Well, I'm officially finished blogging for Central. Everything previous to this was written as my travel blog for my semester abroad and also appears (with their edits) on the Central College website somewhere. The woman in charge of the blog actually called me after I submitted it because it made her cry. I've never felt so much love from a phonecall in my life. It was a genuinely touching experience.
Beyond that, I'm stuck in Rensselaer for another two weeks. This summer class has become a living hell. I hate it. I need to keep writing our final paper. It's due a week from Monday, but I'm going to be gone all of next weekend. I find it so hard to be productive when I'm miserable. Also, while here, I've found myself addicted to facebook. And I don't like it, because I'm not one of those people who clutters up your news feed with useless surveys and crap. I find all of that to be insufferable; although, I was so bored last night that I almost broke down and did a survey. It was: "What Marvel superhero are you?" I was curious; although, if I wouldn't have gotten the superhero I wanted, I would have been sorely disappointed.
Because I refuse to connect coherent thoughts, the other plight of this summer class has become my eating habits. People refuse to acknowledge me when I talk about eating because they think I'm too skinny. I'm not anorexic, nor do I think I have any sort of warped self-image; however, I have a problem with my eating habits because they're just shitty. I don't care how fit someone is, they should eat properly and with restraint. I haven't done that since I arrived in Rensselaer. I eat constantly--I eat crappy junk food constantly. It worries me. But then, last night, I stepped on a scale and it said I weighed 149.5 pounds, which is less than I was expecting it to read. I was expecting a solid 158 to pop up on the digital display. I don't know what to think.
Also, to continue to dump my thoughts into this box of words, I've found myself for the first time questioning my faith. Not in any serious way, mind you, but just something small. For the first time, I've found myself questioning whether or not I'm doing the right thing saving myself for marriage. Well, sometimes it's not even the question of right or wrong, because that's such a subjective thing, but why I'm saving myself. I mean, even with that, I have all of these answers as to why I have, but then I wonder whether or not it's worth it in the end.
Those are all of the useless thoughts that have been stewing in my head for the past week or so. Next time I sit down to write, I'll have more to say; I promise.
31 May, 2009
15 May, 2009
a closing...
Wow.
I’m done.
My final days of London behind me, I’m left with longing reflections of the greatest experience that has ever happened to me, and probably ever will. I’m still in disbelief that it has all gone and finished. I can no longer walk down the street and see Buckingham Palace. I’m currently sitting in the lounge of the dormitory where I’m spending my summer semester. I’ve been home and am gone again already. Looking out the window, there’s a torrential downpour; it reminds me of London. And, today in class, a girl came walking in wearing a “LONDON ENGLAND” tourist shirt; one, in fact, that I made fun of Val for buying at one point in the semester.
My final days in London staged themselves as the most incredible grand finale. My days and nights were spent wandering the streets of London or packing and commiserating in the house with everyone—but keep in mind it was a festive and joyful commiserating. Those final days—Wednesday, Thursday and Friday—I only got about ten hours of sleep in total. Thursday was the final Central outing scheduled. They had gotten the class tickets to see Wicked on the West End. I’ve always enjoyed the show, as cute and commercial as it has become, so it was a nice thing to see. It was bizarre, however, to see it with British accents. I just couldn’t get used to it for some reason. There were quite a few obnoxious fan-girls in the audience as well, so that was pretty unfortunate. Thursday night was also really hard because some people were flying out early Friday morning, so that was our last chance to say goodbye.
Friday morning, Andy and I decided it was time to achieve our ultimate London goal. We woke up and got in line at 6:45 a.m. to get day-of rush tickets to see Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen in Waiting for Godot. We were the second people in line, but the box office didn’t open up until 10 a.m.! We entertained ourselves with a two-hour game of War and eating Easter M&Ms. It was well worth the wait, because as we bought the tickets, we were informed that our seats were in the first row. Yes, you read that right… THE FIRST ROW. We were giddy. The day was spent simply in anticipation of the evening.
The show melted my face off. The caliber of acting I witnessed was beyond human comprehension. It really was something to see. Both men, as well as the rest of the cast, did such epically fantastic jobs that I don’t think I could ever accurately put into words what I saw. However, after the show is when it got really exciting! After the show, we got the idea in our heads that we could find the stage door to the theatre, so we wandered around back and there were a dozen or so people congregated around a certain door. We assumed this was the right spot, but to put an end to our quandary, a man walked out and informed us that they’ll only sign things from Waiting for Godot, they won’t pose for pictures and if we have a harsh flash on our cameras, turn them off. In hindsight, I should have just taken the picture and then apologized if it offended them. Even if I don’t have their pictures, I still have their autographs. YES!!!!! Yes, you read that right! They signed my program and a poster I purchased! Andy and I turned into 14-year-old girls at a Miley Cirus concert.
Patrick Stewart was the first to emerge. He carried himself with such an air of dignity; and what made it more impressive was the fact that he did it without any feeling of hubris. When he got to me, I stuttered out a “thank you,” to which he sort of looked me up and down—like he was giving me a once over. Then, he points at the bowtie I’m wearing and says, “I saw you; you were sitting in the first row.” That Miley Cirus joke is truer than I stressed before. I thought I was going to faint. I stuttered out something before Andy started complimenting him. Obviously, we stick out like sore thumbs because we lack a proper accent, so then Mr. Stewart (it seems blasphemous to call him Patrick) asked where we were from. We told him we were study abroad students and it was out last night in London. He said he was honoured that we chose to spend our last night watching the show he was in. The only thing I could think to say was, “no, really sir, thank you.” After he hopped in his car and left, we stood their, completely star-struck and still reeling from the encounter, as Sir Ian McKellen walks out. In stark contrast, Sir McKellen’s appearance can only be likened to a sweet old grandpa who was happy to see an old friend. He was so gracious to everyone. When he got to my poster, he signed it and noticed there was a pin on my lapel. I had put a pin on my lapel that read “I defy you, stars!” (from Romeo and Juliet at the Globe). He asked me what it read—as my lapel was at a height taller than him, so he was leaning up and toward me to try and read it. When I explained it, he said he heard it was good, to which again, my only response was an annoyingly cheesy one: “well, it was no Waiting for Godot, but it was really good.” When Andy thanked him, like his co-star, he asked us where we were from. After it was all said and done, it was to the point where Andy and I could only make noises—we were far too happy and flabbergasted to form articulate words.
Also, when it was said and done, a guy who’d been standing next to us the entire time stopped us and asked where we were from if we were study abroad students—he’d obviously overheard us stammering to Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart. Andy said he was from Iowa, to which the man asked if we were studying through the Central College Programme. Much to our shock, he informed us that when he was an undergrad, he studied in Paris through Central. Then, We asked him where he was from. He said he was from Indiana. I couldn’t believe it. I asked him where in Indiana; he explained that he was a poly-sci professor at the University of Evansville who was on some sort of teaching abroad program and it was also his final night in London. As if coincidental serendipity hadn’t slapped us in the face hard enough, I decided to ask him if he’d been a Hoosier all his life. He said yes, and said, “I grew up in a crappy little city that’s really down in the dumps: Elkhart.” I almost squeaked; I couldn’t believe my ears. I burst out laughing. He apparently went to Memorial High School. My last night in London, the world got a little smaller.
My flight home was surprisingly amazing. For whatever reason, they didn’t have a ticket for me, so they put me in a seat in the business class. I flew home with an ample amount of legroom; it was pretty sweet. I watched four films on the flight—Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Wrestler and Taken.
Looking back now, this semester is without a doubt the greatest thing I’ve ever done. Anything bad that happened seems like a joke when put into perspective. I mean, I spent four-ish months living less than a mile from both Big Ben and Buckingham Palace I would like to publically thank everyone who made it possible: my parents for being entirely supportive of my dream; everyone at Central who accepted my application late and still gave me the opportunity to go, especially Mark and Lauren who made London so amazing and put up with me and the rest of us students.
I’ve also collected a few tidbits of advice for any future abroad students who are headed to London. Maybe these quips will aid you in your travels. They’re not much, but they’re things that have been recurring in my head as things I wish someone would have told me.
• When you get to London, don’t waste your money taking a shuttle. It may be a convenience, but it’s an expensive one. The idea of taking public transport may initially be frightening, but within a week and a half of being in London, it won’t anymore; so you may as well get used to it as fast as possible.
• Don’t buy a map unless you really think you’ll really need it. I found that if I was ever even mildly lost, I could find a bus stop because they have local maps printed there.
• Take the bus! Please don’t ride the tube everywhere you go. For my first month or so there, I really didn’t know much of the city, I just knew the area around tube stops. I would just go from tube stop to tube stop without having any idea where I was. The day I started
• Never say no. Experience everything you can. Try everything (food included). Don’t let anything stop you from trying everything humanly possible while abroad. Mark said something to us that I’ve held true the entire semester. “There are no bad experiences, only great travel stories.” Even if bad things happened to me, it was all part of the experience and so I embraced it.
• Don’t be afraid to do things yourself. You’ll make great friends on your trip, one’s you’ll want to share every experience with, but don’t be a dependent. It’s annoying and no fun. I’m as extroverted as the next guy (if not moreso), but some of my best memories of London happened while I was by myself.
Cheers…
I’m done.
My final days of London behind me, I’m left with longing reflections of the greatest experience that has ever happened to me, and probably ever will. I’m still in disbelief that it has all gone and finished. I can no longer walk down the street and see Buckingham Palace. I’m currently sitting in the lounge of the dormitory where I’m spending my summer semester. I’ve been home and am gone again already. Looking out the window, there’s a torrential downpour; it reminds me of London. And, today in class, a girl came walking in wearing a “LONDON ENGLAND” tourist shirt; one, in fact, that I made fun of Val for buying at one point in the semester.
My final days in London staged themselves as the most incredible grand finale. My days and nights were spent wandering the streets of London or packing and commiserating in the house with everyone—but keep in mind it was a festive and joyful commiserating. Those final days—Wednesday, Thursday and Friday—I only got about ten hours of sleep in total. Thursday was the final Central outing scheduled. They had gotten the class tickets to see Wicked on the West End. I’ve always enjoyed the show, as cute and commercial as it has become, so it was a nice thing to see. It was bizarre, however, to see it with British accents. I just couldn’t get used to it for some reason. There were quite a few obnoxious fan-girls in the audience as well, so that was pretty unfortunate. Thursday night was also really hard because some people were flying out early Friday morning, so that was our last chance to say goodbye.
Friday morning, Andy and I decided it was time to achieve our ultimate London goal. We woke up and got in line at 6:45 a.m. to get day-of rush tickets to see Patrick Stewart and Sir Ian McKellen in Waiting for Godot. We were the second people in line, but the box office didn’t open up until 10 a.m.! We entertained ourselves with a two-hour game of War and eating Easter M&Ms. It was well worth the wait, because as we bought the tickets, we were informed that our seats were in the first row. Yes, you read that right… THE FIRST ROW. We were giddy. The day was spent simply in anticipation of the evening.
The show melted my face off. The caliber of acting I witnessed was beyond human comprehension. It really was something to see. Both men, as well as the rest of the cast, did such epically fantastic jobs that I don’t think I could ever accurately put into words what I saw. However, after the show is when it got really exciting! After the show, we got the idea in our heads that we could find the stage door to the theatre, so we wandered around back and there were a dozen or so people congregated around a certain door. We assumed this was the right spot, but to put an end to our quandary, a man walked out and informed us that they’ll only sign things from Waiting for Godot, they won’t pose for pictures and if we have a harsh flash on our cameras, turn them off. In hindsight, I should have just taken the picture and then apologized if it offended them. Even if I don’t have their pictures, I still have their autographs. YES!!!!! Yes, you read that right! They signed my program and a poster I purchased! Andy and I turned into 14-year-old girls at a Miley Cirus concert.
Patrick Stewart was the first to emerge. He carried himself with such an air of dignity; and what made it more impressive was the fact that he did it without any feeling of hubris. When he got to me, I stuttered out a “thank you,” to which he sort of looked me up and down—like he was giving me a once over. Then, he points at the bowtie I’m wearing and says, “I saw you; you were sitting in the first row.” That Miley Cirus joke is truer than I stressed before. I thought I was going to faint. I stuttered out something before Andy started complimenting him. Obviously, we stick out like sore thumbs because we lack a proper accent, so then Mr. Stewart (it seems blasphemous to call him Patrick) asked where we were from. We told him we were study abroad students and it was out last night in London. He said he was honoured that we chose to spend our last night watching the show he was in. The only thing I could think to say was, “no, really sir, thank you.” After he hopped in his car and left, we stood their, completely star-struck and still reeling from the encounter, as Sir Ian McKellen walks out. In stark contrast, Sir McKellen’s appearance can only be likened to a sweet old grandpa who was happy to see an old friend. He was so gracious to everyone. When he got to my poster, he signed it and noticed there was a pin on my lapel. I had put a pin on my lapel that read “I defy you, stars!” (from Romeo and Juliet at the Globe). He asked me what it read—as my lapel was at a height taller than him, so he was leaning up and toward me to try and read it. When I explained it, he said he heard it was good, to which again, my only response was an annoyingly cheesy one: “well, it was no Waiting for Godot, but it was really good.” When Andy thanked him, like his co-star, he asked us where we were from. After it was all said and done, it was to the point where Andy and I could only make noises—we were far too happy and flabbergasted to form articulate words.
Also, when it was said and done, a guy who’d been standing next to us the entire time stopped us and asked where we were from if we were study abroad students—he’d obviously overheard us stammering to Ian McKellen and Patrick Stewart. Andy said he was from Iowa, to which the man asked if we were studying through the Central College Programme. Much to our shock, he informed us that when he was an undergrad, he studied in Paris through Central. Then, We asked him where he was from. He said he was from Indiana. I couldn’t believe it. I asked him where in Indiana; he explained that he was a poly-sci professor at the University of Evansville who was on some sort of teaching abroad program and it was also his final night in London. As if coincidental serendipity hadn’t slapped us in the face hard enough, I decided to ask him if he’d been a Hoosier all his life. He said yes, and said, “I grew up in a crappy little city that’s really down in the dumps: Elkhart.” I almost squeaked; I couldn’t believe my ears. I burst out laughing. He apparently went to Memorial High School. My last night in London, the world got a little smaller.
My flight home was surprisingly amazing. For whatever reason, they didn’t have a ticket for me, so they put me in a seat in the business class. I flew home with an ample amount of legroom; it was pretty sweet. I watched four films on the flight—Frost/Nixon, Milk, The Wrestler and Taken.
Looking back now, this semester is without a doubt the greatest thing I’ve ever done. Anything bad that happened seems like a joke when put into perspective. I mean, I spent four-ish months living less than a mile from both Big Ben and Buckingham Palace I would like to publically thank everyone who made it possible: my parents for being entirely supportive of my dream; everyone at Central who accepted my application late and still gave me the opportunity to go, especially Mark and Lauren who made London so amazing and put up with me and the rest of us students.
I’ve also collected a few tidbits of advice for any future abroad students who are headed to London. Maybe these quips will aid you in your travels. They’re not much, but they’re things that have been recurring in my head as things I wish someone would have told me.
• When you get to London, don’t waste your money taking a shuttle. It may be a convenience, but it’s an expensive one. The idea of taking public transport may initially be frightening, but within a week and a half of being in London, it won’t anymore; so you may as well get used to it as fast as possible.
• Don’t buy a map unless you really think you’ll really need it. I found that if I was ever even mildly lost, I could find a bus stop because they have local maps printed there.
• Take the bus! Please don’t ride the tube everywhere you go. For my first month or so there, I really didn’t know much of the city, I just knew the area around tube stops. I would just go from tube stop to tube stop without having any idea where I was. The day I started
• Never say no. Experience everything you can. Try everything (food included). Don’t let anything stop you from trying everything humanly possible while abroad. Mark said something to us that I’ve held true the entire semester. “There are no bad experiences, only great travel stories.” Even if bad things happened to me, it was all part of the experience and so I embraced it.
• Don’t be afraid to do things yourself. You’ll make great friends on your trip, one’s you’ll want to share every experience with, but don’t be a dependent. It’s annoying and no fun. I’m as extroverted as the next guy (if not moreso), but some of my best memories of London happened while I was by myself.
Cheers…
06 May, 2009
Mike at the Lapin Agile
Well, similarly to my spring break blog, I had a wonderful diary-like blog written covering my fantastic weekend in Paris. However, my computer has decided to eat my original blog… So this is my rewrite of a blog. I can’t make any promises as to how this compares, because I’m really really frustrated at this point. Alas…
Friday started with quite a bit of panic. Long story short, there was quite a bit of drama as far as the amount of people going with us to Paris. This was a trip we had planned a long time ago, but people kept adding and dropping themselves. Well, because of this, no one book housing until the last possible minute, which was Friday morning before class. However, it was time to leave, and I didn’t have a place to stay. The hostel I found only had two beds for the night, so I didn’t have a place to stay, but I heard there were some nice benches around the Eiffel Tower, so I wasn’t too worried.
The finals for British Experience Seminar and Contemporary Britain were simple enough—it was just a bunch of writing, really. It was another time to reflect on everything, which has made the whole experience that much more difficult. There was also a “re-entry seminar” to prepare us for reverse culture shock. I was overwhelmed with quite a bit of conflicting emotions. I’m really afraid that I’m going to suffer from the reverse culture shock quite a bit.
However! That’s not the exciting part of this tale! The part where I fly to Paris is!! After class, we hopped on a plane and fly to the city of love. When we got to the hostel to check the girls in, it turns out they had a bed for me to sleep on, so the crisis was adverted without any pomp and circumstance. After getting settled, we decided to wander the streets a bit. The Moulin Rouge wasn’t too far from our hostel, so we went out there. The road it is on reminded me quite a bit of the French Quarter in New Orleans. Every establishment was selling sex in one way or another, and none of them were ashamed at all to advertise it to the world. I guess if the Moulin Rouge is right down the street, the location is prime for that target audience.
Our hostel had an advert for a free tour of Paris, so that was the first thing we did on Saturday. It was a four-hour walking tour of the city, and it covered quite a bit. It started at the fountain of Saint Michael, which I thought was particularly cool. I may be a bit partial, but Michael’s one of my favourite saints. And that statue in the fountain made him look like a pretty rad dude (if I can bring that phrase back from the Nineties), banishing Lucifer and all. On the tour, we saw all of the serious sites without any particularly super moments: Notre Dame, the Palace of Justice, Tuileries Gardens, the Louvre, the Rose Line (for all of you Da Vinci Code fans), the Royal Palace, the Opera the Grand Palace, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe. Our tour guide was a charming bloke from Edinburgh named Frasier. At the end of the tour, we warned us that when we do go up the Arc de Triomphe, be sure to use the underground pathway there. The roundabout around the Arc is the largest and busiest in the world. He also said that some insurance companies will not cover drivers who get into accidents around the roundabout because it’s so bad. Instead of warning me, Frasier’s words acted as a call to arms; a challenge to get across in grand fashion. I figured after Cairo, I could handle any traffic. I actually lucked out. I had a pretty easy crossing. I didn’t have to even break stride more than once. One car did swerve at me, however, but I was half a car-width from my destination at that point that I wasn’t worried.
The girls I was with were fans of the last National Treasure film, so we then trekked out to find the miniature Statue of Liberty. It wasn’t a terrible walk, and it was really cool to see. Apparently, the girls seem to think that the way it was actually situated in Paris wasn’t the same as they remember in the film. I can’t say because I don’t remember the movie all that well. While out there, I was also challenged into climbing a tree. It was a challenge because there really wasn’t an easy way up, I actually had to pull myself up. Now, if you’ve never seen me before, I have the same amount of upper-body strength a ten-year-old boy has. The girls got quite a few laughs out of watching me try and get up. I was successful in the end, despite their teasing. Then, when I got back to the ground, a small boy came up to me and started speaking a lot of French (keep in mind that this boy is probably as tall as my shin), and his mother than told me (in English) that he wants to know how I did that because he wants to do it too. It was wholly adorable in every way possible.
We watched the sunset through the glass pyramid at the Louvre. It was gorgeous. Sunday then started right where Saturday ended. The first Sunday of every month, there is free entry to the Louvre. A guidebook said, and I quote, “Avoid the Louvre like the plague on this Sunday.” Instead, we just thought we’d beat it to the queue. We showed up about an hour or so before it opened and we beat the majority of the queue, which was pretty sweet. When it opened, we followed the streaming mobs of people directly to the number one destination within the museum—the Mona Lisa. I couldn’t believe I was actually looking at it. Most people are amazed by how small it is, but I knew it wasn’t large, so I just stood there in awe for a bit. In contrast, on the opposing wall was the painting of the Wedding Feast at Cana, which is one of the largest paintings I’ve ever seen in my entire life. If you spent thirty seconds at every piece of art in the Louvre, you’d be in there for over a month. We spent quite a bit of time in there and saw quite a lot of sweet stuff. We made it a point of seeing all of the really really famous stuff. The other piece, which I didn’t know the museum had, was the Code of Hammurabi. For anyone who doesn’t know, Hammurabi was a king/emperor (I’m not sure what the proper title should be) of the Mesopotamian civilization of Babylon. He decided he should write all of the laws down and post them in the city center so there was no question what the law was. This was the first time something like this had ever been done, so it’s really like civilization 2.0 because of Hammurabi. Yeah, I’m kind of a history geek sometimes—don’t judge me. Upon leaving, we took some goofy photos around the inverted pyramid. It was a good time.
We then went back to Notre Dame so we could actually go inside and see it. When we walked in, it was in the middle of mass, so the girls let me go and sit through the last part of it (they knew it was Sunday, and they know how excited I get about Catholic things in general). After the service, walking around was amazing. The stained glass in the church is so incredibly gorgeous that you have to see it to believe it. While on that side of the city, we also wanted to check out the Pantheon. However, much to our dismay, it cost quite a few euros to enter. We decided to forgo it and wander to a church off to the left of the Pantheon that had cool looking exterior architecture. It turned out to be the Church of Saint Genevieve. Saint Genevieve is the patron saint of Paris and, if you were wondering, has a sweet church. There wasn’t a pulpit in the church, but two spiral stairwells built into the walls that lead up to a catwalk-type thing encircling the high altar. However, all incredible beauty aside, I found something in the church that made me so elated I almost squeaked. Within the church was the tomb of Blaise Pascal. I’m going to perpetuate my geekiness here, but he was an incredibly famous French mathematician. So, yeah, I got really excited.
The climax of our Paris adventure, literally and figuratively, came with the ascension of the Eiffel Tower. I was initially disappointed that they wouldn’t let me take the stairs all the way to the top. I took the stairs to the second level (638 steps, if you’re wondering), and wasn’t even breathing heavily. There was no fatigue at that point. I was ready and rearing to go. Alas… However I got to the top, it didn’t matter once I was there. It was so glorious. The weather had been piss-poor all day, but when we got to the second level, the clouds broke and the sun shined down upon our epic ascent. I was amazed that there was a champagne bar at the top of the Tower. I almost wanted to toast the climb, but it was obscenely overpriced, and I don’t like champagne THAT much. We even got to watch the sun set from the tower.
Upon returning to the ground, we reunited with Val (who refused to climb the tower, citing a sever case of acrophobia) and found dinner. This was our one serious splurge of the trip. The place had an entrée and main course for fourteen euro. I ordered the fish of the day, which ended up being a grilled salmon, and a “fisherman’s salad.” I didn’t ask what a fisherman’s salad was, but ordered it on a whim. It ended up being an assortment of greens, tomatoes, onions and shaved tuna. I’ve never eaten tuna—despite my adoration for seafood—because my mom eats it out of a can at home mixed with Miracle Whip, and it always seemed to look and smell awkward, as well as slimy. Well, the tuna on my salad wasn’t slimy, but delicious. The grilled salmon that came with an assortment of assorted vegetables was probably one of the best meals I’ve had my entire semester abroad. Our evening concluded watching the Eiffel tower sparkle and glitter in the night. It was friggin’ beautiful.
We slept in on our last day in Paris. It was much needed and greatly appreciated. Our hostel was in the northern portion of the city, called Montmartre. It is the über-Bohemian, artsy-fartsy portion of the city. We spent the first half of the day wandering around the hilly streets. Also, in the area, is the Basilica of the Sacred Heart—probably the most beautiful church I’ve ever entered, behind St. Peter’s Basilica. When we entered, the bell went off, signifying the start of mass, so I got to sit through a mass at the Basilica. It was so awesome. That church was so incredibly gorgeous. They said no pictures, so I have nothing but my memories, which is cool, I guess. But I would have really liked to have pictures of how absolutely breathtaking the inside of the church was. Also, before departing Montmarte, we stumbled upon the Lapin Agile. It is a cabaret that Picasso spent quite a bit of his life at. Also, Steve Martin wrote a play entitled Picasso at the Lapin Agile that is completely hilarious. So, needless to say I was really excited.
We spent our final afternoon and evening in the grass, relaxing and staring at the Eiffel Tower. I wandered around while the girls napped. The Eiffel Tower is quite the wonderful backdrop. I was even inspired to do a little sketch; Val liked it so much I gave it her. We even bought ourselves a bottle of French wine to enjoy. One of those “when in Rome” moments, you know?
Since all of my Paris adventure has ended, I’ve written this blog twice (I’m still bitter about it). I’ve been relaxing and enjoying London. I’m here for a few more days, and I intend on making them glorious.
Friday started with quite a bit of panic. Long story short, there was quite a bit of drama as far as the amount of people going with us to Paris. This was a trip we had planned a long time ago, but people kept adding and dropping themselves. Well, because of this, no one book housing until the last possible minute, which was Friday morning before class. However, it was time to leave, and I didn’t have a place to stay. The hostel I found only had two beds for the night, so I didn’t have a place to stay, but I heard there were some nice benches around the Eiffel Tower, so I wasn’t too worried.
The finals for British Experience Seminar and Contemporary Britain were simple enough—it was just a bunch of writing, really. It was another time to reflect on everything, which has made the whole experience that much more difficult. There was also a “re-entry seminar” to prepare us for reverse culture shock. I was overwhelmed with quite a bit of conflicting emotions. I’m really afraid that I’m going to suffer from the reverse culture shock quite a bit.
However! That’s not the exciting part of this tale! The part where I fly to Paris is!! After class, we hopped on a plane and fly to the city of love. When we got to the hostel to check the girls in, it turns out they had a bed for me to sleep on, so the crisis was adverted without any pomp and circumstance. After getting settled, we decided to wander the streets a bit. The Moulin Rouge wasn’t too far from our hostel, so we went out there. The road it is on reminded me quite a bit of the French Quarter in New Orleans. Every establishment was selling sex in one way or another, and none of them were ashamed at all to advertise it to the world. I guess if the Moulin Rouge is right down the street, the location is prime for that target audience.
Our hostel had an advert for a free tour of Paris, so that was the first thing we did on Saturday. It was a four-hour walking tour of the city, and it covered quite a bit. It started at the fountain of Saint Michael, which I thought was particularly cool. I may be a bit partial, but Michael’s one of my favourite saints. And that statue in the fountain made him look like a pretty rad dude (if I can bring that phrase back from the Nineties), banishing Lucifer and all. On the tour, we saw all of the serious sites without any particularly super moments: Notre Dame, the Palace of Justice, Tuileries Gardens, the Louvre, the Rose Line (for all of you Da Vinci Code fans), the Royal Palace, the Opera the Grand Palace, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe. Our tour guide was a charming bloke from Edinburgh named Frasier. At the end of the tour, we warned us that when we do go up the Arc de Triomphe, be sure to use the underground pathway there. The roundabout around the Arc is the largest and busiest in the world. He also said that some insurance companies will not cover drivers who get into accidents around the roundabout because it’s so bad. Instead of warning me, Frasier’s words acted as a call to arms; a challenge to get across in grand fashion. I figured after Cairo, I could handle any traffic. I actually lucked out. I had a pretty easy crossing. I didn’t have to even break stride more than once. One car did swerve at me, however, but I was half a car-width from my destination at that point that I wasn’t worried.
The girls I was with were fans of the last National Treasure film, so we then trekked out to find the miniature Statue of Liberty. It wasn’t a terrible walk, and it was really cool to see. Apparently, the girls seem to think that the way it was actually situated in Paris wasn’t the same as they remember in the film. I can’t say because I don’t remember the movie all that well. While out there, I was also challenged into climbing a tree. It was a challenge because there really wasn’t an easy way up, I actually had to pull myself up. Now, if you’ve never seen me before, I have the same amount of upper-body strength a ten-year-old boy has. The girls got quite a few laughs out of watching me try and get up. I was successful in the end, despite their teasing. Then, when I got back to the ground, a small boy came up to me and started speaking a lot of French (keep in mind that this boy is probably as tall as my shin), and his mother than told me (in English) that he wants to know how I did that because he wants to do it too. It was wholly adorable in every way possible.
We watched the sunset through the glass pyramid at the Louvre. It was gorgeous. Sunday then started right where Saturday ended. The first Sunday of every month, there is free entry to the Louvre. A guidebook said, and I quote, “Avoid the Louvre like the plague on this Sunday.” Instead, we just thought we’d beat it to the queue. We showed up about an hour or so before it opened and we beat the majority of the queue, which was pretty sweet. When it opened, we followed the streaming mobs of people directly to the number one destination within the museum—the Mona Lisa. I couldn’t believe I was actually looking at it. Most people are amazed by how small it is, but I knew it wasn’t large, so I just stood there in awe for a bit. In contrast, on the opposing wall was the painting of the Wedding Feast at Cana, which is one of the largest paintings I’ve ever seen in my entire life. If you spent thirty seconds at every piece of art in the Louvre, you’d be in there for over a month. We spent quite a bit of time in there and saw quite a lot of sweet stuff. We made it a point of seeing all of the really really famous stuff. The other piece, which I didn’t know the museum had, was the Code of Hammurabi. For anyone who doesn’t know, Hammurabi was a king/emperor (I’m not sure what the proper title should be) of the Mesopotamian civilization of Babylon. He decided he should write all of the laws down and post them in the city center so there was no question what the law was. This was the first time something like this had ever been done, so it’s really like civilization 2.0 because of Hammurabi. Yeah, I’m kind of a history geek sometimes—don’t judge me. Upon leaving, we took some goofy photos around the inverted pyramid. It was a good time.
We then went back to Notre Dame so we could actually go inside and see it. When we walked in, it was in the middle of mass, so the girls let me go and sit through the last part of it (they knew it was Sunday, and they know how excited I get about Catholic things in general). After the service, walking around was amazing. The stained glass in the church is so incredibly gorgeous that you have to see it to believe it. While on that side of the city, we also wanted to check out the Pantheon. However, much to our dismay, it cost quite a few euros to enter. We decided to forgo it and wander to a church off to the left of the Pantheon that had cool looking exterior architecture. It turned out to be the Church of Saint Genevieve. Saint Genevieve is the patron saint of Paris and, if you were wondering, has a sweet church. There wasn’t a pulpit in the church, but two spiral stairwells built into the walls that lead up to a catwalk-type thing encircling the high altar. However, all incredible beauty aside, I found something in the church that made me so elated I almost squeaked. Within the church was the tomb of Blaise Pascal. I’m going to perpetuate my geekiness here, but he was an incredibly famous French mathematician. So, yeah, I got really excited.
The climax of our Paris adventure, literally and figuratively, came with the ascension of the Eiffel Tower. I was initially disappointed that they wouldn’t let me take the stairs all the way to the top. I took the stairs to the second level (638 steps, if you’re wondering), and wasn’t even breathing heavily. There was no fatigue at that point. I was ready and rearing to go. Alas… However I got to the top, it didn’t matter once I was there. It was so glorious. The weather had been piss-poor all day, but when we got to the second level, the clouds broke and the sun shined down upon our epic ascent. I was amazed that there was a champagne bar at the top of the Tower. I almost wanted to toast the climb, but it was obscenely overpriced, and I don’t like champagne THAT much. We even got to watch the sun set from the tower.
Upon returning to the ground, we reunited with Val (who refused to climb the tower, citing a sever case of acrophobia) and found dinner. This was our one serious splurge of the trip. The place had an entrée and main course for fourteen euro. I ordered the fish of the day, which ended up being a grilled salmon, and a “fisherman’s salad.” I didn’t ask what a fisherman’s salad was, but ordered it on a whim. It ended up being an assortment of greens, tomatoes, onions and shaved tuna. I’ve never eaten tuna—despite my adoration for seafood—because my mom eats it out of a can at home mixed with Miracle Whip, and it always seemed to look and smell awkward, as well as slimy. Well, the tuna on my salad wasn’t slimy, but delicious. The grilled salmon that came with an assortment of assorted vegetables was probably one of the best meals I’ve had my entire semester abroad. Our evening concluded watching the Eiffel tower sparkle and glitter in the night. It was friggin’ beautiful.
We slept in on our last day in Paris. It was much needed and greatly appreciated. Our hostel was in the northern portion of the city, called Montmartre. It is the über-Bohemian, artsy-fartsy portion of the city. We spent the first half of the day wandering around the hilly streets. Also, in the area, is the Basilica of the Sacred Heart—probably the most beautiful church I’ve ever entered, behind St. Peter’s Basilica. When we entered, the bell went off, signifying the start of mass, so I got to sit through a mass at the Basilica. It was so awesome. That church was so incredibly gorgeous. They said no pictures, so I have nothing but my memories, which is cool, I guess. But I would have really liked to have pictures of how absolutely breathtaking the inside of the church was. Also, before departing Montmarte, we stumbled upon the Lapin Agile. It is a cabaret that Picasso spent quite a bit of his life at. Also, Steve Martin wrote a play entitled Picasso at the Lapin Agile that is completely hilarious. So, needless to say I was really excited.
We spent our final afternoon and evening in the grass, relaxing and staring at the Eiffel Tower. I wandered around while the girls napped. The Eiffel Tower is quite the wonderful backdrop. I was even inspired to do a little sketch; Val liked it so much I gave it her. We even bought ourselves a bottle of French wine to enjoy. One of those “when in Rome” moments, you know?
Since all of my Paris adventure has ended, I’ve written this blog twice (I’m still bitter about it). I’ve been relaxing and enjoying London. I’m here for a few more days, and I intend on making them glorious.
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