 3 hours. When I went before I had the constant sense of excitement every child has for the next big thing. I also read the half a page I had written in the London Review book for 2010. My 10 year old self focused on two attractions: the London Eye and Westminster Abbey. The line that stood out to me the most from both of these articles was “I remember seeing London like a bird” I wrote this about my perspective from the

London eye. It was very cliche, and very obvious I was trying my absolute best to be a good writer to fit in with the college students. Although my writings were cliche, my perspective was so innocent. All my experiences were so simple, and I was just beyond excited about everything from chocolate coins to getting to hang out with my favorite babysitter. I never had to be worried or stressed, my focus was simply on what we were doing in the moment and if I was having fun. Everything amazed me. In my paragraphs I used the word awesome way too many times; in a sense this brought out the childhood awe of everywhere we went. I had an awesome time and I truly meant that. Reflecting back on both experiences I realize the benefits of traveling in each environment. Going to London this year, I lost the carefree attitude, energy and excitement that are all very present throughout childhood. I gained something wonderful too though, I finally gained the independence I had dreamed of having as a 10 year old.

Food for the Soul

London Lyrics Catherine Prestoy

Let me preface this entire thing by saying that I am not a musician or lyricist. The entire idea around writing four songs about the trip stemmed from the plethora of photos I had taken with some other people that happened to look like album covers. Essentially, I took the joke of “this is what our mixtape would look like” way too far. In any case, I decided to write songs inspired by these photos, the days they were taken and the people that were in them. I concocted a few songs based on what I thought the genre would be and came up with what you are about to see. Prepare yourselves.

Genre: Dream-pop rock There were too many stairs So we gave up No decisions on what to do So we stayed up Still so sleepy So I played it up Tired eyes are my new accessory I guess it’s just like this now Making all these recipes We’ll burn everything anyhow The blooming sakura trees And a lot of cheese Racist pickpocketers Take my white privilege Bank transfers No more vintage Aigoo or aish I don’t know the difference

Genre: Garage rock I think the waiter was terrified But the day ended up lucky A perpetually scared face Trying to keep pace Went through a laundromat Ended up in Narnia White people singing is a crime We screamed to sweet Caroline Not much of a leader Or a follower I’ll find out someday Or be a cliche

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Genre: Folk-rock This group is neurotic Her words, not mine That Wednesday was chaotic Wash it down with wine Still don’t know how to write songs I got a cute little storyline Let’s write it together Started with cards Ended with cards Concerts and bad jokes in the middle And puns that left me scarred

Genre: Indie Rap Wind trying to throw me off the bridge Jumping over the gap, abridged Still got terrible pitch That’s why they called me a witch American accents Trying not to misrepresent Who cares We’re all uncultured Well there goes my umbrella Add that to my stupid bank teller Look at all this Helvetica And that nicely dressed fella

Food for the Soul

Not My Cup of Tea Brett Knepper

Walking through the streets of London, I had already formed an attachment to the city and saw my upcoming flight home filled with dismay. I was having a blast, but like most trips, it was quickly coming to an end. With that looming departure in my mind came the sudden realization that I needed to find something nice for everyone back home. After all, what better way to make someone happy than with a souvenir from a trip they didn’t go on? So, I trekked through the city on a quest to find a necklace for my mother and a newspaper for my father, who actually prefers a shot glass most of the time. That’s when a gift idea donned. My girlfriend is a tea drinker and, being in London -- the stereotypical capital of tea

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drinking -- I decided a tea cup and saucer would be the crème de le crème of gift acquisitions. With my decision made, I sought something elegant, yet simple; refined, yet unique. At my first stop, I realized a serious flaw in my simple quest -- not every store in London sold tea cups. I turned to the most instinctive source for aiding my search – Google. That advice, in tangent with several locals, recommended Fortum and Mason’s. They had, “the best English tea cups you can find.” As a college student, I’ve learned with a little patience, “best” and “cheapest” can often be used in the same sentence. At least, that’s the goal every time I leave campus for a meal. So, I understood “best” to represent “af-

fordable,” as in, “I currently work at a library, part-time,” affordable. That intuition waivered, however, when I reached the glassware section and was surrounded by salespeople wearing suits and stalking customers like ninjas. I was shown a display of teaware resembling the painted dishes I saw in the British Museum. At that point, there was only one salesperson remaining. I surmised that to mean one of two things – he was the first to set claim on me, or, more aptly, the others saw my attire – jeans, Henley t-shirt and camera -- and decided I was just another “Yankee,” looking for an English keepsake. The salesman launched into a lengthy speech about the handmade teacups and the inlaid 22 carat gold that created, “Sparkling waves around the cup.” Having tuned out the conversation shortly after “handmade,” I began admiring the man’s persistence, considering my attire, packaged in a 19-year-old body. Clearly a new salesman, I decided. One who probably had not yet been introduced to the art of prejudging a customer’s net worth. Not wanting to be rude, I allowed him to finish his pitch, before explaining that I was going to “wander around” a bit more, before deciding. That next moment was like a scene from a James Bond movie as I wound past the other shoppers, staying low, avoiding eye contact and trying not to be seen leaving the store by my salesman. Further down the street, I found another tea store, “My Cup of Tea Ltd,” located in Piccadilly Square. The word that came to mind was “value,” since it was located across from M&M World. Also, Piccadilly was much more “touristy.” I decided they would have finely made cups at prices more in line with my budget – best and cheap.

Wrong, again. Although costs didn’t meet the luxury of Fortum and Mason’s, “My Cup of Tea” was anything but that. I still couldn’t afford a cup and saucer together in one transaction, without risking beggar status, afterwards. At that point, all hope faded and I wondered whether to forgo the teacup for a second newspaper

– the Brexit stories would surely pique her Political-Science interests. Or, maybe she would appreciate a nice shot glass. That’s when The Tea House came into sight – a small shop, located on a less populated side street. Inside, the cups were more varied than the top dollar store. There was diversity in sizes and thankfully, far less gold. They were still crafted in England and the styles included more than the typical white and lavender. Then, I saw it – a black cup with gold lining and matching saucer. It mirrored my girlfriend’s own cups of white, with gold lining. I was sure she’d love it. So, I bought it. As I passed the Piccadilly tea store on my return to the tube station, I made a point to carry my large bag displaying, “The Tea House” on its side. I may have waved it in their window for just a moment or two, also. Once again, it proved my point that “best and cheap” surrounds us, if we’re willing to be patient long enough. And, as long as your flight home is still a few days away…

The Aged Tower Kayla Lawson

I was normal at the start of my life, A fortress like any other was I. I served my duties before there came strife And I was forced to hear many a cry. Poor men begging for release echoed then, For their prison I was cruel and savage. Rich ones found their time with me more pleasant, Their money allowed them greater passage. Here have I stood for a thousand years now, And stand I shall for countless more ahead. Purpose resolute, I follow my vow. I serve England’s people, living and dead. The affairs of man concern me never. Of roles assigned to me care I nothing, So long as these ties of mine don’t sever. All I care for is to serve as something. Gaze upon this glory of mine to see The Tower I am and my history.

Food for the Soul

A Love Letter to Zara... Cameron Wood

Dear Zara, I am so grateful to have found you while roaming the streets of London. Not only did I find you once, but I was lucky enough to find you four whole times. The first time I walked through your welcoming doors, I knew I was in the right place. I was taken away by your bright colors and new styles. I began to lose myself in the isles upon isles of your dresses, scarves, and blazers. I allowed myself to pick out anything and everything and went to try it on, though already knowing that I was going to buy it all. I carried my pile of new clothes up to the register with a smile, thinking about this new relationship I had just found with you. It was exciting and new, and I let it blind me from what had just began inside me: an obsession. My love for you grew and grew to a point that my bank account could not take. I do not blame you for this because it was my own fault that I lost control. Each time I saw you, my self control went out the window. The connection between us was magnetic. Without even realizing it, I would find myself walking into your stores, grabbing a pair of jeans, walking to the dressing room, and straight up to the cashier. Eventually, the trips became a blur. Each day I would wake up with new clothes and less money. I was finding you without even trying. Eventually, my love for you got so bad I had to make up excuses to myself to make me feel better about what I was doing. I would say â&#x20AC;&#x153;oh it's just 50 pounds I can spend 50 dollarsâ&#x20AC;? when in reality I knew that the exchange rate meant I was spending much more than 50 dollars. I was allowing the exchange rate to fuel my passion for clothes, and allowing myself to be blinded by the ideas of currency exchange. I do not want you to think that the rant I just took you through means that I do not love you. My

London Review 2019

love will remain strong, and will be forever expressed when I wear the multiples of outfits I bought while in your stores. While my love for you is real, I feel strongly that it must remain in London for my bank account cannot take this anymore. Thank you for filling my suitcase with clothes, and my heart with love. I will always remember the times when I dropped 200+ pounds in your store. Though it may not sound like it, I will never regret what you did for me. If I am ever in London again, I will forsure visit you because of my lack of

self restraint. If you ever come to Lawrence, we both must pray for my bank account. With love and great admiration, Cameron Wood

Peace and Rainbows: A Tribute to my Grandmother Kyle Paddock

It was half past ten in the hotel lobby when I got the news. After what was certainly the best day of the trip, my mother phoned to inform me that my grandma, at 82 years young, passed away. As one can imagine, a plethora of emotions flooded my mind in such a short amount of time. Sadness, anger, confusion, and peace. I know what you are thinking—peace? The first three emotions, I suppose, make sense because that is how one is supposed to feel after the passing of a loved one—but peace? This seems out of place at best; at worst, cold and distant. Even still, this is the emotion on which I wish to focus this reflection. From the Tower of London to the Book of Mormon, the day was filled with joy and laughter. What turned out to be the most meaningful part of the day was our rendezvous to St. Paul’s Cathedral. As I walked in, I was taken aback by the daunting spires and beautiful colors. Though I have been there many times before, something struck me as different. My gran had been on my mind all day that day because her condition had been steadily declining. I took comfort, however, in the fact that she was constantly with family and loved ones. With

those thoughts in my mind, I noticed a sign that said that a priest was on duty to hear prayers, concerns, and things of the like. Normally, I would not have wanted to be a bother, but something told me that if I could find them, I would partake. Thirty seconds later, I quite literally bumped into him. I asked if he would say a prayer for my gran. He agreed and led me to a side chapel where he spent twenty minutes giving me hope and peace. While this was happening, the rest of my group went to the top of the cathedral. While they were up there, it rained very hard for two minutes, inspiring interesting photos and instant regret. As they looked out, they saw a double rainbow over central London. Immediately after, Natalie sent the picture to me. It was the brightest, most vivid rainbow I had ever seen. After a group dinner and the Book of Mormon, we returned to the hotel and the call came. After a few tears and disbelief, the next emotion was overwhelming peace. Peace for my grandmother. Peace for my family. Peace. I thought back to the rainbow and its perfect timing. I am not sure if there was any connection between my grandmother’s passing and the

rainbow, but I choose to believe that there was. The rain brings life; the rainbow affirms life. When one brilliant life ends, another begins, continuing the cycle of life and joy. I am so grateful that this will always be my last memory of my Grandmother’s life – and my most vivid memory of this experience. Here’s to you, Gran.

Food for the Soul

Powering On: A Lifelong Obsession Lang Perdue

I will forever be grateful to my lifelong best friend for having me over to his house to play the newest installment of the FIFA video game series. From the very first moment he turned his Xbox on, I was enthralled with everything about the game from the graphics to different players that existed. Most importantly, that one day started my obsession with soccer. I went out a few days later and bought my own version of the game and immediately started playing all my games at Loftus Road which is the stadium of Queenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Park Rangers. A few years later, I was waking up at 6 in the morning to watch Tottenham Hotspur play in competitions like the FA Cup, the Premier League, and the Champions League. When I learned that I would be going on the London Review, the first thing I could think of was being able to visit the historic soccer stadiums that I had only been able to watch from afar. Unfortunately, I was unable to visit all the Premier League stadiums in London (sorry West Ham United and Crystal Palace), but I did visit the stadiums that I so desperately wanted to. First up was Stamford Bridge, home of Chelsea, and it did not disappoint. I had been to soccer games in the United States, but they were generally at neutral sites or at smaller stadiums. They could not compare in the slightest to Stamford Bridge. The stadium is situated in the middle of a residential area and flaunts the trophies that the team has accumulated in its storied past. While there, I was able to read about the most significant players that had graced their pitch along The Shed Well and see the most treasured trophies in European soccer. My first experience with a major soccer team set the bar extremely high and amazed me from the first moment. After a 5 minute tube ride and a 15 minute walk, I arrived at Fulham Football Club which was much smaller, but

London Review 2019

unique in its own way. The energy of the neighborhood and the people could truly be felt because it was not as heavily commercialized as other stadiums. It was nondescript and built into a row of brick buildings. Later, I was lucky enough to go to a Queenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Park Rangers match with a few friends. Being able to visit a stadium that I had always seen in video games was surreal because of the connection I already felt to it. The home and away crowds, the stadium itself, and the game were all fantastic and I did not want it to ever end. Sitting through a high-level match in England is a cultural experience that I recommend highly to everyone, even those who do not care or sports. A few days later, I set out on my own to visit the Emirates Stadium, home of Arsenal. I visited it for the history and because my friend is a huge Arsenal supporter, but I felt like I was behind enemy lines the entire time due to their rivalry with Tottenham. I will say that the stadium with all its grandeur and history was amazing especially because I arrived with supporters of Stade Rennais from France whose team was playing Arsenal later that night. They were

there 6 hours before the match, walking around the stadium and yelling and singing to support their team, and I was selfishly hoping they would win. Lastly, I ventured further north to visit the nearly completed Tottenham Hotspur Stadium that had been under construction for the last year. As soon as I entered Tottenham, I could see the stadium. It was enormous and towered over the residential areas and shops with its sweeping curves and giant silver walls. Unfortunately, I could not walk too close to the stadium because it was still being worked on, but I walked around imagined what a match day would look like at the new stadium. There is no doubt in my mind that the stadium is one of the best in all European soccer and will continue to host the best in the world. Visiting the stadium where my favorite soccer players will play week in and week out was surreal. I felt giddy the entire time and wanted to embrace the feeling for as long as I possibly could. Now that I am back in the US, I can look at the TV or look at some random game of FIFA and be taken back to those wonderful moments in which I could truly embrace the culture.

Learning To Go With the Flow Nicola Santangelo

I have always been the type of person who likes my whole week planned out. Exactly what iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m doing hour by hour of every day. When I go on vacation this need increases. A planned schedule of the activities for the week ahead makes me feel safe, and more prepared for the week. Signing up for this study abroad trip I knew every day would not be completely planned out, but even seeing the dinner, the show and the day trips on a calendar made me feel more prepared. Before going I had a sort of idea of all the attractions I wanted to visit. I figured once I arrived in London I would slowly develop a plan for the week ahead. After the first day, I had a rough idea of what Cameron and I were going to do on our afternoon after the tour. Having a plan made me feel more prepared for the next day. After the tour ended we decided to change our plans. The changing of any sort of schedule has always made me a little nervous, but I was determined to learn to just go with the flow this week. After the tour, I ended up in a random pub with three other people from our group. We walked around Covent Gardens, and went to the British Museum. Sitting in the random pub on this day was

where I truly began to make the friends that I would spend countless hours with throughout the rest of my time in London. The British Museum was not on my agenda at all, I truly had no intention of going there, but it turned out to be an amazing experience. I ended up enjoying my time there, so thankful that exploring at the museum is where the day had taken me. Day after day we would make a rough plan for the day, and something would quickly change. I learned to expect this, and by the end of the week even to appreciate

it. Changing plans meant hours spent aimlessly wandering the streets getting to explore places I never would have thought to go. Changing plans on one of our last days resulted in high tea at the British Museum which turned out to be a great location for this experience. Changing the plans of the day to what other people in the group were doing landed me in Kew Gardens, which turned out to be one of my very favorite places during my time in London: a place I would have never thought to go. One day, having no plans resulted in a meal at one of the best restaurants I have ever been to. Every single time a day did not go as I had thought it would, I was thankful for wherever we ended up. Time and time again the changing, and absence, of plans proved itself to be an opportunity for something even better. Next time I get freaked out about my schedule changing, or not having a plan for the day, I know now that it may just be a chance for a new experience. On the London Review I learned that sometimes a structured plan for every day could rob me of adventure and excitement.

Food for the Soul

Portraits of Cambridge Jamie Hawley

I went to Cambridge because of my dad. After perusing our London Review schedule, I texted him, “There’s an optional day trip to Cambridge, that might be fun,” to which he responded: YOU HAVE TO GO TO CAMBRIDGE. IT IS MY HAJ. So I went to Cambridge. How could I say no? My dad loves the King’s College choir. The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols has been a fixture of my Christmas Eve for as long as I can remember. I had the chance to be where they were and stand where they stood. Of course I had to go. Of course. The day was pleasant, mild and sunny, and although Gwen, Catherine, and I missed our first train, we got on the second one just fine. We met up with Savannah Pine, KU alum, current Christ College student, and our lovely tour guide. We walked from the train station to the center of town as Savannah pointed out colleges and churches and lovely green spaces, and I was shocked by how much the town appeared to have grown together, ancient buildings intermixed with modern stores, as though they had always existed in the same space. The city felt simultaneously eternal and barely born. It was hard to wrap my head around. We toured Christ College, took our picture with a statue of

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young, pre-beard Charles Darwin, then Savannah dropped us off right by King’s College, exactly where I needed to be. We stopped for lunch at a nearby café, then headed to the visitor’s center to buy our tickets. By the time we entered the college, I was bouncing on the balls of my feet. Once we

were standing in the massive courtyard, I was ecstatic. Did I expect this intense emotional reaction as I walked on King’s College’s lawn? No, I did not. But as I took pictures and selfies and Snapchats to send to my dad, it just kept hitting me over and over that I was here. This place had existed in my head like a fairy land, a place my dad talked about like it held the answers to unasked

questions, and now I was breathing its air and feeling the bite of its wind on my cheeks. It was finally, finally real. We weren’t even in the chapel yet. By the time we were done taking pictures on the perfectly manicured grass, we headed to the chapel, which stands as its own building on the side of the grounds. We could hear organ music coming from inside, and we stood outside the door, wondering if we were allowed in, until someone had the bravery to push it open. I’ve been in quite a few cathedrals in my time. To me, there’s no such thing as too much stained glass. I knew I was going to love what I saw in this chapel, but I also knew that I had seen similar chapels before. I thought my expectations were healthy. But as I walked through those doors, I felt my heart lurch in my chest. I immediately forgot what every other chapel I’d seen had looked like. To me, none of them had this much stained glass, and their stained glass hadn’t been as beautiful. Their ceilings, surely, hadn’t been this high. The carvings had not been this intricate. As I walked through King’s College’s chapel, I was certain, in that moment, that no other chapel had ever looked like this in the entire history of time. I understand this is an extreme emotional reaction. Looking back,

I’m pretty sure the York Minster was just as gorgeous. But when I saw King’s College’s chapel, I felt like I was seeing it through my dad’s eyes, as something sacred and special. I felt connected to him and the world and God and everyone, and I am incredibly blessed that while I was in this holy place, something truly special did happen. Catherine discovered portrait mode. I understand that this sounds like a joke. It isn’t. As the three of us wandered through the chapel, we slowly began to take pictures not just of the glass, but of each

other. We tried to catch each other in candid moments, framing each shot so the light fell across our faces. It was good, and it was fun, and it was, and I mean this in all sincerity, a truly pure moment of connection that the three of us had in this place, as we tried to capture this feeling of being here, in this chapel, in Cambridge, in England, with each other. The organ played, and we laughed, and the light streamed in from all sides in bright colors that warmed our skin and caught in our hair. We couldn’t stay for too long. We had to catch the 3:14 train,

which we nearly missed because we insisted on stopping in Fitzbillies for a Chelsea roll. Savannah marched us to the station at breakneck speed, and we were flung away from this place a mere four hours after we arrived. We were tired and sweaty, and the train ride was spent mostly in sleepy silence. As we rolled our way back to London, I sent my dad all the pictures from the chapel in one massive folder. He loves them. I do, too.

Food for the Soul

What Makes a Hero? Jackson Dinsmore

For part of my preparation for the London Review, I decided to watch the BBC Sherlock series. I know it sounds cheesy, but it at least gave me an excuse to prioritize Netflix over homework. I thoroughly enjoyed the series, and it reinvigorated my passion for adventure and solving puzzles. I personally admired Sherlock’s confidence in his abilities and determination in seeing things to completion. And while I never would have considered Sherlock Holmes my “hero” or role model, I definitely thought that he possessed many heroic qualities. Then, as we began our travel to London, someone asked me if there was anything I definitely wanted to see. Of

London Review 2019

course, the first thing that came to my mind was the Sherlock Holmes Museum. Another classmate then remarked that it was kind of strange to visit the residence of someone who had never really existed. I was taken aback by the fact that I had never really thought about how Sherlock was not a real person, but rather just a source of entertainment. Despite my shaky foundation in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s creation, I still took one morning to make my way to the museum. I strolled down a quiet sidewalk and ended up in front of 221B Baker Street, the fictional home of Mr. Holmes that had been turned into a literary landmark and tour-

ist attraction. I enjoyed my time in the museum and gift shop, but my mind also kept coming back to the thought of why some people choose characters from works of fiction to be their heroes. Children around the museum were constantly engaged, and loved learning about and looking up to “the Great Detective”. Fictional heroes are typically created to be relatable, steadfast in their actions and beliefs, and with an inability to disappoint the reader/viewer. Fictional characters also provide an opportunity to live vicariously when they face dangers and participate in heroic exploits. I’m not saying that having fictional characters as heroes is always realistic, but they can bring comfort and inspire us to be more than we are. Later the same day, I made my way to a small patch of green I had heard about in the middle of the bustling city. The public garden, known as Postman’s Park, contains the Watt’s Memorial dedicated to heroic self-sacrifice. In other words, it commemorates individuals who lost their lives attempting to save another. When I stepped inside the iron gate, the atmosphere

was eerily quiet and the fierce wind from the breezy London day seemed to still. The area was very poignant and acted as an ideal space for reflection. The fifty-four names listed on the memorial may not be household names, but they are each meaningful and resonate with many people affected by each tragedy. These real-life heroes are important due to their rarity, altruism, and humanness. They show us that we can rise above the challenges presented to us in everyday life to have a real impact on the people around us. One day in London helped show me that heroes can come in many different forms; whether that be fictional characters, celebrities, historical figures, family members, or everyday people. We all desire to look up to someone, and to have something to believe in. In the end, it is not up to any one person to decide who is or is not classified as a hero, but rather it is up to each individual to determine who they hold in high regard based on their own actions and values.

Food for the Soul

A Recipe for Home Hattie Hobart

It’s one of the first questions everyone asks you as an ice breaker. Where are you from? Where am I from? This question has a simple answer, I’m from Hutchinson, Kansas. The middle of nowhere, where the land is as flat as a pancake and there is more sky than you could ever possibly imagine. That’s where I’m from. It’s a small town, the main features are the Cosmosphere, the Salt Museum, and the Kansas State fair. However, on the last night, as we were fighting the rain to go see St. Paul’s Cathedral illuminated against the dark night, Kyle asked, “Where is home?” Home. This is a concept that I’ve been struggling with over the past six months. The reflexive answer at this point has become, “Wherever I sleep for the night.” It’s said with a smile and a laugh, and then we move on to avoid discussing it further. It has become something intangible over the course of the last sixth months as my family began to prepare for a move across the country to Wilson, Wyoming. I’ve struggled with this because the territory is entirely foreign, and it feels a million miles away from everything that I have always considered constant. One of the most puzzling things about my struggle with this move is its origin. Growing up, my sisters and I constantly complained about living in the middle

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of nowhere. Every time we’d go on vacation, the chorus would squeal ‘Why don’t we move here?’ In high school I always told myself I’d never move back. Girlish wonder has given way to a more practical respect for a home base. Somewhere that you know like the back of your hand, even if you aren’t there every day. It’s a hard thing to define, but the feeling of home isn’t something you can mimic. When it’s pulled out from under you, there is no way to replace it until you can build it for yourself. This realization has been the underlying stressor since the move was announced. Home is going to be a little bit different until I settle down and build it myself. This was something I had taken for granted up until this year. I still don’t plan on going back to Hutch, but for whatever reason it still feels like home. Pondering home from across the pond is an intrinsically ironic situation, but it was where I found myself finally accepting the move. The tears that usually spring to my eyes didn’t come, and the sadness that usually accompanies them wasn’t as deep. I was more comfortable with the idea of moving while hurtling through the tube than I ever have been while actually at home. Everyone keeps telling me that home is a feeling--something you build. These things are true,

but Hutch has been the only place that I have known these things to be true. Coming to terms with leaving all of that behind has been challenging, but you have to leave some things behind in order to keep moving forward. So, cheers to that tube ride, continuing to grow in new places, and to perfecting our recipes for home.

Recipe for Disaster

London Review 2019

Lost in the Sauce – Navigating London with no Technology Gage Phillips

Imagine for a minute this scenario: You’re coming into London on a train line you’ve not been on before. You look to your phone to double check which stop you need to get off at, and the second you try to bring up your map, you are instead greeted by a black screen. A message saying that your lifeline that makes you less of a stranger in this strange land of London, is now drained of power. With no clue of where you are, or where the nearest tube station is, how do you find your way back home? Hopefully you can learn from my experience and make your trek back shorter than the 3.5 hours I spent meandering about London. The first step in finding your way home needs to be figuring out where you are. It’s pointless to start walking if you’ve no idea which way to walk! A more experienced Londoner could look at street names or train station names, but if “Clapham Junction” means as much to you as it does me, then you’ll need to search for other landmarks. One thing to keep your eyes peeled for are any station of public transportation, be it train, tube, or bus. At the bus stops or outside of the stations you can often find a map of the local area. This may not be big enough to

show home on it, but it should be enough to at least figure out what part of London you’re in. I’d keep an eye out for the Thames and orient yourself about it. Be mindful of which way is North on the map you find, as it may not be straight up. If the sun hasn’t set yet, you can use it to keep track of directions. Remember that it will be in the eastern sky in the morning, and in the western sky in the evening. These maps should also show the nearest tube stations, if you’re

not already standing in one. If your goal is the quickest path home, then the tube should be your goal. If your luck is as bad as mine, you’ll find a map outside of the the Clapham Junction train station, and you’ll find that it has no tube stations on it. Not because they weren’t drawn, but because there aren’t any nearby. The more desperate among you could take one of the taxis waiting at the station, but this may not be an option for the asocial and cheap. With no fast

Recipe for Disaster

means of finding a tube, we’ll need to be more resourceful. My plan in such a situation would be to start walking toward your destination, keeping an eye out for more maps along the way. At every map you find, you should reaffirm where you are, and make sure you’re still headed the right way. The most common map you’ll find will be on bus stops. When you find these, take a look at the busses that stop there, and see if one heads where you’re going. Regardless of what kind of map you’ve found, you should also look for more tube stations. If none of these are the case, then you at least know which way you need to keep walking. If you’re having trouble, you may need to think outside of the box. One of the most resourceful maps can actually be found under the golden arches of a McDonald’s restaurant. The McDonald’s of London have Android tablets at the tables intended for use while eating, but one of their features shows the nearest McDonald’s restaurants. It shows you these restaurants on a map, with the closest one being where you are! This would show you where you are in relation to all of London! At the end of the day, you need to figure out where you are, where you’re going, then keep your chin up and start walking. If you’re worried about getting pickpocketed or mugged, then being anxious or panicing isn’t going to help you. Keep a level head and an open mind and you’ll be home in no time.

A Mini Guide of What Not to Do in London Brett Knepper 1. When travelling to London, make sure you have American cash AND British pounds on you. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself beginning your trip by trekking across Chelsea in desperate search of an exchange venue. 2. Avoid outside ATMs. With technology for stealing identification a paramount concern, you could easily find several hundred dollars missing the next day… and the next day… and the next… 3. Don’t keep cash and valuables in a place on your person which would lend to being pickpocketed. 4. When shopping, don’t use all your British pounds in the first couple of days. You’ll find that it’s not only difficult to exchange American funds for more British pounds in certain banks, but you might also have difficulties with local money machines (See number 2). 5. Do not get too upset by how directly local residents speak. Being indirect is in your DNA as a Midwesterner! Being direct is in theirs. 6. Don’t be afraid to ask about the local entertainment, food and drink sites. Locals from the area will always know the best spots. (Particularly on the third) 7. Don’t risk not having a good time. You’re in LONDON, for crying out loud! Whether it’s the multitude of museums, unique culinary options or pubs, you would have to work hard to avoid fun.

London Review 2019

One Day More: The Tension of Brexit Gwendolyn Sibley and Kathryn Ammon

“Do you hear the people sing?” Well, several London Reviewers certainly did. The musical Les Misérables is based on a book of the same name, written by Victor Hugo in 1862. Although the play and musical adaptations began in the 1880s, the modern musical first ran in English was in London’s West End, 1985. The play has run continuously ever since. Les Mis (as it is usually known by people who cannot speak French) highlights several themes, including law, justice, and grace. Another present force is the civil unrest of a French Revolution. And no, it’s not that French Revolution (1789ish), or the other French Revolution (1830), or even the other, other French Revolution (1848). It is one of the later small revolutions, which would have been lost to obscurity, if not for Victor Hugo. In this work (which does span 19 years), Hugo details the 1832 June Rebellion. Without going to deep into the confusing mess that is French history, it’s important to note that this rebellion was a student's uprising led by republican spirit against King Louis-Philippe (related to Louis XVI, restored to power in 1830 after the Napoleonic era). From roughly 1781 to 1848, Paris was in a near constant period of civil unrest, war, changing power, famine, the works. As we sit today, 150 or so years after the writing of Les Mis, it is impossible to know what victor Hugo would think of a (more or less) stable France, working in concert with almost every other country in Europe, countries France fought with throughout his entire life. Once Victor wrapped his head around that, I wonder how he would feel about the United Kingdom’s impending exit, stage left. *** “Brexit,” a portmanteau of “Britain” and “exit” is the word that currently describes Britain’s choice of leaving the European Union (EU). This choice was voted

by referendum, a people’s vote, that ended with 59.1% in favor of exiting. Originally, the EU established peaceful trading and country interrelations after WWII. Today, Britain wants to have decisions about their country made by their country, having their own agency over what occurs in their borders. Seems simple enough? But leaving is not so easy, as peaceful relations with countries still in the EU are necessary for British relations with the EU in the future. A deal must be agreed upon by both Britain and the EU that takes into account border patrol, immigration rights, trade between countries, and especially small business. Yet, even as an agreement is necessary, one has not been to this date been found. Tensions have risen exponentially as the deadline for the Transition Period of leaving approaches. If no deal is reached between EU and Britain, No-Deal Brexit will take effect, the equivalent of Britain burning the EU bridge. Residential rights cannot be guaranteed by residents of other countries, and trade and travel will be slowed exponentially with new enforcement of border regulation. This means products such as food and medicine will be imported slower, effectively hurting British commerce and the daily lives of its citizens and immigrants.

After two rejected Brexit proposals, Prime Minister of Britain, Theresa Mary May, wanted to delay Brexit to avoid a No-Deal Brexit and was granted an extra two weeks from the original deadline of March 29th to give a last proposal. The ever changing deadlines and rejections has mounted stress and anxiety in administration and residents. Protest marches, such as the People’s Vote March, advocated for anti-Brexit. Signs and floats portrayed the fears and complaints of the people who did not desire to exit, calling for another referendum and declaring the voices of the people are EUnited. Now, in the desperate attempt to create a deal and avoid No-Deal Brexit, Theresa Mary May has planned to resign with the completion of Brexit. With a new deal date of April 12, one can only watch and wait for the upcoming news. Past and the Present Les Mis discusses the lives and deaths of a people who dream of seeing a world reborn, whether they are unwed mothers, reformed convicts, or revolutionaries. Brexit also dreams of indepence: Britain hoping to gain agency from regulation and laws placed on them by the European Union. However, much like the characters in Les Mis find, when a people is divided on the dreams they strive for, it can end with disaster. Britain is currently placed in a position between law and ethics: similar to Javert’s pursuit of Valjean as a criminal who broke parole. England is now bound by a law of its own creation, a popular referendum that declared to leave, even if it might not be best. To find compromise is key for Brexit, in order not to create barricades between the UK and the EU if a No-Deal Brexit occurs. As tensions rise, and as do the people, it “only goes to show what little people can do!”

Recipe for Disaster

The Barclays Group's Misfortunes

No one goes abroad and expects to find themselves the victim of fraud. Unfortunately, life is full of the unexpected. However, we are a group of well developed, highly intelligent college students. We can deal with four midterms and a term paper due in the same week. No way were we going to let credit and debit card fraud get us down. The following few pages contain our stories, from “Well, shit” moments, to the relieving resolutions.

Subin Park

On the fourth night since I had arrived in London, I received an email from Bank of America alerting that an unusual debit card activity had been detected. It showed me a list of transactions including all the transactions I had made for the past couple of days. I noticed a declined transaction at Sainsburys for 300 pounds (worth almost $400). At first, I had to rethink how much cash I had taken out from the ATM. I had withdrawn in the Barclay’s bank ATM twice, 100 pounds each. I had never withdrawn 300 pounds worth of money. I panicked, but my bank had already blocked my debit card and declined the transaction. My debit card had gotten defrauded in the past, so I knew what protocol to follow. I immediately called my bank to figure out the details of the fraud. They told me that I would be shocked of how card readers scan debit card informa-

London Review 2019

tion within a couple of seconds. I should have known that first it’s not a good idea to use the ATM attached outside of bank since there is less security, and second that I shouldn’t have used my debit card that contained almost $2,000. However, transacting cash from the ATM was inevitable because we got to London on Saturday, and all the banks (in-person) were closed until Monday. Then, I called my parents to inform of the situation and ensure that everything had been fixed. I cried for quite a little in the lobby, bitter that I had been the only person in the group to be defrauded as well as the unexpected phone problem of not having data that I had discovered on the first day. Although it was an unpleasant experience, I learned a lesson and I was also able to alert others to check on their card transactions. I am thankful that Bank of America had automatically locked my debit card and alerted me immediately. Otherwise, I would have never known. Sainsbury happens to be a common grocery store in London, and I couldn’t help myself feeling bitter whenever I passed one during my time in London.

Gwen Sibley

I went to England entirely on credit through Visa (which served me well in the story to follow). I found my information had been stolen because my father emailed me. He’d noticed I’d been declined at an ATM and so he was increasing my credit cash line. My first reaction was gratitude, since of course I didn’t want to be declined again!… again?... I was confused since I couldn’t remem-

ber being declined the first time. And so it began. Contacting was challenging but not impossible. I had bought a SIM card with international minutes, but my father had not, nor does he use apps that run through WIFI. Thus, I called my sister through Snapchat and had her relay conversation between two phones so we could talk through a plan. The plan existed that I would go to the ATM and take out the rest of my cash line to use for the rest of the trip (which I did) and we would leave the card open for larger purchases. I would cross check purchases with my father and all other purchases would be declined, effectively only allowing me to use the card. All seemed well for the next day, but the day after my father emailed to say he had to cancel the card, as an Indian company had tried to take money (which was declined). Honestly, it was a relief. I lived the rest of the trip off my cash and went home with 18 pounds. All that was left was to pay off my debt to Visa. For me, nothing was truly stolen, as all cash attempts were declined and my card was canceled. But I was lucky my father had noticed and I had investigated too. So my advice: check your accounts, and if you can, use your credit first!

Kayla Lawson

I knew that something was likely to go off the rails during my first time ever abroad, it was merely a question of what that something would be. Of course, I ended up being among the defrauded students and had over $650 taken from my account in two withdrawals. I learned of it after Subin and Gwen, and subsequently had my mom keep an eye on my account. My response can be summed up in two words: “Well, shit.” Essentially, I panicked internally and promptly reached out to my bank. Or tried to.

Apparently, the workers at the bank could not hear me whenever I tried to call them directly, so I had to call my mom and get her to tell them to call me in a frustrating game of phone tag. They ended up calling me back shortly before the group I was with, Subin and Jamie, were going to head down to get on the tube. I ended up talking with my banker while squatting on the ground in Gloucester Road tube station. Thankfully he was nothing but kind and assured me I’d get my money back. But that didn’t change the fact that I was performing a deformed Slav squat while trying to remember the last four digits of my social security number. That was my peak moment as a human being, to be sure. I did get the money back and have a new debit card. All’s well that ends well, I guess.

sorry but any transactions between now and then will not be refunded,” the teller said. Then I witnessed Mary annihilate my bank teller. “Then shut the card down. I know the executives of this bank and I will be complaining to them about this. Thank you and have a nice day.” She hung up my phone handed it to me and I just stared at her, my mouth gaping open. “DAMN MARY!” I yelled. For the rest of the trip we figured out a method to keep me out of being completely broke and I made it through the rest of the program without a hitch. However, as I am writing this, I still have not received any money back. I don’t even have a new debit card. I’m not going to name any names, but don’t use Central Bank of the Midwest.

Catherine Prestoy

Joseph Denning

Something about seeing a $600 transaction on your bank account that was not you is a real come to Jesus moment. This happened to me. In London. Someone stole my debit card information. I had traveled to China on two different extensive study abroad programs. I backpacked to Tibet. And yet, my card information was jacked in posh London at a dumb ATM in one of the most affluent neighborhoods. Cool. That’s cool. I’m not panicking, you are. I called my bank immediately, informing them of the transactions that were made earlier that day. Their genius idea was to have me go back to the scammed ATM and take out enough money to last me the rest of the trip. Let me reiterate that. They wanted me to go back to the scammed ATM. At 9 p.m. I was not doing that. It was at this point that Mary Klayder swooped in and tried to talk some sense into my bank. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” she said. “Tomorrow at 10 a.m. our time, Catherine is going to withdrawal the money. Any transactions between now and then will not be her, so just decline them.” Easy enough request right? “I’m

I had heard that some people were getting scammed throughout the week and so in the back of my mind, I figured I should check my balance. I, however, had forgotten my password (I usually just use my fingerprint). I was having such a great time, I didn’t want to take time to address something that seemed unlikely at best, so I just ignored that little voice in my head. But then, people mentioned that they all got scammed on the same ATM. An ATM that I used. The whole trip to this point had been almost dreamlike, but this kind of made things crash back to reality, if just for a night. That night, as I went ahead and reset my password, I knew that I had lost money. Given that I didn’t want to call internationally, I texted my mom about the situation and she was able to take some of the worry out of it. They gave me until the next afternoon to withdraw some pounds before they would freeze the card. I spent the next morning traveling to different banks, but each of them said that their “service was temporarily unavailable”. Eventually I figured out that it wasn’t working because it was been less than

24 hours since the scammer had taken out $400, so I couldn’t take anything else out. At this point, I just told my mom to freeze the card. Thankfully, the International Bank of Mary Klayder was willing to do a cash for Venmo exchange. Thank goodness for Mary Klayder.

Alissa Gilmer

The second day of the trip, I went to the local friendly neighborhood Barclays with a large group of classmates. It was safe, right? The bank was open in case the ATM ate my card, which was my biggest concern. I don’t use ATMs often in the US, so I was relieved when everything went smoothly and I had a few pounds to my name. I was ready to take on London. As the week went by, and I heard stories of people’s card information being compromised, cards cancelled, and the like, I started keeping a close eye on my account. The problems seemed to die down. Yet, here I was on the last night of the trip, checking my account one last time. At first, I thought I looked too quickly. Then the truth came crashing down… my account was practically (read: balance 1.04$) empty. With the knowledge my roommate, Kayla, had gone through this earlier in the week, it was a little easier for me to remain calm. I borrowed Kayla’s phone with international calling, and got through to my bank as soon as I sat down after finding out. They cancelled my card, and told me what to expect going forward. No promises were made concerning getting all of my money back, but the charges were out of New Delhi, India, and the caller was reassuring that in such clear cases, the outcome was usually good. I got a new card and all of my funds back within the week. It was only after talking to my bank that I broke the news first to my parents, and then to Mary. With no card, I had a whopping seven pounds to my name. Luckily, they’d be enough for some chocolate and a diet coke at the airport the next morning.

Recipe for Disaster

Marx

Kathryn Ammon From pipe bombs, to decapitation, to multiple hammer attacks, the staff at Highgate Cemetery East in London thought they had seen it all. Of course, this is not a reference to the state of bodies, but to the Karl Marx memorial and the many defacements it has endured over the years. Highgate cemetery opened in 1839. The West cemetery features large mausoleums, sepulchers, and even some catacombs. The East cemetery opened in the 1860s, and features the Karl Marx memorial and grave, George Elliot’s grave, and the graves of Virginia Woolf’s family members. The East cemetery specifically was designed as a garden cemetery, with the idea that people could appreciate the natural beauty of the area while they were visiting the dead. Karl Marx was originally buried off a small footpath, but in the mid part of the 20th century, a monument was created in a larger part of the cemetery to better keep up with the traffic. Catherine Prestoy and I made this pilgrimage on her first day in London. Getting to Highgate isn’t exactly easy. This cemetery was intended to be in the countryside around London, so it made sense we had to get out to Zone 3 to see it. However, we didn’t have the experience some of the previous London Reviewers did when they went 76

London Review 2019

to see Marx. On February 5th, the statue was vandalized with a hammer, deeply gouging the plaque and the rock around it. On February 19th, the statue was vandalized

with red paint. Our tour guide told us first that the statue would never be the same, that the damage to the original plaque was too great. Highgate was unsure if they were going to leave the damage in place as a statement or attempt to repair it anyway.

This is not the first time someone has vandalized the statute. In the 1970s, someone tried to blow it up with a pipe bomb. Someone else tried to pull the head off the statue with a rope. Now, the marble and original lettering on this plaque is damaged beyond repair. Standing across from the statue was a woman associated with a British socialist organization, passing out fliers on the rise of right-wing populism and fascism in the UK and how this vandalism is a part of that. We chatted for a bit, she invited me to a talk the Monday after we would leave London, and then we talked about the global challenges of pushing back against fascism. As a leftist who works in women, gender, and sexuality studies, an area that owes Marx a little bit of credit, seeing the grave vandalized was disappointing, but not surprising. Marx and the impact of Marxism is a part of history, both London’s and the world’s. As a historian, I know that historical analysis, the putting together past events to look for truths about humanity is not furthered through a deliberate erasing of parts of the past. Even still, the global rise of fascism and populism has had many casualties, most of which are people of color and marginalized people—who have been harmed a lot more than a statue of someone long gone, which is worth remembering.

The Other Side of the Tower Bridge Shih-Yen Pan

Determined to spend the day alone in London, I arrived at Tower hill station at around 9 a.m and, like a good tourist, began taking pictures of the Tower of London the moment I exited the tube station. I bought an expensive bottle of water from an ice cream van called Piccadilly Whip next to the Big Bus London bus stop, circled around the Tower, and strolled toward the Tower Bridge. If you are who I think you were, both of you had dark circles around your puffy eyes. I have them, too. You looked surprised when I saw you. We must have looked like mirror images of beaten-up human beings, but neither of you were looking at my face, were you? You may have heard from someone that rich Asians were coming to London with lots of cash on them. Carrying two bags and alone, I guess I probably looked like a well-fed calf lost in hyenas’ territory, ravenously grazing on the delicious idea of solo traveling. Was that how you saw me? I have many questions for you, questions that I figure I will never have answers to. I adjusted the aperture, shutter speed, and ISO on my camera and tiptoed to take a picture of the wooden medieval catapult next to the Tower of London. This was when it happened, wasn’t it? I felt it, alright. One second of selfdoubt, however, was what it took for you to vanish completely from my sight, along with my wallet in

which there not only were £100, $50, and 1000 TWD, but also the love of my brother who gave it to me ten years ago. “#!%&,” I groaned as if something had popped. Pedestrians looked at me alarmingly. You probably heard me swear. Did you have any feeling of guilt or fear? Were you running away or were you hiding somewhere in the crowd? Did you throw away my wallet after taking the cash or did you keep it until the end of the day? If you had kept it and dissected it, you would find many things besides cash like my old and new driver’s licenses, my student ID, my debit card, a bicentennial US quarter given to me for good luck, old baseball cards, and a dozen of appointment cards from my school’s counseling and psychological services. You took something that had been part of me in the last ten

years. You may have seen the dates of low points of my life recorded on each of the cards. You may have had a glimpse of the river of my emotions and the debris left over from its floods. Meanwhile, I know almost nothing about you. The only thing I remember is the deerin-headlight look on your faces. Where did you go to school? What are you eye colors, your weights, and your heights? When were you born? Where are you from? Who are you? Penniless and laughing pathetically at my misfortune, I turned back and waited by Tower hill station to be rescued. The dog of a homeless person, who was sitting on the floor next to the station, stared at me and tried to approach me before the person pulled it back. It was at that strange moment that I realized that I never saw the other side of the Tower Bridge, and, I’m guessing, I never will.

Recipe for Disaster

The Perils of Football Fandom Charles Jetty

As a lifelong supporter of the Queens Park Rangers football club since halfway through the trip, I have been doggedly committed to representing my lads in blue and white with pride. Throughout the entire trip, I only purchased one souvenir-- a dashing scarf emblematic of my passionate fandom. Though I admittedly did not know how to wear a scarf, the token still gave me hometown credibility that many of my peers were unable to match. Yet every rose has its thorns. As I wore this scarf around the city, I became keenly aware of London’s football politics. At a chicken and waffles joint in Islington, I received many a dirty look donning my colours as I waded through a frothing-mouthed mass of angry Arsenal fans. When the bill came for our group, the waiter demanded I pay for it in full. Keep in mind that my beloved Rangers do not even play in the same league as Arsenal. When I protested this point, I was told “it’s the principle of it” that caused my predicament. No place was truly safe from the scornful eyes of rival teams' fans. On the tube, I was subject to mocking jeers. My travel companions feared that I, being the passionate football fan that I am, would not hesitate to come to blows with a stranger over a particularly heated rivalry. And they were right. Each night as I tuck myself into the sheets, I fall asleep half-grinning, muttering:

Rangers till I die, I’m Rangers till I die, I know I am, I’m sure I am, I’m Rangers till I die...

London Review 2019

London Review 2019 I B A R C L A Y S T B N Q Z K

Y I F E W E S T M I N S T E R

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BARCLAYS BRITISH BRIXTON CAMBRIDGE ENGLISH FISHNCHIPS FOOTBALL GRANGE GREENWICH KENSINGTON LONDON MARKETS MINDTHEGAP OXFORD OYSTERCARD

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F N M S O E E M A P D A R B I

PROTEST PUB SOHO TEA TUBE WESTMINSTER

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Experimental Cooking

London Review 2019

A Night of Lucha Britannia Joseph Denning

LUCHA TIME IMMINENT YOUR LIFE IS ABOUT TO CHANGE These messages shone brightly on the screen of the London Resistance Gallery. Hundreds of people crowded around yelling and screaming for the start of Lucha Britannia. When Shih-Yen brought up to me the prospect of going to Lucha Britannia, advertised as an alternative Lucha Libre set in an Orwellian future—Cirque Du Soleil meets Monty Python with Muscles—it sounded just ridiculous enough to be the most memorable part of my trip. I can’t say it disappointed. The evening started with me wandering around alone, lost, late, and unable to find the location. I stumbled into a crowd of people, standing outside of seemingly nothing. I didn’t see a sign or anything so I kept walking until I found Shih-Yen. He, braver than I, asked some people milling around if they were there for the event. “Yeaaaaaah! We seem the type, right?” They did not. Frankly, I didn’t know what I was expecting. The dress code was described as “exotic, erotic, quixotic, or just damn Luchatastic!” It seemed, however, that everyone was in the same boat. They heard about this strange

almost dream-like event and wandered into it. Nobody was carefully planning for this. Five minutes past the advertised start of the event, the doors opened and a man in a luchador mask and a suit walked into the alleyway in which we all stood. He broke the ice immediately, insulting us, making us laugh, and preparing us for what we were about witness. We were ushered in, met a similarly brash and silly ticket-taker, and filed into a room dominated by a wrestling ring. For the next hour, we mostly milled around, watching a TV above the arena showing oldtimey videos. It was shaping up to be a strange evening, but the wait was worth it. When Lucha Britannia started, there were bright lights, goofy announcers, and the overall sense that everyone was going to have a fun time. Fighters were introduced with absurd personas including a man who went vegan and subsequently turned into a half-man-halfvegetable, someone who could use magic to turn his opponents’ legs into jelly, and a man simply named Fug. Each fight was pretty similar, with one luchador insulting the audience in a way that automatically made the crowd root against them. The thing is, we really did want the underdog to win. When they did, we cheered loud and proud. We were on their side. And when they

didn’t win, we all felt upset, angry, cheated. Lucha Britannia—Lucha Britannia—did that to us. They played with our emotions in the most ridiculous ways and it truly was a memorable night.

Experimental Cooking

City of London in a Day: A Perfect Itinerary Subin Park

London is relatively small compared to the U.S. but it is a big city to explore. If you were to take a spontaneous approach and travel around the city with the flow, I advise you to at least have a direction or a big idea. I am a person who likes to plan things ahead of time but I challenged myself to do the opposite. Contrary to my hopes, I ended up being moderately stressed in addition to unexpectedly not having data on my phone. London has too much to offer, and I knew I couldn’t possibly explore everything, but I wanted to experience as much as possible. If you are just about to do your research, here I suggest you one way of your day’s journey. (1) Charring Cross Station – (2) Trafalgar Square – (3) National Gallery – (4) Piccadilly Circus

I actually took two full days to explore the suggested route with addition to few other places but this is only a guideline- it’s your preference! Our first destination is Charring cross station. It is a beautiful station decorated with Renaissance motifs. Walk across the street and

of the architecture, enjoy street musicians and floor artworks, and take pictures! This was absolutely my favorite place in London. It was the most idealistic European atmosphere and view that I had imagined. Five stars- it is a must place to go in London! One of the most noticeable monuments in

you will face Trafalgar Square. It is an open space with various architecture and a water fountain. Be ready to relax, view walking pedestrians, appreciate the beauty

the square is the Nelson’s Column that stands around 151ft. The origin of this open space is historically significant - named after the victory of the Battle of Trafalgar in

London Review 2019

1805, the Trafalgar square and the Nelson’s column were constructed to commemorate Britain’s most famous sea hero, Lord Nelson. Next, the neo-Classically built National Gallery stands facing the entire square. It houses the world’s greatest Western European paintings from 13th century Early Renaissance to the 19th century Impressionists. Some of the most memorable paintings I saw were Van Gough’s Sunflower and Claude Monet’s The Water-Lily Pond. The admission to the gallery is free and taking photos are allowed with exception to taking videos. The façade to the gallery was an amazing spot to take selfies because you get a breathtaking panoramic view of the Trafalgar square. Then, take a walk to Piccadilly Circus, the Time Square of London. The walk is not even half a mile! The first thing you’ll notice is the big LED advertising signs and the Memorial fountain. My heart beat so fast when I saw my favorite band BTS for Hyundai ads. I was proud to capture Korean representation in one of the world’s hottest cities! Here, go and venture around

the shopping centers, coffee shops, and restaurants. I recommend going to Fortnum & Mason, a destination for unique gifts such as tea, teacups, wine, and desserts for affordable price. I also purchased some items from Cath Kidston, a British international chain company famous for bags. By evening, consider watching a show. You only have to walk a little up Shaftesbury Avenue from Piccadilly Circus to get to the general theatre area. I watched two shows while I was there, Everybody’s Talking About Jamie and Wicked. I recommend purchasing tickets beforehand or getting half-priced tickets on the day of the show. These shows were the highlights of my trip because how often do you get to go to London’s Broadway? I loved how this suggested itinerary of mine were all shortwalking distances but entailed all the best places one can go in London. I was able to explore both the expected and unexpected side of London city, and having this guideline helped with my travels with no data!

Steps to Traveling like the Ultimate Tourist Lang Perdue

1. Locate nearest tube station with the guidance of apple maps 2. Get nervous near the turnstiles and hope your oyster card works 3. Wait on the other side for the rest of your group in the most inconvenient place possible 4. Stand with said group in front of the boards that show the stops for each line and have a loud conversation about where you need to go 5. Inevitably choose the wrong stop 6. Wait for the tube and try to figure out which tubes you can and can’t take 7. When the “right” tube does show up, round up your group and try to get into one car and frantically make sure that everyone made it 8. Discuss which stop you need to get off for the entirety of the ride and earn the ire of the rest of the people 9. Get off with everyone if you’re lucky 10. Enjoy the location! 11. Repeat steps 1-10 as necessary

Experimental Cooking

An Ode to the Tube Kyle Paddock

Subtle Reminder: Wear Your Hair Up When In London... Donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t let your hair ruin perfect photo moments while abroad. Make sure to let loose on vacation, but do it with your hair pulled back.

From your stations to your tracks Always faithful, you take us there and back From Kensington to Wimbledon, Embankment and beyond People filing in and out, as if to abscond Whether to work, to play, or anywhere else besides In your timely manner, our confidence resides Always running, never walking Commuters like your carriages ever talking Sans your stoic determination, who knows where we would be Tumbling and fumbling, nary a sight would we see Our careers would lie in shambles, our holidays on hold Without the trains on time, our lives would be foretold Destined for chaos, confusion and despair Thank you, Tube, for everything Take care.

London Review 2019

A British Printing Workshop Grace Brunner and Gwendolyn Sibley

London, similar to many cities, bustles with energy and motion. Cars, buses, tubes: they all carry people to-and-from their destina-

tions. But as a person moves outside the center, London becomes slower, greener, and quainter. This is what we saw as we we left the stations in London and rode the train to Stoneleigh station in Epsom. We found ourselves surrounded by picturesque little houses, identical

except for small touches here and there. And in one of these houses was a printer by the name of “Inky,” and her press friend, “The Beast.” Her workshop was in the back shed past her children’s new trampoline set, tucked away behind her garden (which of course had palm trees). She decorated simply, and her work hung on the wall with “The Beast” as the main centerpiece of her press shop. Inky knew a lot about printing. She showed us her different wood types, ranging from different fonts to iconic London scenery. She showed us how to block out our type together so it would sit correctly in the Adana presses. Type, as it is pressed on a reflecting surface, must be placed in backwards to print right-reading. Never having used Adana presses ourselves, Inky showed us how to ink

the presses and prepare the rollers for printing. All that was left was to align our paper, press the lever... wait for it...CLICK, and release. Viola! A debossed print, having both pops of color and texture. We gushed over our different designs, and were ecstatic about the results of the embossing. But even even more so, we enjoyed the company of Inky, who was lovely and thoughtful. She immediately offered us delicious shortbread biscuits and coffee. As we printed, we discussed normal conversation styles between the British and the native Kansan, finding comfort in the innumerable exclamations of “Sorry!” as we navigated around the presses. We explained of life in the states, and she gave her experiences of life in Britain, with all of us curious at the others individual and intricate experiences. Inky was truly a genuine person, who followed her dream of letterpress. She was admirable, fueling her passion to create even as life called for changes in her dreams. We left that session feeling fulfilled and yet a bit sad knowing it was over. But, we not only took home our prints, but also new experiences, and a new friend.

Experimental Cooking

Imperial War Museum: Not as it Seems Gage Phillips

There was a specific image that came to my mind when I first heard “Imperial War Museum”. I thought of poofy white wigs sending lines of men in bright red coats to make sure that the sun never sets on the British Empire. That is, history of wars that the United States is too young to know or care about. I was surprised to find that the United States was involved in all the conflicts that they had

exhibits for. But the displays also gave a sense of more than just the history, they also showed modern war as the horror that it truly is. The most elaborate exhibit was a walkthrough of the first modern war: World War I. This war was

London Review 2019

characterized by the absolute devastation it wrought on Europe, as well as the new technologies that facilitated that same destruction. Chemical gasses that kill indiscriminately, machine-guns that turn one soldier into 20, and the ability for planes and soldiers using field telephones to guide artillery. All these put together led to a new kind of war, where there was more time spent waiting in a trench for the artillery to let up, instead of actually fighting. The area between the two side’s trenches was known as no-man’s land, and the exhibits made clear that the only thing in that place is slaughter. These nations had found ways to kill on a scale not known before then, and having all these tools laid on dis-

play piqued my curiosity, but also filled me with anxiety. A particular display showed cutouts of soldiers, with a projection of them running across the battlefield. That projection showed them being cut down as they charged. The destruction caused by these tools has scarred the land to such a degree that parts of France are still deemed uninhabitable today. This museum doesn’t glorify the conflict in any way, but rather acts as a reminder of the horror that humanity can create. Chemical, automatic, and artillery weapons, as well as a model of Little Boy - the first atomic bomb used in warfare; all stand here as caution to those who would spend the life of their nation against others.

The Living (and Dying) History of Westminster Kayla Lawson and Brett Knepper

Kayla Lawson During our eight days overseas, I had the distinct privilege of both attending the Evensong service at Westminster Abbey and taking a proper tour of it. Out of all the impressive, old buildings I was privileged enough to spend time in, Westminster was undoubtedly the grandest and most interesting. It was also among the oldest, dating back to the early 1000’s, similar to the Tower of London’s famous White Tower. As an individual intrigued by what’s been dubbed as “dark tourism,” I thoroughly enjoyed visiting the graves and memorials of so many beloved artists and monarchs. Queen Elizabeth I’s grave was particularly exciting for me to visit, since she is my favorite British monarch. However, visiting the final resting place of Sir Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, and Stephen Hawking was also very noteworthy for me. My only disappointment came from being unable to take photos while inside. It was absolutely gorgeous and I would have loved to capture its beauty on camera for myself. To be able to walk through the abbey and see the resting places of and beautiful memorials to so many beloved figures in British history was beyond surreal and I

am incredibly grateful I was able to witness the abbey’s beauty as both an architectural feat and as a functioning church. It was definitely one of the highlights of my time in London.

Brett Knepper Like Kayla, I too was able to attend and admire the lofting beauty of London’s Westminster Abbey. As one of England’s premier churches and the royal church, at that, Westminster does not let down, holding itself as one of the largest religious buildings I’ve ever had the chance to see. The church

houses more than the usual pews and crosses; it also includes statues and graves of famous figures in English history. Although I found excitement in seeing the markers for the likes of the infamous “Bloody” Mary and not one, but two of Henry VIII’s wives, nothing could prepare me for the amazement that was the Poet’s Corner. As a literary nerd, I was astonished at being surrounded by chiseled memorial masterpieces dedicated to England’s finest writers and being able to walk beside their final resting places. Among the graves was Charles Dickens, Thomas Hardy, Rudyard Kipling and Geoffrey Chaucer, although these are just several of the many names buried within Poet’s Corner and do not include the numerous memorials to fellow writers, such as Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. All-in-all, the trip was marvelous and I have no regrets, except for maybe not sneaking several snapshots of Dickens and Hardy’s graves, even though it was prohibited. But, I hope to one day return to Abbey and tour it again with even more time to spend among some of the world’s most notable writers’ resting places (while carrying a less noticeable camera).

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Riding Solo Yeyoung Kim

Traveling alone seems like an intimidating thing to do, especially in an unfamiliar place. There’s comfort in traveling with a group and having someone watch out for you. If you get lost easily, bring along someone who can navigate. If you forget to take pictures, bring along someone who loves taking them. But there’s freedom in traveling by yourself. But why call it traveling alone? “Solo” sounds so much cooler than “alone.” Traveling alone? Nope, I’m traveling solo. I’ve traveled quite a bit, but it had always been with my family. I never had the chance to do my own thing on these family trips. So, being able to go off on my own in London was new and exciting. I was a bit nervous doing my own thing, but it was easy to get lost in the crowds. It was also nice to have some time for myself. I went to several bookstores and spent a lot of time reading and drinking coffee in a quiet corner. It was paradise to me, and I could’ve spent every day like that. I also spent time just walking around and taking in all the sights and sounds of London. There’s many benefits to traveling solo. When I was by myself, I could go at my own pace. I didn’t have to catch up or slow down for

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anyone (I usually have to catch up since I’m a slow walker). I could also go wherever, whenever I wanted. If I wanted to eat, I didn’t have to ask anyone else if they were hungry. If I needed a break, I could go back to the hotel, rest a bit, and go back out again. Even though I was having fun on the group trips, I’m an introvert at heart and needed time to recharge. If you’ve never traveled solo before, here are some tips. Don’t be afraid to strike out on your own. There’s a first time for everything. Make sure your phone is fully charged or you have a portable charger. You don’t necessarily need a location in mind. Sometimes wandering around aimlessly will lead you to amazing places. Traveling solo isn’t something you need to do but it is something you should try at least once.

Stand Up to Shih-Yen Pan

In the late afternoon of Friday, March 15th, 2019, I arduously dragged my sore legs out of the Victoria & Albert Museum onto Cromwell Road and began walking westward toward our hotel. Stratocumulus clouds, only letting through sparse rays of sunshine here and there, dimmed the colors of the great Victorian building of the Natural History Museum. At the corner of the museum, I picked up a copy of the Evening Standard. The printed headline was “New Zealand mosque massacre: 49 killed in mass shootings at two Christchurch mosques.” At 1:30 pm in the afternoon of Saturday, March 16th, 2019, I was strolling from Soho toward Westminster before running into a demonstration at Trafalgar Square by Algerians in London in support of the Smile Revolution against the presidential candidacy of the fourterm Algerian president Abdelaziz Bouteflika. Songs were sung. Signs held in the protest read “It’s the people that decide, not France,” “WE WANT TO CHANGE THE REGIME IN ALGERIA,” and, perhaps best of all, “MACRON MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.” Trafalgar Square was cut into pieces by wire fences - the west section for the Algerians, the east section for the street artists, and the south section for the stage set up for the St. Patrick’s Day Parade scheduled to take place the following day. A walkway surrounded by fences was

reserved for the exiting tourists from the National Gallery. Some joined the bystanders and stuck around to see what happens. More and more police vehicles were parked around the square. A helicopter hovered in the overcast sky. Whitehall was cleared by the police. The songs, laughter, and furious speeches of the Algerians were no longer audible, as 25,000 Stand Up to Racism protestors chanted and marched down Whitehall until they reached 10 Downing Street. Police officers were carrying semi-automatic guns at the gate of the Prime Minister’s residence. Trying to get through the roaring sounds of the hey-ho chants was the voice of a tour guide next to me, desperately trying to finish her tour with a group of distracted French families. The first speaker on stage gave her speech, “…members of workers’ unions, communists, lesbian and gay communities, we are all

here standing united against racism.” An MP from the labor party spoke firmly, “We are facing an internationalist fascist and white nationalist movement.” Naming several politicians, she added that Muslim hatred has found its way into mainstream politics and that the New Zealand attack the day before was not a stand-alone act, but the result of the legitimation of the far right by politicians and media. She said, “We stand with victims of Christchurch. We will not be silenced.” The passionate words of the speaker were met with even more passionate applause and approval by the crowd. All the photographers were making shutterclicking sounds. The union banners were flapping in the wind. A white woman walked past me and exclaimed disapprovingly to her nodding companion, “They kept using such strong words!” A rush of nausea boiled in my stomach.

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Mind the Gap In Your Plans Omar Williams

For as long as I could remember I have always been terrible when it comes to trip planning. Not even a trip to London could end my streak as a terrible planner. For this London Review experience, I decided to take the go with the flow approach. My goal for this trip was to indulge in some of the cliché tourist activities for the first couple of days. Then, eventually avoid partaking in the super touristy activities and take the time to get an authentic experience of London. Taking this approach inspired me to wake up early get on the tube and travel to the Tower Hamlets borough. Wandering through the borough with my airpods in I roamed without a destination in mind. I was completely amazed by the architecture of the city until I stumbled upon the Spitalfields market. Another day I followed the recommendation of Dr. Klayder and checked out the Brixton. This area was on my radar to visit because it was home to the world famous David Bowie. I was determined to take a picture next to the mural of him painted in Brixton. After taking the wrong tube connection and accidentally missing my stop, I managed to arrive in Brixton in one piece. Immediately upon stepping out of the tube station, I saw a community of people who resembled myself from complexion to hair texture. During the first

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couple of days in London, I saw very few people of African descent which made me wonder are there not too many people that look like me in London? I started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to find any stores that carried multicultural hair products (because I needed to moisturize my locks). Luckily I found some. During one of our free days, I actually spent quite a bit of time a local café named Three Little Birds. The environment was serene and create the perfect opportunity for me to free write.

Perhaps one of the highlights of my experience as a wanderer was a venture to Shoreditch for an indie concert that led me to find my second favorite chicken and waffle place on earth, Bird (only second to Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles). A group of friends and I decided to go check out a local band called Patawawa. Before the concert started we wanted to get some grub. Of course, there were fast food chain restaurants such as McDonald’s and Burger King around, but we wanted to indulge in some local

food. Bird had great reviews on Yelp. A reviewer even claimed that Bird had the â&#x20AC;&#x153;best fried chicken in London.â&#x20AC;? I would have to concur after tasting their savory fried chicken, and waffles with powdered sugar I was convinced. Even if you are not the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s greatest planner, when given the opportunity to venture into a city like London do not limit yourself to following a strict agenda. Sometimes just going with the flow will create the most memorable moments.

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Travel Horoscopes Kathryn Ammon

Aries (March 21–April 19)

You’re feeling particularly adventurous today. Get on the tube, take the Picadilly Line until you feel called to exit, and then make an immediate left as you exit the station. See? Isn’t that just what you were looking for.

Taurus (April 20–May 20)

Uh oh, is that a bank notification? What was that purchase? Have you even ever been to a Sainsbury’s? The stars say you should call your bank, and be ready to dispute some charges. Better luck next time.

Gemini (May 21–June 20)

Trust your gut. That’s all the stars say today: trust your gut. Your gut knows what we’re referring to.

Cancer (June 21–July 22)

As you move from location to location, restaurant to restaurant, museum to museum, take time to stop and notice the bustle of the city around you—which will likely

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result in an overwhelming desire to call your mom.

Leo (July 23–August 22)

You’re at a crossroads today Leo. Literally a crossroads, a crossing of roads, where two roads cross. Which road will you take? Of course, we’re referring to the one going to Nandos or the one going to the V&A Museum.

Virgo (August 23–September 22)

Yes, you said meet in the lobby at 8 and it’s currently 8:03 and no one else is here, but that’s fine! Solo travel can be fun too, right? Just going off on your own and seeing what you want? Oh wait there they are. The stars remind you to be patient today.

Libra (September 23–October 22)

You’ve been putting in a lot of late nights recently. The stars think you should go to bed earlier so you can get up and explore the city, instead of spending hours chatting with everyone in the hotel lobby.

Scorpio (October 23– November 21)

They say travel teaches you about yourself. Whoever said that probably didn’t envision that you would completely reinvent yourself while abroad for a week, but you do you Scorpio.

Sagittarius (November 22– December 21)

The stars are encouraging moderation today. Of course, if you’re reading this horoscope in the evening and it’s too late for that, you’ll probably still be able to fit all those new clothes in your suitcase. Probably.

Capricorn (December 22– January 19)

Throughout this trip, you’ll be inspired by stories of former KU students who fell in love with London and have made careers/grad school work in this city. The stars hope it works out for you Capricorn, we really do.

What’s My Age Again? Alissa Gilmer

March 9th, 1999, twenty years ago to the day we so happened to be on a plane to London. London, at this earliest point of our trip, was a good six hours ahead of the time in Kansas. As I was sitting in the airport in Chicago, the time 5:55 pm, a thought suddenly came to mind. “It’s 11:55 in London, right? So, should I consider my birthday to be nearly upon me?” I decided that seemed fair, so I would get the full 24 hour effect. It still felt like cheating though. So I waited… we boarded the plane, and six hours later, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, I turned twenty years old. For the first time, I faced a birthday without my home, my parents, and my twin brother. I am the youngest twin. This year, as I travelled eastward, I feel I can say I turned twenty first. And while this is silly, or petty, and not actually true, for the first time ever I can say to my brother “I was older than you!” Not to be left completely on my own, my parents gave me a card to open. A party in a card – fit with a mini pinata, confetti, a candle,

and balloon – stared back up at me, the flimsy plastic covering reflecting the dull light from the airplane’s entertainment screen. I sat there thinking this was all a little unprecedented… and the day had just started. After failing miserably at falling asleep, and enjoying a prepackaged plane breakfast, we finally landed in London. The first task we faced after deboarding the plane was a “quick” conversation with border authorities. Tired after a sleepless night, I was not prepared. Upon being asked my age, I stuttered out nineteen before correcting myself to twenty, quickly explaining away my confusion. Here, I want to take a moment to apologize to Brett, as this slip up may have been part of the reason we were then subjected to a quiz over the United States’ Presidents. It was an interesting way to kick off my time in London. I can honestly say I have never been so exhausted on my birthday, or any day for that matter. Walking around London in search of a place to exchange currency, only half awake, I was more than ready to return to the hotel and venture to our

Pizza Express dinner. Everyone was tired, not least of all myself. However, hunger was more pressing than sleep, and Pizza Express did not disappoint. For dessert, it was fitting, I had a bundt cake. A homage to my birthday, one I will not soon forget.

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Finding Turf: The Most Famous Tavern in Oxford Jackson Bryan

There really isn’t much that can be said about Turf Tavern (known as ‘The Turf’ to locals and students) that hasn’t already been said. Located at the end of narrow passageway previously known as Hell’s Passage, the tavern in Oxford has been the subject and gathering place of some of the world’s greatest minds, celebrities, and presidents alike since its founding in 1381. From the onset of our arrival in Oxford to celebrate Mary’s 50th study abroad trip, we were granted insight into the legend and history of the humble tavern. How many times was I supposed to hear about Bill Clinton’s alleged pot smoking at the pub without making the journey out?? With this story and the knowledge of the Harry Potter cast frequenting the pub, how could you not be intrigued? When it came time for a group of us to grab a round (or three) of drinks at the end of our exciting day in Oxford, we found ourselves traversing through the same path as Stephen Hawking, Elizabeth Taylor, and CS Lewis took for largely the same reason: enjoying a night of conversation and fun with friends. With incredible (almost divine) fortune, we happened to procure the most prominent table in the tavern, overlooking the moonlit grounds outside and right next to the main

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bar, despite a sizeable crowd looking to take a seat. Feeling somewhat inferior as a simple Kansan drinking at a pub whose history approaches pure legend, I turned to my group of friends, and decided we needed to make the most of our time in the intellectual mecca of Oxford, have another round… and debate. In retrospect, our passionate exchanges about politics, careers, and ambitions may have breached the volume threshold of the mild-mannered Oxonians, but we Americans nonetheless had an

incredible experience. As I reflect on that moment among the many of our trip, it stands out as a culmination of many of the things that I love: good conversation, friends, history, and beer. Walking halfway across the town of Oxford just as the sun set to get a simple drink at Turf was one of the best decisions I have ever made. Next time you’re in Oxford, be sure to visit the home of Bill Clinton’s foray into marijuana, inspiration of Thomas Hardy novels, and local of the Harry Potter cast: The Turf.

Trafalgar Square: Youth Climate Strike Edition Natalie Rushing

After a jam-packed morning spent walking across Millennium Bridge, along South Bank, exploring the Borough Market, and finally checking out the Tate Modern, I decided to really adventure on my own for the first time this trip. It was our second to last day in London, but I figured it was better late than never to try and maneuver the city alone. I hopped on the Tube and headed to The National Gallery since I had not been yet, but heard good things about it. After getting off the Tube, the rest of the trek was on foot. As I got closer to my destination, it became very loud and crowded. Unbeknownst to me, I was walking into Trafalgar Square. I heard about this area, but I didn’t really know what to expect. Right off the bat, I noticed a large monument to my left, which I now know is Nelson’s Column.

My eyes dropped down to notice two large fountains on either side of the column. As I looked back in front of me, my eyes were immediately drawn to a “floating” Yoda. I could hear a ton of honking cars. As I walked toward the action, I could see and hear a man singing with his guitar. As I made my way through the crowd, I came across two more “floating” Yodas, someone in a Pikachu costume, people doing chalk art, men selling homemade rings, and a group performing an audience interactive show. I eventually made my way past the circus happening around me, and into the National Gallery. At

this point in the trip, I had been to quite a few museums and was getting a little burnt out. The whole time I was in there I just kept thinking about all the excitement going on outside and how I wanted to go back out and enjoy it all. I quickly made my way through the museum. As I was exiting, I had an awesome view of Trafalgar Square. I wanted to check out the fountains and Nelson’s Column, so I left all the chaos behind me and headed to what I thought was the less hectic part of the area. The closer I got to the column, the louder it got and the more honking I could hear. As I walked around to the front of the monument, I was greeted by a massive crowd. It took me a second to realize that for the first time in my

life, I was right in the middle of a protest. I looked to my left and saw a lot of kids that looked like they were either in middle school or high school, and most of them were holding signs. I quickly caught on that this had to do with climate change. The signs were creative and showed how much this issue means to them. “Your profits can’t buy another planet.” “Rise now or sink later.” “We don’t have time.” “I’ll take my exams if you take action” “Will you explain to my grandchildren what polar bears were.” “I speak 4 the trees” (A quote from one of my favorite movies, The Lorax). “I’m sure the dinosaurs thought they had time too.” “Forget Brexit. Save the planet.”

The list of signs could go on and on. After taking a video on my Snapchat and swiping through the geofilters, I learned this protest was called the “Youth Climate Strike”. All of these students were skipping school to fight for a cause they truly believed in, and it was inspiring to see. The crowd of people went on as far as I could see. All the honking was due to the massive amount of people blocking the roads, causing a huge traffic jam. I found out the climate strikes were happening all over the city of London. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. Experimental Cooking

Bletchley Park: Home of the Codebreakers Gage Phillips

When the British government purchased the Bletchley Park estate in the 1930’s, it was a mansion estate that most would describe as being in the middle of nowhere. In spite of this, what happened at this estate was crucial to saving lives and shortening World War II by years. I feel that most Americans have a romanticized view of World War I: one where the United States swoops in and saves Europe from itself. This is only partially true. The war was really won with three factors from three nations: American money, Russian blood, and British intelligence. That intelligence was sent to Winston Churchill’s desk daily from Bletchley Park. The rail exchange right within walking distance of the estate brought in the brightest minds from London, Oxford, and Cambridge. They spent their days listening in on radio signals being sent by the Germans, intending to be one step ahead of their foe. The Germans were talking using codes called Enigma and Lorenz, meaning their messages were gibberish to anyone who didn’t know exactly how the messages were scrambled. The real pioneering work was in descrambling these messages as fast as possible. To this end, they designed machines that could crack these codes faster than hands could manage, the Bombe and Colossus, the latter of which was the world’s first program96

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mable digital electronic computer. This is the history that is now being preserved by the Bletchley Park Trust, and is open for the public to walk through. I visited Bletchley Park eager to experience this history of computing and numerical analysis, and I feel I left there enlightened about these same things. However, there was more to this site than what I’ve described here. My favorite part of my time there was the 30 minutes or so I had spent before my tour of the grounds began. I spent it taking a walk around the park part of Bletchley Park. The subsiding of the morning rain along with the brilliant new day’s sun gave a surreal glow to the grounds; That morning the colors of the grass, flowers and pond reflecting the newly clear sky popped out at me. This effect also carried over to the architecture of the site, with the red of brick and the teal copper patina on the mansion’s roof taking on a more vibrant hue. There is more history that happened within Bletchley Park than one person could see in one day, let alone the 7 hours that they’re open! There was an entire museum block that I couldn’t experience due to the impending end of the day. The Bletchley Park Trust is acutely aware of this, and compensates for it by allowing their tickets to be valid for one year after their

purchase date. If I chose to return within a year of 3/14/19, I’d get in scot-free. To experience another modicum of the lives of the men and women fighting a secret war in defence of the free world, I’d take them up on that offer.

Blood, Sweat, and Cheers Jackson Dinsmore

When I returned back to the states one of my friends asked me if I had experienced any “culture shock” during my time in London. After mulling it over I confusedly said, “Not really?”. London is a city, very similar to any U.S. metropolitan, in which a conglomeration

of people are simply going on with their lives. In my eyes, the culture and lifestyle of these people, while much more diverse, is very similar to our own back here in the United States. On the other hand,

if you define “culture shock” as the minute differences between the destinations, then I definitely noticed and appreciated many of the contrasts to American life. Things such as driving on the left side of the road, excessive PDA, and having to pay for water at a restaurant caught my attention throughout the trip (though I’m still kind of upset about that last one). Perhaps my favorite though, was the use of the word “cheers”. In the United States, cheers is typically reserved for when we clink glasses together during a celebration or toast. In London, however, “cheers” has become this multifaceted term that can be used in a variety of settings. As a Midwesterner born and raised on hospitality, it amazed me that one word could be used so interchange-

ably in a number of social circumstances. Greeting an old friend? Cheers! A couple thanking you for taking their picture? Cheers! A server politely brushing past you in a pub? Cheers! Saying goodnight to someone after a night out? Cheers! Still wanting to make a toast at an event? Cheers! Someone just said cheers to you? Cheers! By containing a myriad of meanings, “cheers” gave me this strange feeling of familiarity and intrigue throughout the trip. I even found myself saying it as the week went on, and I’ve started using it in conversations since I’ve returned back home (much to the chagrin of some of my friends). “Cheers” was one of my favorite parts of the trip as it exemplified the general friendliness I received from so many during the trip. It also demonstrates the freedom and flexibility I was able to experience while developing my independency while abroad.

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London Review 2019

Mary's Golden Jubilee Dear Mary,

Dear Mary,

Thank you so much for all the pushing and prodding to get me to attend this trip. Turns out, it was one of my greatest life experiences. It’s been a blast getting to learn so many new things about a place where I’ve never been and from someone who is encouraging and shares my writing passion as well as a love of travel and other cultures. Congratulations on your 50th study abroad! You’re truly an inspiration for those of us who aspire to communicate our unique magic on paper.

From my first class with you to now, your innate talent for coaxing me out of my comfort zone (often before I could even realize it) has never ceased to surprise me. Thanks for giving me the courage to leap into new experiences.

– Brett Knepper

My first trip abroad was absolutely magical, and you are the person I have to thank for the experience. Your guidance & wisdom, your constant pushing for us to explore and be creative, and your endless support (whether it be giving us directions, life advice, or supplying dayquil when I was sick) make you truly a professor who goes above and beyond. The care you have for your students leaves a positive influence on each one of our lives. We cannot thank you enough.

Dear Mary, You have to be one of the most sincere and heartfelt people I have met in my entire life. You are always so welcoming and giving to us students, and you have helped make studying abroad a reality for so many at KU. During the London Review and our time in class, I have created memories that will last a lifetime, and I have you to thank for that. I am so honored and grateful to have met you, and I truly hope you know how much you have impacted both my time at KU and my outlooks on travel & life. Thank you for everything Mary! Sincerely, Jackson Dinsmore Dear Mary, Thank you so much for bringing tons of brochures for the London Review to every class I had with you. This truly was the best decision I made during my freshman year. There isn't anyone else that could do what you do, and I’m so grateful I get to see you so often! Thank you for helping freshman me figure out KU a little better. You pushing me to take this class has led to great memories with even greater friends and I will always be thankful for that.

– Alissa Gilmer Dear Mary,

Grace Brunner Mary, I am constantly amazed by your compassion and generosity. Thank you for convincing me to travel the world with you. I never thought I would get to do so many amazing things in my time at KU, and you are the reason for them all. I will cherish these memories and our friendship forever. Congrats on 50 amazing programs! – Jamie Dear Mary, Thank you for everything. My KU experience would not be half of what it has been without your influence and, of course, your trips. I don’t have the words to encompass my gratitude for all of the opportunities you have given me to explore the world. You have a gift for bringing out the best in people, and your trips magnify this ability by a million. Cheers to fifty study abroads! Pura Vida, Hattie

Cheers, Cameron Wood

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Mary,

Congratulations on 50 study abroad trips! Thank you for helping to change students’ lives every year through the Honors Program and your wonderful trips around the globe! Cheers to you!

Thank you for encouraging me to be a part of the 2019 London Review class. I remember when I expressed concern about the hours of the course and child care, and you said: “just bring her to class.” Knowing that you were willing to make this accommodation meant so much to me. Also, thank you for your support through this semester as I faced some challenges in my personal life. Through this tough time in my life you even helped me find mentorship on campus, which has help me alot. Thank you for everything!

– Jack Bryan

Mary, You’re so beloved by every student you meet that I’m not sure I can offer an original compliment. I’m very grateful for the opportunity to get to know you over the years, from auditing your class as a visiting high school student to sitting together at the farewell dinner at Hereford Arms. I look forward to reading your facebook posts about future study abroad trips. Charles

Mary, Thank you for encouraging me to apply for this trip. It was truly one of the best experiences of my life. I loved getting to know you on this trip and I’ll fondly remember our times dancing in the hotel lobby. Congrats on your 50th study abroad program! Joseph

Mary, How privileged am I to travel to two beautiful places with you that I have only dreamed of going. All the experiences, and all the wonderful people I met in Costa Rica and London….will be life long memories. You absolutely deserve the honor and love from all the students who were able to receive these opportunities. Thank you so much for blessing me with these experiences I would have never had elsewhere! Congratulations on your 50th study abroad and many that will come! Love, Subin

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P.S. Olivia loves that darn bunny you got her at the Oxford market. She sleeps with it every night. Omar D. Williams

Dear Mary, This is my first and last class with you, and I’m sad that I won’t have the opportunity to go on anymore study abroad trips. I never expected this trip to London to be as fun and interesting as it was. I’m glad I applied for this class. I’ve only known you for a short time, but I can see why so many people have loved your classes. You’ve become one of my favorite professors. Thank you for helping create so many fun memories! Yeyoung Kim

Dear Mary, Happy 50th trip! You are such an impressive and loving woman whom I am so lucky to have gotten to know. Thank you for always sharing your stories as you have seen and done it all. Going to London with this group was one of the best trips I have taken and will always be remembered as one of my favorites. Thanks for letting me be a part of your Golden Jubilee, and I hope to join you for another trip or two. :) – Natalie Rushing

Dear Mary, You are one of the most unique people that I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. So many of the people that I’ve known for years love you and call you friend. After spending the week with you and crew in London I can see why they give you such praise! You are an I’ve had a friend of mine from High School tell me a story about you mentoring them within 24 hours of my writing of this note. You’ve helped shape generations of students, and I can see how the University would continue to support you after 50 trips abroad. I’m grateful I could be a part of one of them. Sincerely, Gage Phillips

How lucky I am to have found someone so in love with literature and committed to transparency to learn from. Cheers to the downfall of bureaucracy! Happy 50th. – Paola Ramirez

Dear Mary, As a senior transfer into the Honors Program, I thought no one would look my way twice. Maybe the vibe I got for joining so late made me feel like a lost cause, but meeting you and going on this trip gave me the feeling that I did matter. You saw me at one of my more vulnerable moments when my bank information had been taken and helped me through that mess. Getting older, you start to rely less and less on others, but you won’t know how much you being there and your support meant to me. Thank you for everything, Mary.

Mary, It feels strange writing you a note since it is normally you writing to us. It is not possible to include everything I wish to say to you in a few hundred words, but here are two: thank you. Thank you for encouraging me. Thank you for believing in me. Thank you for being there for me through my highs and lows during my college career. It has been a privilege in the truest sense to have journeyed with you for all three programs. Now, the trifecta will have two meanings: my go-to breakfast order at First Watch and my completion of the Mary Klayder experience. Congrats on FIFTY programs! Next time, the whisky is on me. Cheers to you, Kyle Paddock

– Catherine London Review 2019 101

Dear Mary,

Despite the “adventures” that I managed to get myself into, I truly enjoyed the week we spent in London. The gravitational pulls toward your cozy office in Wescoe and the healing powers of your presence and your words have been well recorded that I need not say more. I will say, however, that, from “So You Want to be a Writer, Huh?,” to meeting all the right people at the right times, and, finally, to London Review, my college life would have been entirely different if I hadn’t met you. Thank you, Mary, for everything.

Thank you for running this fantastic program. It’s helped make students’ dreams of traveling abroad into a reality, me included. You are a wonderful person and I thoroughly enjoyed both the trip and getting to know you a bit over its course. Congrats on your 50th trip!

Shih-Yen

– Kayla Lawson

Mary, Thank you for the amazing experiences you’ve given me throughout my time at KU. I will always look back fondly on you working patiently with me on my writing and abilities to read different literary works even though it was a struggle at times. The London Review was the perfect experience to end my time in Lawrence, and much of that was due to your leadership and personality. I am very proud to say that I know you and was able to participate in your 50th study abroad trip! Congratulations, Lang Perdue

Dear Mary, One of my biggest regrets at KU going into my senior year was never taking a class with you (except that one class I went to one week of and then dropped, my bad). Another one of my biggest regrets at KU was that I never studied abroad. Thanks to you and the London Review, I don’t have any more regrets. Thank you for your support, your willingness to shut up my self-doubt, and all the laughter, Congratulations on 50 amazing programs, Kathryn

Mary, I feel so lucky that I was able to go on the London Review and have such an amazing mentor along the way! I truly believe you are the reason this program thrives and is able to impact the lives of so many students. I really appreciate all your support and how encouraging you are to each and every one of us. I will never forget my time spent in London. Thank you for everything! – Emily Sonsthagen 102

London Review 2019

Dear Mary, Thanks to you, our class and the many classes before us, were able to venture outside our comfort zones (and time zones!) to garner new experiences and expand our world views. Although we had some hardships on this trip, none of that was overshadowed by the happy and extraordinary experiences our class was able to find. For myself, thank you for being a support and caring voice to talk to in our uncertain college existence, and pushing us all to achieve in our own ways! Congratulations on your 50th trip abroad, and thank you for support you have given students through all of them! – Gwen

Dear Mary, Thank you so much for everything you have done for me. You are so kind and always willing to help. I have already learned so much from you, and I enjoy your classes so much. Words cannot express how thankful I am that you gave me the opportunity to go on one of your study abroad trips. It was truly one of the best weeks of my life. Congratulations on your 50th study abroad program! â&#x20AC;&#x201C; Nicola Santangelo

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London Review 2019