England 2002

Diary Entry 4.2

.September 30^th – October 11^th

Monday September 30^th, 2002

Classes again. More sitting. More note taking. I’m surprised by the number of people who ask, “How are your classes?”. Well, they’re there. The subject matter is quite interesting. US History covers…US History. Hey, there’s a concept. Physical science has been covering the uses of nuclear energy and the origin of the atom bomb and hydrogen bomb. It’s complicated stuff, yet I enjoy it. From 3:30 to 5:30, I attend a British Life and Culture class (BLC). We have guest lecturers from England who give speeches ranging from London pop culture to the history of Great Britain.

Monday evening was another free show for us. First, a group of us went to dinner. We had Indonesian food. Some disagreed, but I found it to be Chinese food with a lot of spices. Who knows, maybe Indonesia and China swap recipes. After dinner, we walked over to the theatre. The production was called, “The Lieutenant of Inishmore.” It was bloody. It was violent. It had an awful lot of swearing. And I must say it was close to the funniest show I’ve ever seen. I was reminded of Pulp Fiction and Fargo. The premise was about a guy in the IRA who loved his cat so much, he’d easily kill people whom he thought hurt the little guy. Add a lot of gunshots and blood packs and you’ve got one humorous black comedy. I seriously got a headache from laughing so hard.

Tuesday October 1^st, 2002

Another free day spent doing so many things. At night, I met up with Kim to go see a show. Things went well until we ended up at the wrong location for the theatre. Apparently, she was a bit confused about what section of town the right street was in. Well, to make a short story longer and even duller, we missed the show. It would have required a train ride to get out to the proper destination. So we settled on dinner at a nice quiet Indian food restaurant. We ordered several things. I had about 3 side dishes. And after ordering those things, the waiter asked, “No, entrée?” I said no that was fine. And he gave a puzzled look. He asked a second time before getting our order. Apparently, people have this thing about entrees. This is despite the fact that my three side dishes was quite the equivalent of the main dish (and probably cost more). There’s just some insane unspoken law that says the entree must be eaten. Just who writes these laws anyway? Dinner did taste great (sans the entrée). Tuesday was also another tube strike. Yeah, apparently, we just didn’t have enough fun with the first tube strike. For all I know, maybe it’s not due to wage disagreements. Maybe all the bus drivers got together and said, “Nobody likes to ride our buses. We feel shunned.” And the tube workers felt their pain, so they transferred their pain to us. That could have been the reason. Although a couple of the bus drivers were still rather cranky. I guess not all of the pain was relieved. As luck did have it though, I caught the last tube train home before the tube strike began at 9:30pm. Yehaw! Riding in style.

Wednesday, October 2^nd, 2002

Last week, they cancelled the classes during the strike. No such luck this week. Very well. I stumbled out of bed around 8:45. Not good. The tubes were down. My class started at 9:45, and here I was getting out of bed quite late. I did what any good student would do – I took a long enjoyable shower. Afterwards, I strolled down towards the college. Only being 7 miles away, I knew I’d be there in no time flat. 1 mile later, I wasn’t so sure I’d make the start of my first class. 2 miles after that, I began to worry about making the class at all, which would sort be bad since it was my only class of the day. But I kept on walking. Sometimes I’d stop at a bus stop and wait with the others for a bus to come. When it did, it would be already filled up and not even stop at the bus stop. Other times, I’d just walk right past the bus stop and about 100 yards past it, I’d notice people riding by on the bus that had just been at that bus stop. Don’t laugh. That’s not comedy. That’s exactly what happened.

Finally, I stopped at the right stop and the bus picked us up. We were now moving along nicely…for about 100 feet until the bus got caught in the horrendous traffic jams of the morning. But hey, I wasn’t walking at least. In time, I made it to my stop and got off the bus. I raced to the classroom and caught the final 20 minutes of class. I missed most of the lecture, but the nice thing was that I did make it.

The rest of the day was mine. That evening I met up with Gardner, Raquel, and Kolaine. We bought some extra tickets for the showing of “Vincent in Brixon”. Once again, we headed down to the theatre area and entered the show. This time, I had a beer before the show. I thought, “Wow, you can drink beer while watching a stage production!” This was so cool. But before I entered, the usher said I couldn’t go in with my beer bottle. I thought, “Oh no. You can’t drink beer while watching a stage production.” But the usher then said I just couldn’t bring in a bottle. He pointed me in the direction of the bar where I transferred my beer into a plastic cup. I then thought, “Wow. You can drink beer while watching a stage production…just not from a bottle.” I was content again.

I was confused about why bottles weren’t allowed. But the show did turn out to be a little slow. Add intoxication and it’s not unthinkable that an unruly fellow could be hurling objects at the stage. But with a plastic cup of beer, the worst that could happen is a lot of beer getting all over everyone up to 5 rows forward. Sure, there’d be a few bar fights (theatre fights?), but the actors would be safe.

Overall, the show was good. The pacing is slower over here in England. It’s really an actor’s paradise. They’re allowed to take as much time as they need for each and every line. There were frequent pauses for contemplation. There were moments of slow moving focused actions. It must have been so nice for the actors to receive these perks. Back home, I’m always told to speed things up. After years of that, I find I can’t slow down even if I try to.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t on stage there, I was in the audience with my plastic beer cup. And I of course wasn’t going to toss it at them since I’m not an unruly person (does that make me a ruly person?). And while several others differed in opinion, I did like the show. About halfway through it, I realized that “Vincent” was Vincent Van Gogh. I guess others made this discovery when he began painting things. Anyway, I recommend this show for anyone looking for an interesting (albeit, slow moving) character study. The actors all did fabulous jobs. So far, I’m quite impressed with the quality of the London stage drama scene.

After the show, I had the fun task of returning home without the handy use of the tube. Again, lots of walking. I ended up taking an over ground train (They don’t go on strike. The pleasant views must make them happier people.) The train led me to a bus station and I rode the bus all the way home. Er, well, I did have some walking afterwards, but what are legs for?

Thursday, October 3^rd, 2002

Yeah. The tube works again. So off I go back to school. History of Film was my only class. The movie was a French film from the 30’s. It lasted only 45 minutes so we got out 2 hours early. Happy day. It was now Thursday night. Flashback: Earlier in the week, our small group got all excited about seeing all this theatre in the town of London. I even mentioned wanting to audition here sometime. They all thought it was a great idea and encouraged this notion. On Tuesday, Kalaine noticed a flyer regarding a college show having auditions. She grabbed the flyer and the next thing I knew, we were all planning on auditioning for this show. Flashforward: It’s now Thursday night and I’m the ONLY one auditioning for the show. I think it may have been a case of cold feet – six of them. But Heather was interested in doing some London theatre as well, so she auditioned with me.

The audition was quick and painless. We didn’t wait long before getting to go on. The only thing required was a cold reading from a page of the script, “The Hothouse”. I knew nothing about the show, but gave it my best. After my reading, they asked if I could do a British accent. “Not a good one” was my answer. Sorry, I always gotta be honest. And it’s not the kind of thing you lie about when the very next thing you do is read the scene with the accent. I guess I could have said, “Yes, I do a marvelous British accent, but since it’s an odd day of the month, I’m going to use my crummy British accent instead. Cheers, mate.”

Heather’s audition went fine too and we left there not knowing what would happen next. On the way home, we stopped by a pub called the White Lion. This place was so nice I wrote down notes to remember it by. I’ll try to recall what I wrote, though keep in mind, it is a pub, and I did have a drink, and the drink eventually made the note writing more and more difficult to do. Well, the place was like this:

It’s 9:30 at night. I’m sitting in a very comfy chair. It’s a brown soft chair that you could easily sit for hours in. If I had to pick one chair to spend my life in, this chair would be the one. You almost melt into it. There’s nice woodwork all around. The wood is golden with a shiny lacquer finish over it. The wood picks up the comfortable yellow light that is given off in little sections of the room. A huge fireplace is to my right. It’s not lit, yet it still offers a sort of warmth. Or maybe that’s just my pint of ale talking. A jukebox is also playing popular music. The nice thing is that the music isn’t overbearingly too loud. It’s just right. Pool tables are in the joint. The balls don’t have numbers. They are either yellow or red. The eight ball is black. This limits the types of pool games that can be played, but the Brits don’t seem to mind. Soon, we’re invited to play a free pub trivia game. This excites me. I love trivia. The first few answers are easy for us. They have to do with America. Things go downhill from there as the questions start having more to do with Britain pop culture and names of tea. But we do have a fun time guessing answers and relaxing in this great little pub. It almost feels like the inside of someone’s nice big living room during the winter holidays. Ho ho ho! Someone please spike my eggnog.

Friday, October 4^th, 2002

No school for me. But during the day, I’m called to go back to that audition. They want to see both Heather and me again. So that night, we head over there around 7pm. I read a scene with her and then repeat my reading from the night before. They thank me for coming out there and then make a comment, “Nice energy.” That comment always seems to reach out and catch me. I remember the producers from Stage One calling last summer and saying close to the same thing when they offered me the role in their show. I’m never quite sure if it’s a really good thing or just gets said. Nevertheless, it beats them saying “Bad energy. Bad. Bad. Quick, someone fetch me a lead box to hide in.” (bad energy being something like gamma rays. Yeah, I should have taken that joke out. But since a few people might get it, I left it in.)

Heather read for them as well. We then headed back on the street. I returned home after that. All I could do at that point was wait and see what happens.

Saturday, October 5^th, 2002

Finally, it’s a nice long day to get caught up. I made good use of this time by heading over to the college. They were having their club and societies sign up day. I wandered around and chatted with many of the groups. I signed up to get information about several of the clubs. Part of me wanted to join them all. Then I remembered a Brady Bunch episode where Marsha joined about every club in school. I can’t remember what happened to her, but I’m guessing it turned out bad. Not wanting to pull a Marsha, I resisted the urge. That being done, I went south in town to buy a printer. I just couldn’t wait 3 months to print some of my photos. Plus, I can now offer group shots to some of my friends here. The biggest joy later came when a friend thought my prints were postcards. Ah, mistakes are often the best compliments. That of course doesn’t work the other way around.

Sunday, October 6^th, 2002

I picked up my laundry. I haven’t done my laundry yet myself. I simply take it to this place, pay a little extra, and they do everything. It even comes back folded. Ah, if only they made coffee, I could marry these people. It’s such a nice convenience.

In the afternoon, I went downtown to meet with Kalaine, Raquel and Gardner to view the White Chapel Art gallery. I don’t want to insult anyone by saying this place was in a BAD part of town. I’ll just say it was not in a GOOD part of town. But it was daytime, and things seemed okay.

The gallery was interesting in some ways, but the featured exhibition was rather weak. The artist was extremely creative in his methods, but I’ve a hard time considering 70 dark Polaroids (many of them black) to be great art. Another display had 4 oak trees mounted upside-down. Yeah, that was the mood of this gallery. Personally, like I said, I can appreciate people being open and creative to the work. No limits. Anarchy rules. That sort of thing is always noble. But if the exhibit requires a six-pack of beer to be fully enjoyed, well then, I just may have to pass. (Besides, beer is just too expensive here)

Back to school. Classes went fine. It was when I returned home that it all came crashing down. Where to begin…

My homestay folks are awfully nice people. They’re friendly, kind, sharing and just plain decent folks. From the first week though, they noticed that I didn’t eat a lot. Which was the truth. It’s sort of a hard thing to hide. I suppose I could have just pretended to eat, and then slyly throw the food away. However, I’d then probably have them wondering their cat spends so much time trying to get into the garbage every day.

At any rate, each morning, I’d have the chance to eat cold cereal and wheat toast. While those things are nice, it’s somewhat tiring having that same palette week after week. And I’m usually in a rush to get out the door in the morning. I know what the pop tart commercials all say, but I don’t mind skipping breakfast on occasion.

Apparently, my homestay folks do mind. Many days when I’d return, Dorris would ask me if I had gotten enough to eat. I’d say I did. She would ask what I had. Well, I’m not keen on lying so I’d admit that my intake was mainly just a plate of rice and maybe a croissant. She’d become very concerned and begin to worry. I did promise to go shopping this past weekend, and I did.

I found a few items in the store. Though, I’ve learned much about myself and I know what I’ll eat and what I’ll end up throwing away in three months when it sprouts to life and begins evolving into new life forms in the refrigerator. I bought some snacks and drinks and figured that would be enough.

Apparently, today, enough was enough -- and all because my food wasn’t enough. This morning Dorris caught me before I got out the door and asked if I had my breakfast. I said I had. Sure, it was only orange juice and a croissant, but that would do me until lunchtime. She was upset that it wasn’t more. But how do you explain to someone that you (well, I) don’t need any more than that. I mean after all these years; I know my body pretty well. I haven’t wasted away. I haven’t even lost weight. Fact is, I’m healthy and doing just fine with the amount I eat. Ironically, most of the people who ‘advise’ me on how much I should eat tend to be heavier people that spend the other part of the time asking me how I’m able to stay thin. Anyway, to reassure her, I promised to have some lunch today.

And I did have lunch. I had a plate of rice and salad. It was great. Filled me up just fine and I was set for the day. I figured things would be fine. No problem. No sweat. Then evening came.

I returned home and the folks were watching TV. I chatted with them and made myself a cup of coffee. They then asked me to sit down for a chat. The topic was quick and to the point. They were so worried and unhappy with my eating habits that they wanted me to find another home stay home. Holy cow! THIS came as quite a shock. I mean all fine and dandy up to this point. I could understand some concern, but heck, now this is serious. I was half in shock, and half bemused by the absurdity of what I was hearing. I was being asked to leave because someone felt I didn’t eat enough food?! When you’re a writer, you sort of hope wild weird things happen to you so you’ll actually have things to write about without having to stretch the truth all the time. But heck, this place is nice. I’ve come to like it here. And from the stories I’ve heard, the homestays could easily get worse (Though, some I hear are quite nice. Some I hear are very nice.) I calmly discussed the matter. They explained how much they liked me and how good a houseguest I was. But they were just too concerned for my well-being. Yet, I will mention that another little thing crept up a couple of times during the conversation. They also mentioned that they hated to be responsible should something happen do me. I guess it was the fear that I could get sick, drop dead on the street, and an investigation would lead to them being accused of letting me starve. Nobody wants to be in situations like that. I can certainly understand their concern. And I don’t want two such nice people over worried about my welfare. Try as I might to explain that I’ve eating sparingly for over 15 years now, it didn’t help much. It’s sad because I rarely get sick. I don’t lose any weight. I have plenty of energy. I’ve never fainted. And I can bench a good weight and run a good mile. The bottom line is that what and how I eat obviously works fine for me. Enough said.

Though I’m no dummy. This is a good home to be in. I’ll have the cereal in the morning and the wheat toast if that’s all it takes. I guess I’d have to eat lunch and dinner too (whether I be hungry or not. Argh! Sorry poor stomach.) . Alas, I think the axe has already fallen. They made a call today about a home change. I’ll probably be getting a phone call myself tomorrow. My homestay folks are convinced that I most likely wouldn’t be able to change eating habits.

We’ll have to wait and see what happens. Should make for some interesting tales in the future. I guess as I think about this whole crazy situation, I’m somewhat bothered that this is all due to my openness and willingness to share my personal life as far as food goes. I mean, it’s really not anyone else’s business how much or little I eat. I could have easily just have said, “I prefer to keep my eating habits private, but thanks for asking”, when first asked about my food intake. If so, none of this would be happening now. Oh well, c’est la vie.

Editor’s note: since then, things have gotten much better. While it’s not cheap (honestly, eating here can average 10-15 pounds a day. That’s $15-$23 a day!), I’ve been able to get some good meals consumed. I can live with 3 daily meals for 2 more months. And please, no emails regarding the issue. I’m beyond my limit for discussing this matter.

In other news…

Today wasn’t entirely crazy. I did get an email of the cast list for the show I auditioned for. And I was cast in it. Needless to say, I was excited to read that. Whether or not I can actually do the show remains to be seen. I have yet to see a rehearsal schedule or the full script. I don’t even know how long they perform for. I can’t give up all of my vacation time for a little theatre. But it can work out; I’m going to be acting in London. Not a bad thing to add to one’s resume. Happy happy. Joy. Joy.

I think I’ll go get something to eat now.

Tuesday October 8^th, 2002

Just your average Tuesday. Nothing too eventful happened. Well, something might have happened, but I can’t remember it. I think I went out to dinner again at Wagamama’s. It’s a fun place, and a great opportunity to lighten your pockets from all that nasty money weighing it down.  In the evening, we had our Bloomsbury walk. The walk had us going around several blocks of the city looking at the past homes of unforgettable writers such as this one guy, and that one lady, and so forth. The tour guide was rather funny though. Course I forgot his name too; but not because he wasn’t funny.

Wednesday October 9^th, 2002

More classes and my first midterm. I did okay, but I wish I had studied a little harder. After lunch, we attended a field trip to the Shakespeare Globe Theatre. What an experience that was. The theatre was a re-creation of the original one used 400 years ago. Though, this one has fire sprinklers, as I understand the original one didn’t – hence it burning to the ground. The first part of the field trip was a classroom lecture. While I was a little put off that we were sitting in chairs during the field trip day, the lecturer turned out to be quite entertaining. He interacted well with the audience to provide a fun filled production. When asked for a volunteer to play Romeo, my hand remained down. Sure, I enjoy acting, but I’m not great at volunteering. Well, my friends around me thought otherwise (about the volunteering, not the acting) so they volunteered me and soon thereafter, I was down in front of everybody with a page of lines in my hand. A few more ‘volunteers’ were gathered and we were then acting out a small scene from Romeo and Juliet. I played Romeo. I gave it my all and acted out the lines I was given. Course; due to the environment and circumstances, the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet was quickly turning into a comedy. By the end of our scene, much laughter had filled the room. We then accepted our applause and headed back to our seats. It was a heart pounding experience to say the least. I’m used to at least ONE rehearsal before performing a scene.

After the lecture, we entered the actual performing area of the theatre. It was a grand experience to be in there. The seats were wooden. One could almost imagine the crowds from 400 years ago, laughing and crying during the plays performed from the past.

When the Globe Theatre tour ended, a group of us found a pub to have lunch and drinks at. I then discovered the joy of being able to order a ½ pint of beer instead of a full pint. I guess I just had always assumed that the smallest glass was a pint. What a glorious day it was.

That night, we ate Italian food. Again, I doubt I’ve had much ‘English’ food yet. London is a town of foods from around the world, where the hardest thing to find is English food. That night, Heather, Randi and I visited the White Lion once again. It’s such a great place to relax and talk about life and what not.

Thursday October 10^th, 2002

What a cold day that was. Our warm summer is truly ending now. I hear it’s even becoming cold in California. I guess if I’m going to have to be cold, I may as well do it in England. I bundled up for the day. Though I hear they call it ‘wrapped up’. That makes sense too. For film class, we got to watch Hitchcock’s 39 Steps. It was an entertaining movie and made film class all the more fun to be in. Getting to watch good movies for college classes is my kind of education. At night, I packed for my Amsterdam vacation.