The Adventure Begins

Here I sit in my Birmingham hostel, eating fajitas and listening to The Ting Tings. There are a few others gazing at me as they eat their Ramen, and a pair of girls are watching The Craft on a couch behind. I've spent the day sleeping in, getting breakfast at 2 in the afternoon, shopping for Brit music around the city, and cooking the delicious feast in front of me. All of this brings me back to a blog update, because this is the first day of my UK adventure that I've had free since I arrived.

My first 9 days were spent in London, mainly being a tourist. I was centered out of Clink Hostel, a nice place with a great location to the train and Tube stations. I took a free tour of the city on Thursday, saw all the palaces and important things. Took advantage of of seeing two free plays courtesy of Julie Fishell, who's leading a UNC-based London program, both of which were about middle-aged woman fucking with the minds of others to deal with their own midlife bullshit. Only one woman invented fictional characters in her head and pretended they were her own family, and the other forced a broken shot glass into a guy's neck. I liked the latter a bit more. I spent a night walking the Thames River and looking at the city from the top of the London Eye, all part of a sweet little man date with my friend Tony, who's also here for the summer. I spent a whole afternoon in Hyde Park, watching people rant and rave about the Iraq War and the coming of the Antichrist at Speaker's Corner, watching swans and searching for an elusive Peter Pan monument. I spent time in an area called Elephant and Castle, where there was plenty of elephant paraphernalia for me to stare in awe of. I went on a double decker bus. I went to the Tate Modern and saw 10,000 pieces of silverware hanging from the ceiling. I ate a full English breakfast. I ate bangers 'n' mash. I was witness to thousands of British teenagers drinking on the Underground in protest of the new law banning alcohol consumption on public transportation immediately on June 1. And, yes, I was even witness to a drunk's "personal relations" in my hostel room. I'm sure he was probably at the Underground party.

All this time in London, however, was building up to a storytelling workshop led by Ben Haggerty, one of the UK's most prominent and successful performance storytellers. There was 10 of us in the group, all from wildly different backgrounds - a student, a minister, a musician, a theatre director, a child psychologist, a librarian, a couples counselor, an interfaith mediator, an educator, and a play worker - yet we were all searching for a useful way to place storytelling back into our own individual lives. Ben was an outstanding teacher but an equally compelling human being, fitting the stereotype of the charming British gentleman in every way. Over the course of the two days we played games, shared personal stories, analyzed fairy tales, discussed the dynamics of performance, and took the stage with a memorized piece of our own. It was striking to see the strange balance that storytelling rides between theatre and writing, and all in all many of Ben's teachings deeply resonated with the way in which I see my own artistic aesthetic. Long story short, I'm knee deep in one of the greatest learning experiences of my life, stretching myself into a new medium in order to help strengthen and define what my own creative ideals are. As Ben says, "The more choices, the more freedom."

Now I'm in Birmingham, where I spent the last night two nights watching two separate storytellers perform. Birmingham is like a calmer London - most all the same cultural benefits, half the noise. Regardless, I still got lost both nights. It's a curvy road-system they have here. From what I can tell, there is giant music scene in Birmingham, and I might return at the end of the month to see The National again. Yesterday I went to a "Myths and Monsters" exhibit at the Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery that had giant animatronic dragons and yetis. There I learned that the word "concessions" does not, in fact, refer to food. It actually refers to discounts. So when someone asks if you would you like concessions, then immediately take the offer. You're not paying for food, you're getting a cheaper ticket! So after turning down several "concessions" in London and spending lots of money I didn't need to, I finally figured out how to get a student discount when it came time to see the magical creatures. Today I also went flea marketing, and an 81-year-old woman gave me a kiss and a Mickey Mouse airplane for free because I was a sweet little American boy. I leave tomorrow for the Amber Valley Festival, a weekend of storytelling for children, and then onto Edinburgh for a week after a brief trip to the Isle of Man, where my dear friend Will Halicks is studying the Black Dog ghost story. Castles and the Highlands await, and I couldn't be more excited.

So really, all is grand. Besides storytelling, I spend the rest of my time reading and writing. I go to lots of museums, look at a lot of art. I drink at 5 in the afternoon because that's just what they do here. I make strong use of the public transportation system. I try to avoid crazy people - one man in London asked me if I had a big cock, another threw change at me. I take lots of pictures. I sketch in my journal. I learn. I journey. I adventure.

I search for choices.