Teach Them How to Dougie

Each week, we have an hour and a half class, called Peer Led Movement. Each member of the course takes turns teaching a unique class. This is my favorite time of the week, because I get to take free, technique classes in a supportive, creative environment, with my friends, taught by my friends.

First, we had an improvisation and skinner release technique class, led by a Canadian who just finished her Masters in Choreography at Trinity Laban Conservatoire of Music & Dance. For the record, we have to go there for my course sometimes, and the building is amazing. The 360 virtual tours on this page are great:

http://www.trinitylaban.ac.uk/student-experience/campuses-accommodation/faculty-of-dance

This class was nice, because the material was familiar to me and it brought me back home.

The next class was in hoop dancing, taught by a professional hooper from London. She makes and sells her own hoops as well, and brought them for us to use. She is actually amazing.

I’ve always hulla hooped, but I’ve never done hoop dancing. I left that class being able to hoop with different rhythms, do arm tricks, and walk and turn while hooping. It is so much fun!!

Then, we had a class in Chinese folk dancing, led by a dancer from Tiawan. This class included lots of intricate finger movements and hand exercises. It was really difficult! We had to have total control over our bodies, each finger, and sustain that while adding scarf manipulation into the dance. We ended by learning a Buddha dance. Here is a professional company’s version of what we learned.

Fun fact, all of these dancers are deaf. We watched this at the beginning of class, to get a better idea of what we were going to be doing that day.

Last week, an Israeli student taught a belly dancing class. She went over all the basic steps and hip movements that are typical of a beginner class. She looked at me skeptically as I swirled my hips in figure 8s, while snaking and popping my ribs. No, I’m not a belly dancer (I’ve taken one class in my life), I’ve just been trained in isolations from an early age. I really enjoyed the music and the dancing, though.

Tomorrow, I am teaching my class, and it’s going to be hip hop. *Gasp* What?! But, Jenna, you’re a contemporary jazz dancer! Yes, this is my forte, but I am not going to teach a jazz class for three reasons:

1. I would rather die than teach jazz basics to mixed level adults.

2. This class is meant to be unique, and I assume that out of 20 dance graduates, most have had some jazz training.

3. Everyone freaked out in excitement when I mentioned hip hop as an option.

Also, I have a lot more hip hop training than most people realize. I actually started dancing in elementary school in a hip hop club, in the gym during lunch. I have taken various hip hop classes in studios, and at workshops with people like Tabitha D'umo, Travis Wall and Craig Hollamon. I also did competition hip hop for 4 years on my high school dance team. Then, continued to perform hip hop with a few companies, while in undergrad. And, as many of my Irish friends can attest to, I will throw myself into dance battles at the drop of a hat.

Anyway, I just thought it would be a fun class to teach. I decided to compile an all Detroit playlist, with the exception of one song. Because, well, I have to teach them how to dougie.

Wicked Witches and Magic Forests

School has been getting hectic, as I’m coming to the end of term. There are papers, projects, and placements galore. My placement is two days a week in a mainstream primary school, in Hackney. I get exhausted just watching the teachers keep the organized chaos in the classroom under control. My projects are on fibromyalgia and DMP, and a group project on setting up therapeutic spaces in schools. My other papers are mostly on movement analysis and observation. Thankfully, one of these papers provided a much needed break for me, because it involved going to a dance performance.

I chose to see Wicked, because a fellow Michigander had already invited me to see it with her, and because I’ve wanted to see it for ages. I was completely giddy on the train to the theatre. I know every song by heart and will always associate them with my time at Studio 1 and with DEMI. The Apollo Victoria Theatre is only showing Wicked, so the entire theatre is transformed into a green, glowing, magical place. I passed on the old timey candy cart, but didn’t regret the fancy glass of pink fizzy wine, that I balanced precariously in my hand, as I made my way to my red velvet seat.

The show was spectacular, beautiful, and uplifting. I left the theatre, soaring and nostalgic for high school.

The previous night was almost as wondrous. About once a week, I go to Brick Lane, with Abigail to get Indian food. The street literally sells nothing else, and you can walk down it until the best deal is offered to you.

“Miss, come here! 10% off!” Not good enough.

“This is the place ladies, free wine and pappadoms!” Sold.

Our Indian dinners are always fabulous, if not slightly awkward when I have to reassure the waiter multiple times that, yes, I know phall is extremely hot, and yes, that is what I want to eat. I swear my street cred on Brick Lane is through the roof, because this little, White, American girl can easily stomach the hottest curry available.

After dinner, Abigail told me about a popup promotional event in the neighborhood, The Rekorderlig Winter Forest Bar (I later learned that this closed 2 days later and was completely sold out). We tentatively approached the red velvet ropes, but were let in right away. It was beautiful.

The sampler given to everyone included apple cider, orange-ginger cider, winter cider, wild berries cider and an arctic cheese croquette topped with cloudberry chutney.

With Kesha and One Direction playing in the background, I could barely sip my mango raspberry cider through my giant grin. Forget Disney World, this is truly the happiest place on earth.

Remember, Remember the Fifth of November

Today is Guy Fawkes Day. This is commemorated with Bonfire Night, where his effigy is burned in a bonfire, with the addition of fireworks and sparklers. The celebration is so similar to our 4^th of July, that is has me a little thrown. You hear fireworks popping all weekend, lots of people have off school this week, overhearing conversations on the train, “Do you have the meat for the barbecue? What about the fireworks? Yeah, everyone will be arriving around 6. Collin is bringing the spirits and Alice has the sweets.”

All weekend there was an array of firework shows, and I was determined to see at least one. I am a HUGE fan of fireworks “just because they’re pretty.” I went to the Blackheath Fireworks, because it was free and because the comprehensive list I found online had a little star that said “recommended” next to it. The website also mentioned that 100,000 people attend the Blackheath show annually, so it seemed like a good idea.

When I got off the bus and started walking toward the commons, I suddenly spied a tilter whirl in the distance. “Oh my god. IT’S A CARNIVAL!!” The group I was with started laughing at me, because without noticing, I had begun skipping and hopping toward the fairgrounds. “Oh look, she bounces! That’s fun.”

I tried to control the spring in my step, but found it impossible. I thrive on events like this, not as a participant, but as a spectator. As I approached the carnival, I was not disappointed. It was aesthetically pleasing and the positive energy was infectious. As we made our way through, finally some of the girls with me started to get excited. I think all of us had to control ourselves when we saw the human hamster ball area.

We made our way to the food stands, picked up some mulled wine to heat up our chilly hands, and waited for the fireworks. The huge crowd continued to gather as paper lanterns were lit and left to float into the sky, children played with their glowy swords in epic lightsaber battles, while groups of adults twirled sparklers around with the same enthusiasm.

Finally, a voice came over the loudspeaker and started a group countdown from ten. Then, boom! The fireworks began.

The show lasted for about 20 minutes and was absolutely beautiful. Mouth gaping, staring at the sky, eyes twinkling; I wished to never lose my sense of wonder.

Street Feast

A few weeks ago, I found out about a weekly event called Street Feast. This video will describe it a lot better than I could:

Also, their website is pretty cool:

Street Feast London

Basically, this place was heaven: a warehouse with 18 different food stalls, 2 bars serving mulled wine, vintage clothing, books and vinyl for sale, music and face painting for this week’s Halloween theme. The group I went with decided to divide and conquer, so we could try as much different food as possible. Here are a few of my favorites:

Duck and pomegranate bite from The Russet stand

Wild boar and venison sausage sandwich with melted cheese and grilled onions from Wild Game Co. stand

You Doughnuts - rolled in vanilla sugar, drizzled with melted white chocolate and sprinkles

And here are just a few other pictures:

Harry Potter and Halloween

Halloween is by far my favorite holiday. There were 2 problems with that this year:

1. It fell on a Wednesday. My Wednesdays go from 7:30am- 5:30pm, sometimes 7:30pm. Then, I have class at 9am Thursday morning. Needless to say, Wednesday is not a night for merriment.

2. They don’t really do Halloween here, save for a few decorations and some halfhearted costume parties in pubs and clubs.

I spent Halloween week doing the best I could with what I had to work with.

I went on an informal outing to go see some Harry Potter filming locations around the city, whilst nibbling on fresh falafel, which was my main incentive to go. As most of you know, Harry Potter is not really my cup of tea…. I sort of cut off our relationship in middle school and we haven’t talked since. Before I hear a thousand gasps and cries of blasphemy, let me just say that I have actually been inspired to pick him back up and make amends. When I’m home for the holidays, I may dust off that 5^th book and read past page 50 this time. Here’s why: This city is filled with mysterious doors, roads and alleys that ignite my imagination, which is one of my favorite things about wandering around and losing myself here.

The Alley that Rowling cited as her inspiration for Diagon Alley was my favorite of the Harry Potter walk. It has interesting shop fronts selling maps, old books, antiques, etc. One shop, called “Through the Looking Glass” was just completely empty and had two women sitting in chairs inside. It was bizarre.

 We also saw one of the filming locations for Diagon Alley

 And Gringotts bank

We concluded our walk with a drink and some nibbles at a thai restaurant in the area.

Fast forward to Wednesday:

I wake up, basking in the glow of Halloween happiness. I go to therapy, then skills class, then peer led movement, then movement studies… energy and glowiness fading along the way. I get home and waffled between immediately going to sleep, or listening to some jams and hyping myself up for the best holiday ever. While doing my flat mate’s hair and makeup, I decided that not dressing up was not an option. But, going out was also not an option. I decided to throw on a bunch of different outfits until I “looked liked something” and then do hair and makeup to play it up. I ended up being a pinup girl “for my man overseas.” Get it? I thought it was clever. Anyway, I had some wine with the ladies before they went out to the pub. Then, went back to my flat and crawled into bed.

Fall Flavors and Football

Two weekends ago, I ventured to a sports bar in the basement of a train station. This is the meeting spot for the Michigan Alumni in London group, to watch football games. We all watched the Michigan vs. Michigan State game, screamed in frustration, cheered with enthusiasm, and eventually filled the basement with a rolling chorus of Hail to the Victors. It was so great to watch us beat State, especially since we haven’t in so long, but it really made me miss Ann Arbor. The city hasn’t dared to have a football season without me present in 21 years. I’m a bit shocked that they had the nerve to continue in my absence. The late night Indian food and slumber party to follow, with my friend Abigail, was great. However, I know it was nothing compared to the Saturday night celebrating my friends were doing back in Ann Arbor.

Fall is my favorite season. I have always loved the crisp air, overcast sky, pumpkin carving, snuggly clothes and stunning displays of color. When I started at Michigan, Fall meant all my friends coming back into town, welcome week, tailgates, football games and Halloween parties.

Lucky me, Ann Arbor Fall has been arriving in care packages. My brilliant friend, Alex, sent me an envelope full of leaves and a drawing.

Also, my parents sent me some Afternoon Delight Muffins and pumpkin bread. I forgot that having everything pumpkin flavored in the Fall is very American, which is unfortunate, because pumpkin has always been one of my favorites. I’ve found pumpkin goulash here, but that’s about it. I’ve been overcompensating with apples, pretending that I got to go to the orchard myself and pick them. The scent of honey chili apple chips has been wafting through my flat for days now.

Necessary Nature

I’m beginning to feel more settled in New Cross now, so I have started spending a lot of my time exploring. My favorite place that I’ve found is Telegraph Hill Park, about a 10 minute walk from my flat. It has a skate park, playground, and some lovely walking paths. I found myself going back there every day last week, just to walk around, sit and take in the fall colors, and breathe. I can’t go very long without being close to nature (I’m sure the quote “I need to be close to the earth! The earth is my element!” is popping into many of my friend’s heads right now). In Ann Arbor, I would frequently go to the Arb, Argo or Gallup Park and just sit by the Huron River (or dance in it). I think that Telegraph Hill will be a nice new nature escape.

Getting down to Business

The last two weeks have been a crazy whirlwind. I don’t even know where to begin!

Sporadic thoughts:

·         I lost my passport. Then, two weeks later, I found it at the bank I’ve been consistently calling about it for 2 weeks.

·         My to-do list is huge, but today I was finally able to register with NHS. Hello free health care, checkups, procedures, and student prescriptions (read student as “free”).

·         I realized last night how to text anyone with an iphone in America (90% of my friends), for basically free.

I am now in the third week of my course, and we are beginning to work on getting our clinical placements. I know that I will be working with children, but that’s all I know. My course is fabulous so far! My classes are a good mix of lecture and movement. I think that my favorite class this term will be Movement Analysis. The first day of this class involved a fiery Brazilian instructor directing the class on different ways to move, as we made our way through the studio space. “Move loudly! Why are you speeding up? Move loudly and slowly. Good! Now move as if you had airplane trails coming out of your hands…your hips…your feet. What patterns are they making?” This went on for about an hour, and she never ran out of movement commands. My homework tonight is to read an academic article and come up with a movement response to it.

I also love the people here. My course has about 20 people, of which I am by far the youngest. About half are international students, from Greece, Cyprus, Mexico, Canada, Latvia, Thailand, etc. I am the only American. Everyone is so supportive and interesting and wonderful. Also, my flat mates are a lot of fun. We spend a lot of time together, eating in the kitchen, going to the Hobgolbin (the pub up the block), and exploring the city. On Saturday, we went into Camden Town, ate sushi, met Darth Vader, walked around the market and bought posters for my barren walls.

Then, we went for dinner with my friend from Michigan, who is working on her MA at the London School of Economics. Afterward, we walked around the beautiful Tower Bridge.

My mom was also in town last week, with her friend, Jan. They pretty much did their own London sightseeing trip, while I was in classes. On the days I did see them, we collected a necessities for my flat (like a duvet and sheets), wandered around Harrods, and went to a few pubs. 

Quick Updates

• I have another flatmate now. He was born in England, grew up in Italy, near Venice, and is getting his PhD in… (I was distracted by preparing an ice pack) either anthropology or sociology. He says he works as an IT guy… but I had to show him how to set up the internet in his room. Michigan difference?
• My flat backs up to a school yard (read: I will be getting woken up by screaming kids at recess fairly frequently).
• I'm so happy that I already know 90% of the language and slang. I'm not making the rookie mistakes of calling bins "trash cans" or a duvet "a comforter".
• I’m sick. It’s just an “airplane cold”, as I like to call them. I’m sure the rainy weather and sleeping without blankets don’t help, though. But, I’m so used to these from traveling that it almost seems routine.
• I start classes tomorrow. I’m so excited!

Funny story:

My flatmate approached me and asked if I wanted to look for a job stripping with her. Not wanting to be rude in my response (different strokes for different folks), I said “Oh wow, thanks for the offer. I will be dancing all day for my course though, and I don’t want to increase my risk of injury by dancing all night too. Plus, I’m not sure my boyfriend would be cool with me stripping over here.” She deemed this a reasonable answer and asked me to let her know if I changed my mind. Don’t worry, family, I will not become a London stripper. I just might be living with one.

I'm Here and I'm Happy

I spent an amazing last few days in Ann Arbor and managed to see mostly everyone that I wanted to say goodbye to. I was reminded of how much I will miss sitting on a crowded, comfy couch, listening to music and watching FIFA, joking around at the mall, going out for dinner and drinks with old friends, or just sitting on the floor, talking to even older friends. I didn’t go out of my way to photograph most of these moments, but thankfully, someone else had the forethought to get at least a few pictures.

I boarded the plane in Detroit on the 21^st and arrived over an hour early in Heathrow Airport on the morning of the 22^nd. I spent a few hours in a terminal coffee shop with other international students, waiting for the transfer to Goldsmiths. The scene reminded me of art camp (read Blue Lake and/or Interlochen), and I immediately panicked about my decision to surround myself with people like this. Finally one girl arrived who I clicked with. “Did you go to Michigan?” she asked, staring at my Michigan Dance Team Competition t-shirt.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Oh. I graduated from OSU.” I heard her say as I noticed the red and white shirt she had on.

Ouch. Dreams of future friendship crushed. As we boarded the bus, we parted ways.

I drifted in and out of sleep for who knows how long, and eventually ended up getting dropped off at Ewen Henderson Court. When I got up to reception, I was told that there was a glitch and my room had already been given to someone else. They asked me to come behind the counter, into the office, where I sat, exhausted, trying to hold back tears (I felt like I was in elementary school again). Finally, they got everything sorted and I was given a room, where I promptly collapsed and rested well into the next afternoon.

Last night, my flatmates asked me to go to a standup comedy night at the student union with them. That was the first indication that we would get along just fine. The second was when we arrived at the union early and sat down to chat over our pints of cheap beer. I learned that one is from Manchester, has a degree in music performance, and is here to get her music administration masters. The other is originally from Atlanta, but has been living abroad in the UK and Germany for the past 4 years, and is here to get her masters in music and the mind. After general introductions, the conversation abruptly changed to world politics, then race issues, then gender issues, then gay rights, etc. These women are intelligent, well informed, and have a wonderful sense of humor. I had so much fun with them during the comedy night and then just hanging out and having our first “girl talk” in the union pub afterward as well.

Today, the three of us went to the grocery store and Tk Maxx to pick up essentials and tonight we’re having a chili and wine night (probably 2 of my favorite things).

I miss everyone at home so much. But, I am happy here.

FAQ

As I suspected, the questions and conversation about my move have increased exponentially as my leaving date approaches. Considering that I spend a substantial portion of every day explaining these topics, I decided that a "frequently asked questions" post might be useful.

I assume that all of you are capable of using Wikipedia and Google to find out general information about Goldsmiths, University of London and the surrounding areas. However, this video is a nice, optimistic overview of the area in which I will be living:

If you are wondering what my flat will be like, here is the info page for that:
Ewen Henderson Court

Long ago, I accepted the fact that very few people really know what a Dance Movement Psychotherapy MA is. Obviously, Wikipedia and Google could help you out here as well. I particularly enjoy this student overview of my program:

Also, I have to give a shout out to Michael Clauw for his blog post on the topic:
Dance Movement Therapy: A Fusion of Expressive Therapies

And finally, for my exceptionally lazy friends:
Wikipedia: Goldsmiths, University of London
Goldsmiths, University of London
Wikipedia: Dance Therapy

There, that should do it. Now stop asking me!!

To clarify: It's not that I don't love talking about all of this. However, the only way that I can function on a day to day basis (i.e. focus at work, enjoy time in the present with friends, etc.) is to shove all of this exciting stuff to the back of my mind. If you really do have more questions that aren't answered by any of these resources, please please please feel free to ask me. I feel extremely lucky and loved, knowing that I have so many people who care about where I'm going and what I'm doing :)

Transitions

“All anyone ever talks to me about is London! Not everything revolves around the fact that I’m leaving! I have had a life here for the past 6 months, and I will for another month!” I found myself exclaiming to my mother, across the table, in a corner booth at Panera.

Since my last post, a lot of things have changed. I graduated from the University of Michigan with a B.S. in Movement Science. I’ve had a plethora of jobs, in various environments, ranging from restaurants to an employee wellness program. In addition, I have decided to begin working on my Dance/Movement Psychotherapy M.A. at Goldsmiths University of London, this fall. The program is two years long, and I would describe what the field of study is all about, but I am honestly so sick of explaining it to people, that I will leave it for another post. I like my dad’s short and sweet phrase, “It’s physical therapy for the mind.”

My impending move to London is progressively becoming the primary topic of conversation between me and my family and friends. I’ve heard all the “wannabes” coo over how jealous they are; heard my supportive friends tell me how “awesome” it is; heard even the declarations of some that they will visit me before my two years abroad is through. I’ve dealt with the concerned parent conversations, and checklist making for things I need to do in Detroit with my brother before I leave. By far, the most difficult conversations have been the fleeting ones, with the least words spoken. These moments, with only the people closest to me, tend to happen while sitting on porches, soaking in summer nights. Sometimes, it only consists of two sentences:

“I’m leaving.”

“I know.”

 This exchange seems to have an incalculable weight, despite the fact that MOST people are leaving. This is the nature of the summer after graduating college. People go off to grad school, get real jobs, get fake jobs, move back in with their parents, or any combination of these. While slipping the keys to my apartment into the landlord’s drop box, I was forced to acknowledge that I was surrendering my last piece of undergrad life to a little golden mail slot. Everything is changing. Everyone is changing. It’s time for me to move on.