Letter from Stratford, England

“To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most beautified Exeter...Doubt thou the stars are fire,Doubt that the sun doth move,Doubt truth to be a liar,But never doubt I love” HamletGreetings from Furzen Hill Farm. Our journey to England began with getting detained at Birmingham International Airport because none of us actually knew where we were staying. The people at customs were not satisfied with minors entering the country to an address known only as “The Farm” in the care of “Mr. Miller.” We eventually convinced them we weren't being sold into child slavery and made the drive to the cottages. While we’ve been across the pond, we've done loads of exploring and learning. We spent four days at a homestay practically in Wales and went to real British school with real British teens. Lucky for us, our hosts were reading The Color Purple in their English class, so we got to use our terrible Southern accents for a British audience. There have been trips to pubs, palaces and plays by Shakespeare, and even accidental sheep herding expeditions on the farm of one of our teachers. We’ve also just returned from a weekend trip to London. Hanging around hipster central, most of us spent our time getting lost on the Tube on our way to Brick Lane, an area known for its vintage clothing stores. As long as we ignored the conversion rate, we could shop the day away. Of course, there were tourist things that had to be done, like ride on the London Eye and visit the Tate before nights at the Globe. There, we ran into Annie Seminara ’13 at one of the plays, and met up with Davis Leonard ’14 at St. Paul's Cathedral. Speaking of Exonian run-ins, some of the group shared a Boston-Amsterdam-Birmingham flight with Adam Smith ’13. Though our time in London was short, we are all looking forward to our independent weekend in the city, where we will be free to stay wherever and do whatever we want.Between cooking our own meals, eating cake cooked by Mrs. Stewert (Nancy), biweekly creative writing workshops, reading Hamlet and generally being at the whim of a poet (ie: reading Wordsworth, Keats and T.S. Elliot), we do have some time for fun. Our conversations are littered with cultural and Shakespearean jokes and references. In fact, there may not ever be a time that we aren't talking about Shakespeare. I woke up to a ghoulish voice calling, “Swear!” this morning. I need to avenge my father now. The other day during lunch, some of us debated which actor was hotter in the RSC production of Henry IV: Prince Hal or Poins. There's not much interaction with other humans; although there is usually a nice man with a nice dog at our local pub, The King’s Head.Cheers, Exeter, and see you in the winter!"O dear Exeter, I am ill at these numbers. I have not art to reckon my groans, but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it. Adieu. Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst this machine is to him. Stratford 2014." --Hamlet.