Although we had all kinds of fun and interesting things planned for this weekend, it ended up being a little boring. Apryll and I went on a trip with our school to Warwick Castle, which is supposed to be one of the best castles in England. As it turns out, it was too kid-oriented for us to really enjoy. The bus dropped us off at the castle and left us there for 7 hours until we could go back home. These hours passed painfully. There wasn't too much to see in the castle itself -- just some lavish state rooms, a dungeon and some cheesy movies playing. We ended up watching all three of the "shows" going on around the castle grounds: a birds of prey exhibition, an archery demonstration and a trebuchet firing. The trebuchet was the only good one because it launched a flaming ball of fire! Other than that, there was a garden where peacocks strutted around. We spent most of the day laying around in the field by the trebuchet because we were so bored.
Yesterday we took a bus to Wales, where we stayed the night in Cardiff. The bus ride itself was painful and so was our stay in Cardiff. Our hostel was great and we ate some amazing food, but we had a hard time finding things to do in town. We went to the National Museum, which featured an enormous display about Welsh rocks and some equally boring archaeology exhibits. There was an interesting photography exhibit as well as some Leonardo Da Vinci drawings. By the time we finished with the museum at 5 p.m., everything in Cardiff had shut down. We were so tired from the previous few days that we went back to the hostel and slept.
Today we headed down to the Cardiff Bay, which was supposed to have plenty of things to do. Aside from looking at the Millenium Center and the National Assembly, we still couldn't find anything going on. Even the Norwegian Church was closed. We walked back to town and spent the rest of the day shopping.
30 April 2007
23 April 2007
Spam and West Ham
Again, I have fallen behind on my blogging. So here's a smattering of events from the past few weeks.
Apryll and I finally made it over to Speakers Corner, an area of Hyde Park where people are encouraged to speak their mind. The Speakers (mostly crazies with strange, and often religious, agendas) bring their own soapboxes (or ladders, whatever they can stand on) and sermonize the crowds. The spectators roam from speaker to speaker, jeering and contradicting. Some of the spectators and speakers are even drunk, which makes things a little more interesting. When we were there the speakers included: a short, drunk misogynist; two elderly members of the British Socialist Party, an atheist who took spiritual cues from his four-month-old son; a Jewish guy who stood on an eight-foot ladder and sang loudly; a woman in a pretty pink dress who urged foreigners to go back to their home countries for religious reasons; a guy with frazzled hair and a signboard that read "I know everything."
On Wednesday I went to a lecture by Philip Zimbardo, the psychologist who oversaw the Stanford Prison Experiment. He was promoting his new book, "The Lucifer Effect," which deals with why good people do evil things. The focus of the lecture was on the Abu Ghraib prison scandal. Zimbardo was an expert witness for one of the accused soldiers who was eventually convicted and sentenced to something like 10 years for his role. Zimbardo had some interesting arguments that didn't entirely convince me. He definitely placed more emphasis on how the environment and situations affect people's actions than the people themselves.
That night was perhaps the best of my semester. For my birthday, I got tickets to the West Ham United v. Chelsea football game. I'm sure you all keep up with English football, so you'll remember that Chelsea is the defending premier league champion and had secured a spot in this season's championship game. They're also the Yankees of English soccer -- they have so much money they can buy whoever they want, resulting in an incredibly impressive roster. If you look at their starting line-up for a given game, you'll see all the stars from last year's World Cup. West Ham, on the other hand, is not faring so well this season. They're in danger of being relegated to the lower league (the three teams that finish in the bottom of the premier league each year get bumped down). Normally, I wouldn't consider myself necessarily a supporter of either team, but for the night I was a West Ham fan (because they game was at their stadium). I wore their colors and a scarf to show my support, because I didn't know any of the terrace songs. The fans sing throughout the entire game and most of the songs have little to do with football. Most cheers are also very rude. West Ham's main chant, which is sometimes considered the best terrace song in the league, is below:
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air,
They fly so high,
Nearly reach the sky,
And like my dreams,
They fade and die,
Fortunes always hiding,
I looked everywhere,
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air.
But despite the incredible atmosphere and hilarious fans (one of my favorite aspects was seeing how much West Ham fans hate Lampard, one of Chelsea's players), West Ham lost the game, 1-4. As a hammer support, I was outwardly disappointed. But inwardly, I was overjoyed at seeing Didier Drogba score a goal and just seeing the rest of the team on the field.
On Saturday I went with the school to Brighton, which is on the southern coast of England. The weather was beautiful and we spent most of our time there laying on the beach. Other than that, we checked out the eastern-inspired Brighton Pavilion, which was once a royal residence. Also, we walked along the pier and visited a very funky market street.
Today was St. George's Day, England's national holiday. You know how English people are a little nutty.... They decided to celebrate by showing British comedy on a huge screen in Trafalgar Square all day and top it off with a world record attempt. I went down to the square tonight after my history class, where London was trying to beat the record for the largest coconut orchestra, inspired by Monty Python's Spamalot. Over 4,000 people registered and were given coconut halves, which we were given detailed instructions how to play. After thirty minutes of rehearsal with the cast of the musical and Monty Python's own Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones, the crowd coconutted along to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" and broke the record. It had been previously set by New Yorkers, with a paltry 2,000 participants. After the record-breaking, they showed Monty Python and the Holy Grail (the unedited version, they promised) on the big screen.
After classes end this week, I'll be taking a day trip to Warwick castle and a brief trip to Cardiff, Wales the next day.
Apryll and I finally made it over to Speakers Corner, an area of Hyde Park where people are encouraged to speak their mind. The Speakers (mostly crazies with strange, and often religious, agendas) bring their own soapboxes (or ladders, whatever they can stand on) and sermonize the crowds. The spectators roam from speaker to speaker, jeering and contradicting. Some of the spectators and speakers are even drunk, which makes things a little more interesting. When we were there the speakers included: a short, drunk misogynist; two elderly members of the British Socialist Party, an atheist who took spiritual cues from his four-month-old son; a Jewish guy who stood on an eight-foot ladder and sang loudly; a woman in a pretty pink dress who urged foreigners to go back to their home countries for religious reasons; a guy with frazzled hair and a signboard that read "I know everything."
On Wednesday I went to a lecture by Philip Zimbardo, the psychologist who oversaw the Stanford Prison Experiment. He was promoting his new book, "The Lucifer Effect," which deals with why good people do evil things. The focus of the lecture was on the Abu Ghraib prison scandal. Zimbardo was an expert witness for one of the accused soldiers who was eventually convicted and sentenced to something like 10 years for his role. Zimbardo had some interesting arguments that didn't entirely convince me. He definitely placed more emphasis on how the environment and situations affect people's actions than the people themselves.
That night was perhaps the best of my semester. For my birthday, I got tickets to the West Ham United v. Chelsea football game. I'm sure you all keep up with English football, so you'll remember that Chelsea is the defending premier league champion and had secured a spot in this season's championship game. They're also the Yankees of English soccer -- they have so much money they can buy whoever they want, resulting in an incredibly impressive roster. If you look at their starting line-up for a given game, you'll see all the stars from last year's World Cup. West Ham, on the other hand, is not faring so well this season. They're in danger of being relegated to the lower league (the three teams that finish in the bottom of the premier league each year get bumped down). Normally, I wouldn't consider myself necessarily a supporter of either team, but for the night I was a West Ham fan (because they game was at their stadium). I wore their colors and a scarf to show my support, because I didn't know any of the terrace songs. The fans sing throughout the entire game and most of the songs have little to do with football. Most cheers are also very rude. West Ham's main chant, which is sometimes considered the best terrace song in the league, is below:
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air,
They fly so high,
Nearly reach the sky,
And like my dreams,
They fade and die,
Fortunes always hiding,
I looked everywhere,
I'm forever blowing bubbles,
Pretty bubbles in the air.
But despite the incredible atmosphere and hilarious fans (one of my favorite aspects was seeing how much West Ham fans hate Lampard, one of Chelsea's players), West Ham lost the game, 1-4. As a hammer support, I was outwardly disappointed. But inwardly, I was overjoyed at seeing Didier Drogba score a goal and just seeing the rest of the team on the field.
On Saturday I went with the school to Brighton, which is on the southern coast of England. The weather was beautiful and we spent most of our time there laying on the beach. Other than that, we checked out the eastern-inspired Brighton Pavilion, which was once a royal residence. Also, we walked along the pier and visited a very funky market street.
Today was St. George's Day, England's national holiday. You know how English people are a little nutty.... They decided to celebrate by showing British comedy on a huge screen in Trafalgar Square all day and top it off with a world record attempt. I went down to the square tonight after my history class, where London was trying to beat the record for the largest coconut orchestra, inspired by Monty Python's Spamalot. Over 4,000 people registered and were given coconut halves, which we were given detailed instructions how to play. After thirty minutes of rehearsal with the cast of the musical and Monty Python's own Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones, the crowd coconutted along to "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" and broke the record. It had been previously set by New Yorkers, with a paltry 2,000 participants. After the record-breaking, they showed Monty Python and the Holy Grail (the unedited version, they promised) on the big screen.
After classes end this week, I'll be taking a day trip to Warwick castle and a brief trip to Cardiff, Wales the next day.
14 April 2007
American Cravings
It's less than a month until our program is over, and lately I have been getting attacks of American cravings. I'll be sitting in art history class when suddenly all I can think about is Taco Bell. I don't even like Taco Bell. I'll walk down the street to the tube and suddenly an urge for Denny's overcomes me. I'm having a hard time escaping these cravings to drive a car, go to a mall, pay less than $40 for a meal out. So tonight to address these longings, Apryll and I went to eat at the Texas Embassy, a Tex-Mex restaurant on Trafalgar Square. The food wasn't quite like back in Oklahoma, but we felt at home in the restaurant. It's strange how just being in a place with a Mexican flag on the wall and tortilla chips makes me miss the good things of America less.
Although it feels like we've been here hardly any time, finals are just around the corner. I only have one paper, a presentation and three finals left before I'm done with the semester (and undergrad). Still, I have a fairly busy schedule for these last weeks. Wednesday will be perhaps the greatest day of my semester (and life). I have a ticket to watch West Ham United play Chelsea -- watching a premier league game has always been a dream of mine. Then on Saturday, I'm going to Brighton for a day trip with my school. The following Friday is the last day of class and Saturday is a day trip to Warwick Castle.
Although it feels like we've been here hardly any time, finals are just around the corner. I only have one paper, a presentation and three finals left before I'm done with the semester (and undergrad). Still, I have a fairly busy schedule for these last weeks. Wednesday will be perhaps the greatest day of my semester (and life). I have a ticket to watch West Ham United play Chelsea -- watching a premier league game has always been a dream of mine. Then on Saturday, I'm going to Brighton for a day trip with my school. The following Friday is the last day of class and Saturday is a day trip to Warwick Castle.
11 April 2007
Since Spring Break
I haven't been up to much since the big trip to Italy. I was planning on going to a book reading that featured Ian McEwan but it was sold out long before I could get a ticket. So instead, Apryll and I decided to continue in that literary vein and go to a poetry reading at a cafe in Soho. Strangely, the cafe was full of old people. Most of the work was surprisingly good (including a five-person poetry troupe that performed a 30-minute routine) aside from a 20ish actress/artist with ratty pink hair who read a dirty poem. The following week I went to a Shins concert in North London. For my birthday I saw Monty Python's Spamalot, which was incredibly funny.
Edinburgh
For Easter, my school gives us Good Friday and the following Monday off, so I took a solo trip to Scotland for a few days. On Thursday, I left town on a night trip -- an uncomfortable and mostly sleepless nine-hour ride I spent squished between a Swede and the window. I arrived in Edinburgh at 7 a.m. -- hours before my hostel's reception would be open. I spent an hour or two in the train station with a cappuccino and set off to fine my hostel. By the time I had walked there it was nearly 10 a.m., but the reception was empty. I waited about an hour before giving up and set off to see the city with my heavy backpack.
I walked through the Princes Gardens, which gives an ideal view of Edinburgh Castle on the hill above. It's also filled with statues of famous Scots, including Sir Walter Scott (and his enormous monument) and David Livingstone. There's also a functional clock in the landscaping made of flowers. I hiked up to the Royal Mile, the stretch connecting the Castle with Holyroodhouse Palace, one of the Queen's three official residences. Here I saw St. Giles' Cathedral and a slew of other statues including a pensive David Hume. Up towards the Castle is the Scottish Whisky experience and Camera Obscura. I also hunted down the tiny plaque on the castle's esplanade walls that marks the spot where witches were burned at the stake. I walked the entire mile down to the Queen's Palace, which is right across the street from the newly-built Scottish Parliament building. Nearby is a stretch of grassy craggs, topped by Arthur's seat, the tallest hill outside the city. I wandered around central Edinburgh until I found the Sherlock Holmes statue and then walked back to the hostel, which by then was open.
After chucking my bag in my room (a tiny space crowded with three bunkbeds), I hiked up the hill to the castle and paid too much to enter it. Inside the castle features several museums (most of them dedicated to various military regiments, veterans and prisoners of war), chapels and gift shops. Down the hill I found the Writer's Museum, which commemorates the work of three of Scotland's great writers: Walter Scott, Robert Burns and Robert Louis Stevenson. The entire bottom floor was dedicated to Stevenson and included pictures of him at Kiribati and various other islands around the world. I also visited a weaving mill where I saw tartan manufactured. Sadly, there was no Abbott tartan for me to purchase.
After lunch I climbed Carlton Hill, which is filled with monuments. There was another huge tower erected to honor Walter Scott, as well as the Scottish Monument. This unfinished monument is meant to resemble the Greek style with its enormous columns. However, a lack of funding meant the project was abandoned, leaving it unfinished and sometimes called the National Disgrace. A little down the hill is a cemetery that houses David Hume's tomb and a monument to Scottish-Americans that features an Abraham Lincoln statue.
I search New Town for Stevenson's and Scott's homes, which were within blocks of each other. I found the general area, but both the buildings were unmarked. There was another monument to Prince Albert in Charlotte Square a few blocks away near a preserved Georgian House.
The next day I got up early, intending to hit all the museums in town. My first stop was the National Gallery/ Royal Scottish Academy (mostly modern art). Though small for a national art gallery, this one was stuffed with amazing paintings. And since it wasn't enormous, I didn't feel the pressure to rush through so I could see everything. I especially liked their Rembrandt self-portraits, Monet's hay stacks and a couple Van Gogh's. The entire bottom floor was reserved for Scottish painters -- the landscapes were incredibly beautiful. Next door was full of modern art, most of which was alright but not especially noteworthy. I stopped at the Museum on the Mound, which chronicles the Bank Of Scotland's history. The highlight was a glass case full of one million pounds (in cancelled notes) which wasn't much of a highlight.
I stopped in St. Giles' Cathedral and was disappointed with the Scottish Library's one exhibit about some random cartoon I'd never heard of. Next I saw the Royal Museum/ Museum of Scotland which sprawled over six stories and contained everything from Scottish history to Egyptian artifacts. There was just too much information to process, but I did enjoy the rooftop terrace with its view of the city. I had to visit Blackwell's, Edinburgh's largest bookstore. And next I went to the less interesting museums -- the Museum of Edinburgh and the People's Story Museum -- and toured the church where Adam Smith was buried.
After lunch I went back to the Queen's Palace but decided it was too expensive to tour. Even the art gallery was expensive and I was a little irritated with the Queen. I've already toured Windsor Castle outside London and that didn't excite me too much, so I wasn't really upset about missing out on Holyroodhouse.
I spent most of the afternoon climbing around the craggs outside the city, which proved to be one of my favorite things about Edinburgh. The weather was beautiful and the hills were full of other people hiking around. I had only set out to climb the first crag that overlooks the city, but once I got to the top I saw another, higher hill. So, of course, I had to climb this second one. And at it's summit I saw another, even higher, hill to climb. I eventually made my way up to Arthur's seat, the highest point outside the city, which was windy and cold. On my way back to the hostel I stopped in at Jenner's, Edinburgh's famous department store, in the same vein as Harrod's or Fortnum and Mason in London. These stores don't interest me much so I left after about two minutes.
Glasgow/ Highlands
The next day marked my departure from Edinburgh. I checked out of my hostel in the morning and decided to spend my time waiting at the train station instead of traipsing around the city with my bag again. After an hour-long train ride I was in Glasgow.
My hostel was an enormous hotel-like building that sat right on the river. I had booked a bed in an 8-person room, but when I checked in they had bumped my reservation. Instead they assigned me to a 2-person room -- at no extra cost -- and I didn't have a roommate either night. It was too cold and wet outside to do much that evening, but I spent a few hours walking around Glasgow. I decided there wasn't too much to see; the city reminded me too much of an American city -- very commercial. I returned to the hostel early and got some sleep for the next day.
Monday I was up early to catch a bus tour through the Scottish Highlands. We left Glasgow at 8 a.m. and headed north toward our first stop at Glencoe, which featured some creepy, treeless hills shrouded in fog. After several more hours on the bus (most of which was filled by corny commentary and Scottish music), we arrived at Loch Ness, the highlight of the tour. Here we paid to enter Urquhart Castle and took a cruise across Loch Ness. I don't like boats in the first place, so this little jaunt was a little miserable. It was cold and the lake was choppy and I was stuck outside on the platform. And Nessie was nowhere to be seen. After a few more hours on the bus, we arrived at Inverness, the capital of the Highlands. There wasn't much to do there but walk around a look at the modern, red-stone castle on the hill. We stopped again at some tiny town called Pitlochry before heading back to Glasgow.
My last day on holiday I took a train out to a suburb called Blantyre. Here was David Livingstone's birthplace and a museum about his life. It was definitely my favorite part of Glasgow, although there weren't any other tourists in sight. It looked like the kind of place that didn't get many visitors. I spent some time walking through the gardens and talking to the guy in the gift shop who recommended one of the Livingstone biographies. When I got back to town, I visited the gallery of modern art, the Glasgow Cathedral and St. Mungo's Museum of Religious Art. Finally my time in Scotland was up and I caught a train to the airport for my Ryanair flight home.
Edinburgh
For Easter, my school gives us Good Friday and the following Monday off, so I took a solo trip to Scotland for a few days. On Thursday, I left town on a night trip -- an uncomfortable and mostly sleepless nine-hour ride I spent squished between a Swede and the window. I arrived in Edinburgh at 7 a.m. -- hours before my hostel's reception would be open. I spent an hour or two in the train station with a cappuccino and set off to fine my hostel. By the time I had walked there it was nearly 10 a.m., but the reception was empty. I waited about an hour before giving up and set off to see the city with my heavy backpack.
I walked through the Princes Gardens, which gives an ideal view of Edinburgh Castle on the hill above. It's also filled with statues of famous Scots, including Sir Walter Scott (and his enormous monument) and David Livingstone. There's also a functional clock in the landscaping made of flowers. I hiked up to the Royal Mile, the stretch connecting the Castle with Holyroodhouse Palace, one of the Queen's three official residences. Here I saw St. Giles' Cathedral and a slew of other statues including a pensive David Hume. Up towards the Castle is the Scottish Whisky experience and Camera Obscura. I also hunted down the tiny plaque on the castle's esplanade walls that marks the spot where witches were burned at the stake. I walked the entire mile down to the Queen's Palace, which is right across the street from the newly-built Scottish Parliament building. Nearby is a stretch of grassy craggs, topped by Arthur's seat, the tallest hill outside the city. I wandered around central Edinburgh until I found the Sherlock Holmes statue and then walked back to the hostel, which by then was open.
After chucking my bag in my room (a tiny space crowded with three bunkbeds), I hiked up the hill to the castle and paid too much to enter it. Inside the castle features several museums (most of them dedicated to various military regiments, veterans and prisoners of war), chapels and gift shops. Down the hill I found the Writer's Museum, which commemorates the work of three of Scotland's great writers: Walter Scott, Robert Burns and Robert Louis Stevenson. The entire bottom floor was dedicated to Stevenson and included pictures of him at Kiribati and various other islands around the world. I also visited a weaving mill where I saw tartan manufactured. Sadly, there was no Abbott tartan for me to purchase.
After lunch I climbed Carlton Hill, which is filled with monuments. There was another huge tower erected to honor Walter Scott, as well as the Scottish Monument. This unfinished monument is meant to resemble the Greek style with its enormous columns. However, a lack of funding meant the project was abandoned, leaving it unfinished and sometimes called the National Disgrace. A little down the hill is a cemetery that houses David Hume's tomb and a monument to Scottish-Americans that features an Abraham Lincoln statue.
I search New Town for Stevenson's and Scott's homes, which were within blocks of each other. I found the general area, but both the buildings were unmarked. There was another monument to Prince Albert in Charlotte Square a few blocks away near a preserved Georgian House.
The next day I got up early, intending to hit all the museums in town. My first stop was the National Gallery/ Royal Scottish Academy (mostly modern art). Though small for a national art gallery, this one was stuffed with amazing paintings. And since it wasn't enormous, I didn't feel the pressure to rush through so I could see everything. I especially liked their Rembrandt self-portraits, Monet's hay stacks and a couple Van Gogh's. The entire bottom floor was reserved for Scottish painters -- the landscapes were incredibly beautiful. Next door was full of modern art, most of which was alright but not especially noteworthy. I stopped at the Museum on the Mound, which chronicles the Bank Of Scotland's history. The highlight was a glass case full of one million pounds (in cancelled notes) which wasn't much of a highlight.
I stopped in St. Giles' Cathedral and was disappointed with the Scottish Library's one exhibit about some random cartoon I'd never heard of. Next I saw the Royal Museum/ Museum of Scotland which sprawled over six stories and contained everything from Scottish history to Egyptian artifacts. There was just too much information to process, but I did enjoy the rooftop terrace with its view of the city. I had to visit Blackwell's, Edinburgh's largest bookstore. And next I went to the less interesting museums -- the Museum of Edinburgh and the People's Story Museum -- and toured the church where Adam Smith was buried.
After lunch I went back to the Queen's Palace but decided it was too expensive to tour. Even the art gallery was expensive and I was a little irritated with the Queen. I've already toured Windsor Castle outside London and that didn't excite me too much, so I wasn't really upset about missing out on Holyroodhouse.
I spent most of the afternoon climbing around the craggs outside the city, which proved to be one of my favorite things about Edinburgh. The weather was beautiful and the hills were full of other people hiking around. I had only set out to climb the first crag that overlooks the city, but once I got to the top I saw another, higher hill. So, of course, I had to climb this second one. And at it's summit I saw another, even higher, hill to climb. I eventually made my way up to Arthur's seat, the highest point outside the city, which was windy and cold. On my way back to the hostel I stopped in at Jenner's, Edinburgh's famous department store, in the same vein as Harrod's or Fortnum and Mason in London. These stores don't interest me much so I left after about two minutes.
Glasgow/ Highlands
The next day marked my departure from Edinburgh. I checked out of my hostel in the morning and decided to spend my time waiting at the train station instead of traipsing around the city with my bag again. After an hour-long train ride I was in Glasgow.
My hostel was an enormous hotel-like building that sat right on the river. I had booked a bed in an 8-person room, but when I checked in they had bumped my reservation. Instead they assigned me to a 2-person room -- at no extra cost -- and I didn't have a roommate either night. It was too cold and wet outside to do much that evening, but I spent a few hours walking around Glasgow. I decided there wasn't too much to see; the city reminded me too much of an American city -- very commercial. I returned to the hostel early and got some sleep for the next day.
Monday I was up early to catch a bus tour through the Scottish Highlands. We left Glasgow at 8 a.m. and headed north toward our first stop at Glencoe, which featured some creepy, treeless hills shrouded in fog. After several more hours on the bus (most of which was filled by corny commentary and Scottish music), we arrived at Loch Ness, the highlight of the tour. Here we paid to enter Urquhart Castle and took a cruise across Loch Ness. I don't like boats in the first place, so this little jaunt was a little miserable. It was cold and the lake was choppy and I was stuck outside on the platform. And Nessie was nowhere to be seen. After a few more hours on the bus, we arrived at Inverness, the capital of the Highlands. There wasn't much to do there but walk around a look at the modern, red-stone castle on the hill. We stopped again at some tiny town called Pitlochry before heading back to Glasgow.
My last day on holiday I took a train out to a suburb called Blantyre. Here was David Livingstone's birthplace and a museum about his life. It was definitely my favorite part of Glasgow, although there weren't any other tourists in sight. It looked like the kind of place that didn't get many visitors. I spent some time walking through the gardens and talking to the guy in the gift shop who recommended one of the Livingstone biographies. When I got back to town, I visited the gallery of modern art, the Glasgow Cathedral and St. Mungo's Museum of Religious Art. Finally my time in Scotland was up and I caught a train to the airport for my Ryanair flight home.
31 March 2007
Spring Break
Wow, I am really bad at updating -- this post is about 2 weeks tardy. But people keep nagging me to describe the intricacies of Spring Break in Italy, so I'll try my best. I warn you, though, this will be long.
Rome
Our Ryanair flight left at 7 a.m. -- one of the only times you can get a cheap fare. With a long trek out to Luton airport and taking into account check-in time, that meant we had to leave campus at 3 a.m. to make the flight. Two night buses got us to the airport and after a two-hour flight we were in Rome.
Our hostel was right next to Rome's train station and pretty impressive as far as hostels go. We booked two beds in a four-person room within a larger flat. We had a common room, a semi-private bathroom and a balcony overlooking the apartments of actual Romans. After eating some amazing lasagna at a restaurant across the street, we got a little lost finding our way to the Colosseum. Rome's random, non-grid layout confuses me and makes my inability to read a map incredibly annoying. We found our way to the Colosseum after a brief detour and then walked over to the Forum. We were about 5 minutes late and they had already locked the gates, so we decided to go looking around elsewhere. I could still remember where most of the sights were from my last visit to Rome. Just on the other side of the Forum we saw the Trajan's forum, a ton of other ruins and my favorite building, the Monument of Vittorio Emmanuel -- Italy's first king. Right next to the Forum is the Mamertine Prison, which is said to have held Peter and Paul. Next, we walked to the Trevi Fountain, which I think is the prettiest thing in all of Rome. We also saw the Pantheon (although we forgot to go in) and the Spanish Steps (which I think are overrated) before heading back to the hostel to collapse.
The next day we set aside for visiting the Vatican. The entry lines are notoriously long, so we were prepared to wait. We started at the Vatican Museums, home of the Sistine Chapel and an immense collection of paintings and sculpture. Although the line stretched all along the Vatican walls nearly to St. Peter's, the wait was surprisingly only an hour long. After being herded through the museums with the throngs of tourists, we took a secret passageway out of the Sistine Chapel that landed us right in the middle of St. Peter's Basilica. Normally you have to exit the museums and walk all around the wall to St. Peter's and then wait in line again -- we saved at least an hour. I said hello to the dead popes again (including everyone's favorite, John Paul) and then toured St. Peter's. The largest church in the world, St. Peter's can hold 60,000 people and is considered the traditional burial site of the apostle Peter. It's also where Charlemagne was coronated and home of Michelangelo's Pieta sculpture.
With the Vatican out of the way so quickly, we had time to return to the Forum to look around some more. The Forum was the central area of ancient Rome and was the site of commerce and justice. Today, the Forum is a huge stretch of ruins situated under Palatine Hill. Most of the buildings have been reduced to mere columns or foundations. It's flanked on each side by enormous arches. After looking at rocks for a few hours, we went back to the hostel to take a nap. We ate a free dinner at the hostel before going back in to town to see the Colosseum at night.
We had already hit most of the sights so on our final day in Rome, we went in search of some more obscure places. First we took the metro to the Piramide stop, which is, not surprisingly, right next to a large white pyramid built in the Egyptian style. It sits right next to remains of the old Aurealian Wall that marked the borders of ancient Rome. Right behind the pyramid was an old non-Catholic cemetery for foreigners who died in Rome. Aside from being gorgeous, the cemetery held the graves of John Keats and Percy Shelley. Apryll wanted to visit some catacombs and one of the workers at our hostel recommended some right down the street from the Hard Rock Cafe. The catacombs consisted of about four rooms on the second-story of an old church that were decorated with thousands of human bones. It was creepy and definitely not worth the admission.
We remembered to return to the Pantheon so we could look inside and then went to Piazza Navona. Then we walked along the Tevere River and walked the entire width of the city back to the hostel. That night we ate Chinese and went to bed early.
Florence
The next day we woke early to catch a train. Before going to Florence, we stopped over in Pisa to look at the tower. We ate lunch at a patio restaurant overlooking the tower and then hurried back on to a train to Florence. This city is probably my least favorite in all of Italy. The directions to our hostel were crappy and when we finally got there, it took forever for the lady to answer the door. Through some fluke they gave us a room to ourselves; it was painted pink and baby blue with creepy children's bedspreads. I felt like I was in some demented orphanage in a horror film. We hurried over to the Accademia so Apryll could see David. Amazingly, there was no line at all. Then we went to the Uffizi art gallery, which also had no line but closed soon after Apryll went in. We spent the rest of the night walking around town and I grumbled about how overpriced everything was in Florence.
There's not much else to see in Florence aside from the Accademia and the Uffizi, so the next day we took a train out to Siena. We had no idea what was there -- it was one of the only towns close enough to use for a day trip. Siena was gorgeous and had a real small-town feel to it. We saw Il Campo, the main square, which was full of sunbathers and loafers. Siena doesn't have many attractions, so we went church hopping, starting with the Duomo. Next we walked all over town and uphill to St. Catherine's church. The outside is all brick and looks strangely like a power plant. Inside the wooden ceiling is impossibly high and the entire church is sparse and empty, highlighted by its absence of tourists. The greatest thing about this church (aside from no other visitors while we were there) is the preserved head of St. Catherine, which is on display in all its rotting glory. There was really no explanation about how she lost her head or why it was on display. Wikipedia tells me her foot is in Venice.
After walking around Siena a little more, we took the train back to Florence just in time for dinner. We were trying to find a cheap place to eat, when all of a sudden we heard Coolio's 1995 hit, "Gangsta's Paradise," playing at a restaurant in what looked to be alley. It was clearly a sign we should eat there, and their enormous 5-euro pizzas were confirmation.
Venice
The next morning we caught another early train to Venice. This city is a pretty expensive place, so we had booked beds at a campground outside the city on the mainland. The website promised it wasn't too far away, which proved to be a lie. We had to take two buses out to the campsite, amounting to about an hour's journey from Venice proper. After settling in to a nice trailer, we had to wait on the highway for the hourly bus into the airport. Then at the airport, we switched to another bus that went into Venice. We were only staying one night, so we had to make our time count. Venice is a really confusing city to walk through and we had trouble locating the grand canal. We finally found signs pointing the way to San Marco's Piazza and followed then there. Here we went in St. Mark's elaborate basilica and tried to find a place to eat dinner. Finding all the restaurants impossibly expensive, we settled on McDonald's. We wanted to go on some sort of boat ride since we knew we couldn't afford a gondola. But the grumpy boat employee explained that all those touristy routes were only open in the summer season. So instead we bought "one-way" rides on the water buses, big boats with chairs that stop along the main canal and port. But the boats ran in a loop so we just never got off at the stop they told us to. We had no idea where the boat was headed, so I was surprised (and a little horrified) when we seemed to be heading into the open sea. Our boat's route went in a huge loop around some of Venice's islands and finally returned to the grand canal.
It was getting dark so we wandered around the city looking for things to do. Most of the interesting museums and churches had already closed and it was getting chilly, so we just went in anywhere that was open and free. So in that spirit, we found ourselves in a church converted into an exhibit about violins. Next we found another exhibit of Leonardo DaVinci's machines and inventions. It cost too much money so we just looked at the Leo souvenirs before wandering around the city some more. We had to stop on the original Bridge of Sighs -- we saw its little brother a few weeks ago in Cambridge.
After another mammoth bus ride back to the camp ground, I realized that Venice is near two airports and we had been confused about which one our flight departed from. We had no idea how to get to our actual airport and the office at the campsite was closed. So instead of sleeping in like we thought, we got up at 5 a.m. to give ourselves enough time to figure out how to get to the airport. We eventually figured it out -- it just required three long bus rides -- and were even early for checking in.
Rome
Our Ryanair flight left at 7 a.m. -- one of the only times you can get a cheap fare. With a long trek out to Luton airport and taking into account check-in time, that meant we had to leave campus at 3 a.m. to make the flight. Two night buses got us to the airport and after a two-hour flight we were in Rome.
Our hostel was right next to Rome's train station and pretty impressive as far as hostels go. We booked two beds in a four-person room within a larger flat. We had a common room, a semi-private bathroom and a balcony overlooking the apartments of actual Romans. After eating some amazing lasagna at a restaurant across the street, we got a little lost finding our way to the Colosseum. Rome's random, non-grid layout confuses me and makes my inability to read a map incredibly annoying. We found our way to the Colosseum after a brief detour and then walked over to the Forum. We were about 5 minutes late and they had already locked the gates, so we decided to go looking around elsewhere. I could still remember where most of the sights were from my last visit to Rome. Just on the other side of the Forum we saw the Trajan's forum, a ton of other ruins and my favorite building, the Monument of Vittorio Emmanuel -- Italy's first king. Right next to the Forum is the Mamertine Prison, which is said to have held Peter and Paul. Next, we walked to the Trevi Fountain, which I think is the prettiest thing in all of Rome. We also saw the Pantheon (although we forgot to go in) and the Spanish Steps (which I think are overrated) before heading back to the hostel to collapse.
The next day we set aside for visiting the Vatican. The entry lines are notoriously long, so we were prepared to wait. We started at the Vatican Museums, home of the Sistine Chapel and an immense collection of paintings and sculpture. Although the line stretched all along the Vatican walls nearly to St. Peter's, the wait was surprisingly only an hour long. After being herded through the museums with the throngs of tourists, we took a secret passageway out of the Sistine Chapel that landed us right in the middle of St. Peter's Basilica. Normally you have to exit the museums and walk all around the wall to St. Peter's and then wait in line again -- we saved at least an hour. I said hello to the dead popes again (including everyone's favorite, John Paul) and then toured St. Peter's. The largest church in the world, St. Peter's can hold 60,000 people and is considered the traditional burial site of the apostle Peter. It's also where Charlemagne was coronated and home of Michelangelo's Pieta sculpture.
With the Vatican out of the way so quickly, we had time to return to the Forum to look around some more. The Forum was the central area of ancient Rome and was the site of commerce and justice. Today, the Forum is a huge stretch of ruins situated under Palatine Hill. Most of the buildings have been reduced to mere columns or foundations. It's flanked on each side by enormous arches. After looking at rocks for a few hours, we went back to the hostel to take a nap. We ate a free dinner at the hostel before going back in to town to see the Colosseum at night.
We had already hit most of the sights so on our final day in Rome, we went in search of some more obscure places. First we took the metro to the Piramide stop, which is, not surprisingly, right next to a large white pyramid built in the Egyptian style. It sits right next to remains of the old Aurealian Wall that marked the borders of ancient Rome. Right behind the pyramid was an old non-Catholic cemetery for foreigners who died in Rome. Aside from being gorgeous, the cemetery held the graves of John Keats and Percy Shelley. Apryll wanted to visit some catacombs and one of the workers at our hostel recommended some right down the street from the Hard Rock Cafe. The catacombs consisted of about four rooms on the second-story of an old church that were decorated with thousands of human bones. It was creepy and definitely not worth the admission.
We remembered to return to the Pantheon so we could look inside and then went to Piazza Navona. Then we walked along the Tevere River and walked the entire width of the city back to the hostel. That night we ate Chinese and went to bed early.
Florence
The next day we woke early to catch a train. Before going to Florence, we stopped over in Pisa to look at the tower. We ate lunch at a patio restaurant overlooking the tower and then hurried back on to a train to Florence. This city is probably my least favorite in all of Italy. The directions to our hostel were crappy and when we finally got there, it took forever for the lady to answer the door. Through some fluke they gave us a room to ourselves; it was painted pink and baby blue with creepy children's bedspreads. I felt like I was in some demented orphanage in a horror film. We hurried over to the Accademia so Apryll could see David. Amazingly, there was no line at all. Then we went to the Uffizi art gallery, which also had no line but closed soon after Apryll went in. We spent the rest of the night walking around town and I grumbled about how overpriced everything was in Florence.
There's not much else to see in Florence aside from the Accademia and the Uffizi, so the next day we took a train out to Siena. We had no idea what was there -- it was one of the only towns close enough to use for a day trip. Siena was gorgeous and had a real small-town feel to it. We saw Il Campo, the main square, which was full of sunbathers and loafers. Siena doesn't have many attractions, so we went church hopping, starting with the Duomo. Next we walked all over town and uphill to St. Catherine's church. The outside is all brick and looks strangely like a power plant. Inside the wooden ceiling is impossibly high and the entire church is sparse and empty, highlighted by its absence of tourists. The greatest thing about this church (aside from no other visitors while we were there) is the preserved head of St. Catherine, which is on display in all its rotting glory. There was really no explanation about how she lost her head or why it was on display. Wikipedia tells me her foot is in Venice.
After walking around Siena a little more, we took the train back to Florence just in time for dinner. We were trying to find a cheap place to eat, when all of a sudden we heard Coolio's 1995 hit, "Gangsta's Paradise," playing at a restaurant in what looked to be alley. It was clearly a sign we should eat there, and their enormous 5-euro pizzas were confirmation.
Venice
The next morning we caught another early train to Venice. This city is a pretty expensive place, so we had booked beds at a campground outside the city on the mainland. The website promised it wasn't too far away, which proved to be a lie. We had to take two buses out to the campsite, amounting to about an hour's journey from Venice proper. After settling in to a nice trailer, we had to wait on the highway for the hourly bus into the airport. Then at the airport, we switched to another bus that went into Venice. We were only staying one night, so we had to make our time count. Venice is a really confusing city to walk through and we had trouble locating the grand canal. We finally found signs pointing the way to San Marco's Piazza and followed then there. Here we went in St. Mark's elaborate basilica and tried to find a place to eat dinner. Finding all the restaurants impossibly expensive, we settled on McDonald's. We wanted to go on some sort of boat ride since we knew we couldn't afford a gondola. But the grumpy boat employee explained that all those touristy routes were only open in the summer season. So instead we bought "one-way" rides on the water buses, big boats with chairs that stop along the main canal and port. But the boats ran in a loop so we just never got off at the stop they told us to. We had no idea where the boat was headed, so I was surprised (and a little horrified) when we seemed to be heading into the open sea. Our boat's route went in a huge loop around some of Venice's islands and finally returned to the grand canal.
It was getting dark so we wandered around the city looking for things to do. Most of the interesting museums and churches had already closed and it was getting chilly, so we just went in anywhere that was open and free. So in that spirit, we found ourselves in a church converted into an exhibit about violins. Next we found another exhibit of Leonardo DaVinci's machines and inventions. It cost too much money so we just looked at the Leo souvenirs before wandering around the city some more. We had to stop on the original Bridge of Sighs -- we saw its little brother a few weeks ago in Cambridge.
After another mammoth bus ride back to the camp ground, I realized that Venice is near two airports and we had been confused about which one our flight departed from. We had no idea how to get to our actual airport and the office at the campsite was closed. So instead of sleeping in like we thought, we got up at 5 a.m. to give ourselves enough time to figure out how to get to the airport. We eventually figured it out -- it just required three long bus rides -- and were even early for checking in.
04 March 2007
Punting on the Cam
After an uneventful week, Apryll and I had to have some fun this weekend. On Friday we went to late night at the Victoria and Albert Museum, which contains artifacts from all around the world. I liked looking at the Samurai swords and trying out the learning activities for kids, including designing my own family crest. Then we ate at the most delicious crepe restaurant in South Kensington.
Today we used our rail pass to travel to Cambridge. Once there we took at cab to the Orchard Tea Room in the outskirts of town. We didn't think about the orchard being wintry, so there wasn't much to look at. But we enjoyed our English tea and lunch. We decided to walk back into town isntead of paying another 10-pound cab fare. We were following the road our cab took when we saw a sign for a footpath back to Cambridge. We weren't exactly sure where it led or if we were headed the right way, but we carried on regardless. Amazingly, we made it back to town quickly and found the boat company that we had booked a tour with.
The boats are called punts and resemble flat-bottomed gondolas -- they're even propelled by guides in the back who use poles. The weather was nasty and no one else had booked a tour so we had a boat to ourselves. Luckily it was stocked with cushions, blankets and umbrellas for our comfort. Our guide, Giles, was a high-school aged kid who kept us entertained during the ride. He told us about the colleges and we answered his questions about Oklahoma. I asked him if he'd ever dropped his pole in the river or if he'd ever fallen in. He said yes to both.
It was still cold and rainy after our boat ride so we had tea and scones at a nearby cafe. Then we walked around town and shopped for souvenirs before heading back to London.
Today we used our rail pass to travel to Cambridge. Once there we took at cab to the Orchard Tea Room in the outskirts of town. We didn't think about the orchard being wintry, so there wasn't much to look at. But we enjoyed our English tea and lunch. We decided to walk back into town isntead of paying another 10-pound cab fare. We were following the road our cab took when we saw a sign for a footpath back to Cambridge. We weren't exactly sure where it led or if we were headed the right way, but we carried on regardless. Amazingly, we made it back to town quickly and found the boat company that we had booked a tour with.
The boats are called punts and resemble flat-bottomed gondolas -- they're even propelled by guides in the back who use poles. The weather was nasty and no one else had booked a tour so we had a boat to ourselves. Luckily it was stocked with cushions, blankets and umbrellas for our comfort. Our guide, Giles, was a high-school aged kid who kept us entertained during the ride. He told us about the colleges and we answered his questions about Oklahoma. I asked him if he'd ever dropped his pole in the river or if he'd ever fallen in. He said yes to both.
It was still cold and rainy after our boat ride so we had tea and scones at a nearby cafe. Then we walked around town and shopped for souvenirs before heading back to London.
26 February 2007
Day Trip to the Coast
So yesterday when I woke up, I thought to myself, "Where can I go to get heckled by locals, covered in mud, hike up a two-lane highway with no shoulder and get hit on by Serbs?" As it turns out, the answer is Dover and Canterbury.
When we bought our train tickets out to the coast, we thought we were in for the picturesque white cliffs of Dover and the gorgeous Canterbury Cathedral. We did manage to get around to those places, but not before we'd navigated some obstacles.
There was only a slight hitch in getting to Dover -- train maintenance meant we had to take a bus transfer into the city. And once we got there it was beautiful despite the rain -- tiny and well-preserved with an enormous castle on the hill overlooking the sea. We walked through town to the tourist center, but it was closed. So after a delicious pub lunch, we decided to make it up to the cliffs ourselves. We had a map with a road labeled "To the cliffs," although the cliffs themselves were not on the map. We bought bus tickets up to the castle and figured we had to walk the rest of the way. We were certain we were headed in the right direction until the sidewalk ended and the road turned into a two-lane country road with cars speeding by. We trudged through the mud and weeds until we began to doubt our decision. We paused at the roadside, on the brink of turning back, when a jogger came running by and we asked directions. We decided if he could jog up the hill, then we must be able to make it. Thirty minutes later we did make it up and found ourselves atop one of the famous white cliffs. And to our right we saw the "pedestrian path" leading straight down to the city center for what would have been a ten-minute hike at most.
We were tired, out of breath and already covered in mud. I think I even said, "Let's get this over with." There's a path that runs along the edge of the cliffs that you have to walk in order to get a good view. We set out in our tennis shoes and jeans and began taking dumb pictures, trying to fashion ourselves after dramatic poses of the Victorian era. But the paths were more like rivers of mud and we slid and slipped along the edge of the cliffs. After seeing our fill of the cliffs and realizing our jeans were covered in mud (I had already fallen once), we decided to turn back so we could get to Canterbury. We walked down the pedestrian path without incident and took the bus to Canterbury.
There we checked out another old castle, this one much smaller and filled with beer bottles and trash, before going to the Cathedral. As luck would have it, we arrived about 5 minutes after it closed for visits. A little disappointed, we took pictures of the outside and snuck inside the exit doors for a quick look. We tried to figure out where Thomas Beckett met his end, but we couldn't find his tomb or anything. It was getting dark and we rushed around town to see a few other landmarks, including the West Gate Towers. I had my camera up and was about to take a photo when two guys posed in front of me and asked if I wanted to take their picture. We thought they were making fun of us, but they kept chatting us up. They were from Kosovo and were nearly pleading with us to go get drinks with them. We declined (repeatedly) and told them we had a train to catch (which was true, even though we were still an hour early when we turned up at the station). And that is when our trip returned to normal.
When we bought our train tickets out to the coast, we thought we were in for the picturesque white cliffs of Dover and the gorgeous Canterbury Cathedral. We did manage to get around to those places, but not before we'd navigated some obstacles.
There was only a slight hitch in getting to Dover -- train maintenance meant we had to take a bus transfer into the city. And once we got there it was beautiful despite the rain -- tiny and well-preserved with an enormous castle on the hill overlooking the sea. We walked through town to the tourist center, but it was closed. So after a delicious pub lunch, we decided to make it up to the cliffs ourselves. We had a map with a road labeled "To the cliffs," although the cliffs themselves were not on the map. We bought bus tickets up to the castle and figured we had to walk the rest of the way. We were certain we were headed in the right direction until the sidewalk ended and the road turned into a two-lane country road with cars speeding by. We trudged through the mud and weeds until we began to doubt our decision. We paused at the roadside, on the brink of turning back, when a jogger came running by and we asked directions. We decided if he could jog up the hill, then we must be able to make it. Thirty minutes later we did make it up and found ourselves atop one of the famous white cliffs. And to our right we saw the "pedestrian path" leading straight down to the city center for what would have been a ten-minute hike at most.
We were tired, out of breath and already covered in mud. I think I even said, "Let's get this over with." There's a path that runs along the edge of the cliffs that you have to walk in order to get a good view. We set out in our tennis shoes and jeans and began taking dumb pictures, trying to fashion ourselves after dramatic poses of the Victorian era. But the paths were more like rivers of mud and we slid and slipped along the edge of the cliffs. After seeing our fill of the cliffs and realizing our jeans were covered in mud (I had already fallen once), we decided to turn back so we could get to Canterbury. We walked down the pedestrian path without incident and took the bus to Canterbury.
There we checked out another old castle, this one much smaller and filled with beer bottles and trash, before going to the Cathedral. As luck would have it, we arrived about 5 minutes after it closed for visits. A little disappointed, we took pictures of the outside and snuck inside the exit doors for a quick look. We tried to figure out where Thomas Beckett met his end, but we couldn't find his tomb or anything. It was getting dark and we rushed around town to see a few other landmarks, including the West Gate Towers. I had my camera up and was about to take a photo when two guys posed in front of me and asked if I wanted to take their picture. We thought they were making fun of us, but they kept chatting us up. They were from Kosovo and were nearly pleading with us to go get drinks with them. We declined (repeatedly) and told them we had a train to catch (which was true, even though we were still an hour early when we turned up at the station). And that is when our trip returned to normal.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)