Great Photo Mashup 2007 (aka: are you bored at work?)

If you're sitting listlessly at a desk somewhere, whether it be in Europe or the US of A, pick your chin up because I've got 300 photos you can look through!

As I am just days away from jetting off again (spring break 2007!) I thought I would leave you with plenty of fodder to wade through in my absence.

Here are links to my photo albums from the Sweden/Finland/Malta trip. I had a wonderful time taking them. Enjoy!

Sweden Vol I

Sweden Vol II

Finland

Malta Vol I

Malta Vol II

xoxo
Lauren

Malta Reloaded

I realize I have yet to post much of anything about my epic travels of January and February (life has been just too plain exciting), but I was pleased to see that my friend and fellow traveler Gwen posted a video she took in Malta on youtube for the world to see:



It looks like we are going about a hundred miles an hour. And that is because we were. It was the bus ride of death. I'm sure the four or five elderly people at the front were not amused by the three Americans giggling like Japanese tourists in the back (no offense to the Japanese, but you do giggle an awful lot); I think at one point you can hear me saying "Oh my god, I think I'm going to pass out." Good times! Anyways, enjoy, perhaps one of these days I'll manage to put up some greatest hits photos.

Back to studying!

Highlander

Eric and his brother Nick visited Scotland this week. We spent Sunday night hitting the St Andrews pubs and woke up fresh as daisies for a road trip into the Highlands. We got our free dram at the Edradour whisky distillery, braved our way through a ferocious snow storm, and made it to the shores of the fabled Loch Ness before dark. We covered a pretty sizable chunk of Scotland in a day; this really is the best small country in the world. Here is our route:

That microsoft paint scrawl says "Loch Ness"

Edradour makes everyone jolly.

Snow fall on the Grampian Mountains.

"HIGHLANDS! WHY ARE YOU SO HIGH?!"

Eric wants to high kick Nessie.

How much Kallin can one picture handle? I think I just went back in time.

The Road Goes Ever On and On

I kept thinking "once I get into grad school everything will calm down." Turns out that was folly.

Everyone's favorite little blossom, Patrick Harrison, came all the way from Chapel Hill for a visit:

And there was dancing...

...and grad school acceptance celebrations...

(Jamie bought me cookies, chips and cheese, champagne, and Twix as a surprise. Could I have a better flatmate? I mean honestly.)

and more.... celebrations:

Patrick imported Solo cups and ping pong balls for the occasion. It was an epic tournament in both ferocity and diversity of players. We had delegates from no less than 4 countries and gaming stretched into the wee hours of the St Patrick's Day morn. The champions? Well, team Jamie of course.

Academically I've been swamped but I like to try and focus on the good times. Spring Break starts on Friday and Jamie and I are planning a secret getaway of relaxation and cultural enrichment. I would divulge, but I'm afraid that the paps will pick up on our trail.

More later; miss and love you xoxo

And There Was Much Rejoicing

I got into Sotheby's today!

One Word: Grueling

I had my interview at Sotheby's in London on Monday. They gave me a slide test. I had to talk about 36 paintings, including this one by William Blake:

Sometimes I wonder whether or not doing joint honours in art history and English literature will pay off, and then I go to a postgraduate interview and someone asks me to talk about a painting done by a great English poet and I do a little liberal arts victory dance in my mind.

I'm really not sure how it went, to be honest; I walked around Bedford Square afterwards in a daze. I just want to get in somewhere so I don't have to live in a box... andI wouldn't mind if that place was Sotheby's.

Marcus and company threw a barbecue in the back garden that night; I ate a burger and felt better about life. I'm back in St Andrews now with a flat full of people and a pile of work to do.

love

We Came For Salvation; We Came For Family

If you know me even the littlest bit you know that wherever I go and whatever I do -- whether I am cleaning rugs at Biltmore or walking to class in Scotland -- I am probably listening to The Avett Brothers.

The Washington Post calls them "post civil-war modern rock" but I call them my favorite band of all time. And they are from North Carolina.

If you don't know me or you surfed over here by google searching "Harry Potter naked" then listen up because here's the skinny on the Avetts:

"If you put your ear to the street, you can hear the rumble of the world in motion; people going to and from work, to school, to the grocery store. You may even hear the whisper of their living rooms, their conversation, their complaints, and if you're lucky, their laughter. If you're anywhere near the eastern side of America, you'll hear something different, something special, something you recognize but haven't heard in a long time. It is the sound of a real celebration.

It is not New Year's, and it is not a political convention. It is neither a prime time game-show, nor a music video countdown, bloated with fame and sponsorship. What you are hearing is the love for a music. It is the unbridled outcry of support for a song that sings to the heart, that dances with the soul. The jubilation is in the theaters, the bars, the music clubs, the festivals. The love is for a band.

The songs are honest: just chords with real voices singing real melodies. But, the heart and the energy with which they are sung, is really why people are talking, and why so many sing along.

They are a reality in a world of entertainment built with smoke and mirrors, and when they play, the common man can break the mirrors and blow the smoke away, so that all that's left behind is the unwavering beauty of the songs. That's the commotion, that's the celebration, and wherever The Avett Brothers are this Saturday night, that's what you'll find."

One of the first things that occurred to me when I got accepted to the St Andrews program was (among other things) "man, I am going to miss a lot of Avett concerts." I was coming off a summer chock-full of driving through the mountains with the windows rolled down, blasting the Avetts, and being young and in love. Their music was (and is) so interwoven with my sense of home and family that I mourned the loss of being able to see them live; a transcendent experience that leaves you wanting more. Kind of like crack.

Then, two months after my great move to Scotland, the clouds parted, sunlight shone down, and an Avett Brothers UK Tour was announced. In short: I was rapturous. I was insensibly led on; I bought my tickets online before knowing how I would get to Liverpool and Glasgow in the same weekend. It didn't seem to matter; The Avett Brothers were hitting the United Kingdom and I was going to be there come hell or high water.

In the months following the tour announcement I managed to rope Gwen and Jamie into coming along. We bought our tickets and planned. We decided, after several wretched train trips apiece, that we would rent a car and drive the 600 miles to Liverpool and Glasgow with a detour through the Lake District for purposes of sight-seeing. The weeks rolled by and suddenly it was the end of February at last: go time.

We did not have an auspicious start; navigating through Dundee was like trying to drive backwards through a pretzel factory, and when we pulled over to get our bearings Gwen couldn't figure out how to put the car in reverse. I should mention that Gwen, being the only one of us who could drive stick shift with some measure of alacrity, drove us the full 600 miles, and for that she is legend and if she ever needs a kidney I will be happy to oblige. A short call to Laurie straightened us out (for the record: you have to push the stick DOWN to put a car in reverse in the UK), and we were on our way. We had a nice drive down to Liverpool along the western coast listening to horrible British radio and snapping pictures out the window:

We pulled into Liverpool about two hours late for dinner with our new friends and fellow Avett fans Ernie and Donna. It was a small miracle that we made it at all, actually, as you might be able to guess by the crazy written all over my face in this photo:

I should also mention that we had just been running -- RUNNING -- down the streets of Liverpool like a deleted scene from A Hard Day's Night before this photo was taken, and that is why my hair looks like a crazy bag lady. You should have seen Jamie! Ha, just kidding, Jamie always looks amazing.

We made it to Barfly in plenty of time to see the opening bands, have a few drinks, and talk with Dolph (their manager) and Dane (guitar tech) before the show. It was so bizarre to hear North Carolina accents; I slipped comfortably back into "y'all" and it felt real nice. Gwen was surprised to hear my accent come raging back; she is from Orange County and I don't think they git a lotta that around them parts.

We finally met up with Ernie and Donna an hour or so before the show. They, like Gwen, are legends as far as travel goes -- they flew all the way from Maryland! They were an absolute joy to meet and hang out with, and our two weekends of Avett road-tripping wouldn't have been the same without them.

Ok, it's 10 PM: The Avett Brothers Make Their European Debut and I Am There. We are in a small club in Liverpool. There is a cluster of people at the front who know them, but the room is mostly filled with British people in their euro-80's clubwear and angular haircuts. Jamie, Gwen and I are slightly to the right of the stage, in front of Seth. They come out, they open with Left on Laura, Left on Lisa. I burst into tears (a theme, you'll see). The rest is a blur, but here is a video of At the Beach:



Liverpool was like being able to go back in time to the shows at The Soapbox and the Handlebar; a smaller, enthusiastic crowd with a solid, gut-wrenching performance from the guys. From Emotionalism we heard 'Paranoia In B Flat Minor,' and they ended with 'Nothing Short of Thankful' -- Seth introduced it as a thank you letter to everyone in the room. We hung around afterwards and talked to them. I had met them briefly last summer at Bonnaroo, and as always they were three of the nicest, most genuine people you can imagine offstage. Jamie and I got a picture with Seth. Scott said his dad would be in London, and I said we would be there too. I asked Bob if they would play Salina tomorrow in Glasgow. I blacked out for a few minutes and then I was downstairs so I spoke with a few locals in the bar who I had seen dancing up front and they had that familiar post-Avett glow. The boys had made it to the UK.

We spent the night at the world's most fortified YHA hostel in downtown Liverpool. It was a sweet deal: 20 pounds for a private ensuite room. Too bad we were kept awake into the wee hours of the morning by some trouble-making Swedes, but that's a story for another day!

We set off FRESH AS DAISIES the next morning for a drive through the Lake District on our way north. We got to Windermere around 12:30 and had a leisurely lunch at a place called The Lighthouse that sat in a fork in the road in the middle of town. We watched cars pass in the darkening drizzle and realized that even if we wanted to see the Lakes we probably couldn't, so we pushed north towards Glasgow and a venue called King Tut's Wah Wah Hut.

This go 'round we made it in plenty of time for dinner with Ernie and Donna at an Italian place near the club. We had delicious pasta and many jugs of wine to share; I wish I could remember the name! Fun fact about the restaurant: Ernie asked the Avett's UK tour manager for a restaurant recommendation and he suggested the Italian place, then casually mentioned that he last ate there with Dwight Yoakam. What a life. Here we are with Ernie at the restaurant:



The Glasgow show was invaded by study abroad students and their friends, as well as some folks from the air force who are stationed overseas. It was the best show I've seen since Cat's Cradle as far as feeling like I needed to be carried home afterwards. The crowd's energy was palpable and, as always, the band delivered it back a hundred-fold. They blitzed through their set (there was an 11 pm curfew at the club) and disappeared backstage in a blaze of glory.

The crowd started stomping their feet and screaming ONE MORE SONG until, at last, they reappeared. They had a quick conference on stage and Scott stepped up to the mike and said "Thanks y'all, we'd love to play one more for you. There's a request we had that we let slip, so this song here is called Salina." I, of course, scream out loud and Bob smiles and points at me across the crowd. One of a cluster of Scottish guys in front of me turns around and says "is that yours? well, come on then!" and pushes me up to the front. I cry, they play Salina, Jamie video tapes it, and my life is complete.

Salina is a song off their new record, Emotionalism, which won't be released until May 15. I've heard it live a couple of times and it shatters me every time. The refrain:

I keep changing the plans
That I’ve been setting on
I'm scared by the way my life
Is getting gone
Carolina, one day I’ll
someday I'll
Come home

Oh! It makes me tear up just writing it. Needless to say, I can't wait for the album to come out. So that's the end of our first weekend of Avett Madness. We drove back to St Andrews that night and slept for days. Next chapter: London, the end of the tour, and the best night of my life.

I Dinae Ken If Its Gonnae Rain!

The weather has been positively gorgeous on the East coast of Scotland these last few days and Jamie and I have been taking advantage of it by taking lovers' walks on the beach. That is wholly unrelated to the rest of this post, but I felt like I should share this photo with you for two reasons: 1) It's a great view of the town from the west sands and 2) my hair is amazing.

Anyways, my Culture and Society in Modern Scotland module took a trip to Edinburgh yesterday to visit the National Gallery and the National Portrait Gallery. I was over the moon about this field trip and spent close to two hours trailing behind our professor listening to his detailed analysis of each painting in the Scottish collection.

I am ashamed to say that I had never been to the Scottish National Portrait Gallery despite many trips to Edinburgh and countless hours spent in the nearby National Gallery. The Portrait Gallery is tucked away at the far end of the New Town in an austere looking building, but entry is free and there is an excellent cafe so now you have no excuse. Our professor gave us 45 minutes to explore on our own so I wandered haphazardly through the gallery looking for furniture (as ya do), and stumbled up on a reading room filled with books about Scotland. No one else was there so I sat down and thumbed through a few coffee table books on Scottish royalty when a smaller book caught my eye entitled Great Houses of Scotland. I quickly reached for it in what can only be described as a deeply Pavlovian response (Houses? Furniture? Salivaaaa) and flipped through looking for places I knew had great collections. It wasn't a particularly thorough book, so for the purposes of killing more time I turned back to the front and read the introduction.

It read: "There was a time when there was real concern that Scotland's houses and their contents were doomed. After the Second World War, with the country still meagerly rationed and highly taxed, the prognosis was bleak indeed... most of the great collections have survived the last fifty years, if not intact, at least in reasonably good health... The Furniture History Society and the specialist teaching at the University of St Andrews, in particular, have brought a higher level of scholarship to the study of the wonderful collections of native and continental furniture."

Hooray! My life is affirmed; my academic pursuits justified! I went downstairs and bought the book from the shop on the spot. Good on you, David Jones, and good on St Andrews!

In other news, how is it already Wednesday? I need to do some work in a bad way.

Jamie's First Trip To London [or: probably the best weekend ever]

Jamie, Gwen and I stormed London this weekend. AND HOW. Here we are at the North entrance of Westminster Abbey. I appear to be in a deep discussion of flying buttresses, but it could have been a low-flying plane.

We did it. We saw Harry Potter in the buff. I would tell you about "it" but that is not how I roll on this blog. I will say, however, that the show was technically one of the best shows I've seen in a while (barring of course all musicals staged by Disney), and Daniel Radcliffe was actually quite good when stripped -- haha, I said "stripped" -- of his boy-wizard alter ego. As for Martin Dysart: no one will ever be as wonderful in that role as my best friend Patrick Link. And that's the truth.

[ "It was the most fun I've ever had at a club. Ever." - Doug]

After the show we went to club night at the King's College Union with Doug, Matias, and Sam. Suffice it to say that there was lots of dancing to lots of cheesy music and the dancing was vigorous and unstoppable in its fury. Jamie wore a dress that was both black and stylish. Gwen had been up since 6 and just wanted a nap. In other news, my hair is ridiculous, but what can you do?



I am completely leaving out Saturday because I want to save all things Avett-related for one massive post that will be positively dripping with hero-worship and embedded videos of the show. I will end here with a sweet shot of the London Eye. Did I mention that the weather was glorious? We traipsed around without scarves and squinted at the sun in bewilderment.

I really love London. If I end up there next year I won't be upset.