Fischberg Flashback 16: Wild Card

 Note: this was originally posted to Fisch and Chips on October 3l, 2013.  Slight changes have been made (mainly omitting names and a photo) to preserve the anonymity of friends I haven't gotten permission from in a while.

Boo!

Alright, that’s enough for a good scare.  Happy Halloween, everyone!

Unlike past Halloweens, which were filled with candy, costumes, and fright, this one was a tad low-key, occupied with schoolwork.  With my economics class, I traveled to the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD).  After interviewing a pair of advisors so that we could write a report on the bank, we then returned to the AHA Center, where the main event of the day (for me) occurred: a history presentation I was to give about Jonathan Wild.  Who’s that, you ask?  Thanks for asking, imaginary reader!  I’ll be happy to explain!

Before I talk any more about Jonathan Wild, I have a funny story to tell, which I promised to tell in a previous entry.  In order to make sure that my presentation (and preceding paper, which was due before the break) was as precise as possible, I examined two very different sources, London in the Eighteenth Century (a comprehensive book by historian Jerry White on Georgian London recommended to me by my professor) and Wikipedia (which needs no introduction).  To be exact, I looked at their bibliographies and source notes.  According to White, the most comprehensive biography of Wild is It Takes A Thief: The Life and Times of Jonathan Wild by Gerald Howson.  According to Wikipedia, the most comprehensive biography of Wild is Thief-Taker General: Jonathan Wild and the Emergence of Crime and Corruption as a Way of Life in Eighteenth-Century England by Gerald Howson (Some of you can probably tell where this is going.).  I ordered both books via an online used bookstore and received them both at the AHA Center in less than a week.  Upon opening and examining both books, I made a startling discovery: despite the different titles, the two books I had ordered were one and the same!  Even their page numbers matched up!  Good thing they were fairly cheap…

Anyway, wacky book shenanigans aside, here’s the deal on Jonathan Wild (having written a paper and given a presentation on him, I’ve pretty much committed all this information to memory): He was a buckle maker from Wolverhampton who moved to London and became a thief-taker.  What’s thief-taker, you ask?  Simple: it was basically the Georgian equivalent of a bounty hunter.  Thief-takers were usually commissioned by the victims of crime to catch their tormentors and were rewarded 40 pounds by the government for every offender they brought to justice (This being Georgian Britain, “justice” in this case frequently involved a one-way trip to the gallows, or worse, the American colonies.).  In a time where there were there was no modern police force in London, thief-takers were the closest thing to police officers on the mean streets.  Wild was arguably the best thief-taker there was, as in the course of his career, he apprehended countless various villains (Over 120 of these criminals were executed, and dozens more were tortured, fined, incarcerated, and/or exiled.) with the help of a posse he ran, earning him the title “Thief-Taker General of Great Britain and Ireland.”  In the process, he decimated the various gangs that terrorized London and became a hero to many.  He also had an uncanny knack for recovering stolen property, which he would always be able to retrieve for crime victims (albeit frequently for a fee).  In short, he was London’s de facto police chief and was an all-around bad@$$.

Sounds like an awesome dude, right?  Well, get ready for the kicker:

During the jailbreak of a known smuggler, constables at the scene saw Jonathan Wild.  Curious, they decided to talk to some of the bounty hunters on his payroll and a few of the criminals he had caught.  That’s when the truth came out: not only was Jonathan Wild a criminal, he was the F***ING KINGPIN of organized crime in London!  His various acts of “thief-taking” were just excuses for him to eliminate his competition in the underworld (along with any of his minions that were disloyal or served no use for him) and the reason he was so good at recovering stolen property was that he had several warehouses across London where he allowed criminals to store their ill-gotten goods prior to selling.  When there was a high-profile theft, he could just check his warehouses and find the stolen item (and in some cases, he told his minions to target wealthy individuals, just so he could sell them back their property).  As his power grew, he divided London into districts, each under the jurisdiction of a gang on his payroll.  He had his fingers in a host of criminal rackets, including blackmail, burglary, extortion, prostitution, highway robbery, pickpocketing, smuggling, and more.  Because of his successful often-replicated methods, he is considered by many historians to be the godfather (hee hee) of modern organized crime.

I’d like to remind you that this man was 100% real.  I did not invent him for the purposes of my presentation and this blog (Besides, a bounty hunter who moonlights as a crime lord?  That’s too crazy for me to ever dream up!).  Look him up if you don’t believe me (better yet, read the book(s) that I’ve previously mentioned; it/they is/are very informative).

WHITE TEXT: Anyway, after he was found out, arrested, and detained in 1725, Wild became the most hated man in London (though his popularity had been declining in the last few months, thanks to his relentless pursuit of Jack Sheppard, a charismatic thief who was viewed as a working-class hero).  He was charged with a host of crimes, but was only convicted of one count of receiving stolen property (a small quantity of lace, to be exact), which was serious enough back then to warrant a death sentence.  After failing to kill himself with laudanum, he was hanged before a cheering crowd.  Though his body was given a fairly honorable burial, it was dug up by sadistic medical students, who used it for dissection practice before deserting it on the banks of the Thames.  In the decades after his death, Wild’s name was synonymous with corruption and we was used as a character in many a political satire.

Anyhoo, this was the presentation I gave in class today.  It dragged on for a bit, but it was well-received.  Part of its warm reception may have come from my costume, for in keeping with the spirit of Halloween, I dressed up as a barrister, with a (bath)robe and (makeshift) wig.

Behold, the extent of my costume-making abilities!

Another possible reason for my presentation’s success was that I had some additional re-enactment help, in the form of fellow students B and N, who played the roles of Wild and his arch-nemesis Jack Sheppard, respectively.

So that’s how Halloween went for me.  It was a simple affair, but the night is still young, and I’ve got bags of jelly beans and chocolate calling out for me.  This weekend will have work and fun, then will be followed up by plenty of excursions.  To think that I’ve been in this country for nearly two months…

Happy Halloween/All Saints’ Day, everyone!

Modern reflections:

Well, this was a fun post to prepare/write!  I first learned about Jonathan Wild in a book when I was only 12.  Little did I know back then that I would go to London 8 years later, write a paper on him, given a presentation on him in a bathroom, blog about him, see his skeleton, and eventually make a pilgrimage to his place of execution.  Fate works in mysterious ways...

Halloween can sometimes be a stressful holiday for me, as I always feel pressured to get a costume but can never decide until the last minute.  I can't remember who came up with the idea of a barrister costume to tie into my presentation (it was either me or one of my friends), but I definitely owe them a pint.

Speaking of friends, the ones who played Wild and Sheppard for my presentation really knocked it out of the park.  I'm still kind of amazed we were able to pull it off.  B and N, if you're reading this, you're the best!

The costume is extra funny when you consider that I visited the Old Bailey the next day and that I basically wear an American equivalent to this costume every day to work.

If you'll excuse me, I've got some Simpsons Halloween specials to binge watch and some Animal Crossing/Luigi's Mansion to play.

Fischberg Flashback 15: Pilgrim's Progress

 Original date of post: October 26, 2013

Well, this midterm break has been slowly progressing.  What have I been doing since I returned from Paris?  Doing laundry, trying to work, and playing video games, of course!  Translation: I’ve been indoors a lot lately.  Fortunately, I was able to finally get some fresh air--by visiting a series of Criminal Justice Pilgrimage locations!

My excursions kept me in the City of London all afternoon.  I started off by arriving at Newgate Street via Tube (I played video games on the ride--I played a lot of video games this week is the point I’m trying to make), where I was able to find the Central Criminal Court, aka the Old Bailey!  Later (hopefully this week), I plan on going inside this historic court and writing all about it.  While I was there, I also discovered two other CJP places: the Giltspur Street Compter (which was a gaol and debtor’s prison from 1791 to 1853) and Newgate (a gate in the walls surrounding the City of London that was used as a prison and was eventually expanded into what was later known as Newgate Prison, a building that outlasted it).

As you can see, both places have been demolished and there are only plaques making their sites.

After this, I took a stroll southeast and found that perennially falling down structure, London Bridge.  Once again, I had found another CJP location!  What does London Bridge have to do with criminal justice?  Simple: Starting with the aftermath of William Wallace’s execution, it became a tradition to put the severed heads of executed (by beheading or drawing and quartering) traitors up for display on London Bridge on the tops of pikes.  This is especially jarring if you remember that London Bridge was the only way to cross the Thames for centuries, meaning that any northern Londoner that wanted to see a play at the Globe would have to pass under the watchful eyes of decapitated traitors.  To get a sense of this creepiness, imagine that the following two photos are filled with heads on pikes across the bridge.

(London Bridge is in the background here)

After enjoying London Bridge, I then continued east, eventually reaching the Tower of London and Tower Hill.  Now, I was interested in scouting out Tower Hill, as it had been a place of execution for detainees of the Tower and I was hoping to find the scaffold site.  Not finding what I was looking for, I finished my excursion and returned to Eastcote via the Tube.  Of course, when I later looked up Tower Hill, I found out that I had seen the scaffold site but had completely ignored it!  Ah well, there’s always next time…

Anyhoo, this was an all-around fun and successful trip.  I’m back in the CJP saddle!

Modern reflections:

Not a lot to add here.  I'm impressed by my younger self's tenacity in tracking down pilgrimage sites.  As predicted here, I would indeed return to the Old Bailey...

Fischberg Flashback 14: Paris, Mes Amis

Note: this was originally published to Fisch and Chips on October 24, 2013.  I have made several edits since, mostly to correct grammar and to preserve anonymity of my travel buddies (whom I haven't heard from in a while and would prefer to get permission from to identify).  The post originally had some videos, but I've been unable to re-upload them here.  I've modified the post so that their absence isn't noticeable.

Yep, that’s me wearing a beret in front of the Eiffel Tower.  How did this come to be?  Well, it was the tail end of my awesome weekend trip to Paris these past few days!

To start with, the trip into Paris itself on Saturday was quite fun.  My travel partner, T, and I met up at the Victoria Coach Station to take the awesomely-named Megabus all the way into France.  I don’t remember most of the first half of the trip on account of being asleep (did I mention that I woke up sometime before 6am that morning?  The lessons of the King’s Cross fiasco are still with me), but when I woke up, the scenery had changed…dramatically, to say the least.

This was taken from the upper front window of the Megabus.  In case you can’t quite interpret what this shows, let me spell it out: the Megabus was loaded onto a train, which then went through the English Channel Tunnel, meaning that in a strange turn of events, I was traveling in a bus called the Megabus in a train traveling underwater, a method of transportation that sounds like it came out of a science fiction movie.  When the train finally exited the tunnel (and the Megabus exited the train), I finally found myself in France!

As you can tell from these pictures, rural France is beautiful.  Very beautiful.  For the second leg of the journey, I spent a fair amount of time taking pictures of the scenery and reading King Richard II for my Shakespeare class.  However, about two hours was taken up watching Natural Born Killers with T.  After all, what movie screams “Welcome to France!” like a movie about young love, mass murder, and the corruption of American culture?

Anyway, we arrived in Paris without incident and soon sought out our additional traveling companions and hosts.  After learning to navigate the Metro (the Parisian equivalent of the Tube), we got to wander around the streets of Paris at night (which, to my pleasant surprise, was much warmer than London, which is why you won’t see too many photos of me wearing my parka).  I was already somewhat smitten, as the whole place had a lively vibe to it and was brightly lit (hey, it’s the City of Lights!).  The Seine River was gorgeous and reminded me of the River Thames.

It was on the bridge from whence I took this photo where we met up with two of our traveling companions for the weekend, M and S, a pair of fellow Bearcats that T had introduced me to last month.  Almost immediately, we then located our hosts for the weekend, A and B, who had rented the apartment where we were staying.  We traveled back to the apartment, grabbing some wine along the way, and settled right in, drinking late into the evening and enjoying pleasant conversation.  And when I say “late into the evening,” I mean that we finally went to bed at 2am.  For dinner, I had a baguette purchased at a nearby grocery store.

That baguette was quite possibly one of the best loaves of bread I have ever had.  As I would find out over the next two days, the French truly excel at making bread (along with cheese, crepes, French fries, and donuts).

On Sunday, we awoke…at noon and had a delicious breakfast at a nearby Indian restaurant…at 3pm.

At this point, I was a tad nervous, as I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to get any sightseeing in.  Fortunately, my fears were unfounded, as I got to see Notre Dame de Paris and the Eiffel Tower, both in the span of a few hours!

As the first photo in this sequence shows, I had already seen Notre Dame late at night as soon as I arrived in Paris (right after getting off the Metro station, to be exact).  However, as we approached it, nothing could prepare me for its fantastic exterior and marvelous interior.  As luck would have it, we chose one of the best possible times to visit: during a Sunday Mass.

a prominent statue of Joan of Arc

As you can see, Notre Dame is drop-dead gorgeous on the inside.  The atmosphere of the Sunday Mass enhanced the experience to a level I cannot even begin to describe.  It is quite possibly the most beautiful building I have ever seen.  If you were to tell me that God lives here, I would believe you…and I’m Jewish!  I’ve seen Westminster Abbey, Bath Abbey, St. Giles’ Cathedral, and St. Bartholomew’s, but none of them can hold a prayer candle to Notre Dame.

Notre Dame has got it going on...

(I swear, one day, I will write the rest of this song.)

Seriously, I’m practically obsessed with this building!

(One last weird little observation before I move on: I was rather fascinated by Notre Dame’s confession booths.  Instead of looking like little wooden booths, they resembled small offices with transparent windows and the confessions in process looked more like business meetings or therapy sessions more than anything.  According to M, this wasn’t the case last year, so I guess this may be the influence of the new pope.)

However, that wasn’t the only major Parisian landmark for today, as we also sought out the Eiffel Tower, which glows wonderfully at night.  Aglow with the Eiffel Tower’s beauty, we sat under a nearby tree for a night of jolly carousing (here, “jolly carousing” is a phrase that means “drinking out of bottle after bottle of wine while politely shaking off souvenir, wine, and cigarette salesmen, all the while having a wonderful time).

All in all, this night had been most glorious…but it took a somewhat unpleasant turn near the end.  As our group discussed where we were going to go, we decided to split up, with me heading back to the apartment early (unlike everyone else, I had eaten a fair amount and was full).  As the group was leaving the Metro, one of our group accidentally blocked the door for a second.  As I communicated with people through the door, five police officers, all with holstered pistols, approached us, opened the door, and told me to get off the train.

I should probably note at this point that so far, every French person I had talked to in Paris had defied conventional stereotypes by being incredibly warm and friendly (the fact that I made an effort to speak French probably helps).  Sadly, these cops immediately began enforcing obnoxious stereotypes by demanding my ID card (which is also a vital debit card, I should mention) and writing me a ticket with a 199-euro fine for obstructing the Metro services.  Keep in mind that I had not blocked the door, my friend had blocked the door completely by accident, and I had no idea what was going on (I don’t know Jacques about French or French legal proceedings).  My gracious and justice-minded hostess A became quite incensed and argued with the cops (in French) the whole time, trying to explain the situation (according to her, she said things along the lines of “How can you justify doing this to someone who doesn’t speak French and can’t defend himself?  You’re just a bully.”  When he responded, “It’s his own fault he doesn’t speak French; he’s in Paris,” she reminded him that France’s economy would do horribly if it wasn’t for tourist Euros coming from people like me).  After a tense five minutes, the police finally gave me back my card, along with the ticket--which I am unable to pay, as I lack a French address and cannot be billed by the government (I believe one of the nicer cops went so far as to admit that the transcript of this ticket would be forwarded to the Department of Garbage).  I know that this sort of thing probably happens all the time and I objectively know that there are much bigger injustices than this in the world, but the whole situation was quite…unsavory.

After that…incident, we stopped by the Latin Quarter, grabbed some crepes, and hit the sack for the night.  Police harassment aside, it turned out to be an awesome day!

On Monday, we once again woke up late, though we were out the door by noon.  For breakfast, we grabbed some delicious crepes, which we ate while walking around Paris.  After breakfast, we continued to roam the streets of Paris, deciding what exactly to do.  On the way, we passed a few souvenir shops, where I picked up this charming little hat.

By this point, we had all decided what we were going to do.  In keeping with the tradition of the Monument and the Nelson Monument, it was time for me to scale the tallest building available…the Eiffel Tower!

Yep, the Eiffel Tower has climbable stairs that allow one to reach the top.  This was one of the highlights of the trip (get it?  High-lights…please drive home safely), as I got to see numerous places in Paris that I had wanted to visit.  Most notable was the Arc de Triomphe, pictured here next to my beard:

I also got an aerial shot of the Louvre, which you can see if you look really hard at the right side of the picture.

The sun was setting as we left the Eiffel Tower, and it was against this backdrop, wearing my beret, where the photo at the beginning of this post came from.

And what better way to top off a wonderful weekend in Paris than to visit Sacré Coeur, a beautiful church on a hill that overlooks a good deal of Paris?

Finally, on Tuesday morning, T and I headed back to London via the Megabus (where there was a bit more bureaucracy at the border than I would have liked).  Now, I’m back in London for the week.  Though traveling isn’t completely out of the question, I think I’ll take it easy for the rest of the week, tackling homework assignments and the like.

Modern reflections:

This was quite the adventure!  I spent a lot of time worrying about seeing enough of Paris before and during this journey, but I clearly had little to fear.  Since this experience, I'd like to think I've gotten less neurotic about planning out travel.  As is frequently the case in my travels, a lot of the enjoyment is thanks to the fantastic company I was with there (whom I should really get back in touch with these days).

One weird thing I didn't mention is that the streets of Paris constantly smells like urine.  I don't know if its due to the city's aging sewers or the constant public urination (I saw a lot of locals and tourists alike relieving themselves in Metro stations and bushes near the Eiffel Tower), but there's a faint scent that you gradually get used to.  As someone who now lives in a place that constantly smells like manure, I'm a bit less squeamish about this sort of thing these days.

My run-in with the Parisian metro police remains my most harrowing experience with law enforcement to this date, and it is the one reason I'm hesitant to return to Paris--I still don't know Jacques about modern French law and am unsure if I can get in trouble for unpayable tickets.  I'm hoping I can shake that concern; there's more there I'd like to see, especially the Catacombs of Paris.

I still have that beret somewhere, though I haven't worn it in years and don't remember where it is.  I'd sure like to break it out the next time I go on some international travels.  It also got some compliments from the weed dealer who solicited us at Sacré Coeur.  That weed dealer was definitely the nicest person we met in Paris (which is saying something, as almost everyone was really polite); he gave us some safety warnings about local thieves, asked us how our night was going, and said to contact him if we needed anything (while making rolling motions with his hands).

Writing about Notre Dame feels bittersweet now; her roof caught fire in 2019, and she's closed to the public as of October 2023.  She remains one of the most awe-inspiring buildings I've documented; she's not as large or intricate as some of the castles and cathedrals I've seen, but she has just the right mix of location, appearance, complexity, history, and fame to inspire books about fictional bell-ringers, movies about fictional bell-ringers, and a half-hearted Fountains of Wayne parody (I really should try finishing that "Stacy's Mom" parody I started in this post).  If I return to Paris, I'll definitely want to visit again!

Fischberg Flashback 13: Bathtime

Note: this was originally published to Fisch and Chips on October 11, 2013.  I have since made several grammatical changes.

Another week has come and gone and it’s time to kick my mind into high gear.  Next week, there will be four papers and three exams before I will be allowed to rest.  As a result, I will most likely spend the weekend working intensely, taking few breaks, and enjoying spartan meals and rest.  This will be the most intense weekend I have had in a while, so this will be my last blog post for a while.

And on that note, here’s what happened this week!

As I mentioned in the last post, Monday was dedicated to classes and Tuesday to Macbeth !ATTHEGLOBE!.  Wednesday proved to be a worthy addition, as my history class (finally) was able to see Westminster Abbey!  Sadly, we weren’t allowed to take pictures, so you’ll have to take my word when I said that it was really beautiful and contained some of the most elaborate tombs and commemorative plaques for famous historical figures that I have ever seen.  You will also have to take my word that there’s an underground fighting ring deep in the catacombs where 60-year-olds dressed as Pokémon fight each other to the death with the bones of Queen Elizabeth I and Charles Darwin.

One of the above statements is false.  Can you guess which one?

Anyhoo, Thursday, despite being Abbey/fighting ring-free, turned out to be quite superb as I received words of encouragement from my professors, a pair of books I ordered from the Internet arrived (funny story about that—I’ll elaborate in my Halloween post), and I attended an actually-quite-understandable lecture at the London School of Economics with friends, taking care of something that needed to be done with minimal difficulty.  At the end of the day, I felt like I was on top of the world, despite having four papers and three exams next week.

However, it was today’s excursion that proved the most fascinating, and provided the title for tonight’s blog post: the English spa town of Bath!

The day got off to a great start, as I arrived at Paddington Station over an hour in advance (clearly to compensate for the King’s Cross fiasco last month), giving me adequate time to relax for a moment and hang out with Paddington Bear.

After sleeping through the train ride there, I awoke in Bath, a city steeped in history.  In total, our excursion was divided into three mini-excursions, each representing a chapter in Bath’s history.  First up was Bath Abbey, dating bath (er, back) to Medieval Bath.  Like Westminster Abbey, it was gorgeous, huge, and contained intricate tombs and commemorations.

Next up was most of Bath as it stands today, which mostly dates back to Georgian England (for future reference, whenever I say “Georgian” on this blog, I am referring primarily the 18th century, despite King George V and King George VI ruling in the 20th century), when Bath enjoyed a massive resurgence as a tourist destination for the rich and a place of (relative) prosperity for the local poor.

Finally, we visited the Roman Baths, which, as the name implies, date back to the time of the Roman Empire, who built an intricate bathhouse coupled with a temple on the site of a natural hot spring that the Celts had regarded as sacred and with healing properties.

As you can see, the Great Bath (top) and the Sacred Spring (bottom) today both have high concentrations of algae and bacteria, meaning that it is not safe to even touch the water, let alone immerse oneself in it.  The irony is incredible, given everything I wrote in the last paragraph.

Not all the water in the area is contaminated, though.  At the end of the audio tour I took, I was allowed to drink from a tap that contained Sacred Spring water that had been (somewhat) cleaned, making it safe enough for human consumption.

I drank two cups of the stuff, and I must say…it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as I thought it might be, though I have no intent to drink more of it (and I sought out a Starbucks shortly afterward to get some fruit juice to wash the aftertaste out).  Appropriately enough, it tasted like hot bathwater.

With that, our AHA group headed back to London via train.  With Friday giving up the ghost, the weekend, and all the work that comes with it, will commence quickly and brutally.  I’ve more-or-less finished one paper, I have an excellent start two others (given that I got an A on my last politics paper, I’m not worried about my current one despite my complete lack of progress on it), and the exams shouldn’t present too much trouble, but I’ll need to be very vigilant.  I’m talking late-nighters, staying indoors, and studying with fellow AHA students.  I’m in for quite the two days, followed by quite the week…

…but first, I need to get myself dinner and a drink with friends.

A non-bathwater drink, to be exact.

Modern reflections:

Not a lot to add here.  I still vaguely remember the taste of Bath's water: not great, but not terrible.

I notice that in a lot of these blog posts, I keep talking about my school assignments.  While Present Me sympathizes with Past Me in regards to the workload, Present Me also laughs due to everything that's happened since 2013.  Compared to my senior thesis, the Law School Admission Test, three grueling years of law school, the Oregon Bar Examination, the day-to-day work of lawyering, and the personal/professional complications from a global pandemic, my workload while abroad (from what I remember of the assignments) was downright easy.  Having reached the point in my career that no one cares about my grades (let alone undergraduate grades), my worrying about exams seems rather alien from here.  Keeping grades up was still a daunting task, but I ultimately handled it well.  Excellent work, Past Me!

Fischberg Flashback 12: Fair is Foul and Foul is Fair

Note: this was originally posted to Fisch and Chips on October 8, 2013.  A few changes, mostly grammatical, have been made.

It’s been nearly two days since my previous nervous post, and, fortunately, things seem to be looking up for me.  I’ve already turned in my OIE assignments, and I’m all but done with my Shakespeare paper.  Even my history and economics papers don’t seem so terrifying.  At this rate, I just might be able to sightsee this weekend!…or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part…

Anyhoo, I was in for a real treat last night: seeing my favorite Shakespeare play, The Tragedy of Macbeth, at the Globe!  For those unfamiliar with Macbeth, it’s a dark, short play involving witches, a ghost, hallucinations, sleepwalking, a drunken porter, and a whole lot of murder.  It’s my favorite Shakespeare play because: 1) it has incredibly rich imagery in almost every scene, 2) it has an intriguing history of being political propaganda for King James I of England, and 3) it was the first Shakespeare play that I ever read, all the way back in high school, where I first learned of the Globe…which, I would like to remind you, is where I was.  This production was highly entertaining, employed great acting, and as an added bonus, featured Billy Boyd (who played Peregrin Took in the Lord of the Rings movies) playing Banquo.  All in all, another wonderful excursion to the theater!

As this week continues, I certainly have a fair amount to be nervous about.  Even though they may seem doable, my papers are certainly going to take quite a bit of time and effort.  Furthermore, I have obligations on Wednesday and Friday, limiting my window of opportunity for working.  As a result, I may have to work late into the nights of the coming weekend, forcing me to concentrate like never before and testing my paper-writing skills like never before.

However, none of that matters in the big picture because: I.  Saw.  MACBETH.  AT.  THE F***ING GLOBE!!!

Seriously, I don’t know how I’m going to top that for a while!  And so, like Macbeth preparing for his final duel, I must set about completing my schoolwork; unsure of the conclusion, but confident in action.

Lay on, Macduff;

And damned be him that first cries, “Hold, enough!”

 

Present observations:

In a year as fantastic as 2013, where I studied abroad, embarked on a host of adventures, and became a more independent adult, seeing Macbeth at the Globe remains the arguable highlight of the whole year.  The whole experience really was that amazing, and that's genuine glee in the photo above.  My classmates and I saw six Shakespeare plays (and The Magic Flute) over the course of the semester, and most of us agreed that this was the best show of the semester.  It's experiences like this (things you love at culturally significant places) that make studying abroad all the sweeter.

Fischberg Flashback 11: This is BBC

Note: this was originally posted to Fisch and Chips on October 7, 2013.  A few changes have been made to fix grammar and protect the identity of classmates whom I haven't spoken to in a while.

Week five has started!  As a result, the workload is beginning to pile up.  By the end of next week, I’ll need to have turned in one paper for each class, visited the London School of Economics twice, seen two more plays, made plans for my mid-term break, gone to Bath, and completed a pair of assignments for Willamette’s Office of International Affairs…but that won’t keep me from blogging!  Overconfidence for the win!!!!!!

My weekend went smoothly, as I (sort of) got a lot of work done and my cough has finally left me.  I’ve finally gotten into the working mindset and have been slacking off less (or at least trying to, with mixed results) and working everywhere, even on the Tube!

Today’s field trip destination for politics class was the headquarters for the British Broadcasting Corporation, the largest (and best, according to the people who work there) media broadcaster in the world.

When we went inside, the thing that most excited me was neither the privilege of being able to see the inner workings of a venerable organization nor the ability to gain an in-depth perspective of the British media and its effect on political culture.  Instead, it was this:

Yeah.

Anyhoo, after getting off my initial Doctor Who buzz, I went along with our tour of the news area (where photography was not allowed, sadly).  Afterward, we were allowed into a small studio for visitors, where three of us were allowed to try our hands at reporting the news.  While in the studio, I made a new friend:

I think he was the local pest control guy, as he kept saying "EXTERMINATE" again and again.

Our tour was not long, but it filled us in on some highlights in BBC’s history.  Before we left, we were allowed into another guest studio, where we performed a radio drama, where I played Prince Harry to the best of my abilities (which, in this case, meant that I just imitated what I hope sounded like an English accent).  Good thing I don’t have a day job to not quit!

The other reason I’m glad to not have a day job is that I’m really going to be really busy these next two months (though once again, that won’t slow down my blog or my CJP)!  I’m probably going to continue my industrious trend tonight, working late into the night.  I see many late-nighters in my future…*gulp*!

Good night!

Modern reflections:

Nothing much to add here, though I'm reminded that I should get back to watching Doctor Who one of these days.