Days 158-161 Part 2: London and Back Again

If you had told me a week ago that I'd spend 27 hours on a bus, 20 hours queuing, and around £70 in order to see Tom Hiddleston and Mark Gatiss in Coriolanus, I wouldn't have believed you. Had I known how much trouble it was going to be before I set out, I probably wouldn't have gone. 

But I did go. And now, after seeing the wonderfulness that is Coriolanus, it was 100% worth it.

The plan was pretty straightforward. Take the bus down to London on Thursday, stay with a friend of a friend, queue Friday for Coriolanus tickets and then try to get Henry V tickets (staring Jude Law) on Saturday.

Sadly, Friday was an utter failure. Despite waking up at 5:00 am and arriving at the theatre at 6:00, there were still nearly forty people in front of me. I should have just gone straight to Henry V to queue there (it has a longer run, so it's easier to get tickets) but instead I decided to stick it out for Coriolanus. 

At 10:00, the box office opened and the line started moving... and kept moving... and we (myself and two American exchange students I met in the queue) actually started to have hope that we'd get tickets. But no such luck. When I was just 8th in line, they ran out of day seats and standing tickets.

So we joined the line for returns. This was nicer because it was inside, so I actually managed to get some stuff done (reading for class, memorizing lines for a play, writing blog posts about Europe). However, we waited all day but no returns came in until 6:30. They kept trickling in slowly up until the show started... and when the performance began I was third in line. So. Close.

I went back to the flat rather dejected and drank a cup of much needed tea before heading off to bed around 11.  I resolved to wake up at 2am... but my internal clock actually woke me up at 1:30. So I got up (amid severe doubts of 'is this really worth it?) got dressed, ran to the bus stop (the tube doesn't run that late/early) and got to the Donmar Warehouse by 2:20, where I found myself about 25th in line.

It was a hopeful position. On Friday 30 people had gotten tickets, and there had only been one show. There were two shows on Saturday, and fewer people in front of me. I was fairly certain of getting a ticket, assuming that everyone in front of me didn't buy two.

I waited in that queue for eight hours. In the cold. And the wet. I wore four jumpers and was still cold. When it rained, I shared an umbrella with an American exchange student who was right behind me in the queue. She was a theatre major, so having her to chat to made the time go by much quicker.

The Saturday queue (the box office is by the little red sideways sign on
the building on the right side of the pic; the end of the line stretched a fair
ways off the left side of the photo...)

At ten the queue started moving. Soooooo slooooowly. The line behind me stretched the length of the block. I tried to take comfort from the fact that if so many people were waiting behind me, there must be hope for me... but I started to be convinced that I wouldn't get a ticket, that I'd have to sit in the returns line again, or else go back disappointed.

But. BUT. I did eventually make it to the ticket window. And not only were there places left, but there were actual physical seats (not just standing places) left for the matinee. So I bought one. And I jumped and squealed and nearly cried. I just couldn't believe that all that waiting had actually paid off.

I went back to the flat, had a quick nap, showered, and headed back in for the matinee. Thankfully, despite having just two hours of sleep that night, excitement kept me wide awake. After all that trouble, I was going to enjoy that show.

And I did. So much. I'm pretty safe to say it's my favourite of all performances I've seen. It was funny, and tragic, and classic, and modern, and inventive, and so ridiculously well acted. I won't say any more now, bc this post is long enough already, but I'll blog in detail about the show tomorrow. 

I left the theatre so high on the show. It had completely emptied me, in a way, like any great tragedy should. I was so enthralled by the show that I couldn't focus on anything else.

Except for then I could, because that's when Andrew Scott showed up, making my fantastic day better than I ever imagined.

Sadly, the epic tale of Rachel's trip to London has a slightly depressing end. I had planned to take the overnight bus up front London and arrive back in St. Andrews in time for church on Sunday morning, but unfortunately, the bus had other plans. When we had just passed Carlyle (northwest England, right by the border of Scotland), the bus got a flat tire. So we sat there. For nearly two hours. Finally a replacement bus rescued us an took us to Glasgow where we were hastily allocated to different buses. After another transfer, I finally arrived back in St. Andrews early Sunday afternoon. Total journey time: 13.5 hours.

It was a crazy weekend, with more travel and less sleep than I've ever had (I think...) Tomorrow, I shall describe the play that made it all worthwhile...

Day 53: O, The People You'll Meet!

There’s something about travel that makes people open up to each other. I don’t know if it’s the boredom, or the close proximity, or simply the feeling of newness that comes from changing location, but it suddenly becomes okay to strike up a conversation with complete strangers.

This past weekend, when I went to visit Hannah, I met a man on the bus from Glasgow to Dumfries. He was Glasgow born and bred, middle aged and married, owned his own mechanic shop, and was about as different from me as you could imagine. But, for the hour and a half down to Moffat, we chatted about basically everything, from books to busses to Scottish separatism to religion.

It was fascinating to meet someone from such a different background from me, who had so many different ideas—especially about Scottish Nationalism! So often I tend to get caught up in my little bubble of university friends that I forget there’s a whole world out there of people who don’t spend their life in the library.

On the way back from my visit, on the short-ish bus to Dumfries, I rather inadvertently met an older lady. There was a small child on the bus, using his finger to draw in the steam on the windows. The older lady was sitting nearby, and she started drawing with the boy. It was so cute: they gave each other suggestions for what to draw, or guessed what the other person had just drawn.

Eventually, however, they ran out of room on the window. I was sitting right behind them, and when the little boy turned around and suggested they start on my window, I didn’t say anything, I just started drawing. They both enjoyed this immensely, and before long we were all covering our windows in little pictures.

When the bus finally reached Dumfries, I got off with the older lady and chatted to her for a bit as we walked down the street, since my next bus didn’t leave for another hour. Once again, it was a fascinating conversation because this woman broke so many stereotypes. I expected her to be a sort of small-town grandma, but instead she was a feminist, with distinctly sharp words for anyone who looked down on her for being old! She was also the great-niece of the first woman to be granted a degree from Edinburgh University, which I thought was pretty neat.

In one journey, I met two people so very different from myself. It seems like every time I travel, I meet more people who continue to break stereotypes and expand my horizons. While I may not be a huge fan of busses, the people I meet definitely make it worthwhile.

Tardis in Glasgow! Not the best pic, but I just asked a random passer-by.
I should go back at some point. :)

Interesting art at the Glasgow Gallery of Modern Art

A pedestrian street in Glasgow

Part of the Modern Art Gallery.
(I caught the attendant singing, and she was rather embarrassed. I thought it was lovely that she was singing)

Atrium ceiling

Main hall. It was full of interesting forms of art all inspired (or in reaction to) war.

It's not just a stereotype...

For all my fandom friends, I present: the Town of Moffat.

The bus just dropped me off by the side of the road...

Inside of Kircudbright parish church, celebrating its 175th anniversary.
(Kircudbright is pronounced Ker-coo-bree)

Hannah at the piano

Outside of the church 

Random street in Kircudbright

Another church: they're EVERYWHERE here

Bridge

I enjoy this sign far more than I really should

Boatses

And more boatses! (well, the same boats. But in landscape, not portrait)

Every small town has to have their own castle.

So many empty windows...

Brightly coloured houses.

I don't know The Wind in the Willows that well, but isn't Toadhall the name of Toad's house?

Apparently plants grow out of stone walls in other towns...

I love church spires.

One of the info sheets for Hannah's fancy-dress party

Hermione has been murdered!

Tree with a really random growth at the top...

This is where we caught the bus to head in to Dumfries.

Drawings on the windows :)

Miniature rapids on the river through Dumfries

Bridge

Seagull

Hills... AND CLOUDS!

Day 25: Escape from the Bubble

This post may be titled Day 25, but I’m actually going to talk about days 18 through 21, when I escaped from the Bubble of St. Andrew's and traveled across Scotland to visit my wonderfully crazy friend Hannah, who’s from Canada but has been working in the south of Scotland since February.

I shouldn’t really complain about the trip, since it only took five hours to cross from the north(ish) east side of Scotland to the south west side, but still… five hours is a long time to be sitting on busses. I also had to transfer twice, in Glasgow and Dumfries, meaning that the whole trip actually took closer to seven hours (from 7am to 2pm). I did manage to buy a lovely pair of slippers in Glasgow, though, so I didn’t mind that stopover.

One lovely thing about bus travel is that I got the opportunity to see more of the country. It’s not like a plane, where I just see the tops of clouds, or driving, where I spend most of my time staring at the road. On a bus I can sit back and do whatever I jolly well please, which usually involves taking pictures of the countryside. Thankfully, my camera takes pictures really quickly, so I actually got some decent shots while barrelling down the motorway.

Another thing I like about travelling solo is how it gives me the opportunity to meet new people. When I first arrived in Scotland, somewhat overwhelmed and with nearly a hundred pounds of luggage to carry, I had so many people willing to lend a helping hand. This past weekend luggage wasn’t an issue, but since Hannah lives in the middle of nowhere I was literally dropped by the side of the road in the middle of a field. A wonderful older lady I met on the bus made sure I got off at the right stop and a girl around my age actually walked with me all the way up to the camp where Hannah works. Without those people I would have been so lost, and I’m so thankful they took time out of their days to help me out.

Anyways, my weekend with Hannah was lovely. While I haven’t been homesick yet, it still was really nice to see an old friend, someone I have a bit of history with. It was weird to realize that since I arrived in St. Andrew’s I’ve been hanging out almost exclusively with people I’ve met in the past three weeks. So, I really enjoyed seeing Hannah again, going for walks, watching films, and meeting her co-workers. I definitely plan to go visit her again, and have more crazy shenanigans.

It was also a lot of fun to visit somewhere that’s really the middle of nowhere. St. Andrew’s might be small, but it’s still quite a bustling town. Down where Hannah lives, the nearest town has maybe fifty houses. It’s much more stereotypically Scotland, with the rugged hills and winding roads and sheep in pasture. Also, this was the first time I had ever properly visited the Scottish countryside, since when I’m here I tend to stay in the actual town of St. Andrew’s. Hannah and I went for a couple semi-successful rambles, once in the mist/rain and once right after sunset, and I really enjoyed being out in the open air again.

To sign off, here are a number of photos from my trip. 

CAUTION: May contain excessive amounts of Scottish grass. Also sheep.

Sunrise over the fields (as viewed from the bus)

Slightly farther along on the trip-- not quite sure what town that is, but it's close to St. Andrew's

Glasgow is known for its architecture. This art display is right inside the Enoch mall

Typical Glasgow

This is what a Glasgow street looks like

Gallery of Modern Art. Apparently it's free, so I'm definitely planning a trip here at some point.

I feel like this photo accurately captures the spirit of Glasgow

Imposing facade of the art museum

Random art on a building near the bus station

Rolling hills between Glasgow and Dumfries

SHEEP. EVERYWHERE. SHEEP.

A river. Cattle. Hills. Trees. SCOTLAND.

There're actually quite a few windmills around the countryside. And clouds. There are quite a few of those.

They say a man's home is his castle... Or, in this case, his B&B.
(BTW, for all you nerds, this 'castle' was in a lovely little town known as Moffat...)

This is what a Scottish bus stop looks like...

I admit this pic is more heavily edited than usual, but THE CLOUDS.

Bridge in Dumfries

The whole bridge. There are several bridges, and the river is quite peaceful.

Had to walk along this narrow road to get to the camp where Hannah works

And over the adorable little bridge...

Along the narrow laneway...

Until we find Hannah! <3

The view from Hannah's work at sunset

Evil Scottish cows

Going for a ramble

More sunset....

A stream (that runs under the little bridge previously shown)

Sheep at sunset. (which are way cooler than sheep at any other time of day, because they're now pink)

Cows on the road. NBD. 

So, we were trying to reach that monument thing, but Hannah forgot where the path was....

Hills at dusk