London and Dublin

London

We left Paris for London early Sunday morning. To go from France to the UK by train, you have to fill out a little card noting where you’re going to be staying, for how long, etc., etc. I didn’t know the exact address of our hostel, and thus didn’t fill in that particular box – that turned out to be a mistake. In a sharp, unfriendly British accent, the customs agent asked me why I left that box blank, and didn’t I know that I was supposed to fill in every box? Then she asked me what I was doing in Europe, how long I was staying, when I was going back, etc. I answered every question as honestly and professionally as I could, and so I think she realized that I wasn’t trying to illegally immigrate to England. She ended the conversation by telling me that I “should be able to prove at any time that you’re returning to the United States,” i.e, that I should have a copy of my ticket back to the U.S. with me at all times. I hadn’t heard that before, so I was kind of shocked, but after that she finally let me through customs.

Our tour guide in Paris had told us that the ride from Paris to London was really beautiful, and it was, to a certain extent. I have yet to see anything in Europe that surpasses the natural beauty of the U.S., except for maybe the Ionian Sea in Greece. The French countryside was pretty, of course, but nothing was shockingly beautiful. It was foggy and raining when we arrived in London, which made me happy.

Our hostel was in a quieter area of London, Victoria. It was actually an old house, a house that looked identical to every other house on the street – white stone, beautiful columns and large windows in the front. There were plenty of other hostels and hotels on the street, and it wasn’t a far walk to the bus station at all. It was nice, too, to be able to converse with the front desk employee in English guilt-free. It was called the Astor Victoria, and it was my favorite for meeting people: the whole place had a Bohemian, social feel to it. What I didn’t like was the internet charge – 1 pound, or $1.61 – to use the internet for 40 minutes. The breakfast was excellent – makings for sandwiches, tea, etc.; but I chose instead the biscuits and off-brand Nutella.

We visited all the typical touristy sites – Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, the Tower of London, London Bridge, Hyde Park, Regents Park, Whitehall, Buckminster Palace, Shakespeare’s Globe Theater – but we didn’t actually go into any of the admission-charging sites. We were in London for four days, and as I mentioned above, the pound-dollar conversion rate is atrocious, so really, going inside wasn’t affordable, and it was kind of stupid of us to spend the longest time in the most expensive city.

We took the Sandeman’s free walking tour again; this time our guide was a Canadian named Ben who tried to do this funny bit about marrying Princess Beatrice, but it didn’t really work. Most of the tour was really informative though, and we met some pretty cool people.

The coolest person I met, Marianne Bois, I met at the hostel, and not on the tour. Before I had met a college freshman from West Virginia (he was very well-meaning, but let’s just say he made most of the European stereotypes about Americans look true, which rubbed me the wrong way) who introduced me to Marianne. She’s from Quebec City, and just finished high school. She’s only 18 and she’s travelling around Europe by herself for three months! It turned out that we had really similar musical tastes, and since we were in London, we of course had to go to Abbey Road.

It took us forever to find it, but it was an adventure! We took the Tube to the Baker Street metro stop, where we passed by the Sherlock Holmes Museum. I am a huge Sherlock Holmes fan, so of course I insisted we go inside. I had read online that the museum was a tourist trap, but I was hoping that the website had lied. We were only allowed inside the gift shop, which was really cool, so we decided to come back and visit it after we found Abbey Road.

Marianne’s direction said that to get to Abbey Road you had to walk all the way around Regent’s Park. We did so for a while, but the neighborhood just got more and more residential, and it felt like we were going the wrong way. Finally we stopped at a huge rod-iron gate, and asked the attendant how to get to Abbey Road. He didn’t speak very much English (not that many people in London do) and so he called over another attendant, who didn’t speak English that well either. Then, like angels descending from heaven, a refined-looking lady in tennis clothes and with a very, very strong British accent, appeared with presumably her son, also in tennis clothes, and two little dogs. “Are you looking for Abbey Road?” she proceeded to give us very detailed, precise directions on exactly how to get to Abbey Road. After thanking her profusely, we set off in the right direction. As we walked back I noticed that next to the gate there was a black plaque bearing the words “Winfield House”, and one could barely see a beautiful house, in Regent’s Park,” through the pine trees. I was completely convinced that we had just met British nobility, and some day I’m going to look it up and see if it’s true.

Now that we knew where we were going, Marianne and I set off in the right direction for Abbey Road. I asked her if I could try and speak to her in French, and she said “Of course!” So I would speak to her in French and she would speak to me in English. Her English was much, much better than my French, but I was glad I was trying all the same. After stopping and asking several more strangers (just to make sure) that we were going the right direction, we finally reached Abbey Road. It was cool, but not because of the road itself (by the way, if I were to drive in London, which I will never, ever do – more details about why later – I would avoid Abbey Road like the plague) but because of the wall where all the visitors to Abbey Road sign their names. While we were there we saw someone filming a commercial, and a father-son-duo playing “Here Comes the Sun”.

We went back to Baker Street and looked through the Beatles Store, which was really cool, and a hard-rock store with all sorts of cool paraphenialia (like a gold record signed by The Who) across the street. Then, finally, I coughed up the 6 pounds ($12) for the Sherlock Holmes Musuem, which turned out to be…

Horrible. Absolutely horrible. There was one cool thing in the whole three floors of kitschy, cheesy, reproductions – a chair that an illustrator had used in order to design the cover of a magazine bearing one of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s short stories. And that was all. On the first floor a man wearing a top hat greeted us with “Good Afternoon, my name is Dr. Watson, and this is my chair. Would you like to sit down and take a picture with me?” Yes, it was THAT kind of place. The second floor was worse – all sorts of horrible wax figures representing characters from the short stories, but they were ugly and cheesy and, although realistic-looking, just not normal. I finally realized I just had to laugh at the situation, and so I did, but here’s some advice: if you’re ever in London, do NOT pay to see the Sherlock Holmes Museum.

Ultimately, while I really liked London, I personally don’t think it’s incredibly exciting compared to the rest of Europe. The fact that there is no language barrier makes things a little less exciting, and the city itself disappointed me a little. Maybe it’s because I had seen too many British movies or read too much British literature, but it just didn’t live up to my expectations. However, this could also be because I didn’t get to really see London – I didn’t get to visit Camdentown, and we spent hardly any time in Soho, and I’m sure there were other neighborhoods that would’ve been more to my taste that we just skipped altogether. While we did get to see some cool things, overall I think that I would’ve enjoyed London a lot more if I hadn’t seen it from the tourist’s perspective. Still, it’s definitely worth a visit, but I would see the rest of Europe first.

Dublin

We arrived in Dublin around 8 AM on – that’s right, Saint Patrick’s Day. We took a bus from Dublin’s interesting, kind of cool airport, to the city center – which it turns out we shouldn’t have done. We almost had to get a taxi to our hotel, until we figured out, with the help of two friendly policewomen, that we could take public transportation. Phew. As we walked to the LUAS (Dublin’s very new, very nice, and very slow suburban tram) I was surprised, but not that surprised, to see more than one person cracking open a Guinness at 8 AM.

Our hotel, located about a thirty-minute tram ride away from Dublin’s city center, was absolutely gorgeous, and of course, jam-packed. It turned out that in addition to St. Patrick’s Day, there was a huge soccer game going on in Dublin that weekend (maybe against England? I’m not sure) so the hotel was completely full. I took a shower and rested for a bit, while Siiri headed back to the city center to meet up with Allie, another SLU student who’s studying in Galway.

When I went back down to Dublin city center, I wasn’t at all surprised to see that the city had completely transformed from the morning. The streets were jam-packed with people wearing green, and of course, the beer bottles abounded. I somehow missed the St. Patrick’s Day Parade, but that was okay because instead I got to see my favorite thing – street musicians. There were SO many street musicians in Dublin. In fact, that night we encountered a whole band with amps and microphones and everything, playing on the street across from Temple Bar. In the bar we went into there was a guy playing traditional Irish music, and then he would switch to an American rock song. (American music is everywhere – from Krakow to London and everywhere in between).

Dublin is a very family-friendly city. I’m sure when it’s not jam-packed for St. Patrick’s Day that it’s really a nice, quiet place. Half the time I took the tram into the city I was sitting next to a family coming in from the suburbs. Valerie, if you’re reading this, I think you would absolutely love Dublin.

Okay, I hate to do this, but I’m going to have to cut this entry short. I need to pack! I’m about to leave for Istanbul (I always realize that I haven’t updated my blog yet when I’m about to leave on a trip) – my last trip! I’m planning on going to Vienna for a day, and maybe to Lake Balaton (the most famous vacation spot in Hungary) for two days, but soon enough, I’ll be home!

Next post: Barcelona!

Prague and Paris!

^^Prague
Hello everyone! I'm on the move again, this time on a plane from Budapest to Barcelona. Currently we're flying over a beautiful Italian mountain range, about half way through the flight. I've taken a few trips since last time I updated, so this time I'm just going to hit two cities: Paris and Prague.

Prague

We took a nine hour bus ride from Budapest, through Slovakia, to Prague. The Czech countryside is absolutely beautiful - lots of low, rolling hills. The countryside actually seemed pretty populated, compared to Slovakia at least. I didn't see my last name anywhere the whole trip (I did see it in Krakow though!) but it could be because we mostly stuck to the touristy areas.

Even the area around the bus terminal in Prague was beautiful. We took the metro into the city center, but that was literally the only time we had to take public transportation the whole trip - downtown Prague is that walkable. We arrived at the hostel and then immediately set out to find food.

My first thought when we arrived to the city center? "My ancestors done good." The architecture and layout of the city is the most beautiful I've seen in Europe (yes, even surpassing Paris). The Molva River which cuts through Prague is absolutely beautiful, much more clean than the Danube. Stretching across the river is probably the single most beautiful bridge in the entire world - the Karluv most, or Charles Bridge. It's an entirely pedestrian bridge, and every few feet there is a beautiful statue depicting some Christian figure. During the daytime on the bridge you can find vendors selling souvenirs, jewelry, artwork, and lots of handmade wooden objects, usually toys. It was on the Charles bridge that I encountered my first ever one-man-band, who was phenomenal, in my opinion.

Okay, so back to the first day: we decided to look for food on the main tourist shopping drag, where we immediately found a little sausage stand. I tried a Bohemian sausage (delicious) and hot chocolate with rum (disgusting). We walked along the shopping street for a while, running into a Nike promotion concert and encountering lots of fancy stores, before meeting up with the rest of the group and returning to the hostel. I was surprised by the amount of English I heard - more than in Rome even, which was the most touristy city we had visited - but I was okay with it because I hadn't heard much English since I had left the States.

Saturday was our really touristy day. I went with three of my friends all around historic Prague, visiting the major sites - a beautiful clock tower in the Old Market, an outdoor touristy-market in a little side street where I got all my souvenirs for my Czech relatives, an armor/medieval weaponry store, Prague Castle (which you had to walk uphill for probably a mile to reach, and turned out to be a cathedral... but a gorgeous cathedral, possibly my favorite in Europe), and then back to the Old Market for a lunch/dinner of really delicious, really expensive ham (we didn't realize this until after we bought it - the Czech koruna conversion rate is the most difficult to calculate). We went back to the hostel to rest for an hour or two, and then headed back out for a real Czech dinner. We sort of meandered around the city for a while until we found an authentic Czech place, which charged us for bread (downside of being a tourist, I guess). I was still full from the ham, so I only had a chicken-stuffed tomato, but one of my friends got ... Pork knee. It looked interesting, to say the least.

Our bus left Prague mid-afternoon on Sunday, so we didn't have too much time for sightseeing. We hiked the mile back up to Prague Castle (our friends told us admission to the cathedral was free) except we walked up a different way, and ran into... the changing of the guard at the castle! We were so lucky, we had just reached the top of the hill when we practically plowed into a contingent marching towards the castle. The music was actually kind of cool, and although we couldn't really see the changing, it was neat to experience. Czech guards wear opposite colors from British guards, by the way - blue coats and white Russian-esque furry hats.

After the changing, we walked back down the hill and decided to go to the Jewish Quarter. We wanted to go inside what was supposed to be a really cool old Jewish cemetery, but it charged for admission. We ended up back in the shopping district.

I could go on for ages about the beauty of Prague: the river, the colorful buildings, the black cobblestone streets, the uniformity of the architecture, the cleanliness of the entire city, and how well the old structures were preserved. But I have to be honest: even if I did describe Prague for pages and pages, I wouldn't be able to do it justice. My advice: if you're going to visit one city in central/eastern Europe, let it be Prague. You have to experience the city's beauty for yourself.

Paris

Where do I begin? I've been fascinated with Paris for ages; my apartment last fall had two pictures of the Eiffel Tower, and I chose to take French when I started college. Paris did not disappoint.

It was a little stressful at first. Paris was the first leg of our three-part Spring Break journey, and so when we left for Paris we were leaving for ten days. When we landed at Charles de Gaulle airport, I couldn't help but think that it was the most beautiful airport I'd ever been in. This next part is going to sound a little strange, so please bear with me. Because France colonized so many African nations, and because Paris is, well, Paris, there are many, many Africans in Paris. In Eastern Europe, this is not the case at all; whenever I see a black person in Budapest I do a doubletake because it happens so rarely. So call me a sheltered American, but when I saw Africans in Paris I immediately thought, "Oh thank God! Americans!" Of course, I was in for a huge shock. The first African-French person I spoke too had the thickest Parisian accent I had ever heard and spoke English very poorly. Later I realized how backwards that was, that I was expecting all the Africans I encountered to be African-Americans... it was a very surreal moment.

We managed to find our way to the Metro, and even got off at the right stop - Rouchechart, in the Montemartre district. We climbed up the subway station stairs and onto the boulevard of Moulin Rouge, tons of cafes, a few clubs, and endless kebab stands. Some people say that Montmartre is the true side of Paris - I have a feeling it's the still-kind-of-touristy side of Paris, but nonetheless, from that first moment I stepped off the subway, I was in love. (Like I had ever not been in love with the city).

Then, it got a little stressful.

First off, Siiri had left her credit card in Budapest. Fortunately, I owed her some money from when I was waiting for my debit card in the mail, so I of course told her that I had it covered and she could pay me back. Understandably, I suppose, she didn't want to be without it and therefore was trying everything she could to get access to her bank. Then, the minute after we stepped out of the subway station, we realized that Paris is not all that easy to navigate - problem. We found our hostel after a bit, though, and it was actually really cool - murals on the wall, an open common area, and even a terrace with tables for socializing. Siiri and I went off to our separate rooms (also a surprise, considering we booked them together...) when I realized.. dun-dun-dun.. I didn't have my passport.

Fortunately, the front desk had saved it for me. From that moment on, I swore to never believe in stereotypes - about French people, or really anybody - again. I was so grateful I think I almost cried, which would've been really embarrassing, so let's just say I didn't. That first night we attempted to find the Eiffel Tower... and somehow got lost (it was my fault - Siiri wanted to walk through the park, but I wanted to be adventurous and cut through a neighborhood... once again, Paris = not that navigable) and ended up going back to Montmartre and getting delicious crepes, from an African-French vendor whom I spoke to in bad French about politics (he kept saying "America, the policeman of the world").

The next morning, after a breakfast of croissants and hot chocolate (you can see why this is my favorite city now, can't you? that was literally all the breakfast at the hostel offered - croissants, rolls, butter, jam, hot chocolate and coffee) we took the metro to Place St. Michel to meet our free walking tour. The tour was absolutely amazing - our tour guide was from Philadelphia, studying to get his Master's at Sorbonne. He was hilarious, and knew so much about the history of the city. The tour was four hours long, which was great - we saw Notre Dame, Pont Neuf, the spot where the last Templar Knight was killed, a statue of Henry III (apparently they put a light saber in his hand one year, interesting tidbit), Pont des Arts, the Louvre, Tuiliers Gardens, Musee d'Orsay, the Eiffel Tower, the real Champs-Elysees, and finally, the military hospital. On the tour we saw what must've been a Fruit of the Loom ad (it was a bunch of guys dressed up as fruit, what else could it've been?) and a model shoot on a bridge by the Eiffel Tower. Afterwards the whole group went to a little restaurant where I tried a croquemonsieur (which was amazing) and had my first glass of French wine. Later I went back to Notre Dame (Siiri was trying to get access to her account still) and tried to get in (I got there a few minutes after closing, which was a drag) but I ended up randomly asking these two girls to take my picture, and it turned out they were Hungarian! Small world, huh? From there I walked along the Seine, which is beautiful at night, back to the Louvre.

The Louvre is my favorite place in the entire world. When I arrived, I was so happy that I actually made it - walking alone, at night, in a city you don't know is always a bit frightening, even if it's Paris - that I didn't care if I'd have to pay to get in, and it turns out that I didn't! (If you're under 26 and a student in any EU country, you gain free access to the museums of other EU countries). When I walked in I was daunted by the size of the place - a glance at a map told me that it would take days to thoroughly walk through the whole museum - but I didn't care. People who had gone before me told me they had spent three hours in a single wing of the museum, and I only had three for the entire thing, so I told myself "This is my dry run. Next time, you'll do it properly." and began to walk through the museum, completely not caring if I was going out of order or what not. Minutes after walking in I remembered that I HAD to see the Mona Lisa - I had done a project on her in high school and was enchanted by the mystery surrounding the painting - and sought out a docent for directions. To my surprise, he not only understood and responded to my broken French, but then- he kept speaking to me in French! I was so shocked that all I could do was smile sillily and say "d'accord", even though I had no idea what he was saying. Anyway, it made me so happy that someone thought - possibly - that I was an actual French speaker. As soon as I left him, I literally began to sprint through the Louvre (alright, yes, I was pretending I was a character in a Dan Brown novel) until I found the painting... it was, well, underwhelming, but still exciting all the same. Anyway, the rest of the Louvre made up for any disappointment I might've felt about the Mona Lisa. The Louvre was originally a palace, so of course, the architecture is beyond beautiful and the paintings, sculptures, pottery, etc., within it are gorgeous. Ultimately, the reason why I love the Louvre so much is that you could literally learn the history of the entire world just from looking at all the paintings in the Louvre and reading their captions. It literally contains something from every era of human history. The only thing I didn't really like about it, though, was that the captions were only in French. Some rooms had small posters with translations on them, but it just wasn't the same as reading the caption right there. Otherwise, the Louvre was perfect.

The next morning I finally got into Notre Dame. It looks exactly like it does in the Disney movie; I could practically hear Esmeralda singing. The church was gorgeous, but unfortunately I was there too early to go up to the second level - oh well; another reason to go back!

After Notre Dame we took a train (only 3 euros!) to Versailles. We got in for free (again!) and got a free audio tour as well. Versailles is gorgeous; but it's another place that you really just have to visit yourself to understand its beauty.

From Versailles we went to the Musee d'Orsay (lots of Van Gogh and Monet), and then stopped for crepes (no more politics with the vendor; there were other Americans waiting this time) and then to a cafe for people-watching and a glass of wine. It's funny, in Paris some cafes are set up with the chairs purposefully facing the street - you're supposed to go there to people-watch, and not necessarily for the conversation of a friend.

My memory is failing me as to what else we did and it's getting late, so I'll wrap up with this: Paris was amazing, and I didn't get to see half the things I wanted to see (the Champs-Elysees, we didn't go up the Eiffel Tower, rue Moufetard, the Arc de Triomphe, or another half of the Louvre) and I really want to go back with loved ones - Paris isn't just a city for lovers (it's true - the Italians are lovers moreso than the French).

Next post: London and Dublin! To be posted soon!

The next day