Hannah Batia's blog

Residential block, PragueReading “On Habit” could not have come at a better moment in the course of my time studying abroad. I just returned from spring break, a two and a half week excursion throughout eastern and central Europe, concluding with a four-day stay in Barcelona with one of my best friends. My life during this period consisted of walking everywhere for the entire course of the day, absorbing every minute detail of the city’s fabric, be it a doorstep, lamppost, street corner, drink menu, currency, graffiti art, or even tree branches (I took particular pleasure in noticing how each city has a distinct type of tree). The journey was one unlike anything I have ever taken in my entire life; it was literally eye opening. What I did not expect at the trip’s conclusion, however, was that I was not very excited to come back to London. I did not feel any sense of exhaustion or defeat, or utter a big sigh of relief when I put my bags down in my room. Instead, I was worried that I’d return to London and keep to my routine and familiar neighborhood, since all I have left for the last few weeks is final papers and exams. The first day back, I stayed mostly in my room unpacking and reorganizing what looked the same. I was almost afraid to step outside to walk around an area that I felt would look mundane in comparison to everything I had seen. What De Botton writes about taking a walk in one’s neighborhood really inspired me to approach the last two weeks in a more positive mindset. He states that once anything and everything is considered to be an object of interest, life (and ideas) begin to take shape in a place that was formerly a means to an end. For example, the walk to or from class. How often do we spend our time with tunnel vision, rushing to get from point A to B to ensure we can slide through that classroom door before it closes, or make it to a destination before the group takes off. To counter this tendency, I decided to walk home after my classes yesterday, instead of hopping on the tube only to see the same two blue and green towers of our dorm. To my joyful surprise, on these two walks I discovered two new shops, a patisserie, and an adorable street called Exmouth Market.Block off of Old King's Road, London Just as De Botton describes, my faith was restored, and after that afternoon I came to appreciate all the little quirks and characteristics of my neighborhood. After all, it’s a sight line that I soon will not be absorbing anymore!Aside from my homecoming, I have not really felt that I forget to look around whenever I am walking somewhere in London. Perhaps it’s because I have not let myself fully settle to a point where it feels like home, and can slack off with my observations. Or perhaps maybe I really just enjoy taking walks and looking around. What I will be interested to see is how New York has changed once I return. I plan on finding a new apartment in a nearby area to where I used to live, so I look forward to noticing my old neighborhood literally from a new perspective.

April 24th, 2009. The day has come on which I have officially booked my flight to go back to New York City. For better or for worse, my visa expires before the program ends, and I must leave London on the ninth of May. While ordinarily, only having two weeks left before rushing home would cause me to want to see and do everything on my ever-expanding list of “things to do in London.” Yet, I actually feel at terms with how much of the city I was able to absorb in the amount of time I’ve been here. While there are a few cities I wish I could have traveled to during my time here, in the end I have no regrets about the extra time spent “at home,” and am confident that I will find a way to return to Europe to see these places in the near future. Studying abroad in general has opened my eyes to many places, people, and ways of life I would otherwise never have experienced. I came into this situation with a desire to get more of an international perspective on the contemporary art scene, which then expanded to witnessing the overall European way of life, and even further to consider the possibility of studying here again for an MA. Now being in the position to look back on the past months, I’d say that I definitely achieved what I set out to learn, and would certainly like to spend time in London again.

Wall art outside Tacheles, BerlinI feel as if every day I spent here taught me something about myself; a new self-awareness that I want to bring back with me to New York. In addition, up until studying here, I never once felt any connection to a sense of history, community, or ancestry. After going to see all of these places and locations around London and in Europe that are really old, and are filled with such a rich past, I have truly come to appreciate history. More specifically, over my spring break, I visited a concentration camp outside Berlin. It was a day so profound and emotional that I now know I will feel a deeper connection or association with being Jewish, even if it’s above all in a cultural sense, rather than religious. Finally, I know I am returning to the States with a greater motivation to see more cities and open my mind to different lifestyles and people. Returning from spring break, I realized I have definitely been bitten by the travel bug, and even though it came to me later than others, I am still so lucky that I have it at all, and have a greater understanding of how important it is to travel and witness how others live. Being a native New Yorker, I’ve been raised under the pretense that The City is the only place you need to be, and everywhere else will never be as great. Yet, now I’ve come to understand that lifestyles other than that of “the city that never sleeps” can be stimulating in unique ways.

Ultimately, living in London and traveling to Greenwich, Bath, Brighton, Paris, Prague, Budapest, Vienna, Berlin, and Barcelona taught me to be more patient, independent, driven, and open-minded. What’s more, I believe that I’ll be leaving the UK with a greater understanding of and appreciation for just how lucky I am to be able to have come here at all. As silly as it sounds, I know that I will return more of a grown-up and characteristically altered more than I ever could have expected.

NOT a typical British fellow...

He leans against the podium on stage, impatiently looking back and forth from his watch to the students who are slowly filing into the lecture hall. He wears crisp blue jeans, a tucked-in button down shirt, black loafers, and a navy blue blazer. Even though his attire is pretty professional, something about him leads one to see him as a bit disheveled, perhaps sloppy. His hairline is receding, and to be frank, I have not gotten close enough to this man to see whether he, like most of his fellow middle-aged British comrades, has inherited the unfortunate teeth that require a considerable amount of dental work. He speaks with a significant amount of confidence and sarcasm, and loves the sound of his own voice.Such is the persona of Professor Ian McKellen [Not his real name], the moderator of a lecture series. Each week, Professor McKellen introduces his well-to-do friends to lecture about topics relevant to contemporary British culture. He prefers to ask his own questions to spark debate between himself and the speaker before he allows the students to engage. He has a tendency to interrupt and steal the focus from the respectable speakers, always eager to have the final word. For example, after one lecturer extensively delivered a speech and had a lively back-and-forth with a student, for some reason the professor decided to advertise a scathing review some critic gave him years ago about how terrible his own book was.  What audacity and disrespect he demonstrated by disclosing such unnecessary and irrelevant facts.This anecdote is meant to confront the expectation that most people have of British men. Some assume all of them tend to be to be civilized, courteous, respectful, and dashing, Yet, in this search for one’s own Hugh Grant, Collin Firth, or Chris Martin, one tends to overlook the fair bunch of British men who are loud-mouthed, stubborn, cold, and misogynistic.  So even if Professor McKellen crosses his legs while he listens attentively, and always has the “distinct pleasure to introduce so and so,” he still condemns The Daily Mail for being a “girly paper,” and addresses the students as “you Americans.” Thus, he embodies somewhat of an unapproachable air of a stereotypical cocky British man.

Parliament Hill, Hampstead Heath

Here’s what I would tell someone who is considering studying abroad in London. London is a energetic city. It definitely has a strong cultural pulse, and is the perfect location if you are interested in theatre, art, film, music, history, etc. It has SO much to offer, and at the same time I found that everything is very accessible, rather than overwhelming. Be grateful for the familiar (i.e. those certain comforts to make your adjustment easier, like speaking English,), and embrace cultural differences. Something to keep in mind about the British as well: they do not have grand dreams of moving to the States, or being like us, despite the wide held assumption that Americans are the greatest. However, they do love Obama. Also, the sun does shine here, even if it’s only her a few hours a day during the winter, London really can be a beautiful city.

One of the questions I frequently receive is about the cost of living here. Yes, London can expensive, and being on the pound is not the greatest thing for a student budget. That being said, I found that it is not hard to live “cheaply,” especially in the area where we are placed. Sure, a recession and falling value of the pound has helped, but either way, there are plenty of ways to get by. There are many affordable restaurants, a lot of people cook in their kitchens at Nido, and student discounts really do exist everywhere (movies, the theatre, I even got a discount at a vintage clothing store). Another tip, get used to riding busses, They are a great money-saving alternative to cabs for late night trips back home, plus they are very popular here, unlike in New York.

Now, the NYU program itself. The one great thing I found about NYU’s program is that many of the classes do a great job at getting you out to really see the city. In fact, all the classes I took never met in a classroom, and instead met every week in a new museum, neighborhood, or historical site. These site visits really allowed me to see a lot of the city, and opened up weekend time to avoid touristy places and get to know more areas in depth. On the other hand, I found it really frustrating that we were not actually a part of a British University. We are allowed to use the student union, but I had minimal contact with other British students, which was somewhat disappointing. The housing, a massive modern construction called Nido, has received mixed reviews. It’s new, clean, and has study rooms, a gym, café, outdoor space, and screening room (kind of a glorified third north or palladium), but the double rooms are very small. I had a single, so my arrangement was great, but many students were quite uncomfortable in their rooms. Our area is considered “up and coming,” which also bothered some, but I found that being right next to St. Pancras/King’s cross, as well as close to Islington Angel made getting around to be quite convenient, and therefore did not have any complaints.

In terms of going around and traveling, I would follow the advice that the NYU staff gives you. It would be a shame to spend every weekend away from London and reach May only to realize that you do not know the city in which you are living! Especially since London is a very large, and always has something going on or new to see, I'd recommend going on a few weekend trips, and then taking advantage of the two and a half weeks in April for holiday to get a bulk of traveling done. I've had a number of people tell me that although they're happy they saw a bunch of other places, they feel like they did miss out on some great London experiences. Also, take advantage of the NYU day trips to areas outside the city. It's a nice excuse to see a place that you might otherwise not feel like taking the time to go visit, and it really doesn't ruin your weekend either. When you are in London, I'd say try to wander into a new neighbor each weekend, do not get too tied down to one place, and do not be afraid to travel outside of zone one to explore. Areas such as Hampstead Heath, Chiswick, Kensal Green, and St. John’s Wood are very fun to explore.

Suggestions to enhance one’s study-abroad time in Lonodn: Splurge on high tea, see a show in the west end, see a movie at BFI, or listen to music at St. Martin-in-the-Fields, walk the Portobello Road, Camden High Street, Spitalfields, and Brick Lane markets, spend an afternoon sampling all the food at Borough, stroll through one of the parks on a sunny day, see a concert in Camden, go out in Shoreditch, visit the museums (not only are they free but they also have incredible collections), attend a football match, get a pint at a local pub, end your nights out with the traditional kebab, take advantage of the British Library, spend a night at Shunt and explore the life south of the River Thames, go out for Bloody Mary’s and a Sunday Roast. Finally, WALK. There’s no substitute for walking in order to get to know a city and all it’s twists and turns. Some of my greatest discoveries in London were made when I simply left the dorm, picked a direction, and started walking. You’ll be surprised at how much you’ll discover.

This last idea illustrates what I believe to be one of London’s greatest qualities: Just when you think you’ve seen or done it all, a new world will open up to you when you least expect, be it a bar, shop, street, or neighborhood. It will be special and unique, and you will come to understand the diversity, vibrancy, and excitement embodied by the city of London.

The course actually was pretty close to how I expected it to be. I remember reading the evaluations from the former class, and can recall that some of the students thought the posting schedule became problematic or in conflict with their other classes or traveling. On the contrary, I really do not feel that this course was an imposition of my life in London. The only aspect that made me nervous was the actual act of blogging, and knowing that anyone can see what I write. However, after the first few were posted, I think I began to relax a little more with writing them. I also really liked that we got to choose the books we wanted to read about our location. I know that I was lucky enough to find really entertaining books, but either way, I find that one is more inclined to pay attention to a book that is relevant to one’s daily life. I even found that most of the selections from The Art of Travel really spoke to the experience I was having.  In fact, I’m going to go pretty far as to say that "The Art of Travel" is the only course from which I will actually conclude this semester having learnt something! This statement partially comes about as a response to my frustration with the academic program in London, but taking the time to really think about what’s going on around me, and how I’m behaving in or reacting to a new city was vital to my intellectual and personal growth. I was able to incorporate my interests into academic and creative writing. I also have kept a journal since being here, but it is still has not been as helpful for recording my memories as the blogs have, for I tended to get lazy with a personal writing, and having a topic for the assignments provided a way for me to focus in on specific ideas amidst the array of experiences I was having. Finally, I think that for any student, taking the time to write regularly greatly improves the way one thinks and expresses oneself. I feel strongly that a course like this would benefit anyone studying abroad.

Installation by Christopher Sims at ShuntAs I emerge from the underground station, I veer right, following the signs towards the London Bridge. Across from the exit is an unmarked archway in a brick wall. The only indication that something exists beyond this entryway is that people are starting to congregate around it. Everyone is chattering and drinking in line, all trying to guess what’s going to happen inside. The line moves slowly. Once at the front, a man takes my identification to scan the photo into his computer. I feel as if I am entering a high-security government office. Once I am entered into the system, I move forward. A woman stamps my wrist, and invites me to take some glitter from a bowl on the table in front of her. With my cheekbones adorned with bright blue sparkles, I proceed down a dark hall. It’s hard to pick out anything at first, but a few more steps in and I realize I am walking down through a series of brick caves. A dim light streams out from a cracked door. I approach it, and peak inside. People are gathering around in seats to wait for a band to go on. A small bar is inside, and instead of taking a seat with the crowd, I continue on; there are endless more rooms to explore. I pass through a space in which people are sitting in risers, watching a black and white film on a screen hung across the walkway. I take a right, and all of the sudden I am met by a massive stream of bubbles gliding into my face. The bubbles clear, and I am in an enormous bar. A DJ is spinning electronic tunes, some people are dancing, others are sitting and talking at a series of tables, and a few more are even getting their photograph taken. I am in a total state of bewilderment, and slowly walk down another corridor of tables when I find a trick door. I open it, and walk into yet another series of caves. Jazz music is playing, and I see a bright white light a distance ahead. As I walk further, I realize I have stumbled upon some kind of performance. I quickly take a seat, and watch a group of people create a collective painting to the lyrics of a song. The resulting abstract canvas was actually quite stunning, and even cooler to view since I saw every step in its production. I have no idea how long I was in this place. It could have been five minutes or it could have been an hour. Once I emerged from the painting room, I found another wing of areas to explore. I heard psychedelic music playing, and then noticed that there was a rink on which people were roller-skating. Around the corner was a game room. People were playing foosball, pool, and other arcade attractions. At this point I was overcome by visual stimulation. I sat down at one of the tables underneath a projection of a whale swimming in the deep sea and spoke to a musician and an artist from east London. By the time I was ready to leave, I was directed towards a back exit. I stepped out onto a deserted cobblestone alley. I felt as if I had just fell down the rabbit hole, walked through the wardrobe, and flown through never-never land, completely overcome by what had just happened to me.
Such is the experience of Shunt, a space underneath the London Bridge in which new performance companies, artist collectives, bands, and DJs take residence every week. Each group transforms the various rooms and passages in different ways, so it is nearly impossible to describe the place in a concrete way, for one week it looks and behaves in a completely different way from the next. Is it a bar? A club? A music venue? A funhouse? A photography studio? An arcade? Shunt is all of these things, sometimes on separate occasions, sometimes all at once. That’s the beauty of it: you never know what you are going to find or whom you will encounter.
The next morning, a friend asked me where I went out the night before. I told her “Shunt,” and when she asked me what exactly it was, all I could say was, “It was the greatest place I have ever been. It’s indescribable, you just have to go there to experience it for yourself.”
Jazz Painting

Laocoön and His Sons

“Oh, traveling is so easy! Trust me, you’ll find yourself sitting in your room on a Thursday afternoon and think, ‘Oh! I want to go to Berlin this weekend,’ and then the next thing you know it will be Friday afternoon and you’ll be in Berlin! Even better is that these sorts of trips won’t cost you anything!” Such is the advice I received back in December as I prepared to leave for Europe. I was told by nearly everyone that traveling was “so easy” and spontaneous trips happen all the time. This information, at least in my experience, is FALSE. Any trip I tried to take on a whim never happened, and the successful ones I’ve taken have all been the result of “planning ahead.” What I found since I’ve been here, is that people tend to get in groups and plan all their trips by the end of February. They know what weekends they will be here, what weekends they will be away, right up until a few weeks until the end of the program. Especially since I am in London, I was told that hopping on the Eurostar to Paris at a moment’s notice is particularly easy. This is only partly true: The actual act of rolling out of bed to walk down the street to the train station is easy, but I was only able to do this because I had arranged my ticket three weeks prior. Plus, the Eurostar is only cheap when tickets are booked months in advance, and under binding contracts. I have never traveled around Europe on my own before, and one can only imagine that if one weekend to Paris took such effort, my two and a half spring break was going to be an even greater challenge. My friend Jen and I decided that we were going to take on Eastern Europe for the bulk of vacation, with my trip finishing up in Barcelona, where I am staying with a friend. We knew our route was going to be Prague, Budapest, Vienna, and Berlin over the course of twelve days. At first I wanted to be able to just go with the flow and only book a few necessary hostels. But then as our research began, we realized that there were so many more factors involved in traveling than we expected. Instead of easy breezy, “one click away” trip planning, I’ve been simultaneously consumed by the intricacies of Hostelworld, Kayak, Skyscanner, Expedia, Trip Advisor, and trying to translate the incomprehensible website of the Vienna train guide. I felt bogged down with the pressure of finding out the fastest and most affordable way to get from point a to b, where to stay in point b, and so on. “Do we take the bus, the train, or fly?” “It takes how many hours to get there?” “What is the conversion rate of HUF to dollar, euro, or pound?” The endless reviews, pictures, and maps had left me in such a daze from overstimulation and visual overload. What resulted was a feeling conveyed by the expression of the central figure in the ancient Greek marble sculpture, Laocoön and His Sons. I felt pulled in every direction, struggling to break free, yearning for the sense of freedom that I hope would come from the actual traveling to and around these places. While I know that I am simply bitching about my frustration with trip planning, this little story does have a happy ending. We booked everything, and now I feel so confident that I know more about the neighborhoods of Budapest than I do the East Village. The sense of relief in indescribable, and now I can get truly excited for the adventures that await us in the coming weeks. To return to the quote at the beginning of this post, here’s what I would tell anyone planning his or her own long trip throughout Europe: It’s hard, time consuming, and exhausting. However, once you press “book” for the last time, the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment is so great that all those other feelings will eventually slide away back to the cyber world from where they came.

Brit-Think, Ameri-Think: A transatlantic Survival Guide, By Jane WalmsleyA commonly used quote to describe the relationship between Americans and the British is one by George Bernard Shaw, which reads, “American and Britain are two nations divided by a common language.” After reading Brit-Think, Ameri-Think: a Transatlantic Survival Guide by Jane Walmsley, I can confirm just how relevant Shaw’s quote really is. Walmsley, not unlike Sarah Lyall, author of the first book I read, came to London first when she was in college, married an Englishman, and has now lived in England for over twenty years. Her book, written in 2003, is a short guide of some of the cultural differences between the US and Britain. Each chapter covers a topic or aspect of daily life, and presents the generalized perspective of the American and British psyches. Here is a sampling of her ideas: Ameri-think: Death is optional, new is good, choice is a right, a big desk defines your importance, always over heat or over cool rooms, and always look for a home with a walk-in closet. Brit-think: Stay cool, tradition is good and new is bad, stay on your own turf, wear a sweater when it’s cold, and small portable wardrobes are far more appropriate and cozy. As I went over this book in one of the reading rooms of the British Library, I had to physically restrain myself from laughing out loud and breaking the silence. A couple giggles escaped, which not surprisingly was followed by a couple detesting glares. All I could think was, leave it to the American to disturb the peace. Yet, I was so excited by how I could think of a number of times in which I had experienced these different behavioral tendencies of Americans in London. First, Walmsley asserts, “the right to substitute a tossed salad for French fries is enshrined in the constitution. Americans like to live life á la carte “ (5). At dinner the other night, a friend who was visiting from New York attempted to ask for chicken to be added on top of her salad. She became exceedingly frustrated when the waitress told her the only way she could eat chicken was if she ordered the main chicken course, and was so unsuccessful that she couldn’t even request a side plate. The inability to substitute is a serious concern for Americans. In addition, Americans have exotic flavors of ice cream (think the plethora of the Ben and Jerry’s oeuvre). We love to sample and explore the possibilities. Brits, on the other hand, stick to the traditional three: Chocolate, Strawberry, and Vanilla. Why? Because that’s how it’s always been. I noticed this fact when I went to the theatre recently. It appears to be a tradition that during intermission, everyone queues up along the side aisle to select one of three little cups of ice cream to eat during the second act. Finally, I totally support Walmsley’s belief about “The importance of being cute” in American attitudes about traveling. We want anything and everything to be “cute:” Hugh Grant, that cashmere sweater from Harrods, the old buildings, and quaint cafes. On a day trip to Brighton yesterday, my friends and I found ourselves describing the Royal Palace, which is designed like an Indian temple, as “cute.” Something’s wrong here. One of my favorite chapters of the book is about the importance of fingernails, physical fitness, and bettering oneself. Walmsley describes the American mentality, “After all-when life so precious, why waste a single day feeling bad about your nose?” (35). While this anecdote might appear like a silly insignificant difference, it is highlighted by an overarching philosophy held by both cultures that helps to contextualize why each culture lives and thinks the way it does. The Brit-think motto is, “Let it be,” and “let things stay as they are.” Ameri-think, on the other hand, is “we have the right to have it all, and we will stop at nothing to get it.” To me, such values explain why Brits are inherently cool, while Americans are hot. Even when Americans try to be cool, they are doing it in a hot way. To go back to that quote, women are so driven to get nose jobs, vigorously practice pilates and yoga, and spend endless amounts of money in nail salons because they’ve got to make the most of their time on earth and must achieve perfection before it’s too late. Brits on the other hand, want to get by, as long as they can establish and maintain a feeling of being the “master of their domains.” They’re either born “with it” or they are not. If a British person has it all, good for him or her. If not, too bad. Overall, I really enjoyed reading Walmsley’s text. Her sharp humor was nicely complemented by Gray Joliffe’s illustrations, which resemble cartoons from The New Yorker. The only aspect of the book that makes it more of a comical work and less one that can be considered as a serious anthropological study is that she decides to paint pictures of very specific stereotypes, i.e. the businessman or the southern waspy wife, and only lightly touches on younger generations. She wrote the text in 2003, and while her comparisons begin to give way to “New Labor” figures and young “Brit Groovettes,” she does not comprehensively address the reality that in a globalized world spurred by the unlimited access and exposure generated from the internet, all of us are becoming increasingly in touch with those of our generation in other countries. Ultimately, reading Brit-Think Ameri-Think and The Anglo Files has reinforced the idea that in order to successfully assimilate, or even travel to, London, one must first understand and embrace that these two places are not the same, and that is what makes each one special. I know that my four months here have certainly taught this to me, and it’s no surprise that now I embrace both the London approach to life and the wonderful, unique cultural values of New York.

Three Days of Rain, By Richard GreenbergLast Friday, I brought a visiting friend of mine to the Apollo Theatre to see the show Three Days of Rain by Richard Greenberg. It tells the story of a brother and sister who reunite in New York City to claim their fortune after their father’s death. Set in an abandoned loft in downtown Manhattan in 1995, the first act begins to reveal the history and strains of the family unit as told by the brother and sister, and their best friend. The three young adults recount stories about their childhood and the life of their parents, two famous architects and one’s the wife, as they can recall through memories and entries written in a mysterious journal. The second act goes back to the 1960s, a time in which the partners actually lived in the loft, and a time in which they came to meet a rowdy Southern belle, the mother of the brother and sister. This rewind aims to demonstrate how the children have inherited more than simply a financial fortune from their parents, and to uncover the tension between the architects over the struggles of their partnership and foreseeable love triangle.

The potential for this play to deliver exists, but the actors’ New York and Southern accents, paired with the tendency to over dramatize the roles keeps the true promise on the script pages. Walker, the slightly mental son, and Ned, the recently deceased architect are played by the always-adorable James McAvoy. No stranger to Hollywood blockbusters, he effortlessly demonstrates the American accent of his character, and does a wonderful job of achieving a stutter in the second act. However, his inclination to “over express” the characters keep them from feeling natural, as evidenced by the concluding moment of the show in which he screams out, “THE BEGINNING OF ERROR!” I felt like the play had suddenly transformed to Braveheart, and instead of holding a pencil out at an easel, he should have been holding a sword leading his soldiers into battle. Nigel Harman plays pip and Theo, the friend/architectural partner. He takes on the challenge of executing a thick New York accent, and it feels as if he still needs more time to let it settle in on him. Lyndsey Marshall’s execution of Nan and Lina, the sister/wife, is just plain bland and unmemorable.

At first, I wasn’t sure if my dislike of this show was due to the play itself or the stage direction and actors’ presentation. I think it could be a bit of both. The program essayist, Melisssa Rose Bernardo, claims that at the core, Three Days of Rain is a family drama, which makes it irresistible to theatregoers. She quotes Greenberg, who argues, “everything that happens in the macrocosm can be expressed in the microcosm of the family. It has that innate double power…In a way, it’s the DNA of everything.” I can’t contest this statement, for I do agree that some of the family elements of the play are handled well in the writing. Yet, just because the show highlights the already obvious fact that families and people are crazy and messed up, does not mean that the other components of the show should be neglected. For example, the whole mystery of the play, i.e. what happens during the “three days of rain” that Ned mentions in his journal, is no big mystery at all! The plot does not provoke contemplation beyond what is said on the stage; one merely must take what is presented and allows it to resolve itself. What’s more, this critic wastes more words in her essay listing other plays that successfully manifest the inherent drama of the family unit than actually dissecting the issues particular to Three Days of Rain.

By the time the curtain fell, my friend and I realized that this play would have been much more poignant had it been intended solely to be read and not acted on the stage. I must admit that well-executed moments do exist: Nigel Harman delivers a wonderfully fast-paced monologue in the first act, McAvoy strips down to get cozy with Lyndsey Marshall, and it actually does rain on stage. The cunning and subtleties are present, but, like the characters themselves, they have been mishandled and exploited so that they have become simply annoying. Ultimately, the show does contain its sunny moments, but the overall experience appropriately feels like one has been stuck in three days of rain.

Lloyd's Building, designed by Richard RogersI quite like MacCannell’s argument that tourism is the modern day religious pilgrimage. It makes perfect sense: One feels discontent in current location. One wants to feel a sense of importance. One seeks salvation. One ventures to places of importance where others have found salvation. Why else have the first places everyone visits when traveling around Europe been churches? Reading MacCannell’s analysis, I found myself thinking a lot about Jean Baudrillard’s writing about hyperreality and the simulacra. MacCannell writes, “Social structure itself is involved in the construction of mystifications that support social reality…Just having a back region generates the belief that there is something more than meets the eye; even where no secrets are actually kept, back regions are still the places where it is popularly believed the secrets are” (591). The trouble is not just that we assume that there exists something greater than what we see in front of us; we need to understand that this region from which the secrets are revealed can also be merely another social construction contrived by someone who wants you to see his or her place in a certain way. Lloyd’s building on Lime Street, constructed by Richard Rogers (the same firm that collaborated with Renzo Piano on the Pompidou center), literally illustrates this idea. While the building is designed to be inside out, with all the inner workings manifested on the exterior of the building, we still cannot penetrate the inside. We never get to take part in the business that goes on inside, but instead must sightsee the opaque walls from the surrounding pavement. I think we get caught in stage three of the front to back regional movement. Most of us say we are searching for the authentic experience, but at the same time we are also inherently scared of what’s different. Thus, we are quite comfortable once we come across the staged back regions, that is, those places that appear to be authentic and demonstrative of the native lifestyle yet are still prepared and arranged to appeal to the outsider. It’s easy to convince ourselves that we have found the authentic, but much harder to break through. This act of reaching the stage six seems to be the only “solution” that MacCannell, or the other writers he quotes, does not seem to address. He mentions that we have to penetrate the society, but how does one actually do this without falling into another stage three trap? My best friend, a Jewish, vegetarian, post-modern dancer from Los Angeles has ventured by herself to Senegal for the semester. Since arriving, she has become an active member of a Muslim family, has been force-fed fish eyeballs, and has passed a dead person on the sidewalk on her way to school. That is an authentic experience. I, on the other hand, can go to the theatre, shop in the Camden stables, buy food from the Borough market, and go look at art at the Saatchi Gallery. While I know that these are activities more authentic than walking around and snapping a picture of Big Ben, I feel as if even these activities are no less touristy than others simply because I do not do them with Londoners. I do not mean to compare or talk down the authenticity of my own experiences or that of others, but I cannot help but question whether there is any such thing as an authentic experience when we live in an age where tourism is just as much, if not more, a significant component of the city fabric as the native lifestyle is.