Sneaking a peek of one of Oxford’s colleges.

Magdalen College on a grey May day.

Juggling on the High Street.

Random question and story: Have you ever answered a pay phone call?  I did for the first time on my last visit to Oxford in June. I was walking up Walton Street, heading towards Port Meadow, and as I passed by a telephone booth, the phone inside started ringing. Not one to let a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity pass her by, I answered the call. I don’t know who was more confused, my friends who didn’t understand why I was stepping into the phone booth, or the anonymous caller on the other end of the line. I think he said that he was “just calling to see if there’s anyone out there” or something; whatever he said, he was a little bit creepy and possibly lonely. Had this been a movie and not real life, he could’ve been a hostage, a terrorist, or maybe even Mel Gibson (NSFW). But since it’s real life, the caller just hung up.

Answering the call of curiosity. Photo by Adam Awad.

Oxford University itself is, of course, magnificent, but the city it’s named after boasts a few attractions itself. If you find yourself in Oxford, here are a few stops to consider after your Harry Potter tour:

Olives: If you head here around lunch time, be prepared to stand in line. Olives offers a whole lot of goodness out of its little shop. You can purchase a number of European foodstuffs here, from made-to-order sandwiches, to a selection of fine deli meats, to preserves and spreads that’ll push those cans of tuna far back into your pantry.

The Rose: Also on the High Street, just a block or so away from Olives, the Rose has a very affordable menu, including a more than fairly-priced option for cream tea. If the scones and sandwiches don’t fill you, then the generous slice of cake will finish you off. I also appreciated the simple décor and unpretentious service, which has allowed myself and my friends to conduct immature, inappropriate conversations over cups of tea.

Enjoying a cup of vanilla tea at The Rose. Photo by Adam Awad.

Port Meadow: Forget the spires or the libraries; this is where I spent the bulk of my time during my last few Oxford visits. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to play with the wild horses that call the meadow their home. If you’re really lucky, you may see some of Oxford’s finest going for a jog (perhaps in preparation for a particular rowing event). Pack your allergy tablets, plan a picnic, and black out a sunny afternoon in your calendar.

Port Meadow and wild horses!

My little pony.

Goofing around in Port Meadow with Adam. Photo by Marc Troughton.

Richard Dawkins, his snazzy tie, and me!

On Wednesday, May 26, 2010, I was in the presence of greatness. And no, I’m not only referring to Anand, Claire, and Danica, my companions for the evening; I’m talking about being in attendance at the Science Museum Lates presentation of Genius of Britain, based on the Channel4 documentary series of the same name. Both the show and the event involved prominent scientists talking about their heroes, fathers of British science from yesteryear. And who were these scientists? Well, as you can probably guess by the title and photo above, the panel included Richard Dawkins and James Dyson, alongside Lord Robert Winston and Jim Al-Khalili. As for Stephen Hawking, he provided both the opening and closing remarks for the evening, and more importantly, he sat right in front of me!

The show was created in response to the lack of science being produced by Brits, which the producers and presenters seemed to chalk up to the lack of new students enrolling in the sciences. I think it was Dyson who blamed the media, and more specifically reality shows, for dangling the carrot of easy fame and fortune before impressionable youth; science just can’t compete with glamour (unless you’re talking about glamourising science in the way of the CSI series). The goal, or hope, of the program was to present science and science-based industries, like engineering and biomedicine, as engaging pursuits for young minds, full of excitement and surprises, and of course, fun!

Now, I may be biased in for forming this opinion, having been in a science museum after hours and all, but the presenters more than expressed their love for science. Dyson qualified engineering discoveries as “inspirational”, Winston described scientific inquiry as an “appetite”, and Dawkins defined science as “the poetry of reality”. As Al-Khalili described it, they each possessed a passion for the field, manifesting as a “geeky excitement” that was both endearing and infectious. It certainly rubbed off on me (though I was already obviously a supporter of science education and scientific research): when selected to direct the final question to the panel, I uttered the line “science is forever” as part of my query. If I was their target audience, then their campaign would be deemed successful.

Unfortunately, I do not fulfill the requirements of the target group, namely youth and apathy to science. Unfortunate still is my contention that the well-intentioned efforts of the Genius of Britain crew are misdirected. Firstly, who is going to watch a Channel4 program about famous mathematicians or physicians? People like Danica, Anand, and Claire, people who attended Science Museum Lates, people who are obtaining advanced degrees in public health, medicine, and nanotechnology respectively. Will anyone else watch the series? I can’t definitely say no, but in my experience, a very bright young lawyer requested a channel change to Wife Swap: USA after I chose Genius. So, can we really expect children to sit through an hour of Dawkins waxing poetic about the invention of the first computer when they could be watching American stereotypes clashing bitterly on their teevees? And even if the show inspires youngsters to ask for a chemistry set instead of a Wii, how will that hold up against some of the other problems that deter access to science, facts like lack of funding, materials, and lab space, and teachers who are not specialised to teach the science subjects?

Logistical considerations aside, I have a more abstract criticism, and this is in regards to the motivation behind the show. It was the “British” angle that I was most confused with, the notion that Britain is no longer the international powerhouse of innovation it once was, and that something must be done to restore the country to her former glory. Dyson claimed that the number of new engineers produced per year in Britain is significantly lower than that of countries like India, and he thought this was embarrassing. I think it’s irrelevant. As long as the pursuit of knowledge continues, what does it matter where the development of new ideas is taking place? Should we really be categorising the scientific community by country of origin? Shouldn’t we be looking at the total number of scientists in the world, or the number of new discoveries or patents this year, comparing it to previous tallies, and using the growth direction to measure scientific success? While there are British scientists, there is no such thing as “British science” or “Indian science” or “Canadian science”; if science is truth, then its verity must be universal.

Of course, there is a political and economic lean to innovation, and research is funded by the presence of an end goal. Despite the panelists’ lyrical descriptions of their field, science is utilitarian, and the pragmatic benefit is money or power, or both. And this, to me, is sad. What happened to learning just for the sake of learning? At the very least, when you’re a child, that should be your only motivation, to know a little bit more today than you did yesterday. Do we really need to endorse international competition and the separation of nations as an incentive to education? Students of all ages ought to feel that they can contribute fresh thinking or new concepts to the study of the natural world, no matter where in that world they reside. Science is forever, and science is for everyone.

Model: Claire
Location: Hyde Park, London, United Kingdom; May 2010

Model: Anne
Location: Hellerup, Copenhagen, Denmark; May 2010

Model: Anne
Location:  Christiania, Copenhagen, Denmark; May 2010

Model: Juliana
Location: Le Village, Montréal, Canada; August 2010

Model: J.P.
Location: La Ronde, Montréal, Canada; July 2010

View of Pont Jacques Cartier from La Ronde amusement park.

Montréal is my favourite city to visit in (what I’ve seen of) Canada, and after spending four more days there last week, it’s quite possibly one of my favourite places to visit anywhere. Though I’ve visited the largest city in French-Canada numerous times before, Montréal never feels boring or passé. I used to call it “weekend Europe” because I’ve often felt like I was somewhere new and really different, all while enjoying the comforting familiarity of being in your own country. Combine this setting with amazing friends, both old and new, glorious sunshine, and way too much delicious food, and you’ve yourself the makings of a très bon week-end.

Here are a few places I learned about this time that may be of interest to those looking to visit Montreal:

Leméac: A lovely little restaurant in Bout-du-Mille, specialising in simple French food. Go after 22.00 (10 PM) to take advantage of their $22 prix fixe menu.

Jardin Nelson: Just off Boulevard St. Laurent, Jardin Nelson is a prime spot for a romantic brunch or dinner date. Staggered canopies leave space for brief glimpses of passing clouds or stars, and a live jazz band plays the standards (en français, bien sûr) while you dine on well-portioned plates of very rich foods. Try the crêpe gâteau à l’orange et aux canneberges (orange and cinnamon pancakes; pictured below), an apparently amazing meal (thanks a lot for sharing, J.P.).

Complexe Sky: If you’re in town for Celebrations de la Fierté (Montreal Pride) August 10-15 2010, pay a visit to le Village and then head to the Sky restaurant/club for a proper night of dancing. Even if you’re not there for Pride, go to le Village anyway, and don’t forget to give the cop in the tutu an enthusiastic wave.

To follow are photos from La Ronde and vieux-Montréal. Click to enlarge!

“Oh, ow, it hurts!”; Le monstre, La Ronde.

Love swing; La Ronde.

Enormous windows; Jardin Nelson.

Bright blue skies above Place Jacques Cartier.

J.P., Dave, and Olivia by the St. Lawrence River. Burnt Siena behind the lens.

Leprechaun in latex at the end of this rainbow.

Hi, I’m Anubha Momin. You may remember me from such posts as “Working Undercover: The Art of Sleeping” and “Love in the Time of Web Cameras”. I’ve been back in Toronto for exactly one month, haven’t blogged in over two, and decided not to extend the latter to three. And what a busy few months it has been: I survived the volcanic disASHter while being eaten alive by mosquitoes in Morocco, found out just why Denmark is one of the happiest countries in the world, ran a veritable hostel out of my bedroom/glorified closet, and found two little pools of Ayr Bay in London. The plan is to blog more consistently, as I’ve been inspired by my friend Chris’ entry into the blogosphere, though his blogging regime of one post per day is intimidating.

Anyway, here are some photos from this year’s Pride Weekend and Parade in Toronto, which was, as always, a gay old time. Click to enlarge!

Floating Heads at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum

For the Easter long weekend, I took a short trip to Glasgow, Scotland’s largest city. This gritty, witty city won me over with its architecture, food, and especially, the warmth of the Glaswegians.

What I wrote in my notebook while riding a train to the Glasgow city centre from the airport: The entire countryside is a golf course, sandwiched between train tracks and urban development on one side, and the deep blue waters of Ayr Bay on the other.

Also, the deep blue of Ayr Bay is my favourite colour for eyeballs.

My favourite moments in Glasgow consisted of:

Kelvingrove Museum: I’ve had the pleasure of visiting museums in New York City, London, Paris, and Florence, but none of them created the impression on me that Kelvingrove did. For the first time, I really felt like the museum wanted me to be there, wanted me to wander its halls for hours, wanted me to sit and touch and talk and think and learn. The museum not only offers a library, study space, and free internet, but provides stools for visitors for sitting, thinking, or sketching! In addition, Kelvingrove features some truly “local” art, in that they had an installation that was created by members of the local community. Not local artists, just people, average Glaswegians who were invited to create some art and display it in the most visited UK museum outside of London.

The University Café: We stumbled upon this little diner (pictured below) as we were wandering through Glasgow’s West End. Don’t be fooled by its slightly dingy appearance; this place was the Ice Cream National Alliance Competition champion many, many times over.

Diner dining at the University Café

Vintage shopping: Glasgow is sort of famous for having awesome vintage and charity shops. Some of our favourites were on Dowanside Lane (pictured below), a lovely little street by its own rights. Visit Starry, Starry Night for turn-of-the-century top hats and quite a selection of military wear. Keep going down the lane for a collection of vintage shops, some more organised than others, and start rummaging!

Danica on Dowanside Lane. Starry, Starry Night on her right.

The Lighthouse: This museum is tucked into a side street, but definitely worth a visit if you’re interested in architecture and design. It also offers you a wonderful view of Glasgow if you mount the tower. It was designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh, Glasgow’s favourite architect/designer. He can also lay claim to designing an eponymous font. Visit the Willow Tea Rooms to enjoy his furniture and interior design firsthand. Though, if you order the pancakes, be aware that they may not be served warm (seriously, my butter didn’t even melt).

Tchai-Ovna: Without a doubt, my favourite night was spent at this tea house. I sat barefoot in their “Zen Room” with a Scottish lass, two very good-looking Kiwis, my Australian host, and Danica (hah, sorry for the non-descriptor), sharing chai and eating vegan curries while listening to a fiddler and a guitarist perform together. The chai was amazing, the chat even better, and I bought a teacup from Tchai-Ovna on my way out. Favourite tea house ever.

Here are a few more random shots of Glasgow:

Entrance to Barras Market

Birds on a building at Barras Market

Buchanan Street

Glasgow University

]]> http://ecriredestartines.wordpress.com/2010/05/14/catch-up-post-glasgow-scotland/feed/ 9 ecriredestartines Off with their heads. University Café Dowanside Lane Barras Market Birds at Barras. Buchanan Street Glasgow University http://ecriredestartines.wordpress.com/2010/05/11/catch-up-post-dunguaire-castle-and-cliffs-of-moher-ireland/ http://ecriredestartines.wordpress.com/2010/05/11/catch-up-post-dunguaire-castle-and-cliffs-of-moher-ireland/#comments Tue, 11 May 2010 09:37:56 +0000 Anubha http://ecriredestartines.wordpress.com/?p=586 Continue reading →]]> Dunguaire Castle

The day after celebrating St. Patrick’s Day (and night) in Galway, our crew hopped into our rented cars and drove through the Irish countryside to the Cliffs of Moher. On the way, we noticed Dunguaire Castle and stopped to take photos. I believe we had the luck o’ the Irish with us on this day, because 1) I wasn’t the one driving (though I did take the role of chauffeur early in the morning after we had celebrated St. Patrick with the lads and lasses of Galway), and 2) we had a few moments of sun throughout the day.

Click the photos to enlarge!

Galway Bay

Green = Irish

This post: photos from Galway, where I spent St. Patrick’s Day this year.

Parade-goers on their way to the main square.

Irish pride comes in all shapes and sizes.

Kiss me, I’m Irish.

Requisite shot of Guinness.

Galway harbour at dusk.

]]> http://ecriredestartines.wordpress.com/2010/05/07/catch-up-post-galway-ireland/feed/ 2 ecriredestartines Hi! Irish pride. Leprechaun? Foam. Claddagh. http://ecriredestartines.wordpress.com/2010/03/15/hockey-night-and-st-patricks-day-in-london/ http://ecriredestartines.wordpress.com/2010/03/15/hockey-night-and-st-patricks-day-in-london/#comments Mon, 15 Mar 2010 16:46:36 +0000 Anubha http://ecriredestartines.wordpress.com/?p=546 Continue reading →]]>

Move aside, Nelson, this column is ours! Photo by Jess Kwong.

I’ve been really busy this past month, hence the blog neglect. I’m still quite pressed for time, but since my blog personally requested some attention, I felt inclined to write this post.

So, as stated above, I’ve been very, very busy, mostly with school work and research. However, for sixteen days in February, I couldn’t blame King’s College for the late nights, the tears, the screaming and hair pulling; something else was occupying my limited emotional and temporal resources. Yes, of course I am talking about the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympic Games, the record-breaking event that brought our glowing hearts together as a nation in the name of sportsmanship, global communities, and hockey. At the culmination of the event, and after reading articles like this, I obviously felt proud to be Canadian; even more so, I felt proud to be a Canadian living in London.

A pint of Sleeman and the famous Vancouver 2010 gloves. Photo by Jess Kwong.

I’ve said it before, but London is just one of those places where you feel like you can do anything, where if you’re looking for something, you will find it, and it will be awesome. Case in point: watching the (mostly) men’s hockey games which usually began at 16:30 Vancouver time, 00:30 London time (that’s 12:30 am for those not ready to accept the superiority of the 24-hour clock) was not only possible in Londontown, but arguably as much fun as being at home for the matches. Thanks to Scott at the Albion, who extended the pub’s liquor license to accomodate the 03:00 game end times and had Sleeman on tap, we were able to watch the late games in a room full of ex-pats ready to bust out the national anthem at any opportunity. Pictured at the top of the post is a shot from the “riot” that ensued following Canada’s gold medal win over the USA in the men’s finals, whereby every Canadian who could not contain their national pride exuberantly made his or her way to Trafalgar Square to celebrate our country’s triumph with as much flag-waving and shouts of “CA-NA-DA!” as we could muster. I wish I could express how moving it was to be part of a crowd of your countrymen and women, being as far away from our land as we are.

Pure joy. Thank-you, number 87! Photo by Jess Kwong.

Grown men dressed as leprechauns? No, they're just Irish.

Trafalgar Square was the site of another non-British national celebration yesterday as London hosted their (early) St. Patrick’s Day 2010 party. Our group of Belgians, Canadians, and one Irish lass made the way to the festivities, decked out in green, hoping to find some of the spirit Ireland is so famous for. And, of course, since we’re in London, we found it! Forget shamrocks, Guinness, and pots of gold. For a better taste of Irish culture, take a listen to the Coronas (here is a good choice), have a group of Irish schoolchildren teach you how to dance a jig and accompany you on their fiddles, or just stand anywhere near this guy . The Irish pride was flowing alongside the beer, and there was an especially big roar when the Deputy Mayor of London called out to all the Irish living in London. (Sidenote: the leprechauns pictured right do not live in London; they travelled in from Ireland specifically to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with London-based Irish people and anyone else who wanted to join the party! Like us, who decided to join them and scores of other Irish people at O’Neill’s for post-festival drinks and dance.) Akin to my Canadian experience, being able to ascertain a sense of national identity while in a foreign country has its own special charm. If there’s no place like home, then coming in second must be feeling at home when you’re away.

On another related note, I am going to be celebrating St. Patrick’s Day in fine fashion come Wednesday, not in London, but in Ireland herself. I’ll be leaving for Galway tomorrow afternoon and returning Thursday. So, until then, lá Fhéile Pádraig sona daoibh/happy St. Patrick’s Day to you all!

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

This won’t be much of a review, not that any of my “reviews” ever really are. I will say that Wuthering Heights lives up to its infamy in that it is every bit as engaging, pathetic, and wonderful as one would expect. Bonus points for playing to my love for the English countryside, Yorkshire (Mario!), and moors. Why anyone thought it would be necessary to re-brand the novel’s cover to emulate that of the Twilight series is beyond me. Timelessness, by definition, ought to be immune to modernisation.

Anyway, again, this isn’t really a review of the novel. I am writing this post because I want to talk about the book itself, not the story. I found the text on a shelf in my hall of residence, and I couldn’t resist picking it up. Used books, in my opinion, are awesome, for many reasons, one of which is that in purchasing or reading a used book, we are reusing a product and reducing our consumption of new items. However, there may be a limit to the usability of a used book, and this novel was definitely right on the borderline. Pictures to follow.

You could call it a story in 29 parts.

This is definitely the most dilapidated book I have ever read. Some of those sections are single sheets! And the entire mess was completely out of order; I spent a good bit of time putting every bit chronologically before I could begin to read anything.

A real page-turner, this one.

Despite the spinelessness of its form, the disorderly contents of this book came together to present a satisfying read. And though I received some strange looks on the tube as I tried to hold the tattered tale together in my hands, I can now proudly claim that I literally did not judge a book by its cover…or side…or lack of internal composure…

Quote: “…change the fiends to confident, innocent angels, suspecting and doubting nothing, and always seeing friends where they are not sure of foes…”

Have you read this book? Let me know your take on it, or suggest a new read, in the comments!