England Journal

Entry 1-
Despite the fact that my body is begging for rest as I sit on our Continental flight, my mind has never been so very excited. As I gaze out of my small airplane window to the grand Atlantic below, my eyes twitch, willing me to close them. My fatigued muscles seem to cry out for rest, and my movements demand strength that I currently lack. However, I will not give in to this exhaustion and miss the beauty of our trip over the sea. My mind and emotions do not match the soft lull in energy that I am physically experiencing. They are awake, full of thoughts of English poets and London's rich culture. My head, pulsing with energy, soars through my hopes for the eight days that lie ahead. My mind weaves through memories of last year, when I sat at home visiting the Pine Point website to check up on the ISP trip. It is strange to think that after years of anticipation, it is me sitting in this airplane seat instead of Danica Mitchell or Sewell Robinson. It came as a surprise, in a sense, when i realized that it is finally my turn to experience what I've been waiting for all these years. I continue to gaze out of the window, and I feel my eyes begin to give in to the temptation of sleep. I open my eyes one last time to see a spot of land watching us from a distance. It glimmers. Hello London.

Entry 2-
The sounds of blissful birds bless my ears as I sit tucked in between the railings of a small staircase. I can feel the harsh cold of the metal on which I sit, and the sharp Spring air chills my skin, but the feeling is refreshing; brisk. A fountain murmurs softly nearby, and i hear the distant sounds of amicable conversation. The sun reflects off the water before me like crystals, and its fierce light brings out the green of the grassy quad, renewing its heath after a winter under snow. The brave daffodils spring up from the dirt, greeting the newness of the day with the bright curiosity of a child. Surrounding nature's wonder are tall brick walls. They demand respect. They are powerful, grand, watching like sentinels as a new season unfolds. As I inhale, i smell the fresh foliage around me as well as the lazy dregs of breakfast food. The sun shifts and illuminates the space i have chosen to occupy. For a moment I feel blinded, enslaved by the light. My eyes adjust, seeing the loveliness around me, simply escalated by the shift in the sky.

Entry 3-
This cit is clean. Te streets are lined with grand bricks and litter is rare as you make your way down London's stone sidewalks. It is sophisticated. stylish people in black garments make their way down the streets with elegance, and classy cafes are scattered throughout the city. It is classic and polite, with an air of intelligence and mystery within its towers and archways. The whispers of Charles Dickens and William Shakespeare roam the streets, blessing them with charm and history. The trees themselves seem to be entranced by London's loveliness. I am quite enjoying the city, thank you.

Entry 4-
London is peaceful. As we made our way through the tube and across cobbled sidewalks, i noticed a serene state, though the city's cheerful bustle wouldn't have suggested it at a glance. Brits passed, going about their mornings in a way entirely unknown to my foreign mind. I could smell the exhaust of classic tax-cabs and saw the buses racing by, yet somehow in the midst of disarray and activity, the city was calm. It was as if a blanket of equality and respect, of appreciation and moderation had been thrown over London's occupants like a blanket; a shield from havoc. People ran, but the ran with grace. People argued, but didn't yell. Cars briskly drove down city streets, but they did so with serenity and focus. The market we visited today only elevated this feeling of peace. As our class entered the Sunday Market, people from all around the world greeted us with their offerings. There was a humane appreciation and honest respect for each of the cultures represented in by the street vendor's stands. The glowing peace of this city seems ever present, hovering above England like a light from the sky.

Entry 5-
I was so struck by the greatness of Windsor Castle. The grad expanses of greens, perfectly trimmed and lined with petals, seemed to stretch on for miles. The stone and marble that made up the outside walls represented nothing but the epitome of power, emanating strength with their very existence. The rooms themselves were decadent, accented with pretty things. The windows were delicate and he stonework neat. It made me wonder of the events that occurred behind Windsor's gated boundaries. Who was betrayed? Who fell in love, and whose heart was broken? Who fought and who died? he castle pulled my interest to its long lost stories like a magnet. I was intrigued, and the stone turrets of Windsor have yet to leave my mind.

Entry 6-
Tonight's Evensong was the very essence of tranquility. for 30 minutes, all was let go, set free, released and absorbed by the music that surrounded us. The matters that had muddled our thoughts previously were given away and easily destroyed by the majestic decorations of the chapel. For some, it was a religious time, for other simply a moment of rest. For me, it was simple and pure tranquility.

Entry 7-
From body paints to tribal masks, I thought everything about today’s performance of The Tempest was breathtaking. After reading through this Shakespearean play in class, I was fascinated to see such a unique interpretation of the characters and plot. I saw a real relation to the imprisonment and prejudice that the Black South Africans felt during the time of apartheid. Near the end of the play, Prospero cleansed Ariel with pure water, and as he did so, a layer of white paint came off Ariel’s body, a life of captivity falling from his skin. Perhaps this freedom from enslavement played into the theme of forgiveness that was apparent in today’s show. As Prospero looked at his brother, the man who had betrayed his love and destroyed his trust, he was able to forgive him of his “rankest faults.” However, more difficult still, he was able to forgive himself for the years he had spent playing slave-master to Ariel and Caliban. The Tempest ended with a spotlight on an unlikely character – Caliban. Today’s interpretation depicted Prospero asking for Caliban’s “indulgence.” To me, this was fascinating. As people around me gathered their things, sensing an end to the show, Prospero tied together forgiveness and slavery by asking for his servants’ forgiveness; “Let your indulgence set me free.”

Entry 8-
I is strange to look back on the past eight days of my life. I am not bold enough to say that it has been a life changing experience, nor am i ignorant enough to believe that things will be the same in the future as they were before this trip took place. It has been a wake-up call, a transition. It has led us into the spring semester with flying colors, but all good things must come to an end. As I sit once again in an airplane window seat, I feel the closure that this day carries with it. I see the end of one journey and the distant promise of the beginning of another. No matter how much we try to deny or ignore it, this ending is representational of another, grader ending. I gaze out the window to see a spot of land far behind us. It glimmers with our memories. Goodbye London.


Sonnet-
The Escape

She stands like a pillar in front of the stage
Her eyes fixed and still on a point far beyond
The bright lights so strong and the faces so fond
Her body breaks free, escaping the cage.

Conformity binds like snakes round her throat
Dissolve into nothing when the music persists
As it opens her soul she unballs her fists.
The audience glimmers and take off their coats.