Extremely long post mostly about food

Okayyyyyy I have been slacking so there is much to tell.

Let's start with last weekend. 

After I wrote my last blog entry I realized I left out the MOST IMPORTANT PART of my day! Namely: that I got to pet a lemur. I know, it's shocking that I could forget something so important. Let me explain: Wycliff Hall, the theology college SCIO is associated with, was having a party Saturday night, so all SCIO students were invited. I had been told by a Wycliff student that there would be free Domino's pizza (I was sold.) along with live music and some “special guests.” But he wouldn't say anything more about the special guest, probably because he could not express just how special it was, as it was a lemur. They seriously hired an animal trainer to come with a lemur so you could pet it/take pictures of it. It makes me wonder if this is the cool thing to do in England. In any case, I plan to do the same thing for the next big party I throw, which will probably be my wedding reception. 

I know this looks suspiciously like a cat in the darkness, but I swear, it's a lemur:

Okay, moving on. MY BIRTHDAY!!!!! It was a splendid day. The fact that the sun was shining was enough to make me extremely happy. A group of us took advantage of the sun and went to University Church Tower, where you can climb up this tiny little staircase to take pictures. And this was a good choice because guess what? Oxford is BEAUTIFUL:

My library from above:

 High Street!

Check out the purty colors:

 The gang's all here:

We embraced our status as American tourists that day. 

Actual quote from British person walking by: "I don't get it."

After that we went to G&D's, a famous ice cream chain in England that I hadn't been to yet. Kathryn and I split the brownie sundae and I was full for approximately three hours after that. You will understand when you see the below picture. I would have thought my intense lifelong large-portion-size food training as an American would be able to get me through, but these English have some tricks up their sleeve. 

This brownie sundae is not messin' around:

We ended the day by watching Indiana Jones, so it was obviously wonderful.

Monday, as you may have heard, was VALENTINE'S DAY. I honestly don't think I've ever eaten that much chocolate in one day. I had planned to be taken to dinner by several British boys, but when that fell through, I went to a girl from my Bible study's flat with some SCIO girls, and we made heart-shaped pizzas and ate chocolate. Then I went to choir practice and they had biscuits. Then I came back home and there were was lots of chocolate cake. I'm going to go with the theory that all the extra walking I'm doing burns calories, and thus I deserve said cake. 

For the many readers who are concerned about my English love life, I should let you know that I have figured out why I have not yet snagged a British chap! I was walking through the parks and it hit me! I have clearly not been walking my dalmatian in the park to get tangled up with some guy's dalmatian, leading to us falling in love and living in the wealth of his blossoming music career. But there is an easy way to fix this:

Step 1: Buy dalmatian

Step 2: Run into bloke with dalmatian, be initially annoyed, fall in love, etc. etc.

Step 3: Take care of 100 dogs.

This seems like a good plan to me.

But anyway, Valentines day was pretty brilliant (Translation: good). What could be the perfect end to this perfect day? One word: loot. I got three packages, baby.

I was joyous. 

My Spoils:

• Beautiful tye-dye shirt, props to Bethany and Jasmine
• An insane amount of chocolate
• A beautiful poem by one Hannah N. Merrifield. It touched my soul.
• Book, “The Pirates! In an Adventure with Communists.” Thank you, Megan Simon. You can tell this is going to be a classic.
• And from my mother, another book, “Junie B. Jones and the Mushy Gushy Valentine.” She is clearly aware of the high intellectual standards I have for reading. These two books will definitely contribute to my academic endeavors/success. (If you haven't read Junie B. Jones, you're kind of behind the times/living a deprived life. Seriously.)
• Wonderful letters from Trinity folk
• AMERICAN PEANUT BUTTER!!!!!!
  
  You are all extremely lucky that I received this because I was going to start using this blog exclusively as a desperate plea for American peanut butter. I may have even gone on strike (I know, scary, right?) until receiving said peanut butter. Who knows? I was desperate. I have been craving it insanely lately, and I reaaallly don't like the stuff here. It tastes like, you know, peanuts, instead of processed sugar. What is that all about? Who do these crazy Brits think they are? And as long as I'm ranting against the food industry of England, I would like to voice my opinion that England should return the high-fructose corn-syrup to my Coke. Also they should sell tasty generic spaghetti-os. Thank you.
  
  Anyway, I don't really know what brought on this intense craving for good butter. I mean, I like peanut butter, but I don't eat spoonfuls of it like Hannah does. I think I wasn't helped by the whole “always wanting what you can't have” thing. Because I kept looking. And they don't do any sort of chocolate-peanut butter combination either. Like, on Valentines Day, I spend about ten minutes staring at the candy row trying to find peanut butter chocolate. It doesn't exist. So basically I looked like a forlorn single girl too distressed by her singleness to actually make a decision as to what to stuff her face with. And when we went to G&D's I was looking for chocolate-peanut butter ice cream. No go. In case you were wondering, there is not Peanut Butter Captain Crunch equivalent here either. It was clearly a hopeless situation. But my strike has been happily prevented by the loving actions of my beloved Trinity friends, and for that I am (as you also should be) extremely grateful.
  
  This is now really long but I have to tell about my day TODAY! Today was very exciting for a number of reasons: 1) I went to a palace and 2) I had my first English tea time! Oh yeah. With scones and jam and clotted cream and everything. Even tea. Yes, everyone, I, Lisa Speckhard, hater of tea, drank my first full cup. Now that I'm 20, I seem to be much more mature. In reality, it probably had a higher percentage of milk and sugar than actual tea, but I'm taking baby steps. The whole thing was pretty great, as we all had the “cream tea” and got real teapots and sugar cubes and acted very dignified. I felt so classy. Probably no one could even tell we were American. 
  
  
  Tell me that's not classy.

 Please note that the tea cup is almost empty. 

Look at me, all refined and English and 20 years old:

Also the whole "palace" thing was great and beautiful:

Gate that must remain closed as part of the intense security system that forgot the actual fence.

Winston Churchill's grave:

Also the signs: 

This seems like a violent way to put it...

England + Big Brother = BFFs

Please don't "cause nuisance."

As a final note, I really have to find a way to appease the Clumsy gods. I tripped over the sidewalk today and took a flying leap that looked extremely dramatic and was dangerously close to me falling on my face. And now I'm not only tripping over myself, but my clumsiness has extended to me dropping food on the floor pretty much everyday. This is sad because A) that whole butter-side-down thing is true, and B) I have to pay for my own food. This has got to stop. I'm open to take any suggestions.

One Month Anniversary Edition

Today I have been in Oxford for a MONTH. My life is flashing before my eyes.

Today was also an excellent day. It helps a lot when you start the day off right, say, by having cookies for breakfast. Not just any cookies, but Ben's Cookies from the covered market. 

Jake creepily showing us his Ben's cookie: 

The covered market itself:

 Check out these sweet cakes!:

After that we went to the Bodleian to see an exhibit on Mary and Percy Shelley. We got to see original manuscripts for Frankenstein: SO COOL. Also lots of personal letters about their extremely messed up lives.

Newsflash: I am American.

It turns out this is fairly obvious, for a number of reasons. I tell you these things so that you, if you ever find yourself in this country, will not look like the American noob I am.

TOP EIGHT DEAD GIVEAWAYS THAT I AM AMERICAN

1. My walking pace. In America, people are always telling me to slow down. Here, not so much. The other day I was walking down Cornmarket Street, and noticed someone was keeping my pace to my right for a good while. I looked, and I swear, it was a woman who was AT LEAST 70.
2. The fact that I wear pants, AKA “trousers.” No seriously. British women apparently do not wear pants. It is like leggings, jeggings, or tights with skirts or shorts. I don't understand. It's not THAT warm here.
3. The fact that when someone is approaching me head-on, I dart to the right. They dart to their left. Which means an extended awkward little jab-step dance ensues. Probably about the time I train myself to go to the left will be when I return to America, and I will have to go through this whole thing again.
4. My huge outlet adapter. See, I like the library. Since you're not supposed to talk, I can pretend that I'm English. But then my computer starts to die, and I have to pull out my big ole honkin' adaptor. And no one likes me anymore.
5. My large clunking boots and big winter jacket. Definitely should have brought my peacoat. And the weird little boot shoes I don't have.
6. Occasionally, I have to talk.
7. The fact that I hate tea. This is kind of a sin here; we try not to talk about it.
8. The fact that I keep tripping over cobblestones. I think ever since I wrote the spiteful blog entry about the Ashmolean making me put my backpack on my front to protect their precious artifacts from bumbling Americans, the Clumsy gods have been smiting me. I have seriously tripped over their dumb non-paved sidewalks about 6 times in the last 3 days. And in perhaps the greatest show of my American smooth-ness, let me tell you a little story. It's called “one of my roommates alarms was going off really early in the morning, and she wasn't waking up.” So, I figured, hey, I'll just turn it off. I had done this before with no disastrous results. However, when trying to find her alarm clock in the dark, I may have possibly knocked her entire bookshelf off the desk. I mean, it's possible. 
   Sidenote: I told my tutor about the backpack thing, and he told me a few years ago at an English Museum, an American (of course) who was rather large (of course) came in with backpack and camera case swinging, and somehow managed to fall down a flight of stairs and into two priceless vases. He told me it was probably a youtube video, but tragically, I couldn't find it.

The one British thing I have down? My hair. It is large and ridiculous and goes crazy in the rain/dampness just like all the other English girls who don't wear pants.

WHY BRITISH PEOPLE HATE AMERICA:

They do it wrong! We discovered “American” hotdogs... in a can!

Lies and deceit. We do NOT do hotdogs like this!

We also found some in jars. Ga-ross.

MY BRITISH QUEST

I was having “coffee” (aka hot chocolate) this week with people from the Bible study I go to in this cute little coffee shop called “The Nosebag.” (Don't ask, I don't know either.) Anyway, they told me there is a coffee shop of Queens that sells Nutella hot chocolate. I am so there its insane.

BEST MOMENT OF MY ENTIRE BRITISH LIFE

Nicole, “other” Jake (sometimes affectionately known as “Non-bearded Jake”), and I were walking to choir Monday night when we passed a group of British hooligans on the sidewalk. We honestly heard a girl say (must be read in a British accent): “Do you know any good yo mama jokes?”

I actually took some pictures this week. Observe: 

My house! SCIO students live on the right side:

Beautiful High Street, the one time it was sunny:

Broad Street:

All the cool kids ride bikes.

Tomorrow, of course, is the SUPERBOWL, that I get to watch in a pub. My biggest worry: they will replace the American commercials with extremely weird British ones like they did for the championship game. But in any case, the Packers are playing, and I actually get to watch it, so I really can't complain. I'll let you know how the whole watching-till-3-in-the-morning thing works out.

Only the best theatrical experience of my life...

The other day, I was reading my Dietrich Bonhoeffer, you know, Saturday morning routine, when I hear that two girls from the SCIO program were going to London to catch the matinee of Phantom: Love Never Dies. This is the “sequel” to the Phantom of the Opera, but in case you are not familiar with this thematic masterpiece, here is the actual summary from the website:

“From the Gothic surrounds of the Paris Opera House to the dazzling heights of New York’s Coney Island – the Phantom returns. Andrew Lloyd Webber’s spectacular new musical reunites the masked Phantom with his only true love and musical protégée, the stunning beauty Christine Daaé. Love Never Dies is a roller-coaster ride of intrigue, obsession and romance – where little is as it first appears.

With Madame Giry’s help the Phantom escaped the Paris mobs to build a glittering new empire in the new world. For ten long years the Phantom has hidden himself amongst the freaks and sideshows nursing his broken heart and yearning for his true love to return. And now…

Blinded by money and the bright lights of Coney – Christine, with Raoul and their son Gustave, is lured to America to perform one final time. But Christine soon discovers the true identity of the mysterious impresario who has tempted her across the Atlantic. As old wounds are reopened and forgotten memories unlocked – The Phantom sets out to prove that, indeed, Love Never Dies.” 
 

My initial reaction: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

So clearly, I had to see it. I mean, obviously. One does not get chances like this every day. Also I saw the real Phantom when I went to London two summers ago, so I had to complete the set. Also, you have to go to London to see a show. This is known as "culture," and it is good for you. And it was clearly good, as renowned theater critic Random British Guy Walking Out Of The Theater At The Same Time As Me gave a rave review, stating, and I quote “That was probably the best theater I've ever seen. Brilliant.” Which leads me to question whether he has seen any OTHER theater, because only seeing this musical is the only way I can think of making his statement technically true.

After watching said musical, I got the feeling that this was the type of musical Andrew Lloyd Weber whipped out in an afternoon, or maybe when he was drunk, because that would explain why he seems to have completely forgotten the how all his characters normally behave. But I do not regret going for one moment. 

To build your excitement: 

Warning: The following section contains SPOILERS.  NO SERIOUSLY, I'M GOING TO GIVE EVERYTHING AWAY ABOUT THIS MUSICAL BECAUSE THE WORLD DESERVES TO KNOW.

We open ten years later on the Phantom, of course, singing about his constant love for Christine to his creepy life-size Christine doll, wanting to hear her sing one more time blah blah blah. Pretty standard Phantom stuff, right? Right.

Then we go to Coney Island and rejoin Madame Giry, Meg, and the gang with a new show where Meg is apparently the star. P.S. Madame Giry is no longer French. Then, as stated in the above teaser, in come Raoul, Christine, and their little son Gustav. But what would even lead them to America? Well, times are not so good in this little household, namely because this is not your grandmothers' Raoul. This Raoul drinks and gambles away all their money, and kicks his child's toys. You got the feeling that if there were any puppies on stage, Raoul would have kicked those too. The Phantom, meanwhile, seemed to have undergone some extensive psychoanalytic therapy, especially relating to his people skills. It's pretty easy to tell who we're supposed to be rooting for now. (Hint: Not Raoul)

And then, surprise! We find out it was (DUN DUN DUN) the Phantom who engaged her to sing in America! That rascal! Christine agrees to sing anyway, because, in a momentary return to his evil ways, the Phantom threatens to take her son if she doesn't. In the following scene between Christine and the Phantom, we discover that the Phantom and Christine had a one-night stand the night before Christine and Raoul's wedding, but the Phantom fled before Christine could confess her love, and therefore (?) she married Raoul. To which, of course, my reaction was: What? How does that even make sense? Maybe Raoul had already taken to kicking dogs at that point, and Christine knew he was no good, but decided it was better to be married to a dog-kicker then remain an old spinster? Who knows.

Some other stuff happens and then the Phantom finds out that, based solely on Gustav's musical ability and love for dark and creepy things, Gustav is not Raoul's son but the Phantom's! I mean, you can't argue with that scientific evidence.

I should note that there is an extremely touching song sung by Christine somewhere in here, which teaches us to “Just love, just live, just give what you can give.” This is good lifelong advice, friends.

This is followed by more stuff, including a scene where Raoul is drinking at a bar, asking why Christine still loves him. But SURPRISE! Turns out the bartender is the PHANTOM! And he kind of brags that he is probs Gustav's real dad. And then they make a bet: If Christine sings for the Phantom at the performance that night, Raoul must leave and go back to London. If she doesn't, Gustav, Christine, and Raoul all get to leave with all their gambling debts paid. The plot thickens.

The question then being: will she, or won't she? To even the playing field, Raoul makes a last-ditch half-hearted attempt to win his wife back, and then the Phantom sings her a full-out love song and gives her some sparkly bling. Again, its difficult to tell who we should be rooting for here. The moment arrives, and Christine (surprise) sings! What song, you ask? Why, “Love Never Dies”, which I confess I had totally forgotten was the title of the musical until that point.

After the performance, Raoul leaves her a note basically asking for a divorce, and so of course we're happy, because Christine can end up with the Phantom now! But wait! Where's Gustav?! The Phantom instantly suspects Madame Giry, who, btw, was getting frustrated that after all her years of hard work for the Phantom he's all obsessed with Christine again. But no, it's not Madame Giry... however, MEG was seen leaving with a small child!

Hence, we find Meg, with Gustav, on a bridge, singing him a creepy lil song and about to push him off. It may be crucial to note here that Meg had been growing increasingly jealous of Christine coming out of nowhere and taking her place in the show and getting all the Phantom's attention and being all-around cooler than she was. Also that Gustav can't swim.

I was laughing so hard at this point I was almost crying. I know you won't believe me, but it gets better.

Fortunately, the Phantom and Christine find them in time, so instead Meg takes out a gun, and after some whining, holds it to her own head. The Phantom, obviously, talks her down from this, as he is clearly the type of certified counselor I would want in such a situation. But I will say he is effective. Meg definitely does not shoot herself; she definitely does shoot Christine. Bummer. Dude. At this point my crying because socially acceptable, because people were actually crying.

The Phantom and Christine share some last moments of song, ironically reprising “Love Never Dies.” I would like to point out that in dying, Christine does not abide by her own life philosophy of “just love, just live, just give what you can give,” as she doesn't seem to grasp the whole “live” part.

Then Gustav and Raoul come to the scene, where, in his grief, Raoul, of course, gives custody of Gustav to the Phantom. Did we forget that the Phantom has MURDERED people? End of musical. So love never dies, but Christine does.

SOOOO excellent. That's pretty much my summary. I'm going to have to agree with Paul Taylor here:

I mean, you can't get better than phabulous. 

Did I mention we got to use sweet binocular things? 

It was hard to top that, but we walked around London a little bit, and it was beautiful: 

Kathryn controls the London Eye:

Classic.

More pictures to come!