12 Pennies to a Pound

Today in lecture I gave up. I just had to know how much a shilling was in comparison to a pound. When we did our group discussions I decided to ask my classmates, one of whom is an older woman who is pushing 65. The look on her face was one of those 'How can you not know? Are you an idiot?' look and quite frankly, I didn't appreciate it. She arrogantly told me that there are 12 pennies to a pound, straightened her posture, stuck her nose up in the air, and told me that there are 20 shillings to a pound. The other students didn't seem annoyed by my question, but she clearly did. I swear I've got an American accent, so wouldn't it be obviously that an American would question something like this? Obviously I wasn't educated in England if I sound like an American and am questioning this. I can assure you that during my schooling before university the word 'shilling' was never uttered in the classroom (although it has been mentioned on the History Channel, a channel I frequently watch when I've got the time). Maybe she felt superior because she knew the answer? Well, sweetheart, I grew up in Ohio where most kids haven't even heard of Wales and think the Pilgrims crossed the Pacific so don't get your knickers in a twist.

Somebody Failed Geography

Today I went to the aquarium here in London because it's one of those things you just can't do in Cleveland. As I looked around at all the fish I noticed that somebody had made quite an error with one of the maps:

Can you spot what's wrong with this picture?

Cymru: Cenedl heb iaith yw cenedl heb galon.

To spend my Saturday I decided to journey to Cardiff, the capital of Wales. Why on earth would I do such a thing like that? Well, I hadn't been there in nearly eight years and I fancied seeing it again. I took a train from London Paddington to Cardiff Central and from there walked to Cardiff Castle. At first, I was a bit distorted because the Welsh seem to find street signs rather unnecessary-perhaps this was a budget cut. I quickly found my way to the castle thanks to the small sign that had a drawing of a castle on it.

Above is a photo of Gorthwr Normanaidd and below is the Tŵr y Cloc:

Once I found the castle I went into the information centre to purchase my ticket. I have heard Welsh accents before as I have been to Wales, but the man at the till had an accent that was too thick for me to understand and spoke rather softly. I guess I looked like a confused foreigner when the man at the ticket counter asked if I wanted a tour or not (I'm assuming that's what he said) and so he booked me a tour. I thought the tour was mandatory, but I guess not. Anyway, I had an hour to kill before my tour and so I wandered around a bit. I had found complementary audio guides and decided to take advantage of this. The man had a thick Welsh accent, but it was very clear for me to understand. How was it easy? I have no clue, but I managed just nicely. When he asked me if I wanted English as my language of choice for the audio guide I told him I would. He questioned me and informed that other languages were available. I smiled and said that English would be fine. Perhaps this man also thought I was French like the waiter I had at Pizza Express the night before in Surrey. I took the audio guide and began with the Twnneli Rhyfel. Whilst wandering around the Twneneli Rhyfel, the audio guide malfunctioned and so I returned it just in time for my guided tour. What I discovered was Cleveland, Ohio plays a role in the castle's Victorian apartments. The man who painted the banqueting hall is actually from Cleveland. When I had walked into the banqueting hall I was mesmerised by its beauty and impressed by cakes and decorations that were awaiting the wedding reception that was soon to take place. 

As the tour guide was talking about the American who had painted this magnificent hall, I went over to have a look at the wedding cakes. If my parents are reading this, I would like cakes like these for my birthday:

I was very tempted to try the cakes, but I didn't want to ruin them. I have seen my fair share of wedding shows and I can assert that the brides are more like 'Bridezillas' than peaceful, happy women who are going to marry Prince Charming. I didn't want to spoil their day just because I fancied something sweet.

Below is part of the banquet hall where they were storing the cakes:

 Below is more of the banqueting hall:

Cardiff Castle has been by far one of the most unique places I have ever visited. The Victorian apartments have a fairytale-like theme to them and is almost something you would see at Walt Disney World. One of my favourite rooms was the Arab Room because of its unique design.

It's rather hard to tell in this photo, but the windows have crystal balls that will reflect the light from the sun to make the room appear this way to impress visitors and to show off the magnificence of the room. The sun was not shining when I visited, but happily there is electricity in the room and lights were able to show off the gold leaf that has been painted on the wood of this ceiling. 

After my tour I went to explore the National Museum of Wales and to the Cardiff Market. In the Museum I saw a bust that looked a lot like my former Cleveland Youth Wind Symphony director, Dr Ciepluch.

As much as I would like to say it is Dr Ciepluch, it's actually a bust of Thomas Johnes of Hafod who planted nearly five million trees in Britain and was devoted to improving local agriculture. After the visit to the Museum I went to the Cardiff Market.

It's a bit like Cleveland's West Side Market, but better and not quite as big. My main goal was to find a Welsh flag and something to take on the train home for dinner. I did find my flag and for dinner I had two cornish pasties, dried mango slices, and coconut Welsh cakes. The cornish pasties were phenomenal and I hope I will be able to find more in London that are just as good, if not better. Below is a photo of one of the cornish pasties I had. Just a side note: it's easier to not eat them with cutlery. 

I wish I had more time to explore Wales and try more of the foods the country has to offer. Hopefully in the future I will be able to do just that. 

Cymru Am Byth!

Blackbirds in a Pie

This evening I headed back to Hampton Court Palace for a ghost tour that was well worth the journey and the price. The evening began with the small group of us gathering at the information centre, which had a large, colourful dragon hanging from the ceiling. By the looks of it, it wasn't from the Tudor Dynasty.

We began the tour at the main gate, which opened on its own. The way it opened suggested that it was not opened by one person, as we could've seen them open the massive doors that lead into the palace. The guide took us into Anne Boleyn's former apartments where we saw her secret prayer room that has been notorious for visitors to catch a glimpse of her. None of us saw her, and so we moved on. We were taken in the back where it is off limits to visitors. There, we saw Cardinal Wolsey's apartments that eventually became Anne Boleyn's and finally Jane Seymour's. It had been explained to us that the fire doors that lead to an exhibit occasionally open and unexplained images are caught on CCTV. Below is a photo of the ghost caught on CCTV:

The image is quite chilling and looks like death, if you ask me. Whilst our guide was telling us this story, her colleague thought it would be funny to open the doors and scare us. The woman who was next to me is now legally deaf thanks to me. From there, we proceeded into a corridor that would lead us into the infamous 'Haunted Gallery.' For those who love a thrill and are frequent guests to Cedar Point, this experience was far more thrilling than the Top Thrill Dragster. I went in alone, I think, and it was so horrifying that I swear I could've fainted had I not been walking quickly enough. The heating was on as I walked through it in the dark, and even though the sound of the heater was faint, it was enough to make the hair on my arm stand tall. There were candles that were faintly lit which cast shadows on the walls and one of them looked a bit like Catherine Howard, but that could've been my mind playing tricks on me. Either way, it was an experience I shall never forget. From there the group met in the Great Hall. During the day this magnificent room is my favourite; however, at night it is almost as scary as the Haunted Gallery. Photography was not permitted on this tour, so unfortunately, I have no photos of the inside of Hampton Court Palace at night. The tour was in the dark with dim lighting so it would've been hard to see anything anyway. This has been one of the most memorable things I have ever done and I hope to do it again in the future, but preferably with the living rather than the dead.

Leaving Hampton Court Palace was a bit saddening for me because I have no clue when I'll be back. I hope to visit it at least five more times in my lifetime.

Thank you for reading my blog, Liz F and Forrest!

Where the Streets Have No Name

Yesterday I visited The British Museum. It was a pain to find, but well worth it. You would think they'd have signs all around Camden pointing you in the right direction: wrong.  I had written down the directions from the tube station, but that was no good as nothing was clearly marked. Nothing matched what I had written down and frankly, the Museum's website was off. Happily, I've got Google Maps on my phone and that helped immensely. Once at the Museum, I stumbled into the 'Life and Death' room. I wondered how didgeridoos could possibly relate to life and death, but then I got a closer look:

Though they may look like didgeridoos, they're actually coffins. Years after an Aborigine has died, their bones are cleaned and painted with red ochre. Once painted, the bones are then broken apart and placed into these coffins. 

The main reason I came to The British Museum was to see the Rosetta Stone. I couldn't get very close to it because a group of schoolchildren were huddle around it. When other visitors asked them to step away, they played the, 'I don't speak English' card. At least I can now say that I have seen the Rosetta Stone!

Below is the Great Court at The British Museum. It's merely a meeting point for groups and a place to buy snacks, gifts, postage stamps, and use the toilets. I was mostly fascinated by the ceiling. 

After my visit to The British Museum it was nearly dinner time and so I decided to find Chipotle. I had heard rumours of London having a Chipotle and I just had to find it. I googled it and found that it wasn't too far from the Museum. I felt farther than it actually was, but it well was worth the walk.

As someone who frequently dines at Chipotle in America, I can say that each Chipotle has a different taste to their burritos and this one has been by far the best. Perhaps it's a regional thing, but this has been the only one I have come across that has a brown rice option. I decided to try it and it was brilliant! Hopefully the Ohio branches (or all American ones, for that matter) catch on. 

The Land of the Free

Living in an American dorm is just like living in a prison. I thought about it and realised just how similar the two are. You have an RA, which is like a warden. The RA, like a warden, tells you what you can and cannot do and is overall the supervisor of the dorm (or prison). There are visitation hours and unless you're the same gender as your guest, those hours are limited. There are quiet hours when you can't blare your favourite music or even have your TV up too loud. Since I have only attended one American university, I can't really speak for others, though I have heard through friends that they are all similar in that aspect. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy living on campus in the dorms, but having experienced Roehampton's dorms, I'm beginning to feel differently.

Here at Roehampton you have a 'flat rep' which is like an RA, but friendly and willing to get to know you. Some of my best friends back at Otterbein are RAs and I know that they are brilliant with their residents, but for some reason mine haven't. Out of all my RAs, none of them have tried to get to know me; however, my flat rep has. She's a really lovely person and has been very approachable. While Otterbein's dorms are nicer than some hotel rooms, there is a bit more structure. The custodians are always hard at work ensuring that the students have a clean place to live. Here, they're here for an hour or so and leave. One even asked me to take out the trash for her (?).  They do a fine job, don't get me wrong, but Otterbein's are cleaning at least nine hours a day. Perhaps American students are slobs and British ones aren't? Maybe so-I haven't really noticed. Roehampton gives its students far more freedom than Otterbein ever would dare consider. This is good and bad. Otterbein knows that if the students have too much freedom it will be like Woodstock. I remember seeing freshmen during New Student Weekend (NSW) thinking that they were really something special and that now that they weren't at home, they could do whatever they wanted. I live with freshmen at Roehampton and they're really mature (I think) for their age. They know how to cook for themselves and do their own laundry. I'll admit that I am a terrible cook and I try avoiding it at all costs, so I opt for anything that can be microwaved or dine out. I miss Otterbein's meal plan and honestly, the food in the CC isn't bad. When I came to Otterbein I didn't know how to do my own laundry and my dad had to drive down from Cleveland and show me (as well as give me quarters). It was very easy and I actually enjoy doing laundry.

The one thing I really like about Otterbein's dorms are quiet hours. When I came to Roehampton I didn't understand how they could get away with playing their music past 10 PM. When the clock strikes 10 at Otterbein and there is music playing, those RAs are knocking on doors and demanding it be turned down. Once I almost got a 'noise violation' because my roommate and I were laughing too loud at 10:30 at night. My flatmates play music a lot and I don't mind it because most of it is stuff I already have in my iTunes library or it's a genre I like. There is one thing that I abhor about these dorms, however.

Roehampton has a no smoking policy in all of its facilities. Sounds fair, right? I think so, but some students don't fancy it. I won't name the nationality of the students who have issues with this, but they're neither British nor American. I'm next to the kitchen, which seems to be the gathering place for these non-Anglophone students. Walking down the corridor at any hour of the day you'll feel a chill and the faint smell of cigarettes. Open the kitchen door and you'll see girls with their bodies hanging out the window, smoking a cigarette, and acting like it's no big deal. When the fire alarms are set off because of them, it's a bit irritating. One girl in my flat has mentioned to them to stop it, but they don't seem to care. Otterbein's smoke alarms would be going off before they could get their cigarette lit. I won't miss these students, but I will miss the British ones in my flat.

Maybe it is good that Otterbein dorms are a bit like prisons. At least your clothes won't smell like cigarettes, nor will you get a chill walking down the corridor because someone decided to smoke in the kitchen.

The Heart of it All

There have been recently some misconceptions about the geographical location of Ohio and how exactly to pronounce 'Ohio'. Firstly, Ohio is not the same as Idaho nor is it Iowa. Secondly, Ohio is not next Iowa, nor is it near New Jersey. Thirdly, Ohio is sometimes referred to as a Midwestern State as well as part of the East Coast, not the Middle East (Perhaps the eastern bit of the Midwest or the central bit of the East Coast? Take your pick). And finally, Ohio is nowhere near California or Disney World. (Disneyland is in California, by the way, not Disney World). Below is a map of the United States where Ohio is marked in red:

Ohio's major cities include Cincinnati, Cleveland, and Columbus, not Boston and Chicago. When asked from where I was, I was asked 'How far is that from New Jersey?' Great, now Jersey Shore has made it to Europe. One of my favourite questions I have been asked has been how many guns I own. To be honest, I have none and no, I have never witnessed someone being shot nor have I seen someone who has just been shot. If you'd like to see that, I suggest you visit Metro Health's trauma centre in Cleveland. 

When I had mentioned I was from Ohio, one person pointed out that Ohio has lots of cows. I agreed with the statement and asked if they had been to Ohio. They said no and that they were just aware of the stereotypes. I knew that being from Ohio ultimately labelled me as a 'country bumpkin' (I grew up in a Cleveland suburb where we couldn't have chickens, let alone rabbits) but I didn't want myself to carry that label and so I have tried to move myself away from that culture to avoid the stereotypes. And no, I do not own any cows as pets nor do I know anyone who has any cows. 

I know the feeling all too well.