Slow is Beautiful

I’ve only been here just over a week and one of my friends (Ryan!!) is already complaining that I haven’t written anything here for a while. This same friend (ie Ryan) is trying to correct my spelling and grammar. Look hon, you can't have it both ways. Either you get ramblings and accept them as they arrive, or you get no ramblings. Another friend is complaining that I am not posting the right kind of pictures (ie of good looking boys). Good grief – can’t a girl move to another country in peace these days? Honestly though, your love and attention is appreciated and I do miss all of you. The events pile up so quickly though...it really is in my best interest to write often, otherwise I forget what happened and in what order!

London
I spent the early part of this week in London, hosted by the wonderful Ter-Berg family (thank you again Francesca!!).

I went in on Sunday in order to catch Simcha on the Square, hosted by JMI (the Jewish Music Institute). I was particularly curious to see the event as, while JMI has a much different scope and focus than KlezKanada and KlezKamp, it acts as the local equivalent in that it is the organization behind KlezFest London. I had fun surprising my Klezmatics friends over their lunch – reactions like “Avia! It’s so great to see you! Wait…..why are you in London??) – and I had a great time co-leading the Yiddish dancing with Guy and Ilana. I was certainly struck, however, by the difference in the crowd. Over the past few years I have found it rather fascinating (albeit incredibly frustrating at times) to see the way in which different communities and cities/provinces/countries respond to Yiddish music. I have found that management often assumes an even audience response across all community barriers (if they sold out there, they will sell out here). The truth of the matter is that such assumptions actually hinder the production of a show because neglect of the local details follows. The audience at Trafalgar Square seemed fairly passive; they seemed happy, but not particularly elated. I was a bit worried about the potential for dancing but with three leaders we actually got quite a crowd dancing. I loved looking around the circle and seeing the multicultural variety of our freylekh.

What Fools these Mortals Be - Shakespeare at the Globe (a review?)
Rather spur of the moment, I picked up a 5 pound groundling ticket to see Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Globe theatre. Now I have to admit that Midsummer has never been one of my favourite Shakespearian plays and, after the seemingly endless number of “just ok” productions that I have seen, I was hesitant about sitting, standing in fact, through another one. I was pleasantly surprised. I arrived early enough to be right up at the stage, almost centre. This afforded me a great few of the actor’s mis-buttoned cuffs and dragging end-of-season hems.

While I enjoyed most of the mortal performances, the immortal world of the play fell flat, relying on weak physical humour and an odd mixture of 80s running shoes and corsets. The running shoes and over-bright colours sported by the fairies surprised me; most of the costumes were quite subtle and classic in their design (mostly blacks, browns, greens and oranges). The real performance, fully worth more than the 5 pound admission AND the 3 hour stand, came with the performance of the mechanicals for Theseus’ court. It was hands down, the funniest production of Midsummer’s play within a play that I have ever seen, leaving me with tears in my eyes, clutching the side of the stage from laughing. They started off with the brilliant monologue of the wall, who rattled off his lines in fearfully counted, monotone iambic. The hysterics were capped by Theseus and Thisbee attempting to whisper to each other through the groin of the increasingly uncomfortable wall.

Watching the actors made me quite nostalgic for performance, for the LIVENESS of it. I hope I have a chance to do some performing this year, maybe even a little bit of Shakespeare??

Country-side Adventures


Since I've returned from London I've spent most of my time exploring my surroundings, walking wherever I can. Some favourite moments of the last week (out of many!):

• being introduced to the concept of the camping kettle, or "kelly kettle" by Becky, another student living in the house. Becky is a graduating MA Arts and Ecology student at Dartington. Their program is fascinating: "Arts & Ecology has been designed to allow arts practitioners to develop their skills in the context of ecology, interdisciplinarity and place. The MA provides a challenging academic vehicle in which you’ll develop your arts practice, further your ability to engage with complex ecologies and work with other artists and scientists. You’ll explore various discourses, methodologies and philosophies conventionally associated with non-art disciplines (especially those of the sciences), and apply them to contemporary approaches to ecology through your arts practice" (from the college prospectus). Becky's project includes leading walks to find plants and make tea out of them. The kelly kettle is a rain or shine portable fireplace!! Becky also made Nettle Soup this week which, although sounding suspiciously fairy-tale-esque, was delicious.
  

  From England - Chapter 3

• taking off to the beach with Sarah and her friend Neil. The drive itself was adventurous - there are all these tiny tiny "main" roads that are barely wide enough for one car, let alone two. Every so often there are driveways or places to pull right into the hedgerow so that a car coming in the opposite direction can pass (it often means some impressive reverse driving skills).

  From England - Chapter 3

  We followed these little roads along the coast. It's amazing to drive between the hedgerows because you only see glimpses of the countryside. It feels like driving a labyrinth and it is easy to get lost. We stopped once and Neil asked directions of three small boys dressed in their best and holding bouquets of flowers. They gave us directions in an adorably haphazard, distracted sort of way and then warned us that we might meet a tractor coming down the hill. We did meet the tractor (luckily on a two way section of road!) and were delighted to find that it held a wedding party!! We drove to an amazing cove called Garra Rock and hiked down the hill to the beach. There were hardly any people about - it had a very wild feel to it - and we spent a happy hour or two digging around in tide pools for small creatures, getting our feet wet, and drawing maps in the sand. Between Becky and Neil, I'm learning the names of local flora and fauna.
  

  From England - Chapter 3

  From England - Chapter 3

• sampling the local ciders, of which there are many. Cider is definitely better here.
• hiking today along the river and over the hill, through forest and pasture. We ended up at Sharpham Vineyard where we stopped for tea and cake (mmmmm) before walking home.

  From England - Chapter 3

As usual, there are more photos to be seen on Picasa. You can click on the thumbnail photos to see the whole album - yay google! I keep adding photos to Chapter 3. I think the Chapter 4 album will begin this week as orientation starts and school begins.

Scrumping Moments

Just returned from my first drink in England. My thoughts of the evening are short and to the point (and point form).

First of all, I should introduce someone, as she will likely appear in stories and photos throughout the year. There is one other lodger in the house where I am staying. Her name is Sarah. Turns out that she not only also from Canada (Nova Scotia) but also in the same program as I am (MA in Devised Theatre).

Sarah and I walked up to Dartington Estate today, my first visit to the college. The Estate is rather stunning and has a fascinating social/experimental history that I
want to tell you all about but not till I know more about it. It has to do with sustainable community, alternative education….and a trust fund. Next to the grandness of Dartington Hall (think Mansfield Park though maybe slightly smaller) the college buildings are impressively and rather amusingly ugly – models of 70s architecture. Actually they rather remind me of small versions of FAB, the Fine Arts Building at the University of Alberta. I haven’t seen the studios yet but I’m told that they are much nicer than the outside of the building.

Dartington Hall (entrance) - I DON'T have classes in this building)

Philosophies of the Dartington College library:

• Every library worth its salt needs a spiral staircase (the Dartington Library has one)
• If they don’t have the book and you need it for your research, tell them and they will get it for you.
• Food and drink are allowed
• Talking is allowed

I even heard tell this evening that they are starting a project at the library in which they will find books on the shelves that can be painted, invite students to paint them, and then re-shelve. I will report back once I have confirmed (or debunked) this delightful possibility.

We got a bit lost on the way back to Totnes, attempting to follow a trail that should have taken us home and obviously getting off to the wrong start. But it was fun climbing fences and walking through cow fields for a bit before finding the main road again. I’m terribly excited about wandering the fields this year. And people keep mentioning the moors, the idea of which holds a great deal of literal (in the literary sense) appeal to me. Perhaps it is my last name, perhaps it is the promise of heather and hills and rocky crags but I feel that I shall love it on the moors.

Friends from the field:

Observations:

• Ginger beer is better here
• Cider is better here

Best word of the day (maybe ever):

• Scrumping, as in "scrumping apples" (stealing apples from an apple tree)
  

Well, said the Red Queen to Alice, you’re certainly not in Kansas anymore!

Over the past 12 hours, I’ve formulated multiple versions of these notes, each reflecting the mood of the moment. They were all incredible true feelings in the moment but I’m finding it hard to re-encapsulate them in words. I usually carry around my notebook just for this purpose but, what with the 50 lb suitcases that I had in tow for most of today, I found my notebook a bit hard to access today. Mental note to carry less generally and to always carry a notebook.

The trip was rough. Simply not much fun. I barely slept. As the plane began to descend, I almost ran to the pilots to beg them to turn around and take me back to Montreal. Too much, too scary. I arrived in London grumpy and sleepy. I stood in the line for new students for an hour and then it took all of about 30 seconds to stamp my passport and let me into the country.

The trains in England are not inexpensive. Privatization has resulted in a myriad of companies and a confusing array of ticket prices ranging from “oh, I guess so” to “ouch” to “Good God, I’ll find another way to travel.” But the British rail system remains a lovely way to travel. I always forget how partial I am to trains and train travel. I’ve loved trains ever since an electric train-set was introduced into my childhood. The trip from London to Totnes was beautiful: rolling hills dotted with cows, stone farmhouses and, best of all, the sea shore! Or, rather, the English Channel. I quickly crossed the train to be even that much nearer to the sea – and realized how long it has been since I’ve really walked along the seashore. I hope I can remedy that soon.

The friendly editors at Wikipedia have this to say about a village: “From an English point of view, the village represents an ideal of England. Seen as being far from the bustle of modern life, it is quiet, harmonious, if a little inward-looking.” My first impressions of Totnes add up to this description. I picked a lovely day to arrive, the sun sneaking over the clouds and lighting up the village. I feel as though I’ve happened onto a very special little place but I’m not sure whether it reminds me more of my own Nelson, BC or of Rowling’s Hogsmeade. On the one hand, the entire array of health food/whole food/crystal healing/alternative medicine stores is right here, as if transplanted from the Kootenays. Even the books in the house in which I’m lodging are as familiar as my own toes! On the other hand, there is a castle (about 30 seconds walk from my house), and a mini-cathedrale (alright, a church, but it LOOKS like a cathedrale), and both a homemade fudge store AND an old-fashioned candy store. And a good many inns and pubs – I started counting them but quickly lost count. And roses on the old stone walls. And butterflies on the roses.

My new abode (on the right, up the path):

The village candy store:

Did I mention that there is a castle?

To see the rest of my photos from today, visit my Picasa page.

Jumping down the rabbit hole.....

Well, this is it. I take a deep breath and jump. Once again I feel as though I am taking a giant step into the unknown. Thanks to the amazing Nina for the perfect illustration of falling.

I thought I might make a stab at posting my thoughts, experiences and photos here in Travel Blog style. I will do my best to update, but I make no promises. And please be for-warned, I tend to ramble (but I attempt to do so in lyrical, poetic stylings of prose).

For the first time in many moves, I am sad to leave not only the people, but the place. The air is already crisp here in Mile-End; it smells like fall. Last night I overheard the prediction of an early winter. Perhaps, somewhere in the rainy season, I will even miss the snow and ice. And watching the fuzzy shapes of people and cars through the steamed windows of Club Social as I sit nestled in my wool coat, a hot coffee (allonge, one sugar, a little bit of foam) in one hand and a whisky on the rocks in the other. Au revoir Montreal!

England, here I come!