I was one of the few without an internship today (more on that to come) so I decided to make my pilgrimage to Highgate Cemetery and then pad around Hampstead Heath. The weather has been strangely warm and sunny as of late so I am trying to take advantage of it. I had troubles getting out of bed but I at last managed to get moving around 11-11:30.
I went for Highgate Cemetery first. When I got off the tube, there was a sign with directions to the cemetery. It said I could take a bus or walk Highgate Hill to get there. I thought I would walk since it was only a mile. Yeah, a mile all uphill. I know, I know, I should have known since it was called Highgate HILL but I didn't think it was going to be that steep. I mean it was no Great Wall, but it was fairly steep. Then when I reached the top I found that I had to walk through Waterlow Park to get to the cemetery. This was all turning out to be more complicated than I had anticipated but the walk turned out to be fairly short and it was nice weather.
I at last arrive at the cemetery and make ready to pay my respects to George Eliot, one of my favorite novelists from the 19th-century. Upon entrance, you are assaulted by enormous mausoleums of some long ago higher ups but then you get into the actual gravestones. There are so many. Like it boggles the mind. Row after row all crammed in right next to each other. Many of the older ones are overgrown, have fallen, or are semi-buried. I know the maintenance staff do what they can to upkeep the cemetery but it was striking to me how forgotten these graves are now and how numerous they are. It is still a lovely semi-wooded area with winding dirt paths and flowers, a place I wouldn't mind being laid to rest.
After some initial difficulty (ok, I found it completely by accident and unexpectedly), there I was in front of George Eliot's grave. I teared up, as I did many times while in the cemetery, just in awe of being there. Then I did something Temperance Brennan would not approve of: I left a note for George Eliot. I felt bad that I had come all this way and then I didn't have any flowers or something to offer, so I whipped out my journal and wrote a note of appreciation for her. I secured it with some rocks and left it there for the staff to eventually remove but I would like to think somewhere she appreciated the gesture. I mean Karl Marx had crap tons of flowers and his grave is an enormous monument to his own large head. I wanted George to have something at least.
Most people would have gone in, seen their chosen famous person, but I, being the weird person I am, continued to wander and look at graves. I just like gravestones and cemeteries; they are comforting to me for some reason. So tranquil and still. Some of them were really beautiful too. I teared up at one of a couple who were together for 40 years, another for a father whose daughters had a letter to him carved on his stone, a woman whose numerous children and husband had all died before her, etc. I just like to see how loved people are and how those left behind express it by their stone and what is left on or by it. There were some creepy children ones with mangy looking toys on them but I avoided them so as to avoid horror the likes of Pet Semetery. Eventually though, the place got to me and I knew it was time to go amongst the living again. Onward to Hampstead Heath.
A funny sidenote though. When I was walking back through Waterlow Park, a woman stopped me to ask if I knew where the cemetery was. I of course did, having just come from there. But the only directions I could give her were "Go straight and head down." She looked at me like I was crazy and I thought to myself "Head down? What does that even mean? Way to go Caty, great directions. Good thing she wasn't on The Amazing Race or she would be eating you alive right now." It was an epic failure.
Hampstead Heath is a large wooded park north of London where you can genuinely forget you are even in a city because you are so surrounded by wildlife. It was a lovely hike and the windswept heath was exactly what I would expect after reading Wuthering Heights. There were tons of dogs and children and couple so it was very idyllic but due to my hatred of dogs and children as well as couples since my own boyfriend is back in America, I was less than enthused by these elements. I sat and read Sense and Sensibility before heading up Parliament Hill for a great view of the city.
I don't know why but strange older British men really like to talk to me. I was sitting on a bench on Parliament Hill when all of a sudden this guy stops walking, comes over, and starts talking to me. I was majorly uncomfortable and luckily (never thought I would say luckily to this) but my contact lense got lost in my eye so I had to run (yes, I literally ran from him) to the bottom of the hill to a bathroom mirror to rescue it. It is just the story of my life that weird old guys talk to me instead of hot, young Brits who turn out to be viscounts and want to take me to their country home for the weekend and buy me things.
After my flight from the weird dude, I was pretty far from where I needed to be so I had to navigate my way back with only a rough map to guide me. Needless to say, after all the hills and walking, I was exhausted when I got back and really still am. I will most definitely be going to bed after finishing this post. I still have to decide what to do tomorrow since I don't have work until Wednesday.
So at my interview, Luke said I would most likely come in on Monday but he needed to get in touch with my internship coordinator to figure it out for sure. I e-mailed David, my coordinator, but I didn't hear anything so I assumed I wasn't supposed to come in. While climbing Highgate Hill, I get a call from David telling me that Luke expected me to come in that day. Oh !@#$%. It's alright though, Luke said he probably wasn't clear and that I could come in at 10:30 on Wednesday and work Wed.-Fri. this week. I don't think I have made the best impression on this guy so I am going to make serious apologies on Wednesday because I would never have purposefully missed a day of work if I had thought I needed to be there. Really, I would have preferred to have gone in today and gotten the first day jitters over with. Oh well, soon I shall see, but for now it is time for sleep for me.
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