Auditions
Religion took place in the Family History Centre in Hyde Park Chapel--we were all looking forward to sitting down at computers and getting started on our names, but we sat down for some two hours, intimidated by the lady running the place, and trying to ask questions that sounded semi-intelligent. A pair of casting directors came into the room looking for actors; the Church will film a New Testament movie starting April 2011 in Salt Lake (naturally; the place looks like the Middle East to a tee) and they were looking for chicks who fit the part: Kaitlyn, Devri, Briann, and Olivia were all shoo-ins. Amanda volunteered to be the in the first pioneer movie that came her way. Whether any actually tried out, I don't know--Andrea and I blew out of there to hit Regents Park and do yet another Austen field study.
More picturesque spots. Andrea is the best person to be with when visiting nature of any kind; she was the one with the camera. Once we found the entrance, we walked along the pond and watched the pigeons, geese, ducks, and swans call to each other and hoot at tourists. The weeping willows looked so like Monet's--it was even a beautiful day, or would be until we got on the Tube. Since I didn't have my camera, my assignment would have to be done with the help of Mr. Google Images. Don't tell Penny.
Too Cultured
So I forgot to bring my prom dress to London...? Afterdinner activities involved choosing outfits, hairdos, makeup and shoes to go out to the ballet. I threw on a church dress and some flats in two minutes--bit early that, as I was forced to read the ballet synopsis on Emily's floor due to the hairspray and perfume cloud hovering over the top bunks. The excitement in the air was infectious--girls need a chance every so often to primp up and go out in public (see Jane Austen for further details), and the ballet was a perfect opportunity. I confess I felt poorly dressed compared to everyone else; there was satin and sequins and bling out the yin-yang. I wish I had a cooler dress to at least wear to the opera. Ah, well.
Pictures on the stairs (I ran to the nearest Food and Wine to buy some chocolate) and then off to the Royal Opera House. We got more pictures by the front doors while Beno pretended to be Secret Service (black suit, Skullcandy, it worked) and someone performed a very British With or Without You out in Leicester Square. Atmospheric to a tee. We went up all the escalators and passed the bar, restaurant, those weird glass-blown chandeliers, some cheerful bellmen and made it out on house right's topmost balcony.
Shame about not having any binoculars. After the first ten minutes of the show tune, I realized that we would be lucky to see anything with subtext. Fortunately I was sitting just in front of Ben and Andrew, and each interlude meant I could hear what they thought. Unfortunately they were surrounded by sighhing girls entranced by the costumes and tiaras--and since they care about their welfare too much, I didn't hear anything too honest. I concluded that I've been utterly spoiled by BYU folk dancers--once you get bored by one kind of dance, they bring on new dancers and do something totally different. This was two hours of straight ballet.
The second movement was a Greek couple trying to figure out what's the matter with each other. It was really cool, actually--I think at that point, I was so starved for some purpose or story that I was enthused to see a ballerina try to get whatever her man was hiding--he had to leave the country, so says my synopsis, and couldn't marry her. Sad days. After that, I really had no interest in the shows. Choreography for ballet versus the musical, for example, is incredibly limited and repetitive.
But everyone else liked it. The encore was stand up and applaud for ten minutes while the leads bowed to each other ("No, you're awesome!") When they start congratulating each other, I think it's time to leave. I left in such a hurry that I abandoned my sweater and had to go back to look for it. Katy, Julie, Emily and I wandered through the labyrinthian opera house only to find the place entirely locked up (the show had ended no more than ten minutes ago!). But a nice usher pointed us to the desk downstairs, and when he whipped out that darn sweater, we couldn't contain our compliments at how the place was run.
The Tube company was a lot less cultured than the ballet lot, so that by the time we got home, I felt balanced and peaceful once again.
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