Oh, bus #15, how I love thee...
It starts at Regents Street, just where I need it when finishing up an evening of knitting with friends. When I board, it's mostly empty, so I can get a lovely front row upper deck seat, in preparation for the "poor man's tour" of London landmarks...
And we're off! Through the flashing maze of Picadilly Circus, whipping around the corner to Haymarket...down around the bend and it's Trafalgar Square! Look quickly--if you turn your head to the right, you get a lightning fast glimpse of the Mall, then Parliament, then it's back again to Trafalgar Square for a lasting gaze at those lovely blue fountain lights casting a glow upon the National Gallery...
Now past Charing Cross, now the Savoy, and through the theatre district...Bush House, the Royal Courts of Justice, and all those funny streets named after old time sellers of shoes, leather, and other handcrafted things...
Nearing the Old Bailey, and in the distance looms St. Paul's Cathedral like an old grandfather. Pass the cathedral and you can shoot a look across the Millennium Bridge to the Tate.
Here comes the Monument, and we're now approaching my favorite part of the journey...wait for it...the Tower of London and Tower Bridge both together, like some big finale in a fireworks show! They appear so suddenly and so close, it takes my breath away every time, even though I know what's coming. The lights on the fortress walls and across the bridge glow in majestic reminder that I actually live in this amazing place.
A quick pass through Aldgate and we're nearly home. Once I alight at New Road, I really have no idea where the 15 goes from there. Blackwall, says the front board. But by then I've seen everything I wanted to see of famous London sights, and feel quite satisfied as my tour comes to an end.
The #15 is a route that still features the vintage Routemaster buses to delight visitors. They are historic and novel, allowing you to hop on and off the back of the open carriage. But I still prefer the standard bus, as I sit atop the upper deck, pretending to contain my excitement as I see London again, for the first time, still a tourist at heart.
---
pleasure trip on wheels,
making every old view new
thy name is 15
27 October 2012
20 October 2012
Access Granted
So I spent the afternoon with Hugh Grant. And about fifty other people, but hey, Hugh and I shared the same room for three and a half hours.
Not surprisingly, the event was a two part panel discussion about the Leveson Inquiry, at which he'd made a very public testimony regarding the hacking of his own phone, so it wasn't all that unusual to see him in attendance. More notable was the fact that after living 13 1/2 months in this city, this is the first celebrity I've come across during that entire time. Unless you include seeing the very top of the Queen's Jubilee Barge as it made its way downriver for the anniversary parade, but I don't think that counts, as I only really saw Her Majesty on the large screen alongside the Thames.
I didn't even recognize him at first. He sauntered in late, just as half a dozen others had, so I didn't pay any notice until the moderator made some comment about the "moderately famous" person who had just entered. My friend whispered to me, "Hugh Grant." But I didn't believe it. Until I put on my glasses and confirmed her assertion. Oops. Guess my distance vision isn't exactly what it used to be. Hugh Grant indeed.
It's funny to observe the effect a celebrity will have on a crowd. This group was small to begin with, and presumably quite serious about regulation of the journalism industry, enough to be spending several hours of their Saturday in a small lecture hall in Bloomsbury. But enter Hollywood superstar, and you'd think we were all teenagers again.
In addition to the Channel 4 news camera which was covering the event, and seemed to also be documenting Grant's attendance, I saw more than a few camera phones trained in his direction during the presentation. At the halfway break a couple spectators requested photos with him. My own lame attempts to document the moment were characteristically blurry and of the poorest possible photographic quality, given my cheap phone. I did manage to capture an audio clip at the end of the sessions when Hugh finally graced us with a soundbyte quote regarding the issue at hand.
But I've always had mixed feelings about approaching celebrities, not in regards to their personal privacy, but about my own sense of dignity. It's always been a fantasy of mine to casually encounter a random star, let's say Johnny Depp, at a merchant counter or a gallery somewhere, and make some fantastically witty off the cuff comment to start up a conversation. By the end of it, the so-called star would be left thinking, "Who was that girl? I simply must see her again!" But by then I'd have disappeared back into the crowd, leaving said celebrity intrigued and wanting more.
I know that if Hugh hadn't been engaged by others in most of his free moments, he would've made his way across the room to the woman in the pink jacket with that certain something about her--not sure exactly what it was--but he wouldn't have been sorry. :)
After a while, I became accustomed to the fact that an A-list actor was sitting just yards away from me, and I'd look over thinking, "Yeah, there he is." Looking quite ordinary, really, with his somewhat geeky horn rimmed glasses and understated pullover sweater.
My friend sitting next to me scratched a note on her paper--"We just got to spend two hours with Hugh Grant!" To which I responded, "He's lucky to have gotten so much time with us."
And so he was.
---
hey, celebrity
if you're good I may grace you
with a word or two
Not surprisingly, the event was a two part panel discussion about the Leveson Inquiry, at which he'd made a very public testimony regarding the hacking of his own phone, so it wasn't all that unusual to see him in attendance. More notable was the fact that after living 13 1/2 months in this city, this is the first celebrity I've come across during that entire time. Unless you include seeing the very top of the Queen's Jubilee Barge as it made its way downriver for the anniversary parade, but I don't think that counts, as I only really saw Her Majesty on the large screen alongside the Thames.
I didn't even recognize him at first. He sauntered in late, just as half a dozen others had, so I didn't pay any notice until the moderator made some comment about the "moderately famous" person who had just entered. My friend whispered to me, "Hugh Grant." But I didn't believe it. Until I put on my glasses and confirmed her assertion. Oops. Guess my distance vision isn't exactly what it used to be. Hugh Grant indeed.
It's funny to observe the effect a celebrity will have on a crowd. This group was small to begin with, and presumably quite serious about regulation of the journalism industry, enough to be spending several hours of their Saturday in a small lecture hall in Bloomsbury. But enter Hollywood superstar, and you'd think we were all teenagers again.
In addition to the Channel 4 news camera which was covering the event, and seemed to also be documenting Grant's attendance, I saw more than a few camera phones trained in his direction during the presentation. At the halfway break a couple spectators requested photos with him. My own lame attempts to document the moment were characteristically blurry and of the poorest possible photographic quality, given my cheap phone. I did manage to capture an audio clip at the end of the sessions when Hugh finally graced us with a soundbyte quote regarding the issue at hand.
But I've always had mixed feelings about approaching celebrities, not in regards to their personal privacy, but about my own sense of dignity. It's always been a fantasy of mine to casually encounter a random star, let's say Johnny Depp, at a merchant counter or a gallery somewhere, and make some fantastically witty off the cuff comment to start up a conversation. By the end of it, the so-called star would be left thinking, "Who was that girl? I simply must see her again!" But by then I'd have disappeared back into the crowd, leaving said celebrity intrigued and wanting more.
I know that if Hugh hadn't been engaged by others in most of his free moments, he would've made his way across the room to the woman in the pink jacket with that certain something about her--not sure exactly what it was--but he wouldn't have been sorry. :)
After a while, I became accustomed to the fact that an A-list actor was sitting just yards away from me, and I'd look over thinking, "Yeah, there he is." Looking quite ordinary, really, with his somewhat geeky horn rimmed glasses and understated pullover sweater.
My friend sitting next to me scratched a note on her paper--"We just got to spend two hours with Hugh Grant!" To which I responded, "He's lucky to have gotten so much time with us."
And so he was.
---
hey, celebrity
if you're good I may grace you
with a word or two
19 October 2012
As Close as I Want to Be
It's October, and I'm missing campaign season. Or rather, I am not missing it. No disappointment here.
I seem to get plenty of updates via friends' Facebook posts and the news pieces I come across in my journalism studies. And even though I can't watch debates live (unless I want to fight sleep from 2-4am), I find that there are multiple updates the next morning, conveniently summarized with all the pertinent highlights. Nothing lost (except for maybe the experience of wanting to get those couple hours of my life back, had I actually watched it live).
What I am escaping are all the automated phone calls with their pre-election polls. Yard signs littering the neighborhood streets in silent battles between contending candidates and their supporters. Loads of third class mail from the party and others, making extra sure you get yourself to the polls on November 6th. Mudslinging ads on television and radio, all day long.
What I am not missing is the experience of voting. Granted, via a paper form and an air mail envelope instead of an electronic booth inside a church near my old house. And I won't be enjoying any of the baked goods that are always for sale by those church people every year on election day. Nor will I get my little sticker which proudly announces, "I voted today!" for all to see.
But I will still exercise my duty as a citizen, and cast my vote which I'm hoping will make a tiny dent in the returns of a highly contested "swing state." And I will be able to answer to all my family and friends, who seem to be giving me no end of pestering, wondering if I have/am planning to/remembered to vote yet???
I'll make my best effort to catch the returns as they come in on the 6th, staying awake as long as I am able, in order to know whom the U.S. has chosen to carry out the unenviable task of leading our nation through the next four years.
But I have no regrets that this election season, I am blissfully shielded from all the nuisance of signs, fliers, ads and unsolicited phone recordings. As much as I miss a delicious Midwest Autumn, I suppose in the end, it's not a bad tradeoff.
---
overseas voter
avoiding all the hassle
but not the duty
I seem to get plenty of updates via friends' Facebook posts and the news pieces I come across in my journalism studies. And even though I can't watch debates live (unless I want to fight sleep from 2-4am), I find that there are multiple updates the next morning, conveniently summarized with all the pertinent highlights. Nothing lost (except for maybe the experience of wanting to get those couple hours of my life back, had I actually watched it live).
What I am escaping are all the automated phone calls with their pre-election polls. Yard signs littering the neighborhood streets in silent battles between contending candidates and their supporters. Loads of third class mail from the party and others, making extra sure you get yourself to the polls on November 6th. Mudslinging ads on television and radio, all day long.
What I am not missing is the experience of voting. Granted, via a paper form and an air mail envelope instead of an electronic booth inside a church near my old house. And I won't be enjoying any of the baked goods that are always for sale by those church people every year on election day. Nor will I get my little sticker which proudly announces, "I voted today!" for all to see.
But I will still exercise my duty as a citizen, and cast my vote which I'm hoping will make a tiny dent in the returns of a highly contested "swing state." And I will be able to answer to all my family and friends, who seem to be giving me no end of pestering, wondering if I have/am planning to/remembered to vote yet???
I'll make my best effort to catch the returns as they come in on the 6th, staying awake as long as I am able, in order to know whom the U.S. has chosen to carry out the unenviable task of leading our nation through the next four years.
But I have no regrets that this election season, I am blissfully shielded from all the nuisance of signs, fliers, ads and unsolicited phone recordings. As much as I miss a delicious Midwest Autumn, I suppose in the end, it's not a bad tradeoff.
---
overseas voter
avoiding all the hassle
but not the duty
18 October 2012
Wild City Life
A pigeon nearly got a free ride from Aldgate to Uxbridge yesterday morning. Only a day after I recall having the thought, "With all the birds wandering around this platform, I wonder if one has ever gotten on the train," there, as if on cue, was the little gray adventurer--brave or stupid?--hopping his way through the carriage as though scoping out the best seats. A fellow passenger also noticed, and we joined in an unspoken pact to save this pigeon from his own foolishness.
I opened the train doors, as we were merely sitting at the platform waiting for departure several minutes hence. Tried to steer him toward the open door. Of course, this just made him move further down the carriage. I thought at this point that my efforts were in vain, so I gave up, saying "Stupid bird--he's going to Uxbridge," and sat down, in an uncharacteristically un-heroic gesture from one who routinely chases flies and moths around the room just to capture and release them back to nature.
My fellow passenger, however, was more tenacious and managed to encourage the stowaway back towards--and out of--the waiting door. I gave her a nod of approval and then felt slightly foolish for giving up so soon.
It got me thinking about wildlife in urban areas, London specifically. I'd heard much about the foxes which apparently plague the city, but didn't see one for months. And then, within the space of several weeks I spotted a couple out my window in the early morning, and one literally by the side of the pavement looking not so well. Some neighbors were calling for assistance.
I've always felt ambivalent about this issue of wildlife in cities. Even not so urban streets that cut through major animal traffic areas and leave a legacy of carnage strewn along the roadside--I ask myself what right have we to motor our vehicles at top speed through the places which once allowed critters to roam freely and safely (that is, until another predator snatched them up, I suppose). Still, these things bother me.
Here in London, it is mostly pigeons that one encounters, although I have seen squirrels around Harrow, and magpies and a few other small bird species almost anywhere there's a green space. And if one goes South to Brighton or other seaside towns, you will find the most aggressive seagulls you've ever encountered. While roaming Hampstead Heath, I even saw some rats (the cousins of whom can be spotted on Underground tracks between train arrivals).
I suppose as long as humans insist upon settling and building on formerly natural areas, we are destined to share our home with the wilder element. In some ways I don't mind all that much. In fact, I rather like the spontaneity it affords when a butterfly unexpectedly breezes across my path or a gull provides free entertainment by dive-bombing an unsuspecting visitor's open food tray.
Or when a pigeon makes a valiant, yet ultimately unsuccessful attempt to accompany me on my tedious morning commute.
---
avian rider,
is going by Underground
faster than flying?
I opened the train doors, as we were merely sitting at the platform waiting for departure several minutes hence. Tried to steer him toward the open door. Of course, this just made him move further down the carriage. I thought at this point that my efforts were in vain, so I gave up, saying "Stupid bird--he's going to Uxbridge," and sat down, in an uncharacteristically un-heroic gesture from one who routinely chases flies and moths around the room just to capture and release them back to nature.
My fellow passenger, however, was more tenacious and managed to encourage the stowaway back towards--and out of--the waiting door. I gave her a nod of approval and then felt slightly foolish for giving up so soon.
It got me thinking about wildlife in urban areas, London specifically. I'd heard much about the foxes which apparently plague the city, but didn't see one for months. And then, within the space of several weeks I spotted a couple out my window in the early morning, and one literally by the side of the pavement looking not so well. Some neighbors were calling for assistance.
I've always felt ambivalent about this issue of wildlife in cities. Even not so urban streets that cut through major animal traffic areas and leave a legacy of carnage strewn along the roadside--I ask myself what right have we to motor our vehicles at top speed through the places which once allowed critters to roam freely and safely (that is, until another predator snatched them up, I suppose). Still, these things bother me.
Here in London, it is mostly pigeons that one encounters, although I have seen squirrels around Harrow, and magpies and a few other small bird species almost anywhere there's a green space. And if one goes South to Brighton or other seaside towns, you will find the most aggressive seagulls you've ever encountered. While roaming Hampstead Heath, I even saw some rats (the cousins of whom can be spotted on Underground tracks between train arrivals).
I suppose as long as humans insist upon settling and building on formerly natural areas, we are destined to share our home with the wilder element. In some ways I don't mind all that much. In fact, I rather like the spontaneity it affords when a butterfly unexpectedly breezes across my path or a gull provides free entertainment by dive-bombing an unsuspecting visitor's open food tray.
Or when a pigeon makes a valiant, yet ultimately unsuccessful attempt to accompany me on my tedious morning commute.
---
avian rider,
is going by Underground
faster than flying?
12 October 2012
Getting schooled
After 13 years away, Wendy is back in one of her favorite roles: student. And while this MA Broadcast Journalism program I'm studying isn't all that easy, for me, being in school is.
I'm one of those people who could probably be a student forever. For better (expanding world) or for worse (diminishing finances), it's a role that's always felt natural to me, from those early days of kindergarten right up through my last degree.
When many of my seminary classmates were whining about "having to spend one more year on campus," (following internship) rather than going out immediately into professional ministry, I was that annoying one who relished being back in academia and secretly hoped it would never end.
When I was serving in campus ministry, I would get a little pang of longing each fall when the new year started, half wishing I were the one carrying that backpack and heading off to class.
Now that I'm back in the classroom, even at age 41, I still feel a sense of belonging here. Something about me was born to study, participate in discussions, and explore new worlds. This broadcast program is especially stimulating as we are actively doing projects, learning new software and equipment, and taking on group tasks which simulate the work of a journalist. It's lively, fun, and plenty challenging for my tastes. And my classmates are the most diverse group with whom I've ever studied--hailing from many countries around the world and providing perspective as well as hilarity on a daily basis. I love them all.
I realize that this world of school is not meant to last forever. Unlike those who make their living through instruction or some other role within the institution, for me this will only be a passing season.
But for the time being, that oddly ageless looking girl looking just a little too comfortable toting her backpack down those halls is me.
---
a student of life
sounds a little better than
a student for life
I'm one of those people who could probably be a student forever. For better (expanding world) or for worse (diminishing finances), it's a role that's always felt natural to me, from those early days of kindergarten right up through my last degree.
When many of my seminary classmates were whining about "having to spend one more year on campus," (following internship) rather than going out immediately into professional ministry, I was that annoying one who relished being back in academia and secretly hoped it would never end.
When I was serving in campus ministry, I would get a little pang of longing each fall when the new year started, half wishing I were the one carrying that backpack and heading off to class.
Now that I'm back in the classroom, even at age 41, I still feel a sense of belonging here. Something about me was born to study, participate in discussions, and explore new worlds. This broadcast program is especially stimulating as we are actively doing projects, learning new software and equipment, and taking on group tasks which simulate the work of a journalist. It's lively, fun, and plenty challenging for my tastes. And my classmates are the most diverse group with whom I've ever studied--hailing from many countries around the world and providing perspective as well as hilarity on a daily basis. I love them all.
I realize that this world of school is not meant to last forever. Unlike those who make their living through instruction or some other role within the institution, for me this will only be a passing season.
But for the time being, that oddly ageless looking girl looking just a little too comfortable toting her backpack down those halls is me.
---
a student of life
sounds a little better than
a student for life
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