Home again, home again, jiggedy jig

So, as you will see at the end of the post, from New York, here's my latest entry, fresh from my desktop.
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Hey all, I’m currently chilling in a snazzy café in Heathrow on to the final leg of my epic journey. It’s been a wild whirlwind of playing historian, and now I feel like a real one, but before I get into the deepness of all, I’ll give you a quick recap of my visit to Bristol.

I left Edinburgh on a blustery evening, got to the airport a good hour and a half before my EasyJet flight, and it turns out, foggy conditions at Bristol delayed my flight a good three and half hours. I can’t say it was particularly convenient, especially as I was supposed to meet some friends down at one of my favourite pubs, but at least it meant that I would get some guaranteed sleep.

Come 1:30AM Friday morning, and I’m finally at my friend’s flat in Bristol. Callie, one of my flatmates from University Hall last year (can you believe it’s been a year since I was at Bristol?) moved right onto the Triangle (go to Bristol, you’ll find out what that is), and after a few hours of checking emails and administrative work, I crashed harder than a four year old after a pound of sugar.

Despite being so tired, the rest of Friday was pretty productive: I met with Dr. Robert Bickers, effectively my mentor in this project and we had a good historians’ chat about our respective research on Weihaiwei. He’s in the middle of writing a book about it, and I shall be keen to get it, but thesis first. The man is amazingly smart and knowledgeable, as are most people who have been in their fields for twenty years and more, but as I’m only twenty-one, the prospect of that scares me a bit. He gave me some good pointers, and then, unfortunately, whisked me out of his office to do some more writing.

From the hallowed bungalows-cum-classrooms of Woodland Road, I wandered up to the Arts and Social Sciences Library (if you’re a new reader, you figure it out) to meet my friend Sasha at a restaurant that opened since I left called Mocha Mocha. Decent food, but I was just about ready to eat anything.

I hopped up to the gym afterwards to prove that I wasn’t a lazy bum, and ran into some of my rowing mates who were giving the novices their second 2k test of their rowing careers. At Bristol, they manage to recruit monsters of 6’ and taller as novices, so a starting split of 1:30 is nowhere out of the ordinary, but they just take it up to 1:43 or something. Wild. I was just settling in for an erg after at least a week, and I definitely felt it. All that matters is that I keep up with the fitness, because this spring season, I’m going to beast it. Nor bars, no limits, just sweat and probably a decent amount of muscle pain. Just the way I like it.

The next day, I also hit the gym, but after a much needed rest of about ten hours. I did some work, before I decided it was far too beautiful a day to stay inside. I met up with some Suyin, another one of my old flatmates, her boyfriend, Adam, and our good friend, Eric. A massive pub burger is always good, especially when it’s the first thing you eat in the morning. Well, noon, but I suppose after al the sitting and reading I’ve been doing, I deserve to call noon “morning.”

Later that night came pub night with the University of Bristol Boat Club boys. We had stayed in touch all through the year, and for me to come back was quite a good excuse to go out for a night on the town. It was great to see them, and we exchanged stories, with good banter and tales of pain from the ergs. Rowing life is never as easy as it seems, no matter where you go.



That’s what great about the sport, though. Everyone is always pushing their body to shave off those extra seconds, or working for that goal split. Working alone will only get you so far, but by working with guys who are always trying to outdo the other will get you miles ahead of where you ever thought you could be. This blog post is brought to you by: Kyle’s Sports Philosophy Corner. Yeah. Moving on…

I left Bristol late Sunday evening after a great dinner at Nando’s with Callie and Sasha, and thanks to Vassar, rode back on the train in first class. Mind you, it wasn’t much different from standard class, but the seats were comfier, it was quieter, and I was alone, save for the other guy at the back of the car. What a life, huh?

Yesterday in London wasn’t particularly eventful: a trip all the way out to Kew Gardens for 9AM, only to find out that the reading rooms are closed on a Monday, so then a 45 minute trek back into the centre of London to the School of Oriental and African Studies to read the North China Herald, a daily paper that covered news from Weihaiwei and the rest of Northern China, printed out of Shanghai. By 4PM, I had quite enough of libraries and I was ready to get out. I ended up running into a Vassar student currently studying abroad at SOAS, Kendra, who hadn’t had a proper English cream tea, despite being in the country for a week. As I am always a sucker for a good cream tea, I offered to find a spot, and away we went. Clotted cream and jam are dangerous things, my friends. I will do almost anything to get a scone covered with them. True, and sad, story.

And now, I find myself about to board a flight back to New York, my friends, my flat and my girlfriend; not to mention my last semester at Vassar. It’s a scary thought that four years ago I was freaking about not knowing where I was going to end up in the coming year, and it’s exactly the same again. Ok, I’m shutting Kyle’s Philosophy Corner down until the next post. Be well, fine readers. Until next time, in New York!

Bonnie Scotland

Hello again! Don’t you love having mad time just to write and having a decent amount of exciting adventures to write about? I kinda do.

I’ve been in Edinburgh for 3 days so far, well, I guess two full ones, and I have perfected the art of taking night pictures, since that’s the only time I ever get to take pictures. I flew in Sunday evening past, checked into the Budget Backpapers hostel on Cowgate (which is amazingly convenient and central if you’re ever thinking of going to Edinburgh for cheap), and then ran off to get some dinner. The first place I found was a Nepalese place, and it was delicious. I ordered the hottest degree of spiciness and the waiter looked surprised and probably thought I was crazy: “Who’s the kid with the American accent ordering the spiciest sauce? What’s wrong with him?” It actually wasn’t that spicy at all, and now I can say I’ve eaten Nepalese food.

Down to the description of business: reading. As repetitive as it may sound, reading through these manuscripts is like having a really wide window back in time, reading the letters in order around the time of the Chinese Revolution is like reading a novel; I just want to know if the revolutionary forces made it into the next town, or if the government official was protected adequately. My reading room in the National Library of Scotland on George IV Bridge is a nice little place; the only problem is that it lacks windows completely. I’m reading the actual manuscripts of Sir JH Stewart Lockhart, the first civil commissioner of Weihaiwei from 1902 to 1930. In London, I was just reading fun scribbly-scrawly bits of handwriting, which was really cool, but made my eyes hurt. Thankfully there were some telegraphed bits interdispersed between them, so it wasn’t too bad. Most of the papers here are all handwritten, and I’ve gotten pretty good at reading it. It’s still a bit of a pain, though.

I’ve come across all kinds of awesome documents: letters describing the transport of prisoners of war, documents surrounding the abdication of the Xuantong Emperor, the last Emperor of China, and other more mundane things, like government gazettes and schoolboy essays. I’ve put in orders for photocopies like I’m downloading music, or something. I also get really, really excited when a box of manuscripts shows up. It’s a big rush, followed by a few hours of sitting down, hunched over papers from the early twentieth century.

As academic as my trip may seem, the library does close eventually. You may be asking yourself, what does Kyle do when he’s thrown out of his element? My friend, Siwan, who I stayed with in Cardiff over Easter of last year goes to the University of Edinburgh, and we met up for dinner the night after my first full day. My friend, Anna, from Glasgow also came into town for drinks and dinner. We went to Buffalo Grill right on the other side of Bristo Square in the middle of the university, and followed that up by chilling out at The Standing Order, a Wetherspoons in the New Town.

Afterwards, Siwan went out with her friends, but two of her flatmates and I had early days for the next morning, so we finished the night up Edinburgh-style. First stop was McDonald’s for an ice cream, but the ice cream machine had broken down, so then I was off to Burger King for my soft serve fix. Next stop was the chippy’s, or the late night grease pit (in American). Siwan’s flatmate, Sarah, convinced me that I absolutely had to eat a deep-fried Mars bar. It may sound like county fair fare (a doozy, no?), and I know this because before moving in, my folks took me to lunch in Rhinebeck and we heard about the deep-fried Twinkies. Anyway, I got one. It was perfect for the cold Edinburgh weather, and my three-minute walk back to the hostel.

Funny enough, the next morning after ice cream, a steak and a deep-fried Mars bar, I was extremely hungry. I scoured my part of town for a pub that was open at 8:30AM, but I was running out of places to look and I was soon losing hope. Then, I saw a pub door open and a guy directing kegs inside and asked if they were open. I was about to fall over from hunger, and he told me to take a seat. I got myself a full, legitimate Scottish breakfast: an egg, back bacon rasher, sausage, black pudding, a puffed roll and, of course, haggis. The haggis was delicious! I’m a fan of its typical ingredients on their own (I advise you to eat it first before you find out what’s in it if you’re faint of heart) but it was almost like ambrosia. I think I may bring back a can or two.

After my full and hearty breakfast, I sat down for the next few hours, poring over letters and newspapers. Such is the life of a history major: it may not be glamorous, but you do get to travel. Until next time, in Bristol!

Back in the U(ss?)K

And that was a poor Beatles reference.

So, I know it’s been ages since my last post. Blame it on a series/combination of exams, essays and friends being home over break. But, before I continue apologising, I’d like to wish everybody a prosperous and successful new year.

Ok, cool. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, here’s my life. I had a few friends from Vassar come and visit over the winter holidays; Jeremy, Jonathan, John and Max all flew down for some good times and warm temperatures, which we finished off with an epic New Year’s Eve buffet and watching the Junkanoo parade. After seeing them off, one by one, it was time for me to leave my island for another one: England.

It’s been near a year since I first landed in England, and it’s much, much colder. I remember leaving DC and thinking the temperatures in London were quite friendly, but this time around, I guess I brought the snow from New York. Bummer. I moved quickly over to my friend Tommy’s, who lives in a quaint (all of London is quaint when you’re used to New York) area of town called Exmouth Market, near Farringdon station on the Tube. I was hoping to get some research done, but those plans were soon derailed by inefficient tube service, meaning that I probably wouldn’t get to the archives before closing since they were near an hour away. I decided instead to go to the British Library. I waltzed in with my liberal arts swagger, and lo and behold, I was stopped. I didn’t have a reader’s card. I was directed downstairs to register, but I needed some form of ID that had an address listed. I freaked out. My license didn’t have an address on it, and I hadn’t brought my passport (which was good, because if I made it all the way to the archives, I would have been a sad puppy), which also didn’t have my address, so I decided to do what women do when they’re stressed out: shop. Well, not walk around and shop for ages. I had one thing on my mind to help keep me warm, just a nice scarf. I knew of a shop that sold scarves made of Scottish lambswool and cashmere which are quite nice, as well as surprisingly affordable for college students; besides, I was cold.

Pause, and rewind. You may be wondering, how can I get to go to England, like you, Kyle? Well, it’s simple. Apply for an Evalyn Clark fellowship if you’re a history major. It’s a memorial fellowship that can be used to travel abroad for research. Since my thesis topic is rather obscure, not many sources can be easily found in the US, so I’ve come to England, where the Colonial Office and Foreign Office archives are held, along with Sir James Haldane Lockhart’s papers in Scotland. Even though it’s primarily for my thesis, the archives close at 5PM, giving me a good deal of time to re-explore London, check out Edinburgh while I’m up there, and hopefully not freeze in the process. Continuing…

After my epic purchase of all of eight quid, I made my way home, but not before stopping in at SOAS for a walk around. I tried to go in to see if a professor I was looking for was there, but I needed an ID. So much for being intrepid; the North American fails.

From there I trudged home through the ice and slush and a lightly falling snow. The sun had set at 4, and by 4:30PM it looked like 8. Tom decided to stay in from work on account of being ill, so I hung out with him and waited for his friend, Pierre, and his girlfriend, Jess, to come by for dinner.

Flash to the next day: Vassar swag, check; passport and F-1 form with address, check; potential industriousness, check. I go to the National Archives all the way out at Kew Gardens, get my reader’s card and I’m ready to go. I’d elaborate further on what I did, but reading is about all I got up to. Yeah, for reading! Butterfly in the sky, I can fly twice as high, blah blah you know the deal, right? Oh yeah, I forgot there are kids born in 1991 who are in college now. They wouldn’t understand. What a sad world we live in.

As I write, I’m in the archives, waiting for my next batch of documents to come out of the darkness and into my cubbyhole. Then it’s off again into the wintry darkness and historic coldness that this week has produced. Who says you need to leave the Northeast for crazy cold temperatures?

Stay tuned, next post in Scotland!