First, a word about my blog. I have heard from a few people that it is too long. I would agree that it is long; however, there is reason for this. This blog is a great way for me to keep everyone at home updated all at once, but it is also my journal. I put little details in because I want to remember the little things in 8 months when I get home. I’m sorry to anyone who is put off by the length, this entry will definitely scare you off. A good alternative is to check out my picture site at www.picasaweb.google.com/fosterd3 where I post my photos with captions to give an idea of what’s going on. Short and sweet!
Ever since the Kings Foundation Year forced me to plod my way through thousands of pages of text, struggling to retain everything I read, my previous love for reading (fiction, nonfiction, anything non textbook) dwindled. I have slowly worked on a couple fictions, but never with the previous enjoyment I once had for reading. But filling the time on train journeys, waiting for trains, waiting for something to happen, I have come back to reading, and am once again hungrily devouring book after book (not literally of course, I am eating quite well thank you). I have so far made my way through four novels. Go team David!
Arriving in Oxford on a Friday, the City was abuzz with university (or uni as it is called even formally here) students preparing for their next semester at school. Oxford is of course a prestigious school, accepting only the best and brightest, students whose devotion to their studies far exceeds their baser desires. Hold on, I have to go shut off the bull shit alarm. From what I heard while trying to sleep at midnight on a Friday night, the 95% of the colleges of Oxford in undergrad studies are like any other university I have seen. Their students are smart, devoted to studying, but like parting, getting trashed on a weekend, bumping and grinding on anything that appeals, and I don’t hold that against them one bit. The city of Oxford (literally where ox ford a river) was home to some intellectual studies in the early part of the 2nd millennium, gradually developing into formal colleges, until Oxford University was founded. The city is entirely based around the university and tourism. Like many cities and towns in Europe, one is struck by the age of the buildings, but I feel I may becoming immune to the allure and wonder of the age…how very European of me. Oxford’s 
distinguishing feature is the spires which dot its skyline. With 38 Colleges in Oxford University, there are almost as many chapels. Otherwise, I found the town to be somewhat culturally devoid. I saw the smallest concentration of non-whites so far, almost none of the ubiquitous trashy discount stores, and the cheap but good food stalls were almost non-existent. Basically, it was a bunch of middle class white kids and middle class business to tend to them. Nothing wrong with that, Oxford is what it is.
distinguishing feature is the spires which dot its skyline. With 38 Colleges in Oxford University, there are almost as many chapels. Otherwise, I found the town to be somewhat culturally devoid. I saw the smallest concentration of non-whites so far, almost none of the ubiquitous trashy discount stores, and the cheap but good food stalls were almost non-existent. Basically, it was a bunch of middle class white kids and middle class business to tend to them. Nothing wrong with that, Oxford is what it is.The hostel I stayed in was one of two, confusingly named, Central Backpackers Oxford, and Oxford Backpackers Hostel(real original guys). Oxford Backpackers was centrally located, with nice facilities, and friendly(ish) staff. Unfortunately it was a little too central, located across the street from a nightclub, and with no AC, the windows must remain open at night, especially in the 12 person room I occupied. After settling and dropping gear, I wandered to the tourist information centre to see what was going on in the city. I caught a walking tour (£7) which was to show the main sights of the city and university. What one quickly realises is that a tour of the city really is just a tour of the university. The tour proved informative, entertaining, and worth it (although I did note that this is the first Mayoral tour which wasn’t free). Opting for the discount food option, I discovered a favourite amongst students, Noodle Nation. A generic noodle bar, it provides many styles of oriental cuisine, all tasty and cheap, especially for students who receive a 25% discount (that’s me!). I enjoyed the last free internet for my next two stops for the rest of the evening, finishing up the previous blog post, and getting in touch with family and friends. I planned the next day’s adventures, and tried to sleep through the racket of club music, screeching girls, and sirens (not sure which was louder...).
The following day involved a very lazy start, getting out of bed around 11 and lazing around until noon when I went to Noodle Nation again to try another delicious and very cheap meal. Getting there, I discovered there was a line-up out the door, some for a table, and some for ordering take out. Thinking on my feet (and being very clever if I do say so myself), I nabbed a takeout menu, went to the payphone across the street, ordered, and 10 minutes later, strolled past the whole line to pick up my food. Score another one for team David. Munching on duck with noodles, I wandered to Oxford Castle to see what there was to see. Unlike Cardiff Castle which has sat unused for hundreds of years, Oxford Castle was a fully functional prison until the end of the 20th century. Seeing use as a prison for around 1000 years, a new wing of the castle was built in the 20th century to accommodate more prisoners, and was used until 1996 when it was decommissioned in favour of larger, more modern facilities further away from city centres. Since then, the prison has been used in no less than 5 Hollywood movies (including 101 Dalmatians, Spy Games, and more). Admission is a reasonable £6.20, and includes a guided tour to the top of St. George’s Tower (only accessible with tours for safety reasons) with a guide in roughly Georgian style dress, who does not act in period at all (frankly a relief after too many terrible period actors). After a while wandering around the castle I enjoyed the City Sightseeing bus tour of the city, only £10 for students. A little pricy, it is however a good way to see a whole lot of city without walking for hours. The audio commentary is very informative, makes attempts at humour, and is well timed to the speed of the bus. The rest of the evening was relaxing, taking some time to read, plan my time in Stratford, and keeping in touch with people at home.
Sunday I departed for Stratford-upon-Avon, the birthplace of William Shakespeare, and home to many a picturesque scene. In leaving however, I made my biggest blunder yet. Some hostels have lockers in the rooms, some do not. Oxford did, and I forgot about it. Getting into Stratford, I was enjoying a sort of street festival when I went for cash, and realized I would need more out of my money belt (which is actually a type worn around the leg). I keep money, extra ID, and most importantly, my passport in there, and it was still in Oxford. Oops. Only 2 in the afternoon, I went to the train station to book the most annoying leg of my trip so far, a return ticket to Oxford. Mercifully it was only £14 return, and I would be back in Stratford by 7. A silly mistake, but luckily it was locked up and secure in Oxford. The expression on the ticket agent’s face was entertaining when I asked for a return to Oxford. He informed me if I wished to return the same day I would have 45 minutes in Oxford, not a problem since the hostel in Oxford is a 10 minute walk from the train station. He couldn’t understand why I would be ok with that, and I was loathe to admit to him I was returning to retrieve a $70 passport, £80, and other important items. I read quite a lot that day. Getting back to Stratford in the dark, I caught my second cab of my trip to the hostel which was a good 6km away from the city centre. I could have walked, but slightly defeated, tired, frustrated, and having spent money on nothing but train tickets that day, I figured I would make it a day of transportation, and sprung for the £10 to get to the hostel quickly, where I had an awesome shower and handed over a big bag of laundry (only £2.50 at the Stratford YHA, the cheapest I have seen it yet). Sleep came easily that evening.
For my only day of exploring such a lovely town, I got up early and enjoyed the plentiful hot breakfast at the hostel. I paid only £10/night at the YHA Stratford, the cheapest so far. Breakfast included a full steam line of cooked food, beans, eggs, roasted tomatoes, cereals, and more, all served by dedicated kitchen staff and enjoyed in a room with large picture windows overlooking the woods around the hostel. The hostel is an old Georgian building, with a Victorian style expansion, bringing the total capacity to 130 beds. The hostel was being used by schools during my stay, so everywhere I went I was surrounded by (slightly annoying) screaming and running 12-14 year olds. Getting into town was a breeze with local transport running every half hour. The main sights in Stratford revolve around Shakespeare, but there are others in town and further afield, and to get a general overview I again took the City Sightseeing tour. Only £8 it was very worth it in Stratford as it also provides you transportation to Anne Hathaway’s house which is a good 20 minute drive out of town and other out of town sights. It was a lovely drive through town and the countryside, and stopped at the Stratford armouries museum where I got off to have a look through their collection. The museum has an impressive collection of weapons, including original battle armour for an elephant, and the DaVinci crossbow never made by DaVinci, but by 
a British group for television. The collection is impressive but poorly presented, with little explanation as to what you are looking at. After a while staring admiringly at the collections, I came to a table which unlike every other display was not protected by glass or behind a rope. Taking this to mean I could handle its contents, I held an AK47, Thompson sub machine gun, and Thompson with the mob style drum magazine, all for the first time. Yes this makes me sound like gun nut, but of all the weapons in the world, these are extremely important in many world events. The actions were all still functional, even the cocking levers, but the barrels were all cemented and firing pins removed. This on its own was almost worth the £7 or so it cost to get in. Almost. But the museum has to fundraise one way or another to improve its displays and it is still a new facility. I hope they put my money to good use.
a British group for television. The collection is impressive but poorly presented, with little explanation as to what you are looking at. After a while staring admiringly at the collections, I came to a table which unlike every other display was not protected by glass or behind a rope. Taking this to mean I could handle its contents, I held an AK47, Thompson sub machine gun, and Thompson with the mob style drum magazine, all for the first time. Yes this makes me sound like gun nut, but of all the weapons in the world, these are extremely important in many world events. The actions were all still functional, even the cocking levers, but the barrels were all cemented and firing pins removed. This on its own was almost worth the £7 or so it cost to get in. Almost. But the museum has to fundraise one way or another to improve its displays and it is still a new facility. I hope they put my money to good use.Back into town, £11 gets you into the 4 main sights pertinent to Shakespeare’s birth, life, and death. In all of the sights, the displays are well designed with well informed staff to answer any questions. The gardens were beautiful, but out of their summer splendour. The house where Shakespeare was born is still standing, and wonderfully maintained. The house where Shakespeare died however is another story. After his death, the house was handed from generation to generation, eventually landing outside of the family with a man who did not particularly enjoy the legacy of Shakespeare in his house. Living there only a couple weeks of the year, he was tired of being pestered by locals and cultural pilgrims wanting to see the house where Shakespeare died. He was also outraged at having to pay tax on a house he lived in less than a month per year. He unsuccessfully petitioned the town for exemption from tax, and
when turned down, he decided he wouldn’t visit the town anymore. In a move of sheer spite, he decided that if he couldn’t have the house no one could, and ordered its demolition. Now there is a lovely garden to commemorate where Shakespeare died. Buying some food from the grocery store I returned to the hostel to eat and relax. While cooking I met a fascinating gentleman in his late 60s who works as an electrician and as a boxing trainer. He stays in hostels to keep costs down and cooks his own food. I made a very tasty Chile con carne on a bed of brown rice, with Brussels sprouts (that’s right mom, I’m eating my greens). For £3 it wasn’t bad! I met my roommates, 3 in total. One was a cook from Vancouver wasting time before his new job and apartment back in Canada. A nice guy, he decided to visit Stratford because he “thought he liked Shakespeare”. I shall explain. His name was Graham (and I forget his last name, but it ended in ‘let’). He felt an attachment to the play Hamlet because graHAM ___LET. So much so that he got a BIG tattoo of ‘Hamlet’ in fancy script on his calf. Whatever works I suppose. He was happy to take in a performance of Julius Caesar that evening even if it wasn’t his favoured Hamlet. My other roommates were two hilarious German guys just travelling for fun. They were unrelated, yet seemed like twins the way they interacted. It was great fun talking with them about Germany, Canada, and travelling.
when turned down, he decided he wouldn’t visit the town anymore. In a move of sheer spite, he decided that if he couldn’t have the house no one could, and ordered its demolition. Now there is a lovely garden to commemorate where Shakespeare died. Buying some food from the grocery store I returned to the hostel to eat and relax. While cooking I met a fascinating gentleman in his late 60s who works as an electrician and as a boxing trainer. He stays in hostels to keep costs down and cooks his own food. I made a very tasty Chile con carne on a bed of brown rice, with Brussels sprouts (that’s right mom, I’m eating my greens). For £3 it wasn’t bad! I met my roommates, 3 in total. One was a cook from Vancouver wasting time before his new job and apartment back in Canada. A nice guy, he decided to visit Stratford because he “thought he liked Shakespeare”. I shall explain. His name was Graham (and I forget his last name, but it ended in ‘let’). He felt an attachment to the play Hamlet because graHAM ___LET. So much so that he got a BIG tattoo of ‘Hamlet’ in fancy script on his calf. Whatever works I suppose. He was happy to take in a performance of Julius Caesar that evening even if it wasn’t his favoured Hamlet. My other roommates were two hilarious German guys just travelling for fun. They were unrelated, yet seemed like twins the way they interacted. It was great fun talking with them about Germany, Canada, and travelling.The next morning I unhappily packed my still wet clothing, not having dried in the “drying room” in the basement which is kept very warm, but very moist. I made very sure I had all my belongings, and caught the bus to town for my train to Birmingham. Stopping to mail off some of my souvenirs and a postcard or two, I asked the store attendant if I could use the chair beside the till to fill out the envelopes. “Oh you poor thing” she said very motherly... That odd moment done with I made it to the station and on to Birmingham.
Stepping into Birmingham is a very confusing experience. Still laid out like an old city (non grid), the centre of the city is a confusing mess of markets, a super modern shopping complex, and the world’s most disorientating sign posts. Playing my now familiar game of “find the tourist info centre ” I obtained a map and (incorrect) directions to my booked hostel. Getting help from a business man on his smoke break, I made it to the very dumpy looking Birmingham Hatters Hostel. Step inside however, and it’s a different story. Redone a few years back, it is very modern inside, with free toast and juice all day, the worlds most pathetic book exchange, and key card entry into your room (ooo lala! Tres modern!). Located in the Jewellery district where they make (you guessed it) jewellery, it is very industrial, where red (but blackened by years of industrial smoke and pollution) brick is the king of construction material. The hostel is situated next to a factory where one look inside the broken windows reveals it to be functioning, yet still something out of a horror movie where someone is mangled bit by bit by some maniacal super villain bent on domination of at least that city block. Exploration of Birmingham reveals a much divided city. 
With very industrial roots, it is a city with a long past of red brick buildings. But fighting to emerge is a new modern identity with pretty glass buildings, tourist friendly attractions, and cleaner air. This is a transition period for the city, and you can see the old being torn down or integrated into the new. The epitome of the new modern push is the Bull Ring. Historically a place for trading, its last incarnation was built in the 60’s to reflect Birmingham’s multiculturalism and modernism. By the end of the 20th century, it was outdated, confusing, and dirty. The city favoured a new multi building complex, and successfully lured Selfridges & Co. (big fancy department store here) into building their first location out of London. The new facility does away with the idea of a market, pushing the markets down the hill to segregated arena style buildings. The project was good for Birmingham’s image while many of the locals are sceptical of this very unlike Birmingham complex. One point of pride for locals is the canal system. Well maintained and very picturesque to stroll along, locals are quick to point out that Birmingham has more canals than Venice. I walked along a few kilometres of the city centre canal and enjoyed the atmosphere and scenic vistas. Viewing a city from the canals gives you an entirely different point of view of the city. Another point of pride is the aptly named “Balti Triangle”, literally three streets roughly forming a triangle to the south of the city, where Balti was supposed to have been invented. I obviously had to discover this, but too stubborn to pay for a bus just to eat, I opted to walk. The staff at the hostel had provided me a brochure about the Triangle, including a map. I somehow lost this, and had to find my way by approximation. By some miracle, after about an hour of walking (and according to Google Maps, 3.5 miles) I found a small restaurant called Diwan Balti. Unable to find some neon sign that explained to dumb tourists where “the best Balti restaurant” was, I figured it was as good as the next. Boy was I wrong. According to the menu it is a multiple award winner in Balti and South Asian food. While my experience is still minimal, I believe this place was far above standards. The portions were more than generous; however I think that Jamuna in Bath set a high standard against which I will compare all other Balti. I did enjoy it though, for around £8 you get a hugely generous portion of two different delicious types of Balti. I’m afraid that many lambs were hurt in the making of this trip, and yet again I enjoyed delicious, sinful murder. Walking back into town, I took the least direct route possible, enjoying the sights of a busy city while on foot. I also discovered a sign which directly told me to care about less fortunate kids. It was however, simply an error in grammar, a case of “the panda eats, shoots, and leaves”. Points to whoever gets that reference.
With very industrial roots, it is a city with a long past of red brick buildings. But fighting to emerge is a new modern identity with pretty glass buildings, tourist friendly attractions, and cleaner air. This is a transition period for the city, and you can see the old being torn down or integrated into the new. The epitome of the new modern push is the Bull Ring. Historically a place for trading, its last incarnation was built in the 60’s to reflect Birmingham’s multiculturalism and modernism. By the end of the 20th century, it was outdated, confusing, and dirty. The city favoured a new multi building complex, and successfully lured Selfridges & Co. (big fancy department store here) into building their first location out of London. The new facility does away with the idea of a market, pushing the markets down the hill to segregated arena style buildings. The project was good for Birmingham’s image while many of the locals are sceptical of this very unlike Birmingham complex. One point of pride for locals is the canal system. Well maintained and very picturesque to stroll along, locals are quick to point out that Birmingham has more canals than Venice. I walked along a few kilometres of the city centre canal and enjoyed the atmosphere and scenic vistas. Viewing a city from the canals gives you an entirely different point of view of the city. Another point of pride is the aptly named “Balti Triangle”, literally three streets roughly forming a triangle to the south of the city, where Balti was supposed to have been invented. I obviously had to discover this, but too stubborn to pay for a bus just to eat, I opted to walk. The staff at the hostel had provided me a brochure about the Triangle, including a map. I somehow lost this, and had to find my way by approximation. By some miracle, after about an hour of walking (and according to Google Maps, 3.5 miles) I found a small restaurant called Diwan Balti. Unable to find some neon sign that explained to dumb tourists where “the best Balti restaurant” was, I figured it was as good as the next. Boy was I wrong. According to the menu it is a multiple award winner in Balti and South Asian food. While my experience is still minimal, I believe this place was far above standards. The portions were more than generous; however I think that Jamuna in Bath set a high standard against which I will compare all other Balti. I did enjoy it though, for around £8 you get a hugely generous portion of two different delicious types of Balti. I’m afraid that many lambs were hurt in the making of this trip, and yet again I enjoyed delicious, sinful murder. Walking back into town, I took the least direct route possible, enjoying the sights of a busy city while on foot. I also discovered a sign which directly told me to care about less fortunate kids. It was however, simply an error in grammar, a case of “the panda eats, shoots, and leaves”. Points to whoever gets that reference.The next day, as I woke up I mentally shut off any semblance of maturity I hold, reverted to being 10, and merrily took the train the Bourneville. “But what is in Bourneville?” You ask. Only every kid, woman, and overgrown (size and age count here) kid’s fantasy! Bourneville is the home to Cadbury World, the world’s biggest Cadbury store, 
and the most amazing aromas. For a mere £7.20 I enjoyed 2 hours in the factory, learning the history of chocolate, Cadbury, and Bourneville. The Cadbury’s were a Quaker family, and true to their beliefs, they did not approve of the consumption of alcohol. A new drink was quite popular however, chocolati, from the cocoa beans from South America, and the chocolate drink was considered an acceptable alternative to alcohol. One thing led to another, the development of chocolate you could hold, the introduction of milk into the chocolate, and an entire empire of chocolate making was formed. I was highly impressed with some of the business ethics of the company, the building of good company housing in Bourneville, far ahead of its times leisure facilities free to staff, generous benefits packages, and a friendly working environment. The company still maintains these practices today, also being the first major candy company agreeing to go completely fair trade. Cadbury world is set up for all ages, however there are some exhibits mainly for kids, especially the so called Cadabra ride. See my photos for a visual description of that virtual drug trip. After seeing chocolate in all its glory, you have the chance to “make” your own chocolate treat, requesting one of a variety of ingredients (like rice crispies, all sorts, marshmallows, etc.) which is then covered in fresh, never solidified milk chocolate. Let me tell you...I could have stuck my face under that nozzle, and just drunk in the warm awesomeness that is factory fresh chocolate. Nothing can compare to that in the chocolate world, except maybe the same thing at the Lindt factory. A short trip to the world’s biggest Cadbury store later and I was back in Birmingham, feeling absolutely sick to my stomach from the sheer amount of chocolate consumed (most of it free!). After a brief nap, I craved real food, and went a couple blocks to the recommended Pasta da Piazza. A lovely little Italian restaurant, it was well patronized and had a fun yet formal atmosphere. I had a mediocre Mushroom Italiana which was essentially lightly sautéed mushroom in a tomato sauce with mozzarella (which was unfortunately not melted). The entree made up for this brief disappointment, fettuccini with crab meat, it was seasoned perfectly with generous chunks of crab meat. 
Full, I opted for a light sounding dessert involving ice cream. Actually a large scoop of Amaretto flavoured ice cream, coated in almond flavoured cookie crumb, served with an almond flavoured wafer. It was very heavy, and I left uncomfortable, but very satisfied for a stroll around town, seeing more of the canal system by night Birmingham is an old city, but it is undergoing what I would describe as a midlife crisis. Shunning its industrial roots, it has successfully become an important place for business in the UK and Europe in general. It is very ethnically diverse, with a fully 20% of its population originating in South Asia. There are a few sights I wish I had time to see, including the apparently very impressive (and far less shallow than it sounds) jewellery museum. Perhaps one day I will find myself back in Birmingham to see more of what it has to offer, and maybe next time I will actually find this illusive Balti Triangle. Now I am in the city of Manchester, famous for its football, curry (the so called “curry mile”), and being pretty darn big. Let you know how it all goes soon!
and the most amazing aromas. For a mere £7.20 I enjoyed 2 hours in the factory, learning the history of chocolate, Cadbury, and Bourneville. The Cadbury’s were a Quaker family, and true to their beliefs, they did not approve of the consumption of alcohol. A new drink was quite popular however, chocolati, from the cocoa beans from South America, and the chocolate drink was considered an acceptable alternative to alcohol. One thing led to another, the development of chocolate you could hold, the introduction of milk into the chocolate, and an entire empire of chocolate making was formed. I was highly impressed with some of the business ethics of the company, the building of good company housing in Bourneville, far ahead of its times leisure facilities free to staff, generous benefits packages, and a friendly working environment. The company still maintains these practices today, also being the first major candy company agreeing to go completely fair trade. Cadbury world is set up for all ages, however there are some exhibits mainly for kids, especially the so called Cadabra ride. See my photos for a visual description of that virtual drug trip. After seeing chocolate in all its glory, you have the chance to “make” your own chocolate treat, requesting one of a variety of ingredients (like rice crispies, all sorts, marshmallows, etc.) which is then covered in fresh, never solidified milk chocolate. Let me tell you...I could have stuck my face under that nozzle, and just drunk in the warm awesomeness that is factory fresh chocolate. Nothing can compare to that in the chocolate world, except maybe the same thing at the Lindt factory. A short trip to the world’s biggest Cadbury store later and I was back in Birmingham, feeling absolutely sick to my stomach from the sheer amount of chocolate consumed (most of it free!). After a brief nap, I craved real food, and went a couple blocks to the recommended Pasta da Piazza. A lovely little Italian restaurant, it was well patronized and had a fun yet formal atmosphere. I had a mediocre Mushroom Italiana which was essentially lightly sautéed mushroom in a tomato sauce with mozzarella (which was unfortunately not melted). The entree made up for this brief disappointment, fettuccini with crab meat, it was seasoned perfectly with generous chunks of crab meat. Full, I opted for a light sounding dessert involving ice cream. Actually a large scoop of Amaretto flavoured ice cream, coated in almond flavoured cookie crumb, served with an almond flavoured wafer. It was very heavy, and I left uncomfortable, but very satisfied for a stroll around town, seeing more of the canal system by night Birmingham is an old city, but it is undergoing what I would describe as a midlife crisis. Shunning its industrial roots, it has successfully become an important place for business in the UK and Europe in general. It is very ethnically diverse, with a fully 20% of its population originating in South Asia. There are a few sights I wish I had time to see, including the apparently very impressive (and far less shallow than it sounds) jewellery museum. Perhaps one day I will find myself back in Birmingham to see more of what it has to offer, and maybe next time I will actually find this illusive Balti Triangle. Now I am in the city of Manchester, famous for its football, curry (the so called “curry mile”), and being pretty darn big. Let you know how it all goes soon!
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