I'll write about about my town and my school and my life here in Cornwall soon. First I wanted to write a bit about London because it deserves its spot here. This week London got hit with another blow from a**holes who think they can ruin the spirit of a city that will never be ruined.
I first went to London in January of 2014. I would go on to have one of the most emotional and trying times of my life in the four months I spent there, but also made some of the best memories. Most of all I remember feeling at ease. Everything in my life was changing, I was dealing with mortality head on for the first time, but things felt in place in London. I felt in place. I had routines - a trip to Ben's Cookies after class on Thursdays, dinner with friends after lecture on Monday nights, the long walk from Bloomsbury to Borough Market on Fridays where I'd buy a slice of cheesecake, sausage from the devastatingly good looking meat vendor from Cannon and Cannon Charcuterie, and whatever little grocery items that would make my week brighter when talk about cancer would bring me to my lows. I saw some of the most amazing theater and dance performances, learned to feel comfortable as a sober person in a pub filled with British drunks, took the bus like I'd lived there all my life. Leaving London that May was conflicting. It meant going home to spend time with Dad, something I knew I wouldn't have enough of, but it also meant leaving behind a version of myself that was happier, healthier and more confident. I returned in August of 2016. I bookended my first Big Feastival trip with days in London. I went to Borough Market to eat the cheesecake and was sad that the "meat boy" had moved on. I ate Ben's Cookies and went out for dinner on my own. I still knew the bus routes. I made new friends and spent time exploring Alex James' version of London. The time in the countryside had cleared my head from the chaos New York and grief and leaving college had inflicted on it. When I came into Paddington Station fresh off the Feastival, the Maddie I'd grown into during my study abroad semester was back. She went and got bangs ("fringe") and knew this was the place she'd in which she'd have to make her life. I applied to grad school to two places - Goldsmiths College in London and Falmouth University in Cornwall. Goldsmiths was tempting -- not only was there the opportunity to skulk around the halls where Alex James met Graham Coxon, I could start that life in London I knew I was suited for. I had friends in London and knew my way around. I had favorite restaurants and grocery stores and record shops. It would be going home. I picked Falmouth because home will always be there; adventure only is offered every so often. So home will wait. When I arrived in England for my Big Move I spent a few days in London. I crashed in the spare room of my London-by-way-of-Wisconsin angel, Molly; it was too serendipitous that her new flat just happened to be mere feet from the spot where I'd sat outside the Globe Theatre a year earlier and made up my mind that London was my town. Over the few days I visited with some friends, ate Ben's Cookies (twice), saw a movie, got fringe again. I found two records I'd ben wanting for ages - Graham Coxon's "A+E" and Bowie's "Lodger" - and bought a vintage dress to wear in Paris. I sat in Soho Square each of the days and thought about the life I'll have there someday. I didn't go to walk around the Goldsmiths campus. I thought it would be too hard; it had taken me a month after I put down my money to attend Falmouth to turn down Goldsmiths offer. I was afraid that I would step onto campus and feel too at home. But home can wait. Click here to see some photos from all of my different London adventures over the last 3 trips!
0 Comments
One of the perks of being an expat in Europe is the ease of travel. I have big plans for the year - trips to Finland, Ireland, Italy, Greece, and France. They were all supposed to happen after I'd settled in England, moved into my house, started feeling English. When I received my visa and realized it was for the day after I landed in England, I had one week to plan a trip to leave England after the Feastival and re-enter the country to have my student visa stamped. Paris was the answer.
I've dreamed of Paris since I was a little girl. A cliché, I know. I had a Paris-themed bedroom for most of my adolescence, I took French for six years, I hosted a French foreign exchange student. Yet until a week ago, I'd never actually been to France. This put much pressure on my three-day trip. How does one do Paris in just three days? The answer is one doesn't. But I gave it an effort and checked off a lot of must-do-in-Paris boxes. When I landed I went straight from the airport to the Musée d'Orsay. French Impressionism has always been my favorite art tradition, even before Midnight in Paris. I knew the Louvre would be too much to take on during this short trip, so I went for the museum known for the rooms upon rooms of paintings by the impressionists. I'm so glad I did. Renoir, Monet, Van Gogh - their paintings were always amazing to look at in textbooks, but in person they were overwhelming. When I found a room of Signac, I almost teared up. Paul Signac has been my favorite since I discovered him in middle school and here I was, looking up at a wall sized work of his, The painting of "Le Démolisseur" made the small landscapes by Signac in the Met in New York seem like postage stamps. I sat in the room on a bench and wrote and knew I'd made the right choice to make this Paris journey. From the museum I walked along the Left Bank, browsing at the stands of the booksellers. My goal in Paris was to feel like Jenny in An Education on her first trip to the city of her dreams and I felt like I was pulling it off. After a quick photo-op at Notre Dame I found a poster for a David Hockney exhibit at the Centre Pompidou. I'd missed the Hockney exhibit at the Tate in London so was quite thrilled to find it was now in Paris. I learned much about Hockney's life and work, far more than I knew before going in as a fan. After walking for ages I ended up at my Air BnB to have a bite to eat at home. I found a place in Montmartre with a balcony off the bedroom that looked out at Sacré-Coeur. Basically the dream apartment. I opted for an early night to get the most out of Thursday, my only full day in the city. Thursday started with a croissant, as all the mornings in Paris began, and a train ride out to Versailles. I didn't want to spend all day there - too much to do in the city center still - but I very much wanted to see Marie Antoinette's area of the grounds. I put on a vintage 60s frock I'd picked up in London the day before leaving and walked around the palace gardens like they were my own. It was a grey day but even without the sun shining on the gold adorned palace it looked like a dream. I ate a chocolate eclair and tried to imagine the parties that took place inside. Back in the city I caught a matinee of Funny Face at a small, old cinema called The Brady. My legs were killing me (even with a two hour movie break in the middle of the day I had 28,000 steps by the end of Thursday!) so it was lovely to sit and watch Audrey Hepburn walk around Paris for a couple hours. I took the metro to see the Madeleine, a church that I was not named after. From the outside it looks like something you'd see on the Acropolis in Athens. Inside, I got the chills. I don't know why and can't explain where the emotions came from but they hit me and I left before worrying any of the other visitors. How beautiful is it that a building can do something like that to a person? Next I thought I should walk the Champs Élysées. I did not know how long the Champs Élysées is or that it's basically just filled with shops I can find on 5th Ave in New York. I contemplated going in the Adidas store but I did not need to spend money on more sneakers and I felt I would have looked a bit out of place in my vintage dress. The Arc de Triomphe was pretty spectacular, though, making the walk worth it in the end. The last stop of the day was an obvious one - the Tour Eiffel. It's truly an icon that lives up to the hype. I stopped by to see it in the daylight before heading off for dinner at a restaurant nearby. I'd been wanting my favorite French dish, boeuf bourguignon, since landing so I found a restaurant a few blocks from the Tour Eiffel that was known for it. It was brought out on several plates - the beef, bacon, and mushrooms in a pot, then a dish with mashed potatoes, a dish with polenta, a dish with a noodle & vegetable type thing, and a basket of bread. I made a pretty decent sized dent in it before ordering what was described to me as "a pot of soft cheese with raspberry sauce on top" for dessert. When in Paris, eat til you die, right? Back at the Tour Eiffel it was now dark and I made it just in time for the light show. A light show that was overshadowed at the beginning with a colony of rats. I have never seen so many rats in one place at one time and honestly the vision is still haunting me. Eventually I was able to ignore them by walking in zig zags so they couldn't get me while I looked up at the tower. All in all a magical end to a pretty magical day. The last day was left to explore Montmartre. I did not realize however just how many stairs it would take to get to the top of Sacré-Coeur. After the 28,000 steps the day before my legs were a bit mush and at points I thought I would just have to live on the steps forever but I finally got to the top, ate a croissant, and enjoyed the views over the whole of the city. My legs might say otherwise, but it was worth it. I walked around a bit in the neighborhood but I wasn't finding much I was interested in, so I jumped on the metro and headed back to Le Marais where there were some vintage shops I'd wanted to visit the day before. I hit the jackpot at a store called "Freep Star." I am now well equipped to look like a 60s school girl when classes start this month. There was time for one final meal before heading to the airport, so I ended up back in Montmartre where I figured I'd find a café eventually. While walking past one establishment a very cute waiter said hello so I plopped my bag down and didn't even look at the menu. There was at least one delish thing there. Turns out the food was good, too! I had a chocolate crepe and one last cheeseboard. I even let the waiter pick one of the cheese options and he picked something I'd never heard of but which was the best on the plate! So, found a soulmate? I'll go back for him someday, I'm sure. The last bit of excitement came at the airport. I was walking to the door, jammin' out to my French playlist, texting Mom, when I heard a very loud, very masculine voice yelling in French. I looked up and found myself at the center of a circle of people, grouped around the entrance. The voice was coming from a French police officer with a very large gun and I knew enough French to know I was not to go into the airport. I backed up to the line of people and spent 15 minutes watching countless other headphoned fools make the same mistake as I had. Eventually they let us in and I'm not totally sure what was going on but what I could piece together was that the bomb squad was called in to investigate a bag that was left alone in the terminal. What a way to end my first trip to Paris, one I spent wandering the streets alone, acting like a total tourist and not giving a shit. Photos from the trip can be found here! Here are some highlights from my French music playlist called "Bisou Bisou" Cargo Culte - Serge Gainsbourg Sous le ciel de Paris - Juliette Greco Madeleine - Jacques Brel Je Veux - Zaz To the End (French Version) - Blur Zou bisou bisou - Gillian Hills Le Temps de l'Amour - Francoise Hardy La Belle et le Bad Boy - MC Solaar Je Veux Te Voir - Yelle The Big Feastival started it all, really. A year and a half ago, a few months after starting my deep dive into the world of Britpop, I discovered that my favorite Britpopper of all, Alex James, hosts a festival every summer on his farm. It features music and food and a barn in which you can eat his cheese and dance. All of my favorite things in one spot. Back then I had a wall in my room on which I pinned things I wanted to achieve – the header of the NYT Arts and Leisure section, a photo of the perfect winged eyeliner, etc. Shortly after discovering The Big Feastival a new piece of paper appeared on the wall reading “Save Money for ‘Jamie Oliver and Alex James Presents The Big Feastival.” In August that year, I found myself screaming along to ABBA in the Cheese Hub.
After the first great trip, what I now refer to as The Best Weekend of My Life, I vowed to go back every year for as long as Alex is willing to host tens of thousands of people on his acres of grass. It seemed like it would be easier just to move to England so the trip to the Feastival wouldn’t put me back at least $1000 every year. Okay, that’s not the reason I moved here. But it was good incentive to follow through. This year started off a bit like the movie you’d expect someone to make about a girl going out to the country by herself to camp at a food festival. I got off the train at Kingham where a man was standing offering a shuttle service in his weird red minibus to the grounds. I toted my tent, sleeping bag, backpack and duffle past him. I know better than to take rides from strangers, thank you very much. Plus I walked from the station last year and it was a breeze aside from the fact that I had a rolling suitcase that didn’t love the stroll through the muddy, grassy grounds. This year would be a piece of cake. False. I went to the box office to pick up my ticket and asked where I should go to enter the campground, as it already looked a bit different from the year before. Just down the way to those trees there, she said. I went just down the way to those trees there to have the security guard tell me, No, back the way you came. Best to wait for the shuttle, love. The red shuttle? That’s the one. Swell. I found the red shuttle along with a family of three and a couple, all of whom had also been sent to the trees. However the shuttle driver didn’t exactly know how to get to the campground. We gave him our trust that he’d figure it out and off we went. Somehow this year the entrance was on the complete opposite side of the grounds. And there was a line. A very very long line. My new friends and I jumped in the queue and kicked our bags inch by inch as we got closer. Inch by inch for roughly two hours. Setting up the tent went shockingly well even though I’d upgraded from the 2 person to the 4 person tent for a little extra room to breathe in. Then it was festival time. Just as last year, my first stop was to eat Alex James Presents’ cheeses. As wonderful as I’d remembered. My favorite, Little Wallop, was maybe even better. It’s overwhelming to decide what to eat at a festival full of some of the best food in England. One of my favorites was a beef brisket sandwich from Daylesford, a farm/grocery store/spa/cult nearby Alex’s that is a top destination for the poshest Brits. It held up. I also had strawberries and crème, halloumi fries, four cheese ravioli, a cheese toastie (or two…), a raspberry and champagne roasted marshmallow, churros… the real winner was the “whipnut”: a brioche donut cut in half like a hotdog bun, piped with ice cream, drizzled with caramel sauce, sprinkled with sprinkles, and topped off with a “flake” (basically a milk chocolate stick that is popular to add to English ice cream cones). So, heaven. I learned last year that the best music isn’t on the main stage but rather on the “Udder Stage.” The smaller stage is host to loads of up & coming British bands; last year I discovered a band called Babe that I am still listening to today. The Udder Stage proved worthy once again. The two acts I enjoyed most were Dat Brass and Alice Jemima. Both were doing interesting things and bending genres in a successful way; I bought their CDs and hope to see them play again somewhere in England in the future! I did head to the main stage for a few acts. Friday night hosted Hacienda Classical, an orchestra that plays all popular dance tracks. It was entertaining for awhile but after a few numbers they all sounded the same, much like just normal dance music. I did belt out “You’ve Got the Love” with the rest of the crowd, though. Sunday night brought the best of the main stage. First was De La Soul. A bit of New York in Kingham. To be fair, I was only there because I was convinced Damon Albarn might show up since he worked with them on some Gorillaz tracks AND this was his bandmate’s festival. He did not. I still had a good time. The headliner was Madness. They were so unbelievably British. I only knew probably five or six songs but I danced to them all. They ended with “It Must Be Love” and had the whole field singing along. The thing that is so special to me about the Feastival is the chef presence. The Neff Big Kitchen hosts cooking demos from some of the best chefs in the UK if not in the world. Jamie Oliver, who used to co-host the Feastival with Alex, is always there. I didn’t get to eat what he made like I did last year, but his demo was just as great. He made a pork shoulder burger that I was dying to get my hands on. The nice thing is now I know how to make it so I can do it myself! Candice Brown, the last Great British Bake Off winner, was there, too. I’d just watched her season so it was fun to see her in person. My favorite demo this year was done by the duo that won my heart last year – The Fabulous Baker Boys. Tom & Henry Herbert run a bakery in the English countryside (which I am dying to visit) and also were behind the heavenly “whipnut” this year at the Feastival. Their demo was a Greek-inspired flatbread and it looked fantastic. Mostly though they are just so damn entertaining. They had the audience all stand and then sit down as they went through a list of baking accolades if you hadn’t done it. I was one of the last few standing and Tom came down and gave us all hugs. Tom gives good hugs and smells like flour. A real winner. A surprise to no one, I spent most of my time dancing in the Cheese Hub. Alex DJs along with some special guests including Jamie Oliver, Stephen Street (producer of Blur and The Smiths), and Geronimo, Alex’s oldest son. Geronimo’s sets are hysterical and half the music I don’t know because somehow I’m too old for it (!?), but it’s always entertaining nonetheless. He grabs the mic a lot to say things like "Are you ready for this banger?" Alex plays a mix of Blur hits, disco, and crowd favorites. The memory from this year that I’ll hold most dear is when he played “Vindaloo” and I threw my bucket tattoo into the air. I think I was probably the only one there with a “Vindaloo” inspired tattoo. Though you never know. There's a real split in the Cheese Hub. There's the forty-somethings loving the hell out of "YMCA" and getting to sing "Girls and Boys" AT the man who plays the epic bass line in the song. Then there are the teenagers. Here are a few things I overheard teenagers saying during Alex's sets:
You can imagine which group of people I danced with. The Feastival has been a trip I've made on my own the last two years. Last year I couldn't have imagined it any other way. I didn't have anyone to answer to; if I wanted to dance in the Cheese Hub for five hours without leaving there was no one to stop me. I got to the front of every crowd with ease. I didn't have to share that bloody small tent. Everything was new and I could experience it at my own pace. This year I felt the isolation a bit more. The Feastival grew bigger which made me feel smaller and more distant from everyone else. There were tons of large packs of teenagers shoving me about on the dance floor in the Cheese Hub. I could have tried twice as much food if there had been someone next to me to split it all with. Next year perhaps a companion would be nice. It would just have to be a companion that is willing to leave me behind in the Cheese Hub for five hours or dance right there with me. You can check out the photos I took at The Big Feastival here. |
AuthorMadeleine Saaf is an expat in Cornwall and is pursuing a masters in Professional Writing at Falmouth University. ArchivesCategories |