Watching Macbeth at the Globe Theatre

Field trip to Bath, England

Wicked at the Apollo Theatre

Celebrating Holland’s Queensday in London’s Trafalgar’s Square.

3 girls. Wine. And Chocolate. Need I say more?

Louvre
Champs-Élysées
Musée d’Orsay
Eiffel Tower
Night Boat Tour

Tiramisu
Crepes
Chocolate

“My mother always told me never to be extravagant,” the Dean Graeme Knowles said. This is how he started his Easter Sunday sermon.

“She told me to never be extravagant with words. She told me never to be extravagant with money. And she told me never to be extravagant with clothing,” the Dean said and then paused. As he did a little shrug to showcase his very extravagant white Easter robes he said, “You can see that I didn’t follow through with that one.” The whole cathedral laughed.

The Easter Sunday Sung Eucharist at St. Paul’s Cathedral was my first London church visit. So I made sure my first Mass was a blowout. Thousands of people flooded the Cathedral for the the Easter service. People of all races, ages and probably of all religions, came to listen to Dean Graeme Knowles deliver his annual Easter sermon. Some were dressed in jeans and t-shirts and holding backpacks, while others were dressed in their Easter best and adorning shimmery handbags, showcasing that the service appealed to both locals and tourists alike.

Alex and I showed up rather early, around 10:45A to make the 11:30A service. And thank God we were early because after the 10:30 service ended, we were able to snag front row seats.

The entire event was very extravagant. I mean, keep in mind this was the Easter Sunday mass in the “Mother Church of the Diocese of London.” From the gaudy gold and silvers painted across the frescos to the harmonious tunes of the all-male choir, the Mass was a sight worth seeing.

Photo from http://www.nouse.co.uk/wp-content/article_images/body/2009/12/BALKA-161.jpg

I don’t care what Paul McCarthy says, self mutilation is not art.

I visited the Tate Modern for the first time this Saturday. Located in the Modern Art Gallery on the second floor of the power station turned art museum was American artist Paul McCarthy’s room. It was terrifying. Projected onto each of the four walls were streaming videos of McCarthy’s ‘art,’ nonstop videos of him appearing to mutilate specific private areas of his body. Some of his videos showcased his wife, Karen, of 40 years and an artist friend. Scene after scene played on the white walls of the gallery, showing McCarthy penetrating and beating his body with various sharp objects and then spreading the blood across his body.

It was awful. And I don’t care what he or anyone says, it wasn’t art. It was sick.

On the better half of the museum, in the Turbine Hall to be exact, was the coolest art exhibit I’ve seen so far here in Europe. A gigantic steel box on steel beams sits in the middle of the Turbine Hall. Looking very much like a warehouse set on stilts, this latest installment of Miroslaw Balka’s Unilever Series was an eye-opener, literally.

You walk up a steel ramp that leads up to the steel box that encases nothing but the black abyss. I, of course, was wearing heels during my visit, so not only was I clanking and clattering on my walk up, I tripped along the way as I was too engrossed in the sight of the utter darkness ahead of me.

What was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to walk inside the box when I got to the top of the ramp? Where was everyone disappearing to? What was inside the box? Crap, I can’t believe I chose to wear heels today.

Those were the thoughts running through my mind after my flattering trip up.

As I approached the top of the ramp which segways into the entrance of the dark steel room, I looked around at the people around me. Some of the art lovers were pausing at the top just like me, nervous and curious about what to do next. Others just trudged right onwards, into the massive black hole ahead. My gut reaction told me to pull out my cell phone to light my path, but I realized that the others who bravely entered the darkness weren’t doing that. So finally, after a good 2 minutes pause, I decided to walk inside.

Baby step by baby step, click by click, I walked into the steel room. The further and further I walked, the less and less I could see. I held my arms out to the side of me, partly to feel if I was going to bump into anyone, partly to protect myself against whatever crazy art details may be inside. Mid-way into the black hole, I had to stop. As I looked ahead, it was pitch darkness. I couldn’t tell if the end was near or if I had a mile ahead of me. I couldn’t see anyone around me. I couldn’t hear much except for the echo of crying toddlers. What to do now?

I figured I already went this far, so I kept going. As I tip-toed forward, I slowly started hearing hushed whispers ahead of me. Is the end near?? I felt a rush of excitement. I extended my arms out in front of me, anxious to get to the end. I felt like a child, swimming in the deep end of a pool, anxious to feel the safety of the pool wall ahead of me. And then suddenly, I felt a felt wall. Smooth, comforting and soft, this was the end. I had finally reached the end.

After emerging from the steel box, I read the museum sign that explained Balka’s latest masterpiece. I learned that the dark steel box sought to portray two messages. One was to illustrate individuals’ personalities and the way it affects their decision-making. The second was to illustrate the feeling of walking into the showers at the Jewish concentration camps, showcasing how one didn’t know if they were about to receive a bath or death.

Photo taken by Alyssa Elias

Gelato. Pizza. Spaghetti. Bruschetta. Red Wine.
Trevi Fountain. Coliseum. Vatican City- Guided Tour. St. Peter’s Basilica. Mouth of Truth. Hop on, Hop Off Bus. Campo de Fuiri.

More info to come…