Sunday at the S'henge.

First of all, as a random point of interest for all of you who know how I feel about boats, I have to make it publicly known that we went to boat party on the Thames last week.  It was pretty cool, seeing both sides of the river at night; the American students were into the sight-seeing, the British students were into dressing up in 20's-themed costumes, and a good time was had by all.

"I'm on a boat and, it's goin' fast and, I got a nautical-themed pashmina afghan..."

The poor soul Ani, who had planned an excursion to Stonehenge on Sunday, allowed me to capitalize on his having done all the travel research by tagging along.  Upon first alighting in Salisbury, we made our way to the famous Salisbury cathedral.  This detour was not in Ani's original plan, but his being a good sport and my being obstinate resulted in me getting my way.

The cathedral boasts the tallest spire in England -

It's not your eyes, the spire is actually leaning to the left.  Oops.

- the largest cathedral close in England -

- the oldest working clock in England -

- the oldest Quire in England, and the best-preserved copy of the Magna Carta! (Sadly, we're not allowed to take pictures of it.)  It is apparently "Britain's finest 13th century Gothic cathedral."

After chasing down the Stonehenge bus, we made our way out to the countryside, passing the Old Sarum in transit.  The Old Sarum is the original location of Salisbury; today it's basically a big raised mound with a ditch around it.  Meaning, it's not much of a picture unless you're in a helicopter, so check it out on Google Images.
The ride was eventful enough, with Ani constantly exclaiming over the greenness and the livestock (I don't think he's ever been outside before).

Seriously, he took pictures of sheep for an hour... 

...and appeared to mistake me for a sheep sometimes.

Over loudspeaker, a Michael Caine voice double informed us of the various sites along the way, as well as exciting facts like the five types of burial mounds the Windmill people used.
Stonehenge (or S'henge, as our tickets read) was magical and all - I remember reading about it when I was little, how they brought the stones from such a ridiculous distance and how it was such an impressive (if seemingly unnecessary) feat.  It does look pretty cool, and we were fortunate in that we got good weather -

(Although it was quite windy.)

However.  Whatever kind of magic there is surrounding these old stones, it is not one of romance. Which is why Ani and I were in denial when we watched a proposal take place in front of our eyes:

"Um, Ani, that couple on the bench, are they..?"
"Definitely not.  This isn't the Eiffel Tower."
"But I think maybe..."
"I say they're newlyweds.  Honeymoon."
"Um, he's putting a ring on her finger."
(Silence).

Neither of us had seen a live proposal before, so we walked around the 'Henge to think through the situation, when, on the next go around:

"Um, Ani, you're not going to believe this, but that couple on the bench..."
"No, not possible, that would be ridiculous."
"Ani, he's on one knee."
"Um."
"And now she's at her ring finger and... ya, there's definitely a ring on it."
(Silence).

Two proposals.  We watched two proposals occur within a period of 10 minutes.  We decided it was unsafe to sit on the benches or else we'd come back affianced, as well.  And that, my friends, is evidence of the magic in those blue stones, dragged from Wales so many years ago.  That is the magic of Stonehenge.

An Idle Day in Idol Idylls.

Halfway through exams as of Tuesday, I spent a day off in the domains of some of my favorite icons - Darwin, Huxley, and Shakespeare.  Since I'd turned in an architecture paper about the Natural History Museum the previous day, I figured I should probably go see the place.  In case anyone wants a bit of history:
In the 18th century, Sir Hans Sloane amassed an impressive Wunderkammer.  Accretion of objects over his lifetime culminated in approximately 80,000 items at the time of his death.  Unlike most collectors who kept the cabinet of curiosities in the family, however, Sloane devised a proposition for King George II in which he would give his collection to the people in return for the sum of £20,000 to each of his daughters.  Initially rejected, Sloane’s proposal was finally accepted in the British Museum Act in June 1753.  Without a budget that allowed courting the idea of a purpose-built repository, Parliament had to decide between purchasing Montagu House or Buckingham House (later Buckingham Palace, interestingly enough).  They settled on the cheaper Montagu House, and the British Museum in Bloomsbury finally opened in January 1759.  This was the very first state-funded natural history museum open to the public.  
As we now know, however, the Natural History Museum is not part of the British Museum anymore (see previous post). Continuing to accrue natural history collections, especially those from the expedition of the HMS Endeavor, Richard Owen, then-director of the collections at the British Museum, persuaded the government to fund the first purpose-built natural history museum, moving the collections from the British Museum to its current location in South Kensington.  I won't go into why this is important, but there were enough reasons for me to write ten pages about it, so go with it.
The building at South Kensington, in the German Romanesque style, is gorgeous:

Darwin  (that white statue) is smack in the center of it all.

Idol #1, Darwin, who required...

...Idol #2, TH Huxley, to act as PR and fight for his ideas.  Love this guy, but...

...not such a fan of Owen.  Ironically, the director of the Natural History Museum who worked so hard to arrange specimens taxonomically didn't support On the Origin of Species. What a slap in the face when they put Darwin's statue in, eh? 

Of the million cool things we saw there, I'd say this was most impressive:

The smudge of white powder in the bottom of the tube is made up of microscopic diamonds formed from the dust around dying stars billions of years ago, before our solar system even existed.  This is literally the oldest thing you will ever see!

In the evening, Paola took us out to dinner and then to see As You Like It at the Globe!  Most of the neuro Sagehens were there:

Gabe claims he was smiling.  I claim otherwise.

Being at the Globe was amazing, finally getting to experience what it was like to see Shakespeare's plays during his time, down to the groundlings and an audience that could hiss and cheer when it liked.  It was a really different theater experience, but lots of fun! 

The show was hilarious, and definitely one of the best Shakespeare productions I've ever seen.  Being a touring company, the players tripled up on parts, and sometimes the audience would cheer simply for an impressively rapid costume change.  All in all, an excellent day which I might venture to say ended As I Liked It (ouch... Dad, that pun was for you).

Ashley's Arrival and a Belated Birthday Bash.

As implied by the title, Ashley arrived a few days ago!  For those of you who don't know her, Ashley is best described as being completely and utterly awesome.  She was a senior neuro major at Pomona when I was a sophomore and we worked together in lab.  Now she's in grad school at UCSF, and is currently here to attend a neuro conference.  Between sporadic periods of studying, we've been having a great time going to the Wellcome Centre, British Museum, and Borough Market, among other adventures.   


The entire library of the Human Genome at the Wellcome Centre...



 

...the font in each book is this small - so many nucleic acids!



British Museum exterior turned interior with this quasi-Crystal Palace ceiling. 
The geometric structure is the same as that of a Buckyball.

Picnic-ing at Borough Market!

Also, a couple of days ago my friends arranged a surprise birthday dinner for me, which was just about the nicest thing anyone's ever done.  It was arranged so discreetly and cleverly, it really was SUCH a surprise, I was speechless, and so touched.  Rachel E., Rachel Lee, Ashley, Steven, Ani, Rey, Faz, Luke and Alex were all there.  It was overwhelming, being surrounded by so many friends all at once!

One side of the table was members of the Johnson Lab...



...and on the other side, all the folks I've met in London!



No One Mourns the Wicked.

Monday morning began as usual: eating granola and yogurt while staring out the window at speeding taxis and parents bustling their children to the nursery down the street.  Then Alex walked in.  "Have you heard the news?"  And suddenly my morning was anything but usual.  Funny how a simple headline can turn your world upside-down.
I'm talking, of course, about the death of Osama Bin Laden.  Finally dead.  The response here has been odd, and for anyone who watches The Daily Show, it is right on the money: the Brits are still spending more time reveling in The Wedding than in Bin Laden's death, and anyone we broach the subject with seems tentative to show enthusiasm.  But we Americans, along with our Argentinian professor did get to share a cathartic celebratory moment at Tuesday's revision session.  I purchased a newspaper first thing to find out more, but I would love to know what it's like in the U.S., as I'm sure there's a lot of excitement.  Let me know what's going on!
Ironically, Alex, Geoff and I had chosen that night to see the overwhelmingly impressive theatrical production Wicked.  We didn't realize how appropriate our musical choice was until it began, when from the opening lines, "Good news! She's dead; the Witch of the West is dead! The wickedest witch there ever was, the enemy of all of us here in Oz is Dead! Good news!" we found the similarity of situation more than a little eerie.  From celebratory lines like, "Isn't it nice to know that good will conquer evil?" to suspicions expressed like, "But how do we know she's really dead?" we could relate to the story in a way most audiences probably haven't. 


Lots of reasons to be excited.

I'm torn between who represented the situation best - Stephen Schwartz with his tuneful "No One Mourns the Wicked" or President Obama, in his characteristically brief and eloquent statement.  If I had to choose one, I personally found Secretary of State Clinton's words especially meaningful: "You cannot wait us out. You cannot defeat us. But you can make the choice to abandon Al-Qaeda and participate in a peaceful political process."

Back in action: THE WEDDING.

Armed with a shiny new computer, revived internet access and a borrowed camera (Mom's), I am ready to face the blogging front once again!  First things first: The Royal Wedding.

Viewing screens at Trafalgar Square.

Assuming I’m allowed to anthropomorphize a nation, I would say that England went clinically insane on Friday.    My personal plan of camping out in front of Buckingham Palace was thwarted by an ill-timed illness, but compromising previous design with present disease, I went out with a group of American students around 8 am to scout out a viewing venue.  I’m not sure what the coverage was like in the U.S., but that best way I can describe the Royal Wedding was that it was a day of sheer joy and unification for England (and technically the rest of the UK and Australia, though I’m not sure they’re as keen on the monarchy).  Everyone was ecstatic, and when I say everyone, I mean it.  Anywhere except Central London was a ghost town.  It is impossible to capture how massive the crowds were without an aerial camera, but believe me when I say: the whole nation came out to watch. 

Marching band on The Mall.

And truly, it was a beautiful wedding.  We couldn’t help but get caught up in the madness/happiness as well.  I suppose it might be as simple as seeing two, beautiful, rich people who are in love get married.  But our hearts pounded a little faster when we saw Prince William drive by on his way to Westminster.  I might mention that this was about all we saw happening live, as even by 8 it was impossible to get a good place on the parade route, so afterwards we watched it in classic English style: in a pub.  The English love a good pint (one exceptionally inebriated man had a magic wand he kept waving at the TV screen) so I will leave to your imagination the kind of drunken riot that ensued when the newly dubbed Duke and Duchess of Cambridge kissed for a second time.  Oh.  Boy.

Near Gearge VI monument on The Mall.

We Americans inevitably commented on the irony of a nation unifying over their previously abhorred monarchy.  But I guess it’s an interesting lesson, seen in much of Europe:  once the monarchy doesn’t actually have power, they just become celebrities with nothing else to do but use their inherited coffers for the good of (concilliating) the people.  The fact that the UK is called a “constitutional monarchy” seems comical considering that they have no constitution and their monarchy has no power.  But, on Friday I finally saw that even though the monarchy has little political weight, the nation (again, I can only speak for England here) hangs onto the title of “monarchy” because they love the tradition.  As for why it’s called “constitutional,” well, I got nothing.



Caught up in the craziness!



We even got interviewed!



Everyone was thinking it.