Cheryl
History Major

On September 10, 2005 we had a free day in Penzance. It was really nice to have a day where we had nothing to do, so some friends and I walked down to the town with no agenda on our minds. We went and played on the beach for a while, most of us love the sea, and it was absolutely gorgeous! The hills in the background with the sea up front reminded me of some of the sea paintings we had seen. We spent some time skipping rocks, unsuccessfully on my part, and then walked into the town center.

We got lunch at a pasty shop downtown then went and ate on the beach. The pasties were so good because they are made in Cornwall and add that to eating on the beach, it was great. After lunch we spent a good three hours at a tea room. One thing I love about England is that they have these elaborate rooms set aside for tea with milk and sugar, then you can order the cream teas which give you two scones, cream, and jam. They are so good; I will miss that when we are home again.

By this time in the day, we thought we should start to think about heading back up to the hostel, so we paid the bill and started to walk to the library for a quick internet stop. On the way however, Gretchen saw a sign saying used books, so we decided to stop. This shop was in a little back alley and had all these old books; we must have spent a good two hours there. I ended up getting an edition of Alice in Wonderland that was printed in 1920. It had these really interesting illustrations in it by John Tenniel all throughout the book, which was really fun. What was interesting about these illustrations is that we ended up seeing them again, although not in a book; they were in the Tate Britain Gallery in London. I was not expecting that but as I looked at them, I thought that they looked familiar and then I realized that they were from the book. I really enjoyed seeing that and was especially glad I bought the book.

Emily
Philosophy Major

'Who would like to reflect about their time in Liverpool?' asks Scott. Only one or two people raise their hands - more are needed. Liverpool definitely was not my first, or second, or even third choice, but I guess I can take one for the team. I raise my hand, which is why I am sitting here in an internet cafe in London reflecting on my time in Liverpool. The only problem is, Liverpool was the city I completely forgot to mention when I was writing back home. Given the fact that I couldn't even remember it at first, how am I supposed to reflect on it?

Well, first I need to realize that not every place I visit can be my favorite place. Not that I want to experience any city I am visiting so causally, but some cities are more like stepping stones to other places, kind of like the stones in the middle of a stream that get you to the other side. That's one way I can appreciate Liverpool.

Another way is by recognizing that while my memories of physically being in Liverpool didn't stay with me very long, the developments in my relationships with others have been more lasting and seemingly omni-present. My conversations and exchanges with people were meaningful and helped me see inside the members of the group, and these insights have furthered our friendships. Whether sharing a pint at the pub on the corner or buying candy at a street fair, the time I spent with my friends is well worth remembering and reflecting on. There are also, above all, the verbal contributions our time in Liverpool has made, all probably stemming from the slogan 'Liverpool...Probably the Best City in the World...' Oh, probably.

On a more profound level, it was in Liverpool that a group of 23 Americans had to hear only bits and pieces of the tragedy and turmiol caused by Hurricane Katrina back home. It was surreal to see such real images from your country in distanced framents. It was then, when I most desired to be there and support my country, that I felt the furthest from home yet.

I don't want to make it seem like our stint in Liverpool was only a catalyst for the experiences that came afterwards and had nothing significant worth remembering while I was there. I will always remember our free day spent at the Walker Gallery on a gloriously sunny day, with my coffee, peaches, daredevil granny friend, and two pints at a pub, as a genuinely 'good people day.'

Why, then, did I have such a lapse in my memory when my brain jumped from Glasgow to Aberystwyth? Because life can't always be on the edge, always be super-saturated with meaningfulness and profound events that stay ever within memory's reach. It takes the stepping stones and the seemingly uneventful days to emphasize other elements of life - like the contribution of experience to personal relationships and the global shift of one's perspective away from what is directly seen and perceived.

Oh, and I guess the Beatles are pretty great, too.

Kendra
Elementary Education Major

Glasgow contains the most complex levels of any city to which I have travelled. My initial impression was that Glasgow was the "industrial armpit" of Scotland, and couldn't hold a candle to the historical and beautiful places we were used to! Then after exploring the city, I found myself with a whole new perspective.

Glasgow really is a myriad of contrasts. After roaming through the elegant GOMA gallery, the Burrell Collection and the McClellan galleries, you step into the People's Palace and feel transported between eras. The People's Palace resides in a beautiful old building, squatting on a green park in the middle of dirty, lower-class Glasgow. Originally it was created to celebrate the everyday working person and be a place of beauty to which they could come. Looking around, it still serves the same function today. The cafe is littered with families, squabbing children, and strollers, and all ethnicities and ages flood the place. Quite a contrast from the intellectual-and-educated social strata visiting the other galleries.

But is was my visit to the Polluck House which really synthesized the British triangle of class, art and values for me. I stumbled upon the Polluck House after seeing it in the guidebook. When I entered I stood on the threshold, uncertain whether it was worth spending £5 or $10 to see! The tour guide looked at me with a very reserved, wary expression and icily informed me the "servants quarters were free." So feeling rather snubbed, I tripped downstairs to see if there was anything worthwhile and gathered up my courage to pay the money to see the rest of the place. After being stripped of my backpack and receiving another "stupid American student look," I entered the house. Lo and behold, there was a wedding going on in the garden, and I was politely asked to leave the dining room AND the library. Standing in the hallway with the private orchestra and gorgeously dressed people milling around, I felt exactly how a country person must have felt in the presence of old British families. And strangely enough, it still exists. To add to this sentiment, the walls were lined and every space crammed with austere portraits of famous patriarchs and family members. However, they all looked so stiff and lifeless. I stood there, realizing the past and present are not always as separate as we would like.

Despite all this, I loved exploring the Polluck House furnishings and gardens and have never regretted my visit. I even found an effusive, talkative historical society guide who was dying to tell me the history of the place. Yet walking away, I felt I experienced the centuries of class distinction, the centuries of lifeless art, and the value system which still clings to this country. This is a love-hate concept for me - the richness of tradition contrasted with the feeling of never quite belonging.

When I first arrived in Great Britian, I wondered why I was ever born in America. Now I realize there is a purpose - I am free to take the richness of British culture that I love without being pigeon-holed into a certain way of life. For me, the journey has come full circle.

Kristin Hann
English Major

When I first heard that we were traveling to Liverpool I found my reaction was rather passive. Besides knowing it was the hometown of the Beatles (of whom I am a semi-fan but not the hardcore ga-ga type) I had very little knowledge of the town or people...I didn't even know it was a seaside town until we arrived on the train and I could smell the salt in the air.

I instantly noticed that there was an energetic atmosphere and the people seemed so friendly and personable (compared to Glasgow, the city we had just come from). Only a few seconds after our arrival we found out that the city was hosting a huge Beatles Festival and that there would be dozens of live bands playing all night. I was thrilled. The one thing that I've noticed that I've missed the most on this tour is music. Unlike my classmates I didn't bring an i-pod, so I've had to go without all of my favorite tunes for the last six weeks. So the prospect of being able to enjoy tons of free, live bands was incredible. We had dinner as a class together that night and then I packed my stuff up to go enjoy some music (with the hopes of getting some homework done in the process). It was about 8 o'clock in the evening when I left the hostel, the sun was just beginning to set and I could hear streams of music coming from the city center.

I walked into the middle of town, where instead of finding fans crowded around sporadic stages, I saw the streets packed with thousands of intoxicated people screaming and laughing. I pushed my way through the streets trying to find a little shop to just crash for a while, but only restaurants and pubs were open. Bottles were strewn everywhere and an intense stench lingered in the air. Everyone was having a good time, everyone was laughing, everyone was singing...everyone was puking. And I couldn't help but look all around me at these thousands of sweating bodies and feel a little sad, forlorn, and lonely.

Walking along I found a cute little phone booth that had a very elegant, European style and I squeezed inside to call a friend. The town was covered in shadow and it was difficult to see the buttons to push, but as my eyes adjusted to the dim light I noticed that the inside of the booth was covered with extremely crude and provocative porn. As I listened to the brawl outside the glass windows and held the phone close to my ear I began to think of how this phone booth was a perfect metaphor for Britain. It was beautiful and attractive on the outside, but underneath all of the expensive tradition and gloss there is often a deep-seated perversion and a great deal of lost and confused people.

I called my friend (who is a huge Beatles fan) and she was so excited when she heard where I was that she started screaming. "I've heard it's beautiful there," she said, "isn't the seaside fantastic? I can't believe you're in the Beatles' hometown! Does it feel surreal?" I paused for a moment. Yes, it was in fact surreal, but not in the way she was thinking.

Instead of looking at the town as a perfect, dreamlike city, I was seeing it like any big city you could find in the States.

If I've learned anything on this trip, it's that people and places are more human then they are made out to be. I've heard about Liverpool from textbooks and Beatles fans all my life, so I had placed somewhat divine expectations on it. While England is filled with so many historic places and is the home of so many great events, this trip has shown me just how real and human they all are.

Taylor
Mathematics Major

Glasgow. We got to spend a fair amount of time in the city, in McLay's Guest House. Our room was the only one from our group that required walking up this crazy slanted staircase that made you feel like you were in a Fun House. After reaching the top, you walk into our room, "the slanted room" as we dubbed it, in which the floor was slanted in every direction possible, and all four side tables leaned in a different direction. Probably the best room ever.

Awesome room aside, I loved the city. One day, we went to the McLellan Gallery down the street. I wandered around, looking for a painting I liked enough on which to write an art analysis. As I looked at one painting, I scanned down the wall and came across one that immediately reminded me of Iona. Having just returned from staying on Iona with Keith, and still being astounded by the memory of the amazingly beautiful beaches, I walked down to take a closer look. The painting was called "The Dutchman's Cap From Iona" and was created on the beaches of the island in 1919. The work is a fairly abstract painting with a vast amount of bold colors worked into it; despite the abstract style, I could still recognize Iona from across the room. The work has become one of my favorite paintings, and I even had the chance to work it into my art project for Scott.

Glasgow was a great city to start the art course with Scott. We all had to adjust to a new course subject and teaching style, as well as Scott having to adjust to a new way of teaching (and he was very patient with all of us non-art students). This city helped make the switch smooth and was an excellent backdrop to learning the early history of contemporary art in Britain. I enjoyed my time in Glasgow thoroughly and was sad to leave, but ever city we've stayed in has been awesome.

In conclusion, I heart Glasgow. I heart Scotland. And I heart the British Isles. This is probably the best study program ever.

Betsy
Undeclared Major

Penzance is a beautiful small town on the southwestern coast of England. We were lucky enough to have spectacular weather most of the time that we were there, which is rare for the English coast. We stayed in a hostel up above the town. It had a hilarious and animated manager named Paul, who did everything from driving the bus to cooking to reception to entertainment guide. The town has a small city center right off the river and there is a nice walkway right along the coast. Something I have enjoyed during the trip is getting the feel of each town by running runs before breakfast, when we can explore the areas we are in without the crowds. The early mornings in Penzance are sleepy except for the occasional fisherman that we pass on his way to work. Something we have found throughout Great Britain is that the people get up much later than in the States and often in the mornings we are the only ones out and about.

One of our days here in Penzance was a free day so many of us decided to go on a hike to Land’s End. We took a bus to a trailhead that took us along the coast several miles to Land’s End which is literally the end of England on the southwestern tip. It was absolutely amazing and perhaps my favorite scenery since arriving. The sun was shining and the sky was clear while we trudged along these huge cliffs that plunged into the brilliantly blue ocean. The hills surrounding us were green and rolling and even included the occasional patch of purple heather that just added more to the array of striking colors. Surprisingly enough the English coast even includes some wonderful white beaches that look almost tropical. At the end of our trek we were rewarded by another great view, a Cornish pasty, and ice cream.

Another of our days in Penzance was spent on a day trip to St. Ives, which is another small coastal town famous for its history of artists. While we were there we went to the Tate St. Ives where we were able to get a tour from a local artist who was very knowledgeable. He was able to give us much of the background information on the artists and the art movements while we walked around and viewed British art, some of which was created in St. Ives itself. Some of the most interesting were a couple of sculptures made of wood that had been molded by an artist into a sort of maze of wooden ribbon that curved in and out of itself. We also visited Barbara Hepworth’s gallery and viewed many of her sculptures that were very innovative and abstract in her time. It was wonderful to visit the art in St. Ives that was inspired by the town itself. Many artists go to St. Ives to receive stimulation for their artwork because of the beautiful scenery and while we were there it was definitely apparent why - because of the beautiful monochromatic and quaint town that rests in a valley right on the ocean.

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