Graduation: Yours, Mine and Ours

While it is, of course, a bit late to post pictures of this, I figured I might as well do it, since, well, quite frankly I'm bored.

I don't know if graduations are like weddings, and I've never heard any stipulations, but my shoes and bracelet are borrowed. Maybe it'll bring me luck. Or maybe it just means I need to buy more shoes.

Think of this as an impressionist version of what my ceremony looked like. While I'm still not exactly sure who took these (no one will fess up to it), I'm grateful I have them, blurry though they may be, because nobody else took pictures during the ceremony.


This is a not-particularly-good shot of Yana walking across the stage during her awards ceremony. It's not particularly good because it was taken from the screen, as opposed to the stage. Blame my camera's lack of zoom, not me, for that one.

The grads filing in during Yana's ceremony.

After eating more sushi than was good for us, we decided to amble around a forest preserve ....

only to have our path blocked by this lovely, newly-created river.

But at least it was a beautiful day (even if my mosquitoe bites are still itching).

The Last Day

I'm sitting at my computer, in my clean (for once!!!) room and as I write this I have to acknowledge that this has been the perfect last day.

I rediscovered my love of Harry Potter, rambled around the National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery, ate at Costa for the last time and did my final stint of sit-in-the-bookstore-and-read-things-you-have-no-intention-of-buying, as well as a final walk down Oxford Street. Today was full of lasts, but it was a good day.

This is my tube stop and, as a commemorative of the last time I'll see it, I snapped a photo of it, although, come to think of it, it doesn't look particularly different from any other tube stop.

This is my last muffin from Costa. It was a blackcurrant and white chocolate muffin (my favourite) and it was delicious, despite the fact there was a strange little man who was intent on talking to me the entire time that I was eating it (it seems that taking a picture of your muffin before you eat it is not common practice in this country).

This is a photo of St. Pancras, which is right next to King's Cross. For the record, regardless of what your tour guide may tell you, it does not have a flying car on top of it. And people will look at you like you're an idiot if you ask about the Harry Potter flying car. I learned this the hard way.

Shots of the mosaics on the floor of the National Gallery. I managed to get quite a few of them before the guy told me that photo-taking isn't allowed, even if you're photographing the floor. Although honestly, I can't see how my taking photos of it will do any more harm than people walking on it.

The cieling of the National Gallery.

The mosaic in front of the National Portrait Gallery.

St. Martin's

The lions around Nelson's column at Trafalgar Square.

My dormitory. It's ugly, but it's home.

Harry Potter

As I thought over my days in this magnificent city, I knew that something was missing.

"But what?" I asked myself.

"Have I truly seen London?" I questioned myself and sorrow rankled in my soul as I realized that I had not.

At least, not until I finally paid homage to my hero, my favorite of favorites, and yours too: Harry Potter.

And it was in this spirit that I ventured forth to King's Cross (Ok, so I rode the tube over two stops) to see the holy of holies: Platform 9 and 3/4.

Although, according to the guide of the Harry Potter tour I took last week, Rowling's description is really based off of Euston station (one stop North of King's Cross), Potter devotees still flock to the namesake. Apparently, Rowling wrote the description based on Euston station, before realizing that her parents had first met at King's Cross. Thus, in respect to her parents, she changed the name without changing the description. But I digress.

Despite its potential lack of correctness, I think that the King's Cross station suits the tale fairly well as it is, bustling with commuters and tourists and lit up with the glow that shimmers down upon the melee. But I suppose you can decide for yourself.

After making the arduous trek down the tracks, I finally found it; my holy grail.

Ok, so it's not altogether too impressive, but I'm nerd enough to appreciate it.

The following are shots from the Harry Potter walking tour I attended last week. It wasn't great, but at least I learned something.

Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take, but do not earn
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

That's right, this building was the inspiration for Gringott's. They also filmed the Gringott's scenes in the movies here. Apparently, once you get inside (you know, past the armed security guards) the resemblence is uncanny. I wouldn't know, though, seeing as we visited it on a Sunday, when it was closed.

This is the telephone booth that Rowling based the entrance to the Ministry of Magic on (or so our guide said. I'm not entirely sure that I believe him, to tell the truth). It's right off the Strand, less than a block away from the Charing Cross tube stop. Whether it really was or not, I don't know. But it was still a good spot to get my mandatory touristy photo-in-the-red-booth done.

I think I looked pretty darn cute that day.

Again, according to our tour guide, this was the street that inspired Rowling concerning Diagon Alley and while I'm not sure that I buy into this one either, it's probably significantly busier when the stores are actually open. I'm not certain that I believe him, but at least I see the connection. Besides, there is a really adorable children's book shop on this street, which is Cecil Court, by the way. It's the first shop on the right hand side, the one with the green sign.

And of course, there are these. They're adorable, but not worth the 12.50 the store charges for a pack of them, if you ask me.

And thus ends my unworthy tribute to Harry Potter.

Not nearly as great as it should be, but then again, everything else pales in comparison to Rowling's masterpiece, doesn't it?

Buckingham Palace

Yesterday, I went to see the changing of the guard. The website informs you that the changing of the guard is at 11:30, but that one ought to arrive at 11:15 to get a good spot. I got there at 11 to face a mosh-pit-worthy crowd, see next to nothing of the actual changing of the guard and experience the lovely sensation of jostling and shoving (seriously, why do all the tall people make it to the front and leave the short people to hop behind them?) The music was quite nice, however, as both bands played a few pieces, and the horses were lovely.

These are the police, not the guards, but their horses are awesome, and not averse to petting.

He was pulling some sheet music out of his pocket, not scratching his butt, by the way.

This is a shot of the crowd pressing up against the gates, just so you see what I had to deal with.

This is the wall that I became very familiar with, you might even say friendly, seeing as I spent so much time squashed up against it.

Surrounding the palace, right before you enter Green Park, there are gateways symbolizing Her Majesty's (former) colonies. This one is Canada.

Newfoundland

Australia.

A WWI Memorial, which stands on the way to Hyde Park from the Palace.

A statue of Wellington, surrounded by tributes to the regiments that fought under him.

This one's my favorite. I'm totally digging the kilt.

These are recordings of the bands that played (there were two bands), ignore the crappy camera work; the music is pretty good. Aside from being not a particularly steady hand at filming, I was also being jostled a bit and trying not to get other people's heads and hands and stuff into the shot as much as possible.