Hyde Park is Darwinian and Naturalistic

Hyde Park is f@#%ing gigantic.  The side that neighbors my area is behind the Queen's Gate and the Victoria and albert memorial.  Yesterday, I brought a half loaf of bread to feed the swans and made my way to the park.  I got to see a ton of birds and witness natural selection in action.  Yeah me!  Let me explain...

There's a moderately sized manmade pond in Hyde Park that fosters a fairly diverse community of birds.  In the same way blood in the water creates a shark frenzy, it took only a couple pieces of bread thrown to attract every bird in the area.  I was suddenly the center of attention.  I have to confess- I was a little weary of the swans.  They're large and imposing and I don't trust their depth perception.  I'm lucky to still have all my fingers.  anyway, the bit on Darwinism- each bird had its own way of getting bread amidst the scrum with varying degrees of success.

The ducks were wily.  Their bright, beautiful feathers were disarming, but it would be a mistake to confuse elegance with weakness as the ducks attacked the other birds with great zeal and violent hatred.  The tiny birds (for lack of identification) were extraordinary.  It was windy outside and these birds could still fly up and catch the bread before it reached the larger birds on the ground.  They were my favorite.

The blackbirds were even more menacing than the ducks.  Possessing no extraordinary ability, they used intimidation to get the bread.  If you subscribe to the Buddhist doctrine of rebirth, many of these birds were probably mafia henchmen in a previous life.  Finally, the pidgeons were the last major group of birds represented and had the least success at securing the bread.  This didn't surprise me, though.  Pidgeons, unlike other birds, have become very adept at living amongst humans so, natually, they scavenge for dropped food in public places.

Unfortunately there were some birds who simply did not have the means to feed.  Here this example of evolution might not be to adam Smith's "invisible hand" so much as to Joseph Schumpter's model of "creative destruction," whereby we accustom ourselves to certain amont of natural failure, taking into account the pitilessness of nature.  It was interesting day.  I'll surely go back again soon.

Barclay Bikes are sweet!

As some of you may or may not know, mes parents came to London last week for eight days of adventure and cultural enrichment.  Naturally, given my mother's love for the arts and my father's lust for knowledge, we went to a lot of museums and sites around the city (more on that later).  One minor treat was our biking excursions complements of Barclays Cycle Hire Scheme.  Since July of last year, there are over 300 docking stations and kiosks throughout central London in which bikes can be rented for cheap (~1 pound/24 hours).

After nearly a whole semester of the tube travel (which can be quite cumbersome at select hours), blazing my own trail on a bike was refreshingly novel.  Riding at unsafe speeds and worrying my mother was only a plus.  Yet, consistent with England's preternatural insistence on inefficiency, the actual rental process was very frustrating especially to my father who has an unusually high standard for customer service and whose bout with extinct big box retailer Linens 'n Things still lives on in infamy.

Anyway, I'm straying from the point.  I love the bikes!  There's a station outside of my flat in South Kensington and I've been biking two or three times since my parent's departure, most recently to Hyde Park.

The British Infatuation with the Royal Family

Since I've been studying in London, I've been inundated with the Royal Family.  They're everywhere- on the front page of the newspaper, in conversation (Harry & Kate set a date!!!), in people's thoughts-- but not their wishes, their cerebral cortex like the thought police from Orwell's 1984.  Well not quite, I'm just being a nitwit.  The point is, the British love and pine over the Royal Family and I don't understand it.

In fact, I think people like them for the wrong reasons.  Reading tabloids and vicariously experiencing the lavish lives of others, in my opinion, is sad and depressing.  So is buying a Limited Edition Harry & Kate Wedding tea tin that is currently being sold at the grocery store around the corner from my flat.  But, the fact that the Wedding will attract an influx or tourists which will then be at least a moderate boon for the English economy is great.  Go Kate and Harry!  But I don't think many people think about that.  

Plus there are a couple darkly humorous ironies.  My favorite being "the Royal Mint" and "the National Debt."  Throughout the semester, I've been devising possible cons to crash the Royal wedding, but so far none have been particularly ingenious.  Besides, it's a calculated risk and it's hard to overcome the glaring negative variable of getting deported or arrested.  When the big day comes, I'll probably be in my flat avoiding the crowd of idiots.  

By the way, if you're inquiring about my choice of picture.  It's King George III of Hanover.  But more importantly- how awesome is that outfit?  I bet a whole family of animals died for that coat... which is horrible.  I hope peta doesn't send me a cease & desist letter.  also, I have a 5 pound bet with my flatmate that I can make one of the Buckingham Palace guards laugh- I'll let you know how that goes.

I'm Back! (here's JONNY)

Hey loyal readers (admittedly almost all of you are my extended family), thanks for your patience and tolderance for my absence.  although it was not a result of laziness, but actually fastidiousness and zeal for midterm preparation that caused the blog drought.  Think John Nash from Beautiful Mind, but instead of differential geometry I was reading and writing essays.  If you hate the empty feeling of disappoint of coming to this blog and discovering it hasn't been updated-- become a subscriber via Google Reader and you'll get an email every time I write a new entry!

I digress...

Over the weekend, as those of you who have access to my Facebook profile know- I was in Rome.  It was lovely.  Rome is one of those places that is so beautiful and exotic that as I'm walking around I can scarcely imagine people actually living there.  In many of the alleys, the first floor windows were unusually high (almost 10 feet) above the sidewalk.  I remembered reading once that some areas of old New York were build this way as a design necessity.  Apparently, in the 1800s when horses were versatile helpmates as modern cities expanded- there was a massive glut in the market for manure.  At this time in NYC, there was something like 200,000 horses who produce, maybe, 20 lbs of dung per day.  That's 4 million lbs. of poo.  Per day.  There was simply no place to put to dispose of it so there were literally piles of manure on every street.  As a result, it flooded  people's basements in the spring and probably stank to the high heavens during summer.  Perhaps the same thing happened in Rome.

I got to see the Pantheon, again, which was just as breathtaking as it was the first time.  The Vatican was probably my favorite site, even though I decided not to brave the 4 hour line to get it.  I find it interesting, now that I'm taking a class on Islam, how Christianity has a central authority.  Islam's lack of a hierarchy seems to be a double-edged sword.  In one respect, there aren't many fatwahs (laws) concerning religious belief as Islamic scholars are concerned more with behavior, specifically family law.  On the other hand, though, the ambiguity of the Koran has created a plurality of sects- many of which vehemently disagree with each other and have committed unspeakable atrocities in the spirit of jihad (which translates to stuggle, not holy war).

One thing that makes Rome different from London is the street hustlers.  They're a ubiquitous facet of the city's underbelly.  I smiled a little when I saw a group of them hastily pack up their trinkets and fake sunglasses and dash up the Spanish Steps to avoid police.  One thing that does bother me a little is the sale of Che Guevara tee shirts.  I'm sure this contempt will only be exasperated when I eventually get around to reading some of his work (particularly his book on guerilla warfare), but I wonder how he'd feel if he knew he would become a pop culture icon whose legacy is bastardized by the capitalist system he had grown to loathe so much.  By the way if you're interested in El Che and want to see a good film about his life, rent the two part Che, starring Benicio Del Toro.  Not Motorcylce Diaries. 

I'm back from Rome and have the whole week off so expect a couple more posts before weeks end.  Until then, cheers from across the pond.

Sorry for the hiatus, updates coming soon!

From the Outside Looking In-- The American Political Machine

If you're familiar with contemporary American politics, it's hard not to become frustrated and cynical.  Between political payola influencing major legislation, pork barrel spending wasting tax dollars, and increasing polarization across party lines (greatly) inhibiting progress; discontent towards our nation's capital is more than understandable. 

Back in January 2009 when Obama was finally sworn in and the Bush administration finally bowed out ungracefully, many predicted that our ambitious new leader would, if nothing else, begin to mend America's awful relationship with the international community.  While to some degree this may be happening, our President is still just the one cog (admitteldy, the biggest cog) in our enormous political machine.  We have a government for the people, by the people so it's up to the people to change it.  If we can learn anything from the national existential reordering that has roiled Egypt in the past couple weeks, it's that decisive action will always incite change. 

So what's this have to do with London and I?  Well, I've tried to interact with the locals (affectionately dubbed "Londoners") as much as possible because I am intrigued by English culture and I am always interested in the foreign perspective on my beloved home country, even if it's negative.  Actually, especially if it's negative... and it usually is. 

So what is it this time?  Political apathy.  Among others, there is one particular conversation I had with a young English woman last weekend that has stuck with me ever since.  After we had wholeheartedly agreed on many of the flaws in U.S. government, she stared right into my eyes and asked, almost accusingly, "well why don't you do something about it?"  A little indignant, I responded "Well I vote, what else do you expect?"  (Secretly I remembered Weber's rational voter strategy-- voting, at best, has little or no merits for the individual).  She reminded me of the street protests in Egypt and I was about to remind her that this is America, not Egypt.  But how condescending would that have been?  What does that even mean?

Are we too civilized to protest?  Such a justification evokes the sentiment expressed in the 19th century aristocracy buying their way out of Civil War enlistment- too self important to fight.  I was disgusted with myself.  Just 50 years ago, the Civil Rights and anti-Vietnam movements rocked the nation from the inside out.  Where had all our desire for change gone?  I was speechless in front of the young woman.  She was absolutely right- right in being aggravated with the American people, right in being aggravated with me.  I felt ashamed.

There's a little food for thought, I'll let you do the dishes.  Stay tuned.

Thespian Brilliance in The King's Speech

Two weeks ago, I enjoyed my first European cinematic experience when I saw The King’s Speech at the Renoit in Russell Square.  It seemed only fitting to see a quintessentially British film in London, the center of English theater.

As a film student, there are very few classic films whose greatness is hinged mostly on the performance.  The best films are usually triumphant in every facet of the visual language, cinematography, mise en scene, as well as editing.  There must be subtlety.  Every shot, every edit must be chosen deliberately to convey a message to be interpreted and deliberated by, admittedly highbrow, film critics.  It is these critics who set the rigid standard for cinematic excellence, but the aforementioned requirements are not absolute as The King’s Speech is an exception.

The King’s Speech is a masterpiece not in any degree of technical genius, but in its outstanding performance and keen insight into a period not so long ago.

It is a fairly predictable story, yes, but the acting is suberb.  Colin Firth, playing King George VI, definitely made himself a contender for the academy award.  He feigned his character’s crippling speech impediment with such conviction that in the end (after nearly two years of speech lessons), when he rallied the country to support England’s decision to oppose Germany in the wake of WWII, everyone in the theater seemed to fight the urge to stand up and cheer. 

The drama was very lighthearted, but the film did an excellent job at examining the deep-rooted prejudice between socioeconomic classes in 1930’s England especially between the monarchy and the middle class.  Firth, after initial doubt and hesitation, entrusted a common man with no formal education or qualifications to mend his speech.  During their time together, the good times were peppered with condescending outbursts; a constant reminder from Firth that he was royalty and Logue (played by Geoffrey Rush) was not.  It was painful to watch (Logue is just so loveable, perfectly content with his modest socioeconomic standing), but it was sincere in showing how the royal family seemed to perpetually exist on their cloud of symbolic power.  However, Firth’s eventual gratitude for Logue’s aid in his transformation transcended their many differences and, in the end, they became lifelong friends.  A reminder, in no uncertain terms, that royals are people too, while not dismissing the wealth of privilege they call home.