In the words of fellow UK-lover DRAKE, “Oh me oh me oh my.”
Roadman Drake sporting Stone Island, a popular brand for English football heads
Yet another college semester ends, the pendulum of time continues to sway, and I spiral evermore into the abyss of adult life. London is in my rear view (I touched down in Philadelphia a few days ago) and my wholesome American life has resumed.
Looking back on these past four-ish months, all I can say is this: So many life-changing vibes have been felt.
I came to London in January as a naive, uneducated explorer in search of a few cultural comparisons. Never did I think I’d end up jamming to a Spanish version of “Trap Queen” in a Soho club, falling in love with Sunday Roasts, or running into awesome distant cousins.
But enough tears of joy-filled nostalgia, let’s run through a few happenings that led up to the semester’s finale:
-I went to BERLIN! Alongside my pal Emily and a few new friends, I ventured to The Grey City to see what’s up. For whatever reason, I was expecting a dark and dreary industrial city (probably due to its nickname), but it was no such thing. We checked out Checkpoint Charlie and even Museumsinsel, the magical landmass that translates to ‘Museum Island’. Also, I lost my tofu virginity at some Asian vegan restaurant—It was decent!
This is the Berlin hotel Michael Jackson hung that baby out the window in 2002
-My brother from another, DAVID, came all the way from Bucknell Univ. to visit and we certainly lived it up! At the pub one night, we ran into John Hurt, the actor of Ollivander in Harry Potter or the old dude in (the lackluster) Indiana Jones 4. The next day we went to the Warner Bros. Harry Potter Studios. The following, we nearly drowned at a foam party.
-Azi and I checked out BRIXTON one Saturday and left with wonky vibes. There certainly were some cool spots to see, but we couldn’t shake the sense of massive gentrification as little was left of the authentic London / Jamaican culture. We did find an incredible jerk chicken and plantain spot, however.
-I saw some SPORT!! Some friends and I went to a football match between the national teams of England and the Netherlands where we saw the great Daniel Sturridge out doing work. Also, I ventured to Twickenham to catch a Harlequins rugby match that, despite knowing zero of the rules, was a blast to see.
I was eating a Beef & Ale pie when I snapped this photo
So as you can see, my UK adventuring went on right until I was kicked out of my flat. But by no means did I finish exploring London, the UK, and certainly Europe—there’s just so much to experience! I’ll surely be back as soon as possible, and to anyone taking the time to read my ramblings, make sure you get yourselves there at some point in your beautiful lives.
To all the family and friends that made this semester so amazing, xoxoxo.
(Editor’s Note: This post is made up of fragments of a field report I did for a writing class)
From talks and travels over the past two months, I’ve pieced together some perspective about what university student life is like around London and how diverse demographics emerge within it.
Throughout the term, I managed to venture to both Oxford and Cambridge to feel the original incarnations of the English college experience. The following report encapsulates my findings.
The University of Oxford – “The oldest university in the English-speaking world”
On a chilly, overcast Thursday in mid-March when my roommates all had class, I woke up early to trek out of the city and into Oxford. I made sure my phone was fully charged (without the Maps app, I nearly can’t function) and took off to Marble Arch station to find the Oxford Tube, a one-way shot from central London to Oxfordshire.
After wandering around the strange horse head statue outside of the Marble Arch tube station for a few minutes, I luckily caught sight of a kid with a blue tracksuit that had “OXFORD ROWING” screen-printed on its back in bold block lettering. I followed him across the plaza where the Arch sits and, sure enough, I found my bright red double-decker chariot.
I found my way to the second floor of the bus and gazed over at Hyde Park’s marble Italian Gardens as we began to head east along Bayswater Road. Upon shifting northeast at Shepherd’s Bush, the aftereffects of only sleeping five hours the night prior finally kicked in. I imagine the rest of the hour-long bus ride was filled with luscious landscapes and spectacular sights, but can’t be certain since I ended up dozing off until “Saint Aldate’s” was announced over the loudspeakers.
Finally awake and arrived in Oxford, I bustled off the bus and into an urban amalgamation of Romanesque, baroque, and English gothic architecture. I immediately check Maps, and walked a few yards to The University Church of St. Mary the Virgin, the first stop on my tour.
From what I read on various plaques inside, this church is the University of Oxford’s first building and from which the school grew. Judging from its gothic style, I imagined the church was old, but until I learned it was constructed in the 12th century, it didn’t hit me howold this institution truly is. The university has no known exact date of foundation, however, there has been evidence found of teaching as far back as 1096- almost a thousand years ago! Meaning, when the Mississippian Native American civilization was beginning to thrive across the pond via maize-based agriculture and shell tempered pottery, the English were founding an institution of higher education. Countless times the sheer oldness of Europe has left me flabbergasted this term.
What also interested me as I perused this ancient parish was to what effect religion played in student life at Oxford over the centuries. It surprised me to find out that, unlike Harvard or Yale who were founded by Puritans, Oxford was established by various religious orders. The school even allowed members of various religious orders, including Dominicans, Franciscans, Carmelites, and Augustinians to settle in Oxford in the mid-13th century and maintain halls for students. Most astonishing to me, however, was a fact that a pamphlet in the church noted: 12 saints studied at this prestigious university.
Following The University Church, I walked around the outside of Radcliffe Camera, an immaculate circular library not actually named after the photo-taking device or the Harry Potter actor, but a doctor named John Radcliffe and the Latin word for “room”. I then began exploring where students lived and studied, the colleges.
Coming in without much prior knowledge, I was also very confused about how this system was set up. Why are there 38 different “colleges” here? Are they all a part of Oxford? What’s the difference between them? Turns out, these colleges and permanent private halls are of religious foundation (many set up by the aforementioned religious orders) and are “autonomous self-governing corporations within the university”. Some required a fee to visit, so I made to have a university employee fully explain them to me before I threw down any money. These colleges are not only houses of residence, but have primary responsibility for student teaching and feature significant endowments. They tend to boast interesting names like Brasenose College, Christ Church, or Jesus College, and each generally specialize in certain subjects. Annoyingly, each college must be applied to individually when seeking Oxford admission.
Opting to not pay £10 to gain entry, I found my way into All Souls College by saying I was looking to attend graduate school there (perhaps not a lie, who knows). It featured a perfectly-cut lawn in its quad’s center as well as cozy living quarters inside the surrounding gothic buildings. I couldn’t help but think a computer would look out of place among the olden sensibilities of the place.
All Souls, which does not allow any undergraduate members, features a unique “Prize Fellowship” opportunity for graduate students. The competition, offered since 1878, features a series of written exams each September that include questions related to one’s line of study as well as two general questions. I read online that one previous general question has been: “Does the moral character of an orgy change when the participants wear Nazi uniforms?” Truly a head-scratcher.
Quad game spectacular
After adequately being exposed to the fantasy-esque living and learning spaces of Oxford students, I was thoroughly parched. I took a recommendation from my cousin, Nick, who studied abroad at Oxford years ago, and found the infamous Turf Tavern. This extremely low-ceilinged pub is the oldest in Oxford, founded around 1381, and has been very popular for student socializing as well as betting throughout the centuries (This second fact reminded me of the original stock market coffee shops from Georgian London). However, hilariously, what this tavern most blatantly advertises is its connection with our 42nd president, Bill Clinton. As the story goes, Clinton studied at Oxford during his Rhodes scholar term in the Sixties and experimented with marijuana at the Turf Tavern. “I didn’t inhale and I didn’t try it again,” were Clinton’s notorious words that forever enshrined this dingy beer-serving cellar.
Yet despite the cramped quarters, sitting at the Tavern among students, eating a warm beef pie, and sipping a cider was the perfect end to my Oxford experience. Not to be seen were cards or games like I’ve seen at other pubs, but books filled the wall shelving. Also, out were debates about sports or celebrities, as I was surrounded by young scholars quipping about politics, books, and research undertaken. It perfectly wrapped up what I’d been feeling about Oxford: age-old tradition, detachment from urban hubbub, and strict studies with a touch of pretention sprinkled in for good measure.
The University of Cambridge – The second half of “Oxbridge”
Following my trip to Oxford, I was unsure about the necessity of heading north to Cambridge. Travel blogs online couldn’t offer a definitive answer and I felt it might be one of those “If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all” situations. Luckily, my roommates were extremely adamant about seeing the second-oldest university of the English speaking world and we took the National Rail service from King’s Cross to Cambridge last Saturday.
Immediately upon entering the town of Cambridge, we were confronted with more ancient architecture, however, perhaps partly due to the shining sun, this town appeared much more beautiful than Cambridge. As we first mingled around an outdoor market where Jack bought an Indiana Jones hat and I copped fried dumplings, I felt this was noticeably different than the urban environment Oxford offered. I remember reading online prior that Oxford was initially a town where the university was eventually built in; however, Cambridge was a university first around which a town formed. From the organized streets, expansive lawns, and overall space of the university, I felt Cambridge had its own distinct makeup. It’s more of the yin to Oxford’s yang, rather than a blatant copy.
How Cambridge came to be, though, is partially lost in history and perhaps shrouded by sin. A student research project linked to Cambridge’s website titled “Cambridge University – the Unauthorized History” states that just over 800 years ago, the university was founded by Oxford scholars “fleeing persecution during a period of conflict between church and state”. In 1209, power struggles were going on all over Europe, notably whether King John or Pope Innocent III should appoint the next Archbishop of Canterbury. Reports say that successive popes in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries incited the mob against lepers, gays, Jews, and others, in the process of forming a culture of persecution of outsiders. As Oxford townsfolk began carrying out this discrimination in violent ways, the scholars dispersed to Cambridge.
As my roommates and I walked around the campus, it’s clear that certain traditions weren’t lost upon creating this second English university. Cambridge sports 31 colleges within the greater university, such as Trinity College, Queen’s College, and another Jesus College. Certain ones have specific specialties and others only accept women or postgraduates, but what most distinguishes each school are their distinct scarf colors- something J.K. Rowling must’ve been inspired by when creating the Hogwarts “Houses”.
Jack, our other roommate Ish, and I choose, once more, not to pay for the overpriced tickets to visit the colleges, so we wandered down to the River Cam that runs through campus in search of entrance. But before we made our way into any colleges, we took a moment to figure out what in the world was going on with the men standing on wooden boats with long poles in hand. We realized that since the river is shallow and gravelly, “punters” are able to propel themselves along the Cam and travel along the campus’ immaculate tan gothic university buildings and botanical gardens. While this activity exists in Oxford, its far more popular in Cambridge.
Punt Life
My crew and I eventually decided it was a bit too cold for punting still and wandered until we snuck past security and into Darwin College. As you might assume, this school was named after the English naturalist Charles and sits just yards away from the river. It’s the home of solely graduate students and even features its own boat club. We had the incredible opportunity to walk around the student-only grounds of the college and were absolutely awestruck by the stunningly quaint sights that reminded us of The Shire.
The rest of the day was spent dipping into as many colleges as we could and ceaselessly ogling at the awesomeness of Cambridge. Over the best Moroccan food I’ve ever had, we talked at dinner about the distinct nuances that this illustrious school exhibits. I noted how much more beautiful the campus was designed over Oxford due to the space available centuries ago as well as how science seemed to be a greater focus here. Jack explained that he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the grandiose buildings and over-the-top scholarly atmosphere. “A school needs a bit of utilitarianism like Posvar at Pitt, I couldn’t get any work done if everything looked like the Cathedral of Learning,” he chirped. Ish meanwhile said he’d undoubtedly study here without question, regardless of any extreme opulence or pretentiousness.
FINAL THOUGHTS
-While Oxford is known to be more ‘arty’ and liberal artsy, Cambridge is more science-focused.
-At either of these universities, there weren’t any of the “F##K PENN STATE” type of vibes that you feel around Pitt’s campus. The Brit’s are definitely more mannerly.
-Stephen Hawking attended both unis over the course of his studies.
-Oxfordians, the snobby people who believe that Shakespeare couldn’t possibly have written his masterpieces due to his lack of prestigious education, are super annoying.
Feast your eyes and ears on this documentary I made for my ‘Shakespeare in London’ course… I contemplated not posting this but then realized this blog is long past saving… Starring my classmate / investigative field reporter, Jack!
Call me crazy…butCASINO ROYALE could be the greatest movie ever. Well, it certainly is the best Bond film at least.
Before you exit out of my blog and never read it again, just let me explain.
There are a bunch of reasons we watch movies- for joy, entertainment, inspiration, sorrow, love, hatred, etc. And what CASINO ROYALE is for me is ESCAPISM in its finest form. I mean, every one of the 1000 times I’ve watched this masterpiece, I drool on myself in sheer awe of Bond’s swag as well as cry at the end because I will never be that cool.
I simply want to be Bond when he is hunking it up in the Bahamas, winning Astons via poker and whatnot. Or when he is saving a jumbo jet from exploding. Or when he shuts down the poker game for a second when Vesper *swoon* struts in voluptuously and kisses him…You get the point.
So let’s condense and organize these thoughts a little bit into some easily-understandable reasons why I feel the need to make this post (I wrote 2 more points about the flawless costumes and the plot but decided to scrap those for length purposes…maybe there will be a part 2, who knows).
1. The script is absolutely marvelous
Let’s look at an example:
Such banter!
I sadly haven’t yet had the chance to read Ian Fleming’s novel, so I don’t know how much of the dialogue was directly taken from the text, but the writing really shines in the scenes between Bond and Vesper, in particular their first meeting. The writers and director Martin Campbell realize that she is the one woman that Bond ever truly falls in love with. She has a tremendous impact on his life and ultimately shapes him into the Bond that we all know, so thankfully her dialogue is equally beautiful, sophisticated, clever, mysterious, and complex. The dialogue in this scene stands out from the rest of the script, but not in a negative way. It reads and sounds like the great film noir CASINO ROYALE was meant to be.
I don’t want this to become a drudge, so let’s keep this moving.
Vesper Lynd: “If the only thing left of you was your smile and your little finger, you’d still be more of a man than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Bond: “That’s because you know what I can do with my little finger …”
(If you want to do further research on the script, clickHEREfor the whole thing)
2. Bond isn’t a big doofus!!
Daniel Craig’s Bond is a vulnerable, #emotional, and rugged character who starkly contrasts with Connery’s silly playboy Bond (no beef tho). This newest Bond is forced to use his wits throughout the movie, especially in the grand Texas Hold’Em match at the end, in order to complete the mission. He lost once to the twitchy Le Chiffre and required the help of the CIA bro, Felix, disproving an invincibility previously associated with the character.We see bitterness surface, we even see Bond forming real emotional attachments. And when his love interest, Vesper, is killed after her heart-wrenching betrayal, his line: “The job’s done and the bitch is dead”, says everything that needs saying. Damn, James. (This all being said, he can still charm ladies’ pants off when need be.)
3. The theme of “trust”
Finally, let’s talk about the theme of the movie: trust. CASINO ROYALE was written by Ian Fleming when he was just about to get married in the Bahamas and was reflecting on the Bohemian bachelor life he was leaving behind. The story he wrote is Bond doing the same thing. Bond falls in love with Vesper and decides to leave MI6 to spend his years happily with her. This story requires us to fall in love with Vesper the same way Bond does or else the twenty minutes where the two characters float around in Venice would be a momentum killer. Thankfully, the characters are handled well and one feels like one could see a whole movie of Bond and Vesper’s travels and enjoy it thoroughly.
Of course, this can’t last forever and Bond tragically has everything he cares about torn from him. His trust is betrayed in the worst way imaginable. Bond becomes a cold-hearted bastard thus launching him into a career filled with misogyny and one-night stands with only the most exotically beautiful women on the planet. I literally burst out in tears every time I watch the drowning scene. Shortly after Vesper’s death, M calls Bond and asks, “You don’t trust anyone anymore, do you Bond?” He replies, “No.”
“Then you’ve learned your lesson.”
Editors Note: I don’t acknowledge Spectre ever happened.
This cartoon that I stumbled upon while surfing the ‘net made me think: Why is a lack of emotion sometimes deemed COOL??
I may have opened a can of worms with this vibe felt, but once I noticed it, I can’t stop seeing evidence! The word ‘cool’ itself is associated with chillness/nonchalantness, but why is this the standard for cutting-edge swagger? It may be rooted in snobbishness, radiating sentiments that one is constantly unimpressed with the mundane world around them, but just typing that seems lame. Who are the gatekeepers of cool in 2016 London (as well as the world) spreading this vibe?
EXHIBIT A: FASHUN
Taken from a Selfridges campaign, this Rick Owens ensemble looks like something a couple would wear to a funeral in some cold, dark dystopian future universe. Nevertheless, dudes like A$AP Rocky love rocking this STREET GOTH flow, and thus Londoners pick it up.
EXHIBIT 2: MUZIK
Ever since hitting the scene with lo-fi VCR-filmed music videos accompanying tracks from his Unknown Death 2002 mixtape, Swedish teen rapper Young Lean and his SAD BOYS crew have risen to cultural prominence. In 2013, Fact even published an article titled “Rise of the Sad Boys: from Kompakt to Yung Lean, a history of how electronic musicians have worn their sadness on their sleeves”, which claimed that “[Yung Lean]’s mixtape Unknown Death 2002 is the epitome of sad rap”.
SEMI-CONCLUSIONS
This vibe is immensely dense and hard to fully understand. I doubt any many in the history of this beautiful country has ever fully fathomed it. This being said, I do believe the urban-cool vibe is a bit elitist and looks down upon others who won’t conform to their mold. Certain fashion and music trends even perpetuate this.
But #SadStyle isn’t necessarily a bad thing if it’s genuine. I love tons of music deemed emotional or dark or sad such as Radiohead or James Blake. It can be a refuge as one occasionally seemingly gets swallowed by the madness of this wild world!
Happiness shouldn’t be stomped out in London but sadness shouldn’t be ridiculed– HUMANS ARE EMOTIONAL CREATURES!
Earlier this week, I took the advice of writer John Betjeman to “look up”. I put aside the sprawling wires of the circuit-like Underground on Monday afternoon in order to get a lay of the land via a famous London double-decker bus. From my seat on the 10 Bus’s top level, I jotted down notes of my trip that spanned from Hammersmith, to Hyde Park, beyond Oxford Street, and ultimately to King’s Cross station. The following record is a reflection of my experiences.
skrt skrt skrt
16:54 PM – Hammersmith Station
Following my afternoon Economics class letting out, I jetted straight to Waitrose to pick up a lukewarm to-go chicken tikka masala meal and hopped on the District line to Hammersmith Station. Hammersmith marked the takeoff point of my journey, the commencement spot of an hour-long adventure spanning about ten miles and 33 stops. Within a few minutes of waiting, my chariot, the 10 bus, swung around the corner and pulled up next to me. I proceeded to tap my Oyster card on the scanner and climbed up to the second floor. After all, the best way to look up is to look down from above.
At first I thought I was alone up top with my Indian cuisine and trusty Moleskine, however, I quickly noticed a hooded man in the very back seat scowling at me with a murderous look. To my relief, this terrifying man/creature scurried off at the next stop and I lived to tell this tale.
16:55 PM – Brook Green
The cherry red double-decker rolled past Latymer Court as we picked up a few folks huddled under the bus stop’s awning at Brook Green. Three of the incoming rain-sprinkled bus riders decided to join the party on the second floor and quickly ended my loneliness. Two fairly old middle eastern men decided to cop two of the front row seats, while a hefty British kid about my age opted to sit across the aisle from me in the middle. The British kid, upon plopping down on his purple seat, pulled out a brown McDonalds sack and started scarfing down a large fry.
The road we were on continued to be aligned with the London regulars- Pret, Café Nero, Sainsbury’s- so nothing was too noteworthy to report at the moment.
The rain soon picked up and the melancholy, muggy version of London began to take form. I thought of Simon Kushner’s prologue in the book LONDONERS. Kushner, who happily escaped from London to South Africa, griped about the depressing and toxic atmosphere of the city: “London is actually a beautiful place when the weather’s good; the mood is lighter and everybody’s smiling. But for the other 350 days a year, it’s miserable. You’re standing there waiting for the bus in the rain…” But even as I stood in the rain to catch the bus, like the others on my trip, I couldn’t describe the experience as “miserable”. The dude really needs to read this post.
17:00 PM – Warwick Gardens
By this point, my fast food friend had completely demolished his fry supply and moved onto wolfing down a series of McChickens with reckless abandon. He had gone through two by the time we passed the Hilton Olympia at the Holland Road stop. Next, we pulled up to Warwick Gardens. As I glanced out my window to the right, I examined a row of “posh” flats at St. Mary Abbots Court. A did a quick search on my phone about listings in this area and learned, as you can imagine, that these flats are quite pricy- £1,350,000 for a two bedroom, two reception room apartment.
Because of air currents or something like that, palm trees exist here
However, as the bus continued down Kensington High Street, I became transfixed on an even more head-scratching phenomenon: London PALM TREES. I’ve confusingly seen them throughout the city and have been meaning to look into whether they were real or not. Another Google search led me to The Palm Centre, a Richmond-based nursery that supplies Londoners with exotic plants from around the world. While I’m no horticulture expert, the website didn’t list many issues with planting one of their 24 different palms around a city flat. I’ve got to keep this in mind when I eventually move into the urban jungle.
17:05 PM – Kensington Palace
I caught myself unintentionally staring at a girl on the 9 Bus headed in the opposite direction as we approached the Kensington Palace stop. When those strange eye-locks happen with strangers I always wonder what the other person is thinking. “Why is this weirdo staring at me??” I’d assume.
Regardless, our 10 Bus tour had by now passed High St. Kensington Station, where we picked up an extremely fashionable elderly couple, and was approaching the proud jewel of West London: Whole Foods. I desperately wished I had an overpriced organic snack to nom on right then.
The Kensington Palace stop, stationed outside a hotel like many along this line, brought in an American girl loudly chatting on her cellphone as well as an Asian man who immediately fell asleep in the bus’s back row.
We continued onward past the Palace Gate stop and I was able to peek into Kensington Gardens. As we picked up a few more travelers at Queen’s Gate, the pitter-patter of the rain became audible on the bus’s metal roof.
17:09 – Royal Albert Hall
This stop marked when the rainy, silent serenity of the trip went completely to ruin. Three Spanish families blasted up the stairs, each with a sizable squadron of rowdy elementary-aged kids. Some were whining, some were fighting, some were making noise just to make noise. The point is, even the sleepy Asian guy in the back sputtered awake.
But moments like these are when I’m glad I grew up with three younger brothers; I’m unflappable and keep cool even around the most mindless childish madness because that’s what my parents dealt with for over 20 years. Moments like these also provoke questions like, “How did my parents stay sane all this time??”
The only one getting off to see the immaculate Albert Memorial or the famous concert hall was McDonalds Man, who had to have eaten at least four sandwiches by the time he threw his crumpled bag on the bus floor and trudged off.
17:28 – Marble Arch
From the Prince of Wales Gate to the Hyde Park Corner stop, the windows fogged up almost completely. With a 75% packed house plus kids running and/or flipping over seats, it was bound to happen eventually. When I did rub off my window, however, I glanced outside and saw more typical shopping like the Knightsbridge Burberry, so I wasn’t missing much.
Is it truly a city without an arch…?
We soon got to Marble Arch, the large marble monument revealed to the city in 1828 and starting point of my weekly runs. Next, we curved down Oxford Street (more shopping!) only to get stuck in bumper to bumper traffic. The mixture of pouring rain, snail-like movement, and the pack of youngsters wrestling down the aisles made for near palpable sense of annoyance among the soggy passengers.
I spent this downtime pondering why certain American food chains make it big in London. Yes, I love FIVE GUYS burgers and wholeheartedly believe that it rightfully deserves the block-long lines it garners in Covent Garden, but I cannot fathom why Londoners allow the putrid Pizza Hut and KFC to thrive out here. I won’t leave London without solving this perplexing puzzle.
17:35 – Selfridges
Here I saw four people walking along the rainy street with matching Union Jack flag umbrellas. I reacted by thinking, “Silly tourists,” only to remember that I’m not much different. But have they been working tirelessly throughout the term on a blog that seeks to feel and understand the unique vibes of the United Kingdom?? I’d assume not!!!
One group of kids thankfully scurried off the bus while one remaining youth banged his headed against the window and proceeded to cry. “25 minutes left,” I remind myself.
17:49 – British Library
By now, we had passed Oxford Circus, Tottenham Court Road, Percy Street, Goodge Street, Warren Street, and Euston Square. The sun was beginning to split the overcast skies, the crazy kids had settled down after a scolding by their parents, and we were entering an area that I’d never seen from ground level. Things were marvelous.
Euston Road is home to the University College Hospital and the Quaker Friends House, both of which I hadn’t seen before. The Quaker building was quite large and even featured a bookshop and vegan café. I have a strong love for William Penn and his “holy experiment” of Pennsylvania, but I don’t know much else about Quaker life. Perhaps I’ll stop back another time.
As we pulled into the British Library stop, I saw St. Pancras New Church to my right. Apparently this is the second version of the church. The first, which the Beatles took a famous photo outside of, is a kilometer away in Somers Town. Thank you again, internet.
17:56 – King’s Cross
“King’s Cross Station. This bus terminates here. Please take all your belongings with you.”
I made it! I crossed the finish line as the lone man standing (or sitting) on the bus! Goodbye forever, to each of my absurd travel companions xoxo!
Me meandering around King’s Cross Station
Headed Home
To save some time, I opted to hop on the Circle Line following the 10 Bus’s termination. The King’s Cross station was extremely hectic, with suitcase-dragging travelers bustling alongside tuxedo-clad men gulping down golden flasks. I’d assume they were headed to some sort of bachelor party, but they also easily could’ve been catering waiters en route to a dismal night of work.
I oddly felt much more relaxed after I sat down on the yellow Circle Line train. Unlike the double-decker buses, this is a mode of transportation that I take daily. It’s a system that I’ve mastered underneath the earth and reality, always knowledgeable of where I’m headed. I think the Underground’s simplicity is what makes it so calming. You sit down, close your eyes, and jump off when you hear the robotic voice announce your stop.
But what my bus trip provided, unlike the Tube, was context. As your train shuffles along the wiry maze, you’re clueless of where you truly are, a sensation that feeds into the “Londin” drudge that some call it. By looking up from the Underground and looking down via my perch on the 10 bus’s second floor, I crafted a mental map of how certain city streets and neighborhoods interact. London’s winding streets boast their own wiry blueprint, however, to solve this jigsaw, I have to continue looking up rather than down for answers.
“I want anybody from around to world to be able to listen to the album and know it comes from London. From the beats, not just the vocals,” stated North London grime legend SKEPTA in a recent interview with The Fader.
His upcoming album, Konnichiwa, marks a pivotal point in the history of grime music. Skepta, the 32-year-old MC/producer, is the genre’s current poster boy thanks to singles like “That’s Not Me” and “Shutdown” that have transcended London pirate radios as well as valuable cosigns by Kanye, Drake, and the A$AP Mob. With his hype precipitating to mercurial heights in the city and beyond, Skeppy has the best chance to finally introduce the rest of the world to the unique vibes of grime music.
But without a release date yet set for Konnichiwa, I figured I might as well do some research and explaining about the genre to provide some context before the big event.
GRIME emerged in England in the early 2000s, and while it can appear on the surface as just British dudes rapping really fast, it defines itself as a development of UK garage, drum and bass, and dancehall. Producers create the signature fierce, antic sounds by distilling the polyrhythms of drum and bass or garage (rave music) to a minimal style sometimes consisting of little more than a woozy bass line and a sampled videogame blip. Awesomely, Skepta’s early production was crafted on Mario Paint on the SNES and Music 2000 for PlayStation.
Around 2003-2004, famous grime MCs like Dizzee Rascal, Wiley, Kano, and Lethal Bizzle were among a talented group of artists who broke through and scored the first mainstream media attention for the genre. Dizzee Rascal’s Boy in da Corner, a must-listen, won the 2003 Mercury Music Prize (a prestigious award that honors the year’s best album from the UK and Ireland) and garnered a 9.4/10 on Pitchfork. However, grime’s worldwide wave subsided fairly quickly as many artists sold-out to pop sounds.
While Dizzee and Wiley were having major chart hits around 2010, they weren’t via grime. Even Skepta at this time left behind the sounds of lyric battle DVDs and pirate radio stations for electro-pop bangers perfect for poolside parties in Ibiza. Luckily, contemporary MCs recognize this time of departure and have made a strong effort to get back to the original gritty formula that grime was created from.
That’s why “That’s Not Me” created such a stir upon its release. It’s Skepta’s refreshing return to his roots as he distances himself from the superfluous trappings of the baller lifestyle: Sex any girl? That’s not me / Lips any girl? That’s not me / Yeah, I used to wear Gucci / Put it all in the bin cause that’s not me.
ESSENTIAL GRIME VOCABULARY
Wag1/Wagwan – “What’s up”
Ends – The area you come from (like ‘Hood’)
Mandem – Your crew/friends
Blud/Bruv – Greeting to a friend (‘Why are there Prets every 5 feet in London, blud?’)
Merk – To ruin someone/something
Shook – Scared
Dutty – Ugly/dirty
Wasteman – Someone who’s a waste of time/space/life
Gassed – Excited (‘I get so gassed reading UK Vibes’)
For those wanting a taste test of the wonderful world of grime, check out Grime Time, a compilation by the Ministry of Sound filled with many crucial tracks of the genre.
P.S. Shout-out to the roadman Colin Deery who has ranted to me incessantly about Tim Westwood freestyles for years now. A true grime OG.
(Editor’s Note May 2016: KONNICHIWA IN STORES NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Sorry again for the sporadic postings– This past week I was off being a European Spring Breaker! Follow along for a very vague recap of the week via photos taken on my constantly-dying iPhone 5:
DESTINATION ONE: ¡MADRID!
Some funky greenery spotted while walking Buen Retiro Park
The spooky Palacio de Cristal… An exhibition of bones hanging from the ceiling
DESTINATION TWO: ¡BARCELONA!
I fell to my knees and cried as I felt the warm sun for seemingly the first time in yearsDidn’t find my way onto any boats unfortunately
In Park Güell, there was a great violinist performing. I was more distracted, however, by this dude’s haircut
Rastafarian Jedi vibes strongly felt
My friends and I hiked the highest mountain/hill in the city. Felt as empowered as Steve Aoki must when he presses buttons on his laptop in front of thousands of Cancún sprang breakers
DESTINATION THREE: ¡PORTUGAL!
Grumpy local not happy with us American tourists
Met the nicest couple up at the São Jorge Castle
At the bizarrely beautiful Quinta da Regaleira estate in Sintra, Portugal, we came across an ‘inverted tower’ that went into the earth and led to a series of underground tunnels
That just about concludes the journey… What a hectic and incredibly enjoyable week… Now back to the ‘Big Smoke’ for more UK-ing.
What am I doing to celebrate? Not sure if anything. Probably just putting on my typical ensemble- tank top, cargo shorts, Oakley Oil Rigs, and Jordan slides- in hopes of getting street style’d by Tommy Ton.
Most of my time recently has been devoted to studying/writing papers for midterms, so naturally I got sidetracked and decided to give this blogging thing a go again.
This post might be the most important of the semester. It’s a culmination of thoughts I’ve been thinking for years and serves as an extremely rough draft to my doctoral thesis.
I present, PERPLEXING NEXUSES: FASHION EDITION
RALPH LAUREN (originally named Ralph Lifshitz) was born in the Bronx to Ashkenazi Jewish immigrants from Belarus. After dropping out of college and the army, he pursued his passion to design wide European-style neckties. In 1966, he started stitching ties together from rags in his workspace, a drawer in the Empire State Building
In the 80s and 90s, people in the projects of Brooklyn created an entire subculture around wearing and collecting Ralph Lauren, calling themselves the ‘Lo-Lifes’. In an interview with VICE, rapper Mayhem Lauren explains, “It was more about the pieces for me. I didn’t care about buying, I didn’t care about racking, I just wanted it. There was a time in my life when I was racking Polo, pulling schemes for Polo, and spending checks from my day job on Polo. At the end of the day, it was about coming through fresh.”
Let’s not forget the most vocal wearer of Polos and backpacks:
But while I have been thinking about this American-based Polo link between peppiness and hip hop culture for some time now, I learned about other interesting connections from walking around London.
FRED PERRY was a championship-winning English tennis player and former World No. 1 who won eight Grand Slams. Most impressively, the dude won three consecutive Wimbledon Championships from 1934 – 1936 and was the first player to win a “Career Grand Slam” at age 26 (what am I doing with my life?? Oh right, blogging).
Besides creating the first sweatbands, Perry’s legacy lived on via his still-popular clothing line. What’s cool is that his tennis shirt of white knitted cotton pique with short sleeves and a buttoned placket was first launched at 1952’s Wimbledon, an event known for snobbish and elitist vibes, but grew in popularity due to counterculture adoption.
The Mod culture first rocked Fred Perry in the 1950s and helped the brand truly launch. Mods typically focused on looking sharp as well as listening to jazz, soul, ska, and R&B. They also cruised around in motor scooters and were associated with amphetamine-fuelled all-night dancing clubs. Countless millennials have to thank David Bowie, a young mod once, for founding The Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Long-Haired Men.
Throughout the 60s and 70s, Fred Perry support continued from teenagers in the Northern soul and skinhead scenes, among others.
FURTHER THOUGHTS:
-What does this all mean??? I’m still synthesizing!!
-Is this any different than Jamaicans wearing Clark’s Wallabees or frat bros sporting Patagonia?
-I loved this New Yorker article that traces Japanese subcultures adopting idealistic Ivy League preppy-ness in the 1960s
-How did certain patterns become associated with ‘prep’? For example, madras takes its name from a city in India
-Da Vinci once said, “Learn how to see. Realize that everything connects to everything else” …Was he talking about Ralph, though??
To the naïve eye, London can appear as one big POSH paradise. Countless Rolls Royces align the streets of multi-million-pound flats from the 17th-century. £85 is paid at certain swanky hotels for afternoon tea. People strut around the city in Givenchy like it’s gym clothes. I could go on.
These posh vibes have unmistakably been felt since I arrived, but only after watching a BBC documentary in class called London On Film – The Secret History of Our Streets did some of these feelings become contextualized.
This episode features Portland Road in Notting Hill, the archetypal London banker street, dominated by homes worth as much as £6,000,000. Yet when Booth [a famous British social researcher and reformer] visited in 1899, it was the worst slum in London and, even today, the bottom five per cent by income in Britain are living on the same street as the top one per cent.
I especially found interesting the story of Henry Mayhew, a descendent of Samuel Gurney, an original founder of Barclays, who recently lived on the street, got sick of the ‘boring’ banker lifestyle, and moved to a cabin in a forest in East Anglia.
“Like all the trendy areas of London it just gets lived in by investment bankers now. It just becomes very, very boring. You don’t know how boring it is until you’ve experienced it. It is amazing how one industry has completely dominated the best housing in London,” says Mayhew.
As one does research into the history, art, music, etc. of London, it becomes apparent that CLASS has typically been the hot topic, while in the United States RACE has been a more prominent subject. This is of course a generalization- class distinction/economic inequality has been prevalent in the US since its inception and is greatly connected to race issues- but I think it’s a point worth considering.
uk vibes 