Stratford - The Home of Shakespeare

This past weekend, I took a class trip with the Kenyon group to Stratford, England in order to pack in all the Shakespeare that is possible to pack into one weekend.  Leaving last Thursday, we arrived in Stratford for an early dinner in order to catch the first play of the weekend, Romeo and Juliet.  Now, I have never seen Romeo and Juliet performed live, let alone performed in the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, acted by the Royal Shakespeare Company, but to my surprise, I left the show disappointed with the performance.  Juliet couldn't have been any more  annoying, and Romeo could have pumped a few extra weights at the gym, and all in all, the show just didn't work for me.
Now, maybe I went in with too high of expectations.  Although I've never seen Romeo and Juliet performed live, I have read the play and watched the Leonardo DiCaprio rendition of the film.  Having been in love with the story after reading the play and watching the movie, I was expecting this Stratford performance to blow Leo DiCaprio out of the water...which it didn't.  The romance and passion between Romeo and Juliet was lost, and rather, the actors depicted oversexed teens whose only worries were: who could take their shirt off the fastest.  And for what is supposed to be an epic love story, I was caught off guard and upset that I saw a readapted version of the play rather than Shakespeare's original.
After the show, the Kenyon Professor said that we should all celebrate St. Patrick's Day rather than head back to the hotel.  But as you know, I am not so keen to spend my free time with the entire Kenyon group.  Without a choice, I followed the group to the pub and watched our Professor drink a beer, while everyone else just sat around the table in silence.  What a celebration it was...  As I was sitting there in silence watching my Professor gulp from her pint of Guinness, I couldn't help but think of my friends who flew to Dublin in order to celebrate St. Patrick's day in Ireland.  I had never been so jealous.  But then I remembered why I was in Stratford: not to sit around a quiet table on St. Patrick's Day, but to see Shakespeare in the land of Shakespeare.
In happier spirits, I headed back to the hotel with the group, only to slide right back into my cloudy mood.  There I sat on my bed of this tiny little room.
Let me explain.  Earlier in the day when we checked into the hotel, I was given a spacious single room with a bathroom attached.  Since everyone else in the group has already spent a night in a single (*with a bathroom attached*), it was my turn to get the luxury of setting my own bedtime and alarm.  Just as I had finished unpacking, I heard knock on the door.  There of course stood my Professor saying that I had to switch rooms with her because her room was small and without a bathroom.  Unable to argue since she is my Professor and not my mom, I switched rooms with her in spite, but smiling the entire time doing it.  
Why is it that the one time it is my turn to have a single, the room is without a bathroom?  And of course, this was the one time I needed everything to be near each other due to my sprained ankle from Sensation White.  Mad about the entire situation, I decided to calm my nerves by skyping with my best friend who I had never gone more than a month without seeing ever since I met her until my year abroad.  But because she's all the way back at Kenyon, and with the time change and our busy schedules, it's hard to find time to catch up.    And lucky for me, my friend was able to sooth my angered nerves by talking about how epic senior year (next year) will be once we are living together again.
The next morning, I woke up early to a full English breakfast provided by the hotel, and then was off with my friends to visit Shakespeare's homeland.  The first place on our list: Shakespeare's birthplace.  And although it was expensive to get in and a bit corny once I was in, I was happy I paid the fare to see where "Shakespeare may have been born if he was born there".  And yes, that is a direct quote from one of the tour guides working there.  Another one of my favorites: "This would have been Shakespeare's school teacher's desk if Shakespeare went to school and if the person teaching at this desk was Shakespeare's teacher" - tour guide said while pointing at on old, wooden desk.  I wish I was kidding, but unfortunately, those are the words that were actually said in Shakespeare's house...if it were even Shakespeare's house.

The house where Shakespeare was born.

Here I am standing in the front door of what may have been Shakespeare's house.

And yes, I am sad to say that this life-size picture of Leonardo DiCaprio is hanging in Shakespeare's home.  This was the Shakespeare hall of fame and I guess Leo is included...

Some random statue outside of Shakespeare's house that I thought was Shakespeare.  Then I looked at the statue and realized that it wasn't.  I don't really know why this statue is in Shakespeare's garden, but I'm guessing that because it is, this is a pretty important man so I needed a photo-op.

And no, my day of Shakespeare was NOT over...not even close.  After seeing his birthplace and drinking a little hot chocolate, my friends and I made our way over to Shakespeare's tomb.  I wish there was a tour guide there to follow the similar tour guides in Shakespeare's birthplace.  If there were a tour guide at his tomb, I bet the guide would say something like this: "This may be Shakespeare's tomb, if indeed that were guaranteed Shakespeare's body under the ground, if Shakespeare ever really existed".  That didn't happen, but I wouldn't have been surprised if it had.  I mean, I know there is a lot of mystery about Shakespeare and his life, but if you're selling people tickets to his birthplace and his tomb, you have to be a little more convincing.  Anyway, here are some pictures taken at his tomb:

The Shakespeare thinking cap....now that I've visited such a great writer's grave, maybe now my writing skills will be received as greatness.

And just as I was leaving the church of where Shakespeare lays, I almost stepped on a piece of sidewalk with my little sister's (aka my 17 year old dog who is more of a sister to me than anything else) name on it.  Dedicated to you, Lucy!

After seeing all there was to see of Shakespeare, my friends and I decided to go for a little walk around the city and take in all the beauty that Stratford had to offer.  

Once we got to the river, we noticed that all of the paddle boats were named after all of Shakespeare's female characters.  Here we are standing in front of Beatrice, Viola, and Ursula.  

After walking around Stratford a little bit more, I couldn't help but notice all of the English telephone booths.  Ever since I got to England last September I had been wanting to take the stereotypical, touristy, London phone booth picture.  But always to embarrassed to do so in London, I decided that Stratford would be the perfect place since the sidewalks aren't so busy and thus, English natives wouldn't be disgusted by my Americanness.  So after almost a full school year long, I finally got my cheesy English phone booth picture.  

That night, we went to see Anthony and Cleopatra, one of Shakespeare's plays that I didn't really know much about, however I turned out to love.  Maybe I liked it so much because I didn't really have any expectations, but whether or not that is true, the show was filled with terrific actors that made a three hour show fly by in no time.  

The next morning we were off again to see ANOTHER Shakespeare play, The Tempest.  I have read The Tempest a few times and absolutely love it, so when I found out that we were going to a children's performance of The Tempest with puppets alongside the actors, I was not too thrilled.  But after watching the show, I was ecstatic.  The puppets were mesmerizing and the play itself enthralled me.  I guess the show said for ages seven and up, but if I were a seven year old sitting in the audience, I wouldn't have understood one single thing that was happening on stage, even with the puppets included.  At first thinking the puppets would be too childish, I soon changed my mind and absolutely loved the artistic nature that these puppets brought on stage.  And I'm not just talking a hand puppet here.  I mean, these puppets were detailed and big enough to call for two men to play its one character.  So rather than take away from the show, I thought the puppets added to the performance.  But since the play's lines were not changed at all to be "kid friendly", I strongly believe that this was not a kids show, even with the detailed work of puppets onstage.  It was a great show, and a great adult-puppet show at that.

Later in the day, my friends and I went out for a late lunch/early dinner.  Knowing that I had to stay awake for another show later that night, I decided to prescribe myself with a 'stay awake' drug.  My prescription: sugar.  For dessert, I ordered the biggest meringue I have ever seen in my entire life.  To be fair, I didn't eat it all in one sitting, but rather I took bites here and there.

The final show of the weekend that we saw later that night was King Lear.  To my surprise and to my liking, King Lear was the same cast from Anthony and Cleopatra from the night before.  Loving the cast and loving the play (I have read King Lear four times), I was ashamed of myself that I couldn't seem to keep my eyes open.  I guess from the lack of sleep and being overwhelmed with Shakespeare shows the entire weekend is what made me sleepy, but I was determined to stay awake and appreciate good theatre, so during intermission, I decided to nibble on what was left of my giant meringue.  

Minding my own business and eating my sugary treat, I was rudely interrupted.  Some man who had been sitting a few seats down came up to me and asked if I was eating a full cake by myself.  Unamused and not in the mood to make small talk, I wiped the sugar from my lips, looked him dead in the eye, and said, "yes, I am eating a full cake by myself.  Why do you ask?"  And that shut him up.  

I know that sounds a bit snappy, but all I wanted was to eat my meringue in peace.  If I saw someone stuffing a dessert in their mouth during intermission, I wouldn't question them, but rather be in awe of their mindset.  

King Lear turned out to be amazing, although it was a little depressing to watch three Shakespeare tragedies in three days.  After the show I bolted back to my tiny little hotel room and fell asleep even with all of that sugar in my system.  

The next morning I was SO happy to get back to Exeter that all I wanted to do was sit on the bus and drive straight there as our itinerary had said.  However, we got off to a late start due to who other than the one person that is late for EVERYTHING.  Planning to leave at 10:00, we didn't hit the road until 10:30 because her "alarm didn't go off".  

And that is my biggest pet peeve: having to wait on other people.  If I added up all the minutes that I have had to wait on this one person, it would be equivalent to hours upon hours...

After waiting and finally leaving back to Exeter, the plans changed and I found myself standing in the middle of nowhere Wales, so that we could take a group trip to Tintern Abbey.  

And Tintern Abbey was beautiful. I'm not saying that it wouldn't have been nice to get back sooner to Exeter, but stopping at Tintern Abbey also turned out to be a good idea.  

My Shakespeare filled weekend was a very cultural weekend filled with some of the best theatre that I have seen all year (except Romeo and Juliet).  Stratford was beautiful and I am so glad that I was able to spend a weekend there before the school year is over.  

Because I was determined to travel as much as possible while abroad, I kept the promise to myself that I would travel every weekend this semester.  So this upcoming weekend = Prague!  

I have never been to Prague before and quite frankly, I wouldn't know what to do there without the purchase of a Prague guide book.  Excited to meet back up with my friends who are studying in Florence, I know this weekend is going to be a lot of fun.  I'll keep you posted next week.

Belgium (Brussels and Hasselt) -- Sensation White

Last weekend I traveled to Brussels, Belgium, and for the first time in my European travels, I visited a city that I really did NOT like.  Last semester I went to Bruge in Belgium and loved it.  But Brussels was a whole different story and the experience that I had there made me never want to again step foot into country of Belgium...not even Bruge.
However, the one nice thing about traveling to Brussels is that that I didn't need to jet-set, rather I was able to stay on ground and take a train.  It was only an hour and a half train ride from London, and I much prefer train travel over airplanes.
Since I had already been to Belgium last semester and loved it, I didn't put Brussels very high on my list to visit for this semester.  I figure that with only a few months left abroad, I should see countries that I have never seen before, or revisit places from the far past, not visit the same countries from last semester.  But my friends and I didn't really care about visiting Brussels at all, we just had to go there for the weekend because we were interested in the world's largest concert/rave called Sensation White.  Europe offers this concert every season, and every season they pick a different European city.  This past winter it was in Copenhagen, but because I didn't have any friends interested in this type of concert and since I was able to visit Copenhagen anyway, I didn't fly in for Sensation White's winter concert.  And although my friends and I cared nothing about Brussels, I decided that since it was less than a two hour train ride and since I knew people who were flying in all the way from America for this concert, I decided to purchase a ticket and celebrate life at Sensation White.
Upon meeting up with my friend Kate and her other friends from her study abroad program in Florence, we decided to see what Brussels nightlife had to offer.  Except little did we know that our hotel was situated in the ghetto of Brussels.  As soon as we walked outside, I got an uneasy feeling, especially since every single car stopped to shout out cat-calls from their car windows.  Ewww.  There is nothing worse than a European male cat-call, as there is nothing worse than a whistler from down the street trying to grab your attention.  After living in Europe for some time, I am used to that now, but in Brussels, it was ten times worse than I have ever experienced.  I mean, what did these guys think that whistling would do?  It only made us disgusted and feel uneasy, not run over and jump into their arms.  So rather than walk to the safer parts of Brussels, we hailed a cab to get away from the cat-callers and whistlers.  And while out and about in the normal, safer/less ghetto parts of Brussels, we had fun....except for this random girl who threw up bunny ears behind my head...

Who does that?

But after being out for just a little, we decided to call it quits and rest up for the more important night that was taking place the next day because after all, that was the reason why we were even in Brussels in the first place.  After a good nights sleep, we checked out of our hotel and took a taxi to a different hotel.  This time it was outside of the ghetto and it made me feel much safer to be in a place where I didn't need to clench my purse to my side...  

At first we were just going to walk with our bags to the new place, but some guys on the street warned us that it was dangerous to walk in these neighborhoods with purses.  He then went on to say that we would all probably get mugged if we continued to walk down those streets with our bags around our shoulders.  Fearing for our lives (as well as our possessions), we called for a taxi.  And thanks to the advice, we all made it safe and sound to our new hostel.  And this hostel was a much better location.  It was inside the city center and far away from the ghetto.  I mean, the hotel that we stayed in the first night was fine and I felt safe, it was just in a pretty shady location.  And I would have even stayed there a second night, however, it was entirely booked up for Saturday because everyone was in town for Sensation White.  At first we didn't even have a hostel booked for Saturday night because the concert went from 9 pm until 7 am and it actually took place in Hasselt, about an hour train ride outside of Brussels.  The first train to Brussels didn't leave until 7:01 am that Sunday morning, so we thought 'why pay for a hotel room when we aren't even going to be there?'  But then we  remembered that we had luggage and that we would be exhausted the next morning and would want to crash on a bed, so rather than finding a hiding place for our suitcases, we splurged on a hostel room for the night.  

After checking into our new hostel, we decided to walk around the nicer parts of Brussels before getting ready to go to Sensation White in Hasselt.  And even though we were technically in the nice part of the city center, it still looked a bit disheveled, poor, and sad.  We eventually found a few cute streets in Brussels, but they were very few and far in between, unlike any other European city I've visited this year.  Everywhere I've gone in the past I've been amazed by each city's beauty, but Brussels had very little charm to offer.  Here are a few cute streets that we had to search for:

Here we are standing under the Belgian flag.

And here we are being obnoxious and taking pictures with the crowns that we bought to wear for Sensation White.  After such a fine purchase from Claire's, we put the tiara's on our heads and forgot that we were wearing them and just assumed that everyone in Brussels was rude for pointing and staring at us.  We then realized why.

I don't mean to be harsh, but even the most beautiful places in Brussels were nothing special compared to the other cities I've visited within the year so I was not upset that we had to cut our time short exploring to go get ready for Sensation White.  

Now, raves have never really been 'my scene', but I thought that since I was so close to Brussels and since my friends were going, that I would be jealous if I didn't get to experience Sensation White firsthand.  I have some non-rave type friends who attended Sensation White last semester and they thought it was amazing.  So I decided to give it a shot although the last rave type thing I went to, EDC (Electronic Daisy Carnival) in Los Angeles, was not anything I wanted to experience again.  But Sensation White seemed much cooler. The theme: "celebrate the night, dress in white", and lucky for me, I bought a white mustache shirt in Madrid in order to be allowed into the rave.  

Accompanied by my mustache shirt, I got a pair of white tennis shoes and white shorts in order to follow the rules and celebrate the night in white.  But let's just say that I didn't start this rave off on the right foot.  Now, my friends and I are not the "let's go to a rave so that we can do drugs" kind of people, and rave or no rave, you would never catch us doing that kind of thing.  Some people go to raves and do drugs to "really experience the rave".  Now, I don't get it, but I guess some people feel the need.  The reason I went to this rave other than the fact that it was a two hour train ride from London to Brussels: to dance all night.  However, that plan was quickly ruined as soon as I stepped foot in the arena.  Running into the highly talked about Sensation White concert with much excitement, I twisted my ankle on the damp floor, giving my foot its own little heartbeat.  The joke of the night: while everyone else at the concert was rolling on ecstasy, I was rolling on my ankle.  But to be honest, I would rather have it that way than the other.  

So from the very beginning of the night, my foot was in excruciating pain.  But I didn't come all that way and buy a ticket for the concert just to sit out on the dance and elevate my ankle.  So rather than sit for the entire night, I decided to put on a good face, dance it off, and deal with the throbbing in the morning.  And I did.  

Here we are getting ready for the concert in our hotel.

Waiting at the train station in Brussels to get to Hasselt.

The mustache shirt.

There were some interesting people who attended Sensation White.  Check out the background.

Thousands of people all dressed in white.

Where's Waldo?

SENSATION WHITE!

In all, I had a lot of fun.  Would I do it again?  Probably not.  Let's just say it's a one in a lifetime type of thing, but I am glad that I was able to experience it firsthand, even with a rolled ankle.  

At about 4 am, my friend Kate and I were getting tired and were ready to leave the concert.  Problem: the first train back to Brussels from Hasselt didn't go until 7:01 am.  Trying to stay awake for three more hours, we finally made it until 7 in the morning, got on our train, and slept for the hour ride back to Brussels.  And we didn't waste anytime to get to our hostel.  We hailed down a cab right away, and got straight back into bed until the 11 am checkout time.  

So with only a few hours of sleep, we were woken up by the cleaning service telling us that we had to leave our room.  Throwing all of our clothes in our suitcases, we were down in the lobby within five minutes in time to checkout without getting charged a late fee.  After some lunch and a few advil to help my ankle, we were back at the hotel in order to get a taxi to take us to the train station to head back to London.  The front desk called us a taxi, and when the taxi man got there, we jumped inside directing him to take us straight to the train station so we would have plenty of time to check in and such.  (International trains are as hectic as going to the airport.  You need to go through passport control, security, etc.)  After riding in the taxi for just one short minute, everything seemed perfectly fine and dandy...but little did we know what was to come.  

After a few minutes of driving, our taxi driver asked us if any of us spoke any french.  My friend, having took only one year of it in 9th grade, said she spoke very, very little French, but that she would try because he didn't speak much English.  But because she hasn't spoken any french in the past 6 years, she was unable to fully comprehend what he was saying and told him that she couldn't understand.  And that's when it began.  All of the sudden he started screaming obscenities for no other reason than the fact that we didn't know how to speak french.  Asking him to pull the car over very politely in English, he pressed harder on the gas pedal, scaring us half to death by speeding down the narrow streets.  Now begging and shouting for him to let us out on the street (it was a very busy street so we could just catch another cab with a sane driver), he sped down random little alleyways until he let us out in the middle of nowhere where he knew we would not be able to find another taxi.  Confused at what had just happened, I wrote down the guy's license plate number because you better believe that if someone treats me and my friends like that, I will report them to the authorities.  

After dropping us off in the middle of nowhere, throwing our bags in the middle of the street, and throwing trash at my friend, the taxi driver drove off while flipping us the bird.  More confused then ever, I stood in the street stunned at what had just happened.  Here we were, three young girls (one with trash thrown at her), in the middle of the street in the ghetto of Brussels, speaking no french, and of course, my ankle not allowing me to walk normally.  But just my luck, we had to walk a while to find a place where we could get another taxi.  Eventually, we found a hotel, had them call us a new taxi, and when I was speaking to the front desk, I reported our previous crazy taxi driver. 

Looking back, I guess I should have been able to tell that this man was not fully safe.  When getting in the taxi, I noticed that he had two black eyes, but me being the person that I am, always like to give people the benefit of the doubt.  Maybe he was the victim.  Maybe he was mugged and is a good guy.  But from now on, I am never stepping foot into a taxi if the driver has two black eyes, because after experiencing such an act, I now know that it means that the person is insane.  

But anyway, our other taxi came and picked us up and took us to the train station with no problems and no obscenities.  At that point I was just SO happy to be getting out of Belgium and back to England.  On the two hour train ride, I slept the entire time and propped my ankle up so the throbbing would cease.  

Finally getting back to Exeter, I went to the health center that Monday morning only to find out that they see people by appointment only and that their next earliest opening was for the following day.  What student health center only sees people by appointment?  Unable to get my ankle checked, I waited until the next day to have it looked at.  

Luckily for me, it is only a minor sprain and will be better within 3-4 weeks...just in time to walk around and explore Europe when my parents come to visit!  The nurse wrapped my ankle and gave me pain pills  all of which have helped my sprain tremendously.  This is a picture of it a few days ago and it has already gone down a lot since then.

I know that I am a little behind on my blog posts, but these past few weeks have been insanely busy with Sensation White, crazy taxi drivers, spanish exams, english papers, and a class field trip to Stratford (I went last weekend - that is my next blog post).  So stay tuned on my adventures and I promise to have my Stratford adventures posted by the end of this week!

    

Glastonbury and Stonehenge

This past weekend I was yet again on another adventure.  But like most of my London adventures, this too was a trip with the Kenyon group.  This time we left Friday morning on a two hour bus ride to Glastonbury for a reason that I am still unsure of.  I had never heard of Glastonbury before so due to my lack of knowledge, I have never had any eagerness to go visit.  But now that I have gone and seen it, I will put it nicely and state that my time in Glastonbury was not my cup of tea, although the other people in the Kenyon group seemed to have the time of their lives.
Now, as I already mentioned before, I am very different from the rest of the group.  What is fun in their eyes definitely differs from what I call a good time.  And that goes for the Kenyon program director as well.  Let's just say that she planned our little trip to Glastonbury for time for us to relax...and in her words, to go away for a weekend for a soul cleansing.
Other people in the group loved hearing that, but to be perfectly honest, my soul is spick and span and I do not need a weekend in hippy-ville/witch county to figure this out.  My idea of a fun weekend is traveling the cities in Europe filled with culture and history, not going to a rundown rural town with nothing to do past 5 pm.  But there I was.  In the middle of nowhere at 5 pm with nothing to do because the entire town closed down before sunset.
However, the day was not so bad as a whole.  When we arrived, we checked into our bed and breakfast (although we couldn't check in right away because the owner of the bed and breakfast was giving clients deep tissue massages and life structuring lessons...), but once we eventually put our suitcases down and got some lunch, we were off on a group hike up the Tor.  Looking up at the top of a mountain and seeing the Tor on the very top, I thought there was no way I was actually going to climb such a hill, especially since I did not dress for the occasion.  There I was in Glastonbury about to go on a hike up the Tor wearing flats, tights, a dress, and a trench coat.  I didn't even bring a scrunchy for my hair.  Unprepared for such an adventure, I thought back to the time I went on a camping trip with my AP Biology class my senior year.  For some reason I did not pack appropriately that time either.  For our camping trip senior year, I got the time and date mixed up, not realizing that we were leaving straight from school, leaving no choice but having to wear the same outfit all weekend in the woods.  My outfit: tights, dress, and boots.  But because it was a little rainy, I didn't want to wear my boots and ruin them, so I borrowed one of my classmates tennis shoes and wore mens shoes, size 11, all weekend.  So at least walking up the Tor, I was not in as bad a shape as that, although it would have been nice if I had packed a pair of tennis shoes for the hike.
But once walking up the Tor, it was not as bad as it looked, and I was actually glad I was in tights and a dress because there was nothing constricting the air flow to my skin, keeping the sweat to a minimum.

 Here I am making the pilgrimage up to the Tor.

I finally made it to the top!

Once I made it to the top of the mountain, the view was worth the climb.  It was beautiful to see all of the green from above.  

And there is the first group picture of the Kenyon-Exeter students and Professor all together.

So I have to admit, the Tor was pretty awesome.  But after the Tor, we were on our own to do as we wanted, except that there was absolutely nothing to do.  The shops closed at 5 pm, and we didn't get back from the Tor until 4:45, so after walking around the entire town of Glastonbury within 10 minutes, we decided to eat a VERY early dinner, and at that, eat very slowly in order to take up as much time as possible.  

By 8:30 pm, we were done with dinner and dessert and had no other choice but to head back to our bed and breakfast.  When we got back, my friend and I had been changed to a different room, and to my surprise, it was somewhat of an upgrade.  Not only was the room beautiful, but the bathroom was to die for.  I haven't bathed in a normal size shower since winter break when I was home, so I was ecstatic to see that our upgraded room had a shower where I could actual put my arm out in front of me without hitting the sliding door.  Take a look:

So after the warmest, longest shower that I have taken in over two months, it was still pretty early in the night.  But realizing that I haven't been getting very much sleep at all since I've been back this semester due to traveling somewhere new every weekend, I decided that going to bed at 10:30 would be considered a luxury for the night, rather than being frowned upon as being boring.  But at my age, I can run on very little sleep without it being much of a problem.  That's why 10:30 pm to me seems boring.  Because one day I know that 10:30 is going to seem late, and when I come to that point in my life, I want to look back on my glory days and remember all the fun I was having at what is soon to be my future bedtime.  But I guess I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

So after a very good night's sleep, we woke up early on account that our bed and breakfast was serving food at 8:30 am.  Mad that I couldn't sleep in longer since there was really nothing to do anyway, I was delighted by the breakfast because not only was the owner of the bed and breakfast a great cook, but also because she had the most incredible jam to spread on toast.  Now, what could be better than Loganberry jam?  If you ask me, it has the best name and the best flavor.  Loganberry is really sweet, but also has a zip at the end, very much like all Logan's of the world are.  I ended up asking the owner of the bed and breakfast where she bought the Loganberry jam, and after learning that Loganberry is very rare and expensive, I wasn't surprised at all that it was homemade; as Loganberry should be.  Loganberry is truly one of a kind.

After breakfast, I headed over to the Abbey, an old church left of ruins, but with its chapel in touch and still up and running.  And the Abbey was beautiful.  Beautiful architecture, ponds, and of course, the Abbey holds the burial tomb of King Arthur.

So the Abbey turned out to be pretty amazing and although I still had hours to kill in Glastonbury before we headed to our hotel near Stonehenge, I was grateful that I had enough time to visit the ruins of the old church.  And with a close family friend recently passing away, I was overjoyed that I was able to light a candle and say a prayer for her in the Abbey's chapel since I was unable to fly back to Los Angeles for the memorial service.  After the Abbey, I decided to not just look at the little stores around town, but to actually enter and see what each place had to offer.  And to be perfectly honest, I wish I hadn't.  But again, I think I was the only one in the group that felt out of place; and the phrase 'out of place' is putting it lightly.  

The first store we went into was a wizardry store.  But not the joke, fun kind of store that mimics the items from Harry Potter, but rather, this store took itself seriously.  Caldrons, wands, broomsticks, wizard hats.  Anything having to do with wizards, they had it, and anything that seemed the least bit creepy, they had it.  One of the stores that we stepped into had a full-fingered ring that actually bent with your finger, and nonetheless, had a very pointy tip at the end that extended from the finger.  I thought it was weird while others thought it was "so cool".  Also, it freaked me out that the store owner said that if you wear that ring, you can draw blood with the tip of it.  That right there was a deal breaker for me, but others didn't get it not because it was so very creepy, but because it was either too big for their little finger, or because it was too expensive.  But no matter the price, I would NEVER have even thought of purchasing such a scary finger, even if the storeowner was giving it to me for free.  

After some more hippy stores and wicken shops, I finally came to what I thought to be a normal boutique, although the rest of the group left that store early to head to another witchcraft place.  However, I was able to find some cute stuff.  Finally, it was time to leave the 'soul healing' city of Glastonbury and head to our hotel near Stonehenge because the next morning, we were waking up before sunrise to see the sight.  Everyone else on the bus ride to Stonehenge was very zen, while I was jamming to the tunes of my ipod.  Coincidentally, when the song, Strawberry Fields Forever, by the Beatles, came up on my ipod, my Professor asked who in the group would like to stay in the Beatles suite when we get to our new hotel.  Now, I love the Beatles and if you didn't know this before, you now know that my middle name, Michelle, is named after one of the Beatles songs: Michelle, My Bell.  And when my Professor said Beatles suite, she didn't mean that the hotel just named one of their suites after the Beatles, but rather that the Beatles actually stayed in that suite on May 2nd, 1965 when they were filming HELP.  So as soon as my Professor asked the question, my arm shot up in the air faster than the speed that my dad drives on the freeway; sorry dad, but it's true...

Because my hand shot up so quickly, I snagged the Beatles suite for the night and not only was excited to be able to sleep there, but also to brag to my dad, my mom, and their entire generation of friends who grew up with the Beatles.  Check out the suite, it was pretty sweet!

The bathroom was the coolest part.  The walls were a giant collage of different newspaper headlines and pictures of the Beatles.  It was quite and art decoration.

But my claim to fame in staying in the suite is definitely the fact that I showered in the same shower that the Beatles showered in (unless they are like some people I know and do not shower on a daily basis...)  But still, it's pretty cool to be able to say that I have been naked in the same place that the Beatles were naked in.  If only it were May of 1965...but that would be a whole different blog post...one that I probably wouldn't want to make public.  

After a three course meal (but not a very good one to say the least), I was exhausted and ready for bed, especially knowing that I had to be up and alert at 5 am to go visit Stonehenge in order to watch the sunrise over the formation.  

However, sleeping in the Beatles suite was not so sweet.  The bed was awful and because I was sharing the bed with a night kicker, I decided to just take the extra blanket from off the bed and sleep on the floor instead.  Although the carpet was not much more comfortable from the springy mattress, I was happy to have my own space and not have to share my sleeping area with another.  Not many hours passed before my alarm was ringing at 5 in the morning.  Usually it is Logan number two who awakens at an hour as early as this, however, since I was getting up to see a magnificent sight such as Stonehenge, I was in a good and happy mood, not even feeling the least bit tired off of only a few hours of sleep.  

With our hotel only being a mile away from Stonehenge, we were there in literally five minutes.  Driving up to Stonehenge, I was a little disappointed because from the road it looked as if the stones themselves were the size of people, making this formation not a true alien story.  But somehow we were able to go into the center of the Stonehenge and stand inches away from the formation, allowing me to see the sight up close and once again, believing in the aliens.  From far away, the rocks look little, but standing next to the stones, they are giant.  

It was truly an amazing thing to be able to stand so close to such an infamous cite known all around the world.  And not only was I standing in Stonehenge, but I was there to watch the sunrise over the stones, adding to the brilliance and beauty of such a historic figure.  

Stonehenge pre sunrise.

Stonehenge post sunrise.

But because we were there so early in the morning, it was freezing!  We got there a little before 6 am and stayed until about 7:30 am.  Even with gloves and a hat, I stole a bit of sleeping bag to try and warm myself up.

And we were able to get our second group picture in!  

So although the weekend started off a little slow and strange in Glastonbury, I can't complain about a trip to the Tor, the Abbey, and of course, the famous Stonehenge.  Although this weekend was much slower and calmer than what I'm used to, it was nice to go to bed early (I say this as it is 2:21 am in the morning for me right now), and not really have to be stressed about anything (except for the fact that I have a Spanish exam that I should have been studying for).  Although I didn't have any inclination to visit Glastonbury and will probably never go back to that town again, I am glad that I was able to experience a town of true wickens (people who actually think they are witches), because it made me feel a whole lot more normal about myself.  

I can't believe that the first week in March has already passed, and it actually makes me quite sad to think that very soon, this will all be coming to an end.  But because I practice what I preach, I am not even thinking about the end, but rather I am living in the moment.  And although this moment I am a bit stressed (I have a Spanish exam and an English presentation this week), I am also so excited because this upcoming weekend I am going to be traveling to Brussels, Belgium.  I went to Belgium last semester, but I stayed in Bruge without ever making it to Brussels.  Although I planned this trip to Belgium not necessarily to visit Brussels, I am overjoyed to think that Thursday I will get on a a two hour train ride to another country.  So the real reason I am going to Brussels is for this European rave thing called Sensation White.  Senation White's motto: Celebrate the Night, Dress in White.  It's catchy, simple, and to be completely honest, I like it.  I have my white outfit and white tennis shoes and although I will be very tired next week when I get back, expect a blog post.  Sensation White starts at 9 at night and goes until 9 in the morning.  We'll see how long I make it, but it should be fair game seeing that when I was in Madrid I stayed out until 9 am....

Glastonbury = weird, boring, but also quaint and relaxing. 

Stonehenge = a must see for all!

Sensation White = I'll give you the details next week and until then, wish me luck on my schoolwork!