Entertaining visitors is always a good time. And this was no exception. This weekend, Norah and Laura came up from Sevilla to visit. I got out of a busy half day of work (our channel launches in Italy tomorrow) and went straight to Gatwick Airport to pick them up. After collecting their luggage and taking the train into London, we arrived at our flat around 5:30 in time for some afternoon tea and crumpets. After chilling out for about an hour with Luke and Mary, Laura, Norah and I went out to the Bombay Palace for Indian food, which was pretty good, if a bit pricey. Then we went back to the flat and met up with Dan and Luke before heading over to Fabric to go clubbing for a bit. Sadly, the line was about a two hour wait, so we waited for about 45 minutes before we decided to go somewhere else. Nowhere else cool was really open without IDs, though, so we ended up going back to the flat around 1 or so.
The next morning, we all got up and ate breakfast (I made scrambled and fried eggs, crumpets, fruit and orange juice) before Mary, Norah, Laura and I started out for our tour of London's best parts. We walked through Hyde Park, past Buckingham Palace and through St. James Park before arriving at Big Ben, Westminster Abbey and Parliament. We made our way down the South Bank of the Thames, taking pictures and being the awesomest tourists possible, and eventually stopped at the Borough Market for lunch. They sold these really good toasted cheese sandwiches with spices, so Laura and Norah got one of those and we all finished off our lunches with smoothies. Mmmm.
After that, we met up with Amy, Eric and Melanie at the Tate Modern Museum. Laura went with them to go see the Museum while Norah and I went to get tickets for Spamalot. After we got our tickets, we came back to Westminster and took a ride on the London Eye before heading over to the Tate Modern for a little while. Then we went to go see Spamalot since neither of us were that hungry for dinner; Spamalot is always a hilarious show to see. After the show let out, we walked around the city for a bit and tried to find a fish and chips place, but no one would let us in because we were being discriminated against, so we just went back to the flat. Norah learned how to solve half a Rubik's Cube and then everyone went to sleep since daylight savings time had just gone into effect.
Sunday morning was pretty groggy for everyone, but we conquered our sleepiness with some Costa coffee before heading to Platform 9 3/4 and the Spitalfield/Upper Markets for the rest of the morning. Haha, along the way, I managed to get my debit card eaten by another ATM and only got it back from the bank this morning. Apparently it had eaten more than 20 cards that day, so it wasn't just mine. Anywho, after we left the markets, it was time for the girls to catch their train back to Gatwick, so we all said our goodbyes and parted ways. Melanie and Eric were taking the same flight, so we met up with them there and they all took the train together to the airport. Amy and I went back to her flat from there and made turkey sandwiches with hot sauce to take on a picnic to Hyde Park with Lauren, which was pretty cool.
But the day wouldn't end without something ridiculous happening. Luke, Mary and I went to Regent's Park after that to read in Queen Mary's Gardens for a bit. When we came back, our power was out. It turns out that the flat below us had had a flood and it leaked into the electrical, so the electricians who came had to shut the power out for the night. So, we did our homework by candlelight last night and woke up this morning to a building without hot water. It was an adventure and a half. And that was the weekend!
Pictures from this weekend are below:
Sevilla y Londres Ajuntos
(Sevilla and London Together)
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
London Itself
While struggling to find something to write about, other than the ecclectic and random things I usually write about, I realized that the one thing I haven't said much about is the very city that I'm living in: London.
London is actually from the Latin "Londinium," taken from its days as a part of the Roman Empire, which is exactly how the city got its start. It's an expansive city and has a certain air of sophistication that you don't really get in many other cities, save Vienna and Prague...neither of which I have been to, but fingers crossed, it might happen before May. Most of the students here are saddened that they haven't seen as much of the city as they want to, myself included. This will inevitably lead to a rush of weekend activities in an attempt to see all the major landmarks and experience the city like we want to.
Piccadilly Circus, Oxford Street and Regent Street are the places to do both shopping and window shopping, unless you count the markets. They're filled with every major designer from Armani to Zara and have a myriad of things to offer beyond food and clothing, like people watching. Covent Garden is another place that's good for that, as well as the Spitalfield and Camden markets. Lately it's become a partial habit of mine to go to Waterstone's or Costa Coffee, grab a cup of mocha, sit down and read/write for a couple of hours. It's not the need to escape from people that drives me to do this, it's just a calming, peaceful thing that allows me to relax and forget the bad moments of the day and experience some sort of awesome catharsis through a pen and paper. Great what that can do for you.
The view from our flat is pretty amazing, by the way. Sunset is around 5:30 or 6, which is just when most of us get home from work. It's a minor thrill to come home to see the skyline begin to shine with false lights as the true source of illumination dips below the horizon. The sun's been rising earlier lately, which has been great for running. Sara, a girl who lives nearby, runs with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays (and sometimes Saturdays), which has been great for motivation in the morning. We run and talk about summer jobs, writing, music and a good range other topics before realizing that we've covered a good four to five miles of pure wandering of the walkways and roads to meander around and through Hyde Park.
Hyde Park has been one of the greatest discoveries thus far in my time in London. Between the fountains, statues and wide-open spaces, not to mention the blooming daffodils and tulips. However, the greater Park discovery has been Regent's Park. It's a good 10 minute run to get there, but within the confines of those walls lies a historically glorious garden filled with an aura that has yet to be described. A gentle rain of peace trickles down your limbs as you enter the gates and the pathways open up to perfectly kept lawns and weathered benches in scattered directions. Walkways that lead away from the path well-traveled seem to beckon you, whether made of cobblestone or asphalt; either way, moss has no respect for these surfaces, yet commands a respect of its own. Small waterfalls trickle down into rippleless pools filled with ducks and shaded by shrubbery and trees. As the rain falls and ruins this mirror to the sky, I can't help but think how beautifully it has been ruined.
It's impossible for me to describe a city without going into poetics, much like it's impossible for me to close a post without a witty conclusion. I'll fill you in later on the happenings of this weekend, but don't expect anything too awesome. My tendency to discover excitement is like Britney's chances of winning a Nobel Prize...although maybe not that astronomically small.
London is actually from the Latin "Londinium," taken from its days as a part of the Roman Empire, which is exactly how the city got its start. It's an expansive city and has a certain air of sophistication that you don't really get in many other cities, save Vienna and Prague...neither of which I have been to, but fingers crossed, it might happen before May. Most of the students here are saddened that they haven't seen as much of the city as they want to, myself included. This will inevitably lead to a rush of weekend activities in an attempt to see all the major landmarks and experience the city like we want to.
Piccadilly Circus, Oxford Street and Regent Street are the places to do both shopping and window shopping, unless you count the markets. They're filled with every major designer from Armani to Zara and have a myriad of things to offer beyond food and clothing, like people watching. Covent Garden is another place that's good for that, as well as the Spitalfield and Camden markets. Lately it's become a partial habit of mine to go to Waterstone's or Costa Coffee, grab a cup of mocha, sit down and read/write for a couple of hours. It's not the need to escape from people that drives me to do this, it's just a calming, peaceful thing that allows me to relax and forget the bad moments of the day and experience some sort of awesome catharsis through a pen and paper. Great what that can do for you.
The view from our flat is pretty amazing, by the way. Sunset is around 5:30 or 6, which is just when most of us get home from work. It's a minor thrill to come home to see the skyline begin to shine with false lights as the true source of illumination dips below the horizon. The sun's been rising earlier lately, which has been great for running. Sara, a girl who lives nearby, runs with me on Tuesdays and Thursdays (and sometimes Saturdays), which has been great for motivation in the morning. We run and talk about summer jobs, writing, music and a good range other topics before realizing that we've covered a good four to five miles of pure wandering of the walkways and roads to meander around and through Hyde Park.
Hyde Park has been one of the greatest discoveries thus far in my time in London. Between the fountains, statues and wide-open spaces, not to mention the blooming daffodils and tulips. However, the greater Park discovery has been Regent's Park. It's a good 10 minute run to get there, but within the confines of those walls lies a historically glorious garden filled with an aura that has yet to be described. A gentle rain of peace trickles down your limbs as you enter the gates and the pathways open up to perfectly kept lawns and weathered benches in scattered directions. Walkways that lead away from the path well-traveled seem to beckon you, whether made of cobblestone or asphalt; either way, moss has no respect for these surfaces, yet commands a respect of its own. Small waterfalls trickle down into rippleless pools filled with ducks and shaded by shrubbery and trees. As the rain falls and ruins this mirror to the sky, I can't help but think how beautifully it has been ruined.
It's impossible for me to describe a city without going into poetics, much like it's impossible for me to close a post without a witty conclusion. I'll fill you in later on the happenings of this weekend, but don't expect anything too awesome. My tendency to discover excitement is like Britney's chances of winning a Nobel Prize...although maybe not that astronomically small.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Operation Exploration
Today was one of those days where you wake up with this feeling that something needs to happen. After about two minutes of thought, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I'd argue that taking matters into your own hands is always a good choice, but then you look at Abraham having an illegit son or K-Fed trying to raise his and Britney's kids and my point isn't really valid. But don't worry! In this case, it paid off really well.
The day didn't actually start out as planned. I overslept and got up at 10 instead of 9 because I woke up and shut off my alarm when I went off, which pushed back my five mile run to the afternoon. At any rate, since it was 10:30 by the time I had gotten ready and eaten brekkers, I decided to pop over to Buckingham Palace and rock out with the Queen and the Palace Guard. When I arrived at 11:15, the place was packed, complete with adults hanging like monkeys from statues and fences, police on horseback and the British flag flying high above the Palace, signifying to all that the Queen was indeed IN. One of the "bobbies" on horseback threatened to squash us all with her horse if we didn't move back behind the barriers before the Guard came through. Naturally, 95% of us moved and the remaining 5% just waited until she left and floated around in enough places that she wouldn't catch them in their sneaky ways.
The Changing of the Guard was pretty cool. All the soldiers in their grey uniforms, shouting orders and flipping their sabres around like majorettes, were solid and very impressive, as were their marching band counterparts fitted with their standard black poofy hats. Two very important details that you need to know about the COTG today: 1) It was so windy out that the wind blew the hat off of three different guards, some more than once. It was quite funny to see the one soldiers standing guard at the side of the gate goose-step properly to where the hat had fallen, then march it over to the soldier, put it back onto the soldier's head, then march back to his post. This happened not just once or twice; this happened FIVE times. Classy. 2) The marching band. Okay, I can understand wanting to have some international cultural relevance, but somehow I don't think that playing "A Whole New World" from Aladdin is going to make the COTG more reverent. Other selections featured by the band included It's Not Unusual, Sir Duke and my personal favourite...the Austin Powers theme song. Oh yes. They went there.
Shortly afterward, I got back to the flat, changed and went for a run in the opposite direction I usually go, due to the explorationization feeling coursing through my veins. It turns out that Regent's Park is beautiful, especially Queen Mary's Gardens. The flowers are already blooming and there are all of these off-shooting paths that go to small ponds and places like that; it was great. Sidenote: it feels strange to say that running five miles isn't a big deal anymore. In fact, three miles is pretty standard for me. Oh, how times have changed.
Post-showering and lunching, it was time for a trip to the National Portrait Gallery. There were lots of portraits of important people, including photographic portraits of Dame Judy Dench and other important women in one exhibit. Others visited included Charles I and the Civil War and the Tudors. British history is really starting to grow on me.
After walking out of the gallery, I wandered around Leicester Square for a while before meeting up with my friend Ce, who was visiting a friend of his in London while on spring break from Grenada. We stopped briefly into Sainsbury's to grab some dinner fixings and then split up; Ce and I went to Camden Town Station to meet up with Mary to go see Platform 9 and 3/4 in King's Cross, while Rachel went back to her flat to make dinner. Ce and I went back to Rachel's place after our quick outing, during which we saw an entire doubledecker BUS being towed away by some high-powered tow truck...didn't know they made those. Rachel's flat was pretty schnazzy, filled with scented candles and enough avant-garde art on the walls to make Sir William Orpen feel at home (haha, British art joke...I'm funny). We ended up talking about religion, a little politics (which THEY talked about) and finally settled on watching some British comedian at the Apollo before popping in Never Been Kissed, which starred a painfully awkward Drew Barrymore.
On the way to the Euston Square tube station, Ce and I were riding a bus with a lot of crazy and rowdy black teenagers in the back who might have been from Morocco. They staged a fake fight that was pretty obnoxious. The bus driver must have had some sort of secret signal or something that he flashed to police cars like the Batman searchlight sign or something because next thing you know, two police officers come running up to the bus doors and sprint inside, yelling something interspersed with a lot of "oy"s or something like that. They cornered one of the kids and made him get off the bus with two of the other ones; the rest dispersed at the next stop. They got off and Ce breathed a long-held laugh out of his mouth, as did I. All in all, it was quite the day (and night), which all goes to show you that it pays to be a Christopher Columbus for a day...minus the syphillis. I was going more for the explorations and discovering new territory thing.
The day didn't actually start out as planned. I overslept and got up at 10 instead of 9 because I woke up and shut off my alarm when I went off, which pushed back my five mile run to the afternoon. At any rate, since it was 10:30 by the time I had gotten ready and eaten brekkers, I decided to pop over to Buckingham Palace and rock out with the Queen and the Palace Guard. When I arrived at 11:15, the place was packed, complete with adults hanging like monkeys from statues and fences, police on horseback and the British flag flying high above the Palace, signifying to all that the Queen was indeed IN. One of the "bobbies" on horseback threatened to squash us all with her horse if we didn't move back behind the barriers before the Guard came through. Naturally, 95% of us moved and the remaining 5% just waited until she left and floated around in enough places that she wouldn't catch them in their sneaky ways.
The Changing of the Guard was pretty cool. All the soldiers in their grey uniforms, shouting orders and flipping their sabres around like majorettes, were solid and very impressive, as were their marching band counterparts fitted with their standard black poofy hats. Two very important details that you need to know about the COTG today: 1) It was so windy out that the wind blew the hat off of three different guards, some more than once. It was quite funny to see the one soldiers standing guard at the side of the gate goose-step properly to where the hat had fallen, then march it over to the soldier, put it back onto the soldier's head, then march back to his post. This happened not just once or twice; this happened FIVE times. Classy. 2) The marching band. Okay, I can understand wanting to have some international cultural relevance, but somehow I don't think that playing "A Whole New World" from Aladdin is going to make the COTG more reverent. Other selections featured by the band included It's Not Unusual, Sir Duke and my personal favourite...the Austin Powers theme song. Oh yes. They went there.
Shortly afterward, I got back to the flat, changed and went for a run in the opposite direction I usually go, due to the explorationization feeling coursing through my veins. It turns out that Regent's Park is beautiful, especially Queen Mary's Gardens. The flowers are already blooming and there are all of these off-shooting paths that go to small ponds and places like that; it was great. Sidenote: it feels strange to say that running five miles isn't a big deal anymore. In fact, three miles is pretty standard for me. Oh, how times have changed.
Post-showering and lunching, it was time for a trip to the National Portrait Gallery. There were lots of portraits of important people, including photographic portraits of Dame Judy Dench and other important women in one exhibit. Others visited included Charles I and the Civil War and the Tudors. British history is really starting to grow on me.
After walking out of the gallery, I wandered around Leicester Square for a while before meeting up with my friend Ce, who was visiting a friend of his in London while on spring break from Grenada. We stopped briefly into Sainsbury's to grab some dinner fixings and then split up; Ce and I went to Camden Town Station to meet up with Mary to go see Platform 9 and 3/4 in King's Cross, while Rachel went back to her flat to make dinner. Ce and I went back to Rachel's place after our quick outing, during which we saw an entire doubledecker BUS being towed away by some high-powered tow truck...didn't know they made those. Rachel's flat was pretty schnazzy, filled with scented candles and enough avant-garde art on the walls to make Sir William Orpen feel at home (haha, British art joke...I'm funny). We ended up talking about religion, a little politics (which THEY talked about) and finally settled on watching some British comedian at the Apollo before popping in Never Been Kissed, which starred a painfully awkward Drew Barrymore.
On the way to the Euston Square tube station, Ce and I were riding a bus with a lot of crazy and rowdy black teenagers in the back who might have been from Morocco. They staged a fake fight that was pretty obnoxious. The bus driver must have had some sort of secret signal or something that he flashed to police cars like the Batman searchlight sign or something because next thing you know, two police officers come running up to the bus doors and sprint inside, yelling something interspersed with a lot of "oy"s or something like that. They cornered one of the kids and made him get off the bus with two of the other ones; the rest dispersed at the next stop. They got off and Ce breathed a long-held laugh out of his mouth, as did I. All in all, it was quite the day (and night), which all goes to show you that it pays to be a Christopher Columbus for a day...minus the syphillis. I was going more for the explorations and discovering new territory thing.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
To Infinity and Beyond...wherever that is
This week has brought a lot more news from the kids at Ithaca than I've heard in a while. The results for the LA Program are coming in with a sort of divining rod effect, separating those who are to go in the fall and those who will be going in the spring. My friend Callie had a big rollercoaster on Tuesday: she was assigned to the fall semester, which she really didn't want, but then was notified that she's a finalist for the Park Scholar Rising Junior Award!!!!! I'm so happy for her because she totally deserves to get it...I just wish I knew who else was notified as a finalist. Hehe, I'm a cheeky little monkey.
Wow. That was way too British and I had no idea what I was typing until it came onto the screen.
At any rate, this week has also brought about quite a lot of thinking in regards to topics that are too numerous to name, too sensitive to put online and too complex to put into complete and coherent sentences. But, as a fairly competent writer/journalist, I will place some of my eggs into this e-basket and see what hatches at the end of my writing. The first and most prevalent topic is L.A. Long story short, I am questioning whether or not I want to go. I have not received any notification as to whether or not I have been accepted, but doubts are starting to surface and have bubbled to the top of my mind and stayed there for at least 4 or 5 days now. L.A. is a great place with boundless opportunities and all that schmutz you hear all day long from the admissions counselors who are trying to make some poor kid pay $43,000+ a year to experience that boundless opportunity. It's the West Coast, filled with sunshine, beaches, Disneyland, television production studios galore and all the networking an Ithacan could ask for. However, I honestly can't say if I'd be happy there or not. Peer pressure got the best of me when I was making the decision to go abroad for the second time...which is another issue in and of itself because who says that I have to go abroad twice just because the scholarship covers it?! Not I, said the cat.
But where else is there to go? Washington D.C. has crossed my mind a few times, simply because of it's obviously the news capital (and literal capital for that matter) of the nation...the United States, that is. Duh, I'm in London, not the U.S. There would be chances to get connected with serious news people there. I won't lie, crossing over to the print journalism side of things has run its way through my mind, too, since the Washington Post is there. And the Washington Post has multimedia capabilities and could use someone to help them out with that. And then there's the option of just staying in Ithaca. Newswatch 16 could use some stability in on-air talent and it would give me the jump I need to get into an anchoring position for senior year. Not to mention the fact that there would be Relay For Life, Finalist Weekend and all of the fun activities that I miss from freshman year. But then I'd need to figure out housing for that semester.
It's a quagmire of thoughts that I've gotten myself into. Thank God the internship worked itself out today; I landed a paid internship with Channel 13 in Rochester through the NYSBA and Ithaca. It's only $7.15 an hour, but it's better than having to pay for credits. I'm still planning on doing a bit of small part-time work over the summer, maybe contracting myself out as a videographer. *shrugs* It's still up in the air.
That's the main one that needed to be let out. One of the lesser trains of thought is of what might happen after graduation. *Note: the following is not a call for sympathy* There's this flitting feeling that comes in and out of my mind like one of those single-engine airplanes with a sign flying off the back and the sign reads, "Are you really cut out for broadcast journalism?" I've barely started seriously working for the station and at this point in time, certain other people I know who have the exact same goal are anchoring news programs and creating resume tapes and locking down serious internships in the city. Meanwhile, I'm off in London working in the marketing department of ESPN (yes, marketing) doing writing and trying to make the most of the time that I'm here without sacrificing the career moves the world says I should be making. Defining a path to success is nowhere near similar to what I'm going through right now. Feels more like I'm hitchhiking my way along the highway until I arrive somewhere that looks good enough to stay for a while.
It's been one of those days, you know? Where introspect seems to pervade every thought and movement in your body and mind. A constant sigh is always on your edge of your lungs and no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to distract yourself from the ever-present reality that you are living in. This messed up world where you become absorbed with your problems and your own life to the point where you can't stop and realize that there are other people out there who are far worse off than you but you don't acknowledge it...which makes me a hypocrite because that's exactly what I've done in this splurge of writing.
This is supposed to keep you updated on my life in London, not give you glimpses into next semester/next year/the rest of my life. Although I haven't really done much in London lately, something that I'm not too happy with. Exploration needs to be the name of the game from here on out; galleries and restaurants and pubs and shows that remain to be seen, trading my hold on my bank account for a life well-lived. We'll see where that decision leads me, or all of the preceding ones that were just laid out for that matter.
Wow. That was way too British and I had no idea what I was typing until it came onto the screen.
At any rate, this week has also brought about quite a lot of thinking in regards to topics that are too numerous to name, too sensitive to put online and too complex to put into complete and coherent sentences. But, as a fairly competent writer/journalist, I will place some of my eggs into this e-basket and see what hatches at the end of my writing. The first and most prevalent topic is L.A. Long story short, I am questioning whether or not I want to go. I have not received any notification as to whether or not I have been accepted, but doubts are starting to surface and have bubbled to the top of my mind and stayed there for at least 4 or 5 days now. L.A. is a great place with boundless opportunities and all that schmutz you hear all day long from the admissions counselors who are trying to make some poor kid pay $43,000+ a year to experience that boundless opportunity. It's the West Coast, filled with sunshine, beaches, Disneyland, television production studios galore and all the networking an Ithacan could ask for. However, I honestly can't say if I'd be happy there or not. Peer pressure got the best of me when I was making the decision to go abroad for the second time...which is another issue in and of itself because who says that I have to go abroad twice just because the scholarship covers it?! Not I, said the cat.
But where else is there to go? Washington D.C. has crossed my mind a few times, simply because of it's obviously the news capital (and literal capital for that matter) of the nation...the United States, that is. Duh, I'm in London, not the U.S. There would be chances to get connected with serious news people there. I won't lie, crossing over to the print journalism side of things has run its way through my mind, too, since the Washington Post is there. And the Washington Post has multimedia capabilities and could use someone to help them out with that. And then there's the option of just staying in Ithaca. Newswatch 16 could use some stability in on-air talent and it would give me the jump I need to get into an anchoring position for senior year. Not to mention the fact that there would be Relay For Life, Finalist Weekend and all of the fun activities that I miss from freshman year. But then I'd need to figure out housing for that semester.
It's a quagmire of thoughts that I've gotten myself into. Thank God the internship worked itself out today; I landed a paid internship with Channel 13 in Rochester through the NYSBA and Ithaca. It's only $7.15 an hour, but it's better than having to pay for credits. I'm still planning on doing a bit of small part-time work over the summer, maybe contracting myself out as a videographer. *shrugs* It's still up in the air.
That's the main one that needed to be let out. One of the lesser trains of thought is of what might happen after graduation. *Note: the following is not a call for sympathy* There's this flitting feeling that comes in and out of my mind like one of those single-engine airplanes with a sign flying off the back and the sign reads, "Are you really cut out for broadcast journalism?" I've barely started seriously working for the station and at this point in time, certain other people I know who have the exact same goal are anchoring news programs and creating resume tapes and locking down serious internships in the city. Meanwhile, I'm off in London working in the marketing department of ESPN (yes, marketing) doing writing and trying to make the most of the time that I'm here without sacrificing the career moves the world says I should be making. Defining a path to success is nowhere near similar to what I'm going through right now. Feels more like I'm hitchhiking my way along the highway until I arrive somewhere that looks good enough to stay for a while.
It's been one of those days, you know? Where introspect seems to pervade every thought and movement in your body and mind. A constant sigh is always on your edge of your lungs and no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to distract yourself from the ever-present reality that you are living in. This messed up world where you become absorbed with your problems and your own life to the point where you can't stop and realize that there are other people out there who are far worse off than you but you don't acknowledge it...which makes me a hypocrite because that's exactly what I've done in this splurge of writing.
This is supposed to keep you updated on my life in London, not give you glimpses into next semester/next year/the rest of my life. Although I haven't really done much in London lately, something that I'm not too happy with. Exploration needs to be the name of the game from here on out; galleries and restaurants and pubs and shows that remain to be seen, trading my hold on my bank account for a life well-lived. We'll see where that decision leads me, or all of the preceding ones that were just laid out for that matter.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Muddy Thoughts
I always knew that London had a dirtier side; it just never showed itself. It's like Hollywood before Lindsay Lohan started doing drugs. Everyone had a feeling that it was gritty, you just never had hard evidence. This weekend, I went with Luke and Lisa, his girlfriend who is visiting with her family from Colorado, to go see Harlequins play Bath in rugby. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision for me to go and actually stemmed from me trying to be nice to Lisa and buying her a ticket so she could go with Luke. Luke got her a ticket somehow and I ended up tagging along as that awesome third wheel that I love to be sometimes. Yay!
It was terribly typical when we arrived at the stadium; wind was blowing in every conceivable direction and the rain swept across our faces and coats, wetting our hair and dampening the field for both teams to trod upon for three hours. Luke took his seat next to Lisa, both of them shivering physically, but sharing that nearly palpable dorky affection that is typical of each one, while I took mine next between a quaking kid from Ithaca and Abby, who was wrapped in every conceivable source of warmth she had brought along. Personally, I took my steaming hot chips, turned up my peacoat collar and sipped on a cup of hot chocolate with Bailey's and whipped cream. Neither method kept either of us warm for long, but it was worth it to be warm for a brief period of time.
For the record, rugby really isn't that confusing. But if no one bothers to explain it to you, it might as well be like trying to teach quantum physics to a kindergartener. The players from both sides huddle together in a giant...huddle, called a scrum, and someone hikes the ball, then they all try to get to it and tackle each other. From there, it appears to be complete chaos, with lots of kicking and falling and tossing of the rugby wall itself. Halfway through the second half, I realized that there was a method to their madness. When one player falls on the ball, his teammates run over and protect him (and the ball) from the opposition while others set up to run further down the field to score a 'try,' the equivalent of a touchdown. We cheered for the Harlequins and, fittingly, we won by a score of 22-9. I just seem to have that effect whenever I'm around people.
On the bus, both ways, Abby and I sat next to each other and talked for what seemed like two hours at the least. To be honest, from the second we started talking in the train station, we didn't stop talking. Some of your friends are just cool like that. But one topic of discussion that lent itself to my brain (after a game of 20 Questions that involved guessing "rugby ball" and "power drill") was a topic that Mallory had posed last weekend. It's very general and I might as well just come out with it and stop wasting typing space. If you think of what you were born with, in terms of your body, you didn't have much of a choice. You are what you are and you can't help it. However, the body is, in the end, a container for the soul. It houses the essence of what we are and who we are, from our morals to our consciences and possibly our memories. If you debate that love is nothing more than neurons and axons working together in a neurological state to produce certain glandular reactions and results, then you give this theory no credence. It's something to think about, an idea that boggles the mind and requires a good cup of tea/coffee, a notebook and a few hours to gather your thoughts on.
What it comes down to is the question of whether or not you can look into someone to see his or her soul or simply look at his or her physical appearance. It's a question of judgment and looking for the good within someone...or the bad, for that matter. It's such a can of worms and such a great topic to sit and talk without someone about for hours on end. When Norah and I have a few hours to ourselves or have a roadtrip we're taking somewhere, that's what we do. We have our "deep and meaningful conversations," as she calls them. If nothing else, you've shared your thoughts with someone else and given them a glimpse of who/what you really are. That's what counts for me. Although my mind may be cluttered and muddy from the rugby match within, it still has enough up there for a few hours of solid conversation with a friend.
It was terribly typical when we arrived at the stadium; wind was blowing in every conceivable direction and the rain swept across our faces and coats, wetting our hair and dampening the field for both teams to trod upon for three hours. Luke took his seat next to Lisa, both of them shivering physically, but sharing that nearly palpable dorky affection that is typical of each one, while I took mine next between a quaking kid from Ithaca and Abby, who was wrapped in every conceivable source of warmth she had brought along. Personally, I took my steaming hot chips, turned up my peacoat collar and sipped on a cup of hot chocolate with Bailey's and whipped cream. Neither method kept either of us warm for long, but it was worth it to be warm for a brief period of time.
For the record, rugby really isn't that confusing. But if no one bothers to explain it to you, it might as well be like trying to teach quantum physics to a kindergartener. The players from both sides huddle together in a giant...huddle, called a scrum, and someone hikes the ball, then they all try to get to it and tackle each other. From there, it appears to be complete chaos, with lots of kicking and falling and tossing of the rugby wall itself. Halfway through the second half, I realized that there was a method to their madness. When one player falls on the ball, his teammates run over and protect him (and the ball) from the opposition while others set up to run further down the field to score a 'try,' the equivalent of a touchdown. We cheered for the Harlequins and, fittingly, we won by a score of 22-9. I just seem to have that effect whenever I'm around people.
On the bus, both ways, Abby and I sat next to each other and talked for what seemed like two hours at the least. To be honest, from the second we started talking in the train station, we didn't stop talking. Some of your friends are just cool like that. But one topic of discussion that lent itself to my brain (after a game of 20 Questions that involved guessing "rugby ball" and "power drill") was a topic that Mallory had posed last weekend. It's very general and I might as well just come out with it and stop wasting typing space. If you think of what you were born with, in terms of your body, you didn't have much of a choice. You are what you are and you can't help it. However, the body is, in the end, a container for the soul. It houses the essence of what we are and who we are, from our morals to our consciences and possibly our memories. If you debate that love is nothing more than neurons and axons working together in a neurological state to produce certain glandular reactions and results, then you give this theory no credence. It's something to think about, an idea that boggles the mind and requires a good cup of tea/coffee, a notebook and a few hours to gather your thoughts on.
What it comes down to is the question of whether or not you can look into someone to see his or her soul or simply look at his or her physical appearance. It's a question of judgment and looking for the good within someone...or the bad, for that matter. It's such a can of worms and such a great topic to sit and talk without someone about for hours on end. When Norah and I have a few hours to ourselves or have a roadtrip we're taking somewhere, that's what we do. We have our "deep and meaningful conversations," as she calls them. If nothing else, you've shared your thoughts with someone else and given them a glimpse of who/what you really are. That's what counts for me. Although my mind may be cluttered and muddy from the rugby match within, it still has enough up there for a few hours of solid conversation with a friend.
Monday, March 10, 2008
ATMs, the Pope and el Pared del Amor
After returning from traversing a continent that I have been on for barely more than two months, there is quite a bit to cover. Granted, there is no possible way to tell every detail, both chronological and mental, of this 10-day excursion that covered Italy and France. Thus, the following piece of writing will be a strange mix of shorthand, a list or two and the occasional thoughtful outburst.
So. Let's begin.
First off, Easy Jet is a terrible airline to fly on. Their baggage restrictions are horrendous and resulted in us having to pay extra to check a bag or two. Stupidity at its finest. Once we got on our 6:45 a.m. flight (we got up at 2 a.m. to catch it), we flew into Venice and took the bus to the place we were crashing in: Hotel Centrale. From there, it was a 15-minute bus ride to the actual island/city of Venice. Our experience was nothing short of enriching, complete with bus drivers who jacked up prices and Middle Eastern men trying to sell you brightly coloured squishy toys for a euro. Cynicism aside, Venice was a great city. Although gondola rides cost the equivalent of $70 per person, it was still worth it to wander along the narrow cobblestone streets following the salty scent of the Adriatic Sea's waters to the open spaces along the Grand Canal. The Piazza del San Marco was a sight to see, especially covered in hungry pigeons, as was the Guggenheim Collection that featured modern art galore. Hardly any nightlife, but a good day of walking, shopping in the markets and a full Italian dinner with gelato on the Grand Canal more than made up for that.
A few quick facts I learned about Italy:
- Italians love their underwear. Ads and shops are everywhere; it is literally every other store.
- Speaking loudly is acceptable in this city. Guess we're just used to the French and the English.
- All stop signs say "Stop" in English, no matter what country you're in
- The Pope has a PopeMobile. Literally.
After that, it was off to the city of Florence, home to the Arno River, Michaelangelo's statue of David and many, many other large naked men carved out of rock. This had to be my favourite city out of the four I stayed in. It had the sights to see with Piazzale Michaelangelo and Ponte Vecchio (Michaelangelo Square and the Old Bridge), the marketplaces and old streets, as well as a ton of good food and tourist attractions. Since we were there from Sunday to Tuesday, I figured it might be nice to get up early and go run on Monday morning. So I got a chance to do a great 5.5 mile run along the river across 5 bridges and saw a lot of the city I wouldn't have gotten to see otherwise. There were a lot of cathedrals (here known as basilicas) and museums, but we stuck to the cathedrals and outdoor statues for the most part. Forte Belvedere, which was on top of a large hill, had the Boboli Gardens behind it. And even though most things, including the Gardens, were closed on Monday, it was still sunny and warm enough at 70 degrees to let us walk around the city at will. This was also part of the reason that Florence was so great; we roamed around for an entire day and saw so much, from the "safari" trees, as Mary called them, to the sun setting over the fiery stones of the Duomo in the center of Florence itself. It was awesome...aside from losing part of Monday morning to my debit card getting eaten by an ATM because I had forgotten my PIN and apparently it didn't want to give back my card. As a result, I spent two hours inside of a bank waiting for some snobby middle-aged Italian accountant to take me to someone who would get it for me. Eventually I got it back, but I was unable to withdraw money from an ATM for the next two weeks. Oh well. Whatevs.
Next on the list was Rome! We booked 3 days in the city and it was definitely needed. From the crowded St. Peter's Basilica filled with crazed Catholics seeking a glimpse of P Benny himself to the Colosseum to the Pantheon, we were always walking somewhere. The weather was quite cooperative for the first day and the sun smiled upon us and kept the wind at bay. Our hostel was a bit small, but the people who ran it were more than accommodating and suggested places for us to eat, go out and have something to eat in between meals. The people who ran the place were a hodgepodge of nationalities: French, Italian and Australian. Before going out for the night, we all sat down and discussed the finer points of learning languages over a bottle of wine...and then we watched The Simpsons in English. Great way to end the evening.
My only caveat about Rome is that it was far too commercial. The Vatican had gift shops every 500 feet, not to mention the Umbrella Men who watched you with such vicious scrunity to see the slightest shiver. You had to man up for a walk in the rain because if you so much as twitched in their presence, their sales radar bleeped causing them to sprint over to you and shove a cheap umbrella in your face. I totally wanted to pull a Jesus and start flipping over tables and screaming to get out of my Father's house, but international law and some shiny objects deterred me. Highlights of Rome included: the Colosseum, Monumento del Vittorio Emmanuel III, the Trevi Fountain, The Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, the Gallery of Maps and the Pantheon. There was also some really wigged-out guy about my age who started singing and pointing at the Pantheon, then turned and walked four times around the fountain in front of it, still singing, then stopped and started pointing at the Pantheon again. He reminded me a lot of Bobby Smith. Oh yeah, and some girl totally checked me out in the marketplace. It was weird.
Although it rained for the next few days and it was a bit taxing, we managed to leave for our separate flights on Thursday night after making a fruit run in the marketplace. I snatched up some quality nuts and dried apricots for the flight and we made our way to the airport. At this point, I should probably mention that Mary and Luke's flights left Thursday night and mine left Friday morning. Since I am too cheap to pay for another night in a hostel, I chose to spend 15 hours, most of which were overnight, in the airport. My bed ended up being a fairly hard marble window sill. I slept pretty well until 3 a.m. when a security officer came up to me and asked me in Italian if the suspicious looking black duffel bag next to me was mine. I muttered a sleepy "Si" and he walked on; an hour later, I moved to a vacated bench with cushions and cuddled with my luggage.
Friday morning brought cloudy skies and a slight drizzle at Rome Fiumicino Airport, as well as a half-hour delay on the flight to Paris. However, when we touched down, there was nothing I wanted more than to set my bags down and begin exploring Paris. Josh's careful directions got me to the Luxembourg metro stop and it was there that Norah, Laura, Josh, Megan, Alli and I exchanged greetings and made our way over to the hotel for a brief rest before embarking upon the day's adventures. Josh has to be the best tour guide ever. He's fluent in French, so he talked to everyone for us, he knew an incredible amount of the city's history and what he didn't know, he wrote out on notecards to tell us! He also planned out every day so that we could see the best parts of Paris in the time we had there...and fed us insane amounts of food that left our stomachs feeling like a reawakening Mount Vesuvius. We started at the Eiffel Tower and moved on to Notre Dame, then ate dinner at the Hippopotamus before getting closer to Notre Dame and passing under le Arc de Triomphe to walk down Champs Elysses, all in the first day we were there!
Saturday, we got up and immediately popped over to the Louvre. Mixed feelings about the Louvre, actually. While it owns more than 380,000 works of art, including the Mona Lisa, and has great chocolate chip muffins, the staff are pretty stuck-up. Laura went to get a spoon and sugar for her already-paid-for coffee and the woman behind the counter yelled at her, telling her that she should have asked first. Wow. Way to make a good impression. After three hours, we had conquered the Louvre and were promptly rewarded with a visit from Callie!! Place de la Concorde, an artist's corner atop a hill next to the Basilique and the Basilique de Sacre Coeur itself were next for us. The view from the forecourt was incredible. Along the way to dinner, Josh took us to the Abbesses metro stop, which had a feature that made me smile. Next to the stop, there was a small park. Within the gates of the park, there was a large, blue-tiled wall with white writing all over it. The wall, which I call El Pared del Amor (The Wall of Love), has "I love you" written in every language from around the world. Small gestures like these are the ones that make you stop and smile and realize that there really is love in this world, true love, if you only put a little time into sharing it. And yes, I got a picture of it...and Norah and I also got a picture with it. :o)
Aaaand then it was dinnertime. Refuge de Fondus, the fondue restaurant we ate at, was tiny, crowded and probably one of the most fun places I've eaten at in a while. We were served wine inside of baby bottles with a huge pot of cheese fondue with bread to dip it in...and meat. The meat was supposed to be cooked in a pot of oil, but they didn't give us the oil for a while, so we thought we were supposed to just eat it raw in the fondue. We later found out this wasn't the case. Haha, we are dumb. From there it was off to the Moulin Rouge; an hour later, we were tired and on our way back to the hotel.
Sunday was a slightly less hectic day with not much planned. Part of the reason it was like this was because of the pouring rain. I didn't have an umbrella and Norah didn't feel like sharing hers. She likes me, I can tell. We ate brunch together before Alli and Megan left to go back to Florence and then sauntered over to Musee de Orsay, the impressionist museum, to see some Monet and Manet and Van Gogh, among others. Norah and Laura left shortly after that and I got back to London around 10:30 p.m.
All in all, it was a fantastic spring break and will probably be really hard to top, if not impossible! The single most prominent impression I was left with from this trip was the notion that, in every city we were in, I came in with certain expectations of the city, people, shops, etc. and left with completely different ones. It wasn't a matter of good expectations or bad expectations. It was seeing pictures of a postcard or in a travel guide of Venician canals or the sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower and then actually living it. It takes just a moment to quiet all the noise within you and steal a piece of the city for your soul so that you can own that moment forever. I suppose that's what happened with me wherever I went.
After this, I don't know what else can be written about, but the next update will most likely be something really random that you'll skip over. Oh yeah, and if you're reading this, just leave a quick comment or something. It's cool to see who's reading this out there. Just thought I'd ask and be vain. Cheers! :o)
p.s: I have links for pictures below!
Spring Break: Italy
Spring Break: Italy (cont.)
Spring Break: Paris
Spring Break: Paris (cont.)
So. Let's begin.
First off, Easy Jet is a terrible airline to fly on. Their baggage restrictions are horrendous and resulted in us having to pay extra to check a bag or two. Stupidity at its finest. Once we got on our 6:45 a.m. flight (we got up at 2 a.m. to catch it), we flew into Venice and took the bus to the place we were crashing in: Hotel Centrale. From there, it was a 15-minute bus ride to the actual island/city of Venice. Our experience was nothing short of enriching, complete with bus drivers who jacked up prices and Middle Eastern men trying to sell you brightly coloured squishy toys for a euro. Cynicism aside, Venice was a great city. Although gondola rides cost the equivalent of $70 per person, it was still worth it to wander along the narrow cobblestone streets following the salty scent of the Adriatic Sea's waters to the open spaces along the Grand Canal. The Piazza del San Marco was a sight to see, especially covered in hungry pigeons, as was the Guggenheim Collection that featured modern art galore. Hardly any nightlife, but a good day of walking, shopping in the markets and a full Italian dinner with gelato on the Grand Canal more than made up for that.
A few quick facts I learned about Italy:
- Italians love their underwear. Ads and shops are everywhere; it is literally every other store.
- Speaking loudly is acceptable in this city. Guess we're just used to the French and the English.
- All stop signs say "Stop" in English, no matter what country you're in
- The Pope has a PopeMobile. Literally.
After that, it was off to the city of Florence, home to the Arno River, Michaelangelo's statue of David and many, many other large naked men carved out of rock. This had to be my favourite city out of the four I stayed in. It had the sights to see with Piazzale Michaelangelo and Ponte Vecchio (Michaelangelo Square and the Old Bridge), the marketplaces and old streets, as well as a ton of good food and tourist attractions. Since we were there from Sunday to Tuesday, I figured it might be nice to get up early and go run on Monday morning. So I got a chance to do a great 5.5 mile run along the river across 5 bridges and saw a lot of the city I wouldn't have gotten to see otherwise. There were a lot of cathedrals (here known as basilicas) and museums, but we stuck to the cathedrals and outdoor statues for the most part. Forte Belvedere, which was on top of a large hill, had the Boboli Gardens behind it. And even though most things, including the Gardens, were closed on Monday, it was still sunny and warm enough at 70 degrees to let us walk around the city at will. This was also part of the reason that Florence was so great; we roamed around for an entire day and saw so much, from the "safari" trees, as Mary called them, to the sun setting over the fiery stones of the Duomo in the center of Florence itself. It was awesome...aside from losing part of Monday morning to my debit card getting eaten by an ATM because I had forgotten my PIN and apparently it didn't want to give back my card. As a result, I spent two hours inside of a bank waiting for some snobby middle-aged Italian accountant to take me to someone who would get it for me. Eventually I got it back, but I was unable to withdraw money from an ATM for the next two weeks. Oh well. Whatevs.
Next on the list was Rome! We booked 3 days in the city and it was definitely needed. From the crowded St. Peter's Basilica filled with crazed Catholics seeking a glimpse of P Benny himself to the Colosseum to the Pantheon, we were always walking somewhere. The weather was quite cooperative for the first day and the sun smiled upon us and kept the wind at bay. Our hostel was a bit small, but the people who ran it were more than accommodating and suggested places for us to eat, go out and have something to eat in between meals. The people who ran the place were a hodgepodge of nationalities: French, Italian and Australian. Before going out for the night, we all sat down and discussed the finer points of learning languages over a bottle of wine...and then we watched The Simpsons in English. Great way to end the evening.
My only caveat about Rome is that it was far too commercial. The Vatican had gift shops every 500 feet, not to mention the Umbrella Men who watched you with such vicious scrunity to see the slightest shiver. You had to man up for a walk in the rain because if you so much as twitched in their presence, their sales radar bleeped causing them to sprint over to you and shove a cheap umbrella in your face. I totally wanted to pull a Jesus and start flipping over tables and screaming to get out of my Father's house, but international law and some shiny objects deterred me. Highlights of Rome included: the Colosseum, Monumento del Vittorio Emmanuel III, the Trevi Fountain, The Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, the Gallery of Maps and the Pantheon. There was also some really wigged-out guy about my age who started singing and pointing at the Pantheon, then turned and walked four times around the fountain in front of it, still singing, then stopped and started pointing at the Pantheon again. He reminded me a lot of Bobby Smith. Oh yeah, and some girl totally checked me out in the marketplace. It was weird.
Although it rained for the next few days and it was a bit taxing, we managed to leave for our separate flights on Thursday night after making a fruit run in the marketplace. I snatched up some quality nuts and dried apricots for the flight and we made our way to the airport. At this point, I should probably mention that Mary and Luke's flights left Thursday night and mine left Friday morning. Since I am too cheap to pay for another night in a hostel, I chose to spend 15 hours, most of which were overnight, in the airport. My bed ended up being a fairly hard marble window sill. I slept pretty well until 3 a.m. when a security officer came up to me and asked me in Italian if the suspicious looking black duffel bag next to me was mine. I muttered a sleepy "Si" and he walked on; an hour later, I moved to a vacated bench with cushions and cuddled with my luggage.
Friday morning brought cloudy skies and a slight drizzle at Rome Fiumicino Airport, as well as a half-hour delay on the flight to Paris. However, when we touched down, there was nothing I wanted more than to set my bags down and begin exploring Paris. Josh's careful directions got me to the Luxembourg metro stop and it was there that Norah, Laura, Josh, Megan, Alli and I exchanged greetings and made our way over to the hotel for a brief rest before embarking upon the day's adventures. Josh has to be the best tour guide ever. He's fluent in French, so he talked to everyone for us, he knew an incredible amount of the city's history and what he didn't know, he wrote out on notecards to tell us! He also planned out every day so that we could see the best parts of Paris in the time we had there...and fed us insane amounts of food that left our stomachs feeling like a reawakening Mount Vesuvius. We started at the Eiffel Tower and moved on to Notre Dame, then ate dinner at the Hippopotamus before getting closer to Notre Dame and passing under le Arc de Triomphe to walk down Champs Elysses, all in the first day we were there!
Saturday, we got up and immediately popped over to the Louvre. Mixed feelings about the Louvre, actually. While it owns more than 380,000 works of art, including the Mona Lisa, and has great chocolate chip muffins, the staff are pretty stuck-up. Laura went to get a spoon and sugar for her already-paid-for coffee and the woman behind the counter yelled at her, telling her that she should have asked first. Wow. Way to make a good impression. After three hours, we had conquered the Louvre and were promptly rewarded with a visit from Callie!! Place de la Concorde, an artist's corner atop a hill next to the Basilique and the Basilique de Sacre Coeur itself were next for us. The view from the forecourt was incredible. Along the way to dinner, Josh took us to the Abbesses metro stop, which had a feature that made me smile. Next to the stop, there was a small park. Within the gates of the park, there was a large, blue-tiled wall with white writing all over it. The wall, which I call El Pared del Amor (The Wall of Love), has "I love you" written in every language from around the world. Small gestures like these are the ones that make you stop and smile and realize that there really is love in this world, true love, if you only put a little time into sharing it. And yes, I got a picture of it...and Norah and I also got a picture with it. :o)
Aaaand then it was dinnertime. Refuge de Fondus, the fondue restaurant we ate at, was tiny, crowded and probably one of the most fun places I've eaten at in a while. We were served wine inside of baby bottles with a huge pot of cheese fondue with bread to dip it in...and meat. The meat was supposed to be cooked in a pot of oil, but they didn't give us the oil for a while, so we thought we were supposed to just eat it raw in the fondue. We later found out this wasn't the case. Haha, we are dumb. From there it was off to the Moulin Rouge; an hour later, we were tired and on our way back to the hotel.
Sunday was a slightly less hectic day with not much planned. Part of the reason it was like this was because of the pouring rain. I didn't have an umbrella and Norah didn't feel like sharing hers. She likes me, I can tell. We ate brunch together before Alli and Megan left to go back to Florence and then sauntered over to Musee de Orsay, the impressionist museum, to see some Monet and Manet and Van Gogh, among others. Norah and Laura left shortly after that and I got back to London around 10:30 p.m.
All in all, it was a fantastic spring break and will probably be really hard to top, if not impossible! The single most prominent impression I was left with from this trip was the notion that, in every city we were in, I came in with certain expectations of the city, people, shops, etc. and left with completely different ones. It wasn't a matter of good expectations or bad expectations. It was seeing pictures of a postcard or in a travel guide of Venician canals or the sparkling lights of the Eiffel Tower and then actually living it. It takes just a moment to quiet all the noise within you and steal a piece of the city for your soul so that you can own that moment forever. I suppose that's what happened with me wherever I went.
After this, I don't know what else can be written about, but the next update will most likely be something really random that you'll skip over. Oh yeah, and if you're reading this, just leave a quick comment or something. It's cool to see who's reading this out there. Just thought I'd ask and be vain. Cheers! :o)
p.s: I have links for pictures below!
Spring Break: Italy
Spring Break: Italy (cont.)
Spring Break: Paris
Spring Break: Paris (cont.)
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