Most people know only one thing about Liverpool: the Beatles. After visiting this fine city, I can assure you that it has many additional good qualities.
The trip started on Saturday morning, catching a bus to Hanley, and thence to Liverpool. (If you've read Katy's version of the trip to Liverpool, apparently I did not attend. This is silly. Our group of five: Ally, Heather, Katy, Kristin, and me; sometimes plus three: Caroline, Laura, and Magdalaina; and four guys we met up with Saturday night: Blake, Miguel, Steve, and Vincent. All study abroad students at Keele.)
Cool things we did:
- The Magical Mystery Tour, a bus tour visiting Beatles-related places such as Penny Lane, Strawberry Fields, some of their houses, etc. What's not to like? We also listened to a terrible song written by Ringo, about leaving Liverpool. "Liverpool, I left you, but I never let you down..." It was fantastically bad. But the tour was very good.
- A play called "Peas." There was a Dalek who had Stephen Hawking's voice, a girl who wanted an egg slicer for a wedding present (because you could slice people's fingers off), and a mom who was always reading "Men's Fitness" magazine. It was amazing.
- The Cavern Club, a kind of cruddy little place about fifty stories underground, where some of the Beatles used to play before becoming famous. It boasts itself as "The Most Famous Club in the World." Have you heard of it before? No? We listened to some live bands. It was pretty cool.
- The Tate Liverpool, museum of international modern and contemporary art. There was a gallery of paintings and sketches by William Blake, the poet who, "unlike The Doors," says the Longman Anthology of British Literature, "needed no pharmaceutical assistance in cleansing his vision" (that is, he seemed like he was on drugs, but he wasn't; he just saw things). A lot of it was about Dante's Divine Comedy, the Book of Job, and other Biblical topics, so we got to see a number of winged demons and floaty-looking spirits, the interestingness of which pretty much made up for the lack of technical finesse.
We then saw the 20th-century gallery, about which I have mixed feelings. Sure, it was interesting, and some of it was thought-provoking, and I bet it was all as ground-breaking as they say...but it was mostly a downer. This is the city: it repeats itself in an attempt to create meaning, but still it is a wasteland, and nothing in the city can ever have any meaning, and all cities everywhere are exactly alike. This is love: violent and meaningless. This is the human body: degraded and meaningless. This is Mao: lipsticked and meaningless. (Thank you, Andy Warhol, your room wallpapered in neon cattle is rather dizzying.) In the category of non-meaninglessness, I got to see a nice non-abstract portrait by Picasso, Rodin's "The Kiss," and Degas' "Little Dancer." Overall, I felt more cultured.
- The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, with "A Taste of the Classics," which featured "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," "Rhapsody in Blue," "Candide," and some other fairly recognizable pieces. I especially enjoyed the "Danse Macabre," and would definitely have it played at my funeral. When I'm a dancing skeleton. Um. Yeah. (Apologies for the number of quote marks; I've realized that italics don't show up on this blog.) Also, the conductor was super-cute, and knew it. I mean, seriously, their calendar of events brochure has a poster of him on the back. How many conductors can get away with that?
- Last but not least (this has been in chronological order), the Liverpool Cathedral (Anglican), the largest in England and the fifth-largest in the world. It was huge. I know, that's not a very imaginative thing to say about something that's famous for its size. It really was giant, though, and impressive, and beautiful. It's the sort of place you can practically get lost in, it has so many sections. Highlights: tall ceilings, sweet stone floors, a monstrous cope chest, and stained glass windows.
(End of bulleted list.)
A wonderful time had by all.
I can't not mention food.
Having booked and paid for several events in advance, we were fairly motivated to stick to certain plans. This resulted in several ridiculously hurried meals, for example, half an hour at Pizza Express, where we asked the waiter for the fastest meal possible. "Margherita," he said, which, although it's the name of a pizza, sounds exactly like "margarita". Oh, yes, that's good for lunch! By the end of the trip, we'd eaten at Pizza Express, an Indian restaurant, a coffee shop that served the best muffins in existence, an American '50s-style hamburger place, and a Chinese restaurant.
The American place deserves the most mention, I think, for its sheer weirdness. It had a round neon sign with "Rocket" in the name, and all kinds of fake memorabilia hung on the walls. There were jukeboxes in every booth, so of course Katy put a coin in and waited anxiously for "The Leader of the Pack". Why does England care what America was like in the '50s? The menu: burgers, fries, milkshakes. Despite being warned by someone (I honestly forget who it was) that hamburgers in England are disgusting and not worthy of the name, I ordered an "atomic burger", which, as expected, came with lots of spicy peppers. To my surprise, it also came with beans. On it, not on the side. I liked it a lot, actually. I'm kind of a fan of beans on things.
I'm also a big fan of the names of pubs in the UK. In Liverpool: the Slug and Lettuce, the Fly in the Loaf, the Rigby. On the way there: the Cock and Bottle, the Black Friar, the Sneyd Arms (right down the street, actually). No, I didn't visit these places; I just saw them. I think prefixing a name with "the" is mandatory.
Sunday, we took the bus back to Hanley, and thence to Keele. Adventure: success.
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