Paris
Brussels, Amsterdam, and Copenhagen
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Two More Countries and No Stamps to Show for It
We left Paris for Brussels on Thursday 19 March; with the way the bus schedule worked out, we were only going to have the afternoon there before catching the red eye bus to Amsterdam on Friday morning. With the way our apparently slow bus driver drove, we got into Brussels 2 hours late. Add that on top of the terrible directions our hostel sent us, we didn’t get to our hostel until late afternoon. We wandered around (lost) long enough realize that Brussels is ugly. A girl in our Paris hostel gave us a map of Brussels; the map claimed that the city was ugly, but I was still caught off-guard. Modern apartment buildings stand tall over neon Burger King and McDonald’s signs, which are across the street from demolition site after demolition site. By the time Anna and I reached the Van Gogh Youth Hostel (Van Gogh apparently worked in the building back in the day), we were hungry, tired, in desperate need of bathing, and we did not have the stamina to cram a day’s worth of sight-seeing into a short afternoon. We therefore forfeited, settling on getting our rest and venturing out for dinner. “What did you find to eat?” you may ask. Why a Belgian waffle, of course! Fat and happy, we resigned to watching The Notebook on Anna’s computer (my guilty pleasure movie… don’t judge) before catching some zzz’s before our 5:30am bus to Amsterdam.
Amsterdam makes up in aesthetics everything Brussels lacks. People tend to associate the city simply with the progressive lifestyle, but the city is absolutely breath-taking! In fact, I would say it’s my favorite city so far (not counting Edinburgh, of course). Amsterdam (other than the Jewish quarter) wasn’t touched during WW2, leaving the 17th century buildings intact. People get huffy when the city is called the “Venice of the North,” but the canals that stripe the city would make it tempting to do so.
We stayed in the Shelter Jordan Christian Hostel. I wasn’t quite sure what we’d gotten ourselves into; in a city that is known for drug tolerance and legal prostitution, I could just visualize the aggressive hostel workers we could potentially face. This was not the case. Instead, it was a nice, clean hostel in a prime location. We were not allowed, however, to bring drugs or alcohol onto the premises. Anna and I barely managed to follow these commandments. (To be read with sarcasm.) “The Shelter” is worth staying in merely for their phenomenal breakfast. Many hostels across Europe boast that breakfast is included in the hostel price, but this usually consists of cereal and toast (or baguettes in France). At The Shelter, you have a choice of a cold breakfast (cheese, rolls, and jam), a granola breakfast (with yoghurt and fruit) or a hot breakfast (changed every day—French toast, pancakes, etc.). Yumm-o.
We continued to be patrons of the New Europe tours, taking the free walking tour during the day on Saturday and the Red Light District tour that night. Our walking tour guide, Kevin, was an incredibly energetic, overly animated Boston native with shaggy red hair and a goatee. He sported a straw hat and blue blazer the entire tour, effectively turning himself into Vincent Van Gogh. After the tour, a group of us from the tour went out for authentic Dutch cuisine for lunch. Delectable.
On the Red Light District tour that evening, we explored the central prostitution district. Contrary to what you might think, this area is said to be the safest of the city. “If you don’t see a cop standing next to you,” our guide told us, “that’s probably because you’re standing next to an under-cover one.” Prostitution takes on three forms (all currently legal) in the Netherlands: windows, escorts, and brothels. The windows are what Amsterdam is known for. The girls rent display windows that line the streets, dress in very little clothing, and lure customers to come in for a visit. A new political party is in control of Amsterdam, and the times, they are a-changing. Our guide informed us that the number of windows is being cut every month, and that all windows will be gone by 2015. Prostitution will be illegal. Apparently the same thing is happening with the “coffee shops” that sell marijuana. While marijuana is in fact illegal here, it is tolerated. All coffee shops will also be gone by 2015. Amsterdam’s culture I witnessed in 2009 will be drastically different in 2015.
On Monday, Anna and I woke up early to beat the crowds at the Anne Frank House. The building is Otto Frank’s (Anne’s dad) old business. Well, it was his business until Nazi occupation forced him to put it in someone else’s name—a non-Jewish name. The warehouse is where Anne Frank, her mother, father, sister, and four others hid for two years during the war. Otto, living through the torment of Auschwitz, was the only surviving member of the eight who hid together. At his request, the annex remained unfurnished after they were discovered and everything was confiscated. The room was redecorated long enough to film a video, and models placed through the annex show what the rooms would have looked like furnished. Anne’s room still had the magazine pictures of the Hollywood actresses and English princesses Margaret and Elizabeth she pasted to the walls. One of Otto’s employees who helped hide the Franks also hid Anne’s diary and returned it to Otto after Anne’s death. He made his daughter’s dream of becoming a published author come true. He published her dairy!!! I really want to re-read it now; hopefully I’ll find and English bookstore in the next couple of cities.
We spent our final afternoon in Amsterdam wandering around the ugly art-deco Jewish quarter. I mentioned that this was the only section of Amsterdam damaged during the war, but it was not because of battle. During the exceptionally cold winter of 1944, the food was gone, and the residents of Amsterdam were freezing to death in their own homes. All the trees in the city center were cut down to burn for heat, leaving no choice but to tear down the vacated buildings of the Jewish quarter, using the wooden structures as firewood. The streets have been refurbished with the ugliest modern, brightly colored, and asymmetrical buildings you can imagine. It sticks out like a sore thumb, but I suppose it also sticks out a sore reminder of not-too-distant history.
Summary: Didn’t love Brussels. Loved, loved, loved Amsterdam.
Next stop: Copenhagen, Denmark.
Amsterdam makes up in aesthetics everything Brussels lacks. People tend to associate the city simply with the progressive lifestyle, but the city is absolutely breath-taking! In fact, I would say it’s my favorite city so far (not counting Edinburgh, of course). Amsterdam (other than the Jewish quarter) wasn’t touched during WW2, leaving the 17th century buildings intact. People get huffy when the city is called the “Venice of the North,” but the canals that stripe the city would make it tempting to do so.
We stayed in the Shelter Jordan Christian Hostel. I wasn’t quite sure what we’d gotten ourselves into; in a city that is known for drug tolerance and legal prostitution, I could just visualize the aggressive hostel workers we could potentially face. This was not the case. Instead, it was a nice, clean hostel in a prime location. We were not allowed, however, to bring drugs or alcohol onto the premises. Anna and I barely managed to follow these commandments. (To be read with sarcasm.) “The Shelter” is worth staying in merely for their phenomenal breakfast. Many hostels across Europe boast that breakfast is included in the hostel price, but this usually consists of cereal and toast (or baguettes in France). At The Shelter, you have a choice of a cold breakfast (cheese, rolls, and jam), a granola breakfast (with yoghurt and fruit) or a hot breakfast (changed every day—French toast, pancakes, etc.). Yumm-o.
We continued to be patrons of the New Europe tours, taking the free walking tour during the day on Saturday and the Red Light District tour that night. Our walking tour guide, Kevin, was an incredibly energetic, overly animated Boston native with shaggy red hair and a goatee. He sported a straw hat and blue blazer the entire tour, effectively turning himself into Vincent Van Gogh. After the tour, a group of us from the tour went out for authentic Dutch cuisine for lunch. Delectable.
On the Red Light District tour that evening, we explored the central prostitution district. Contrary to what you might think, this area is said to be the safest of the city. “If you don’t see a cop standing next to you,” our guide told us, “that’s probably because you’re standing next to an under-cover one.” Prostitution takes on three forms (all currently legal) in the Netherlands: windows, escorts, and brothels. The windows are what Amsterdam is known for. The girls rent display windows that line the streets, dress in very little clothing, and lure customers to come in for a visit. A new political party is in control of Amsterdam, and the times, they are a-changing. Our guide informed us that the number of windows is being cut every month, and that all windows will be gone by 2015. Prostitution will be illegal. Apparently the same thing is happening with the “coffee shops” that sell marijuana. While marijuana is in fact illegal here, it is tolerated. All coffee shops will also be gone by 2015. Amsterdam’s culture I witnessed in 2009 will be drastically different in 2015.
On Monday, Anna and I woke up early to beat the crowds at the Anne Frank House. The building is Otto Frank’s (Anne’s dad) old business. Well, it was his business until Nazi occupation forced him to put it in someone else’s name—a non-Jewish name. The warehouse is where Anne Frank, her mother, father, sister, and four others hid for two years during the war. Otto, living through the torment of Auschwitz, was the only surviving member of the eight who hid together. At his request, the annex remained unfurnished after they were discovered and everything was confiscated. The room was redecorated long enough to film a video, and models placed through the annex show what the rooms would have looked like furnished. Anne’s room still had the magazine pictures of the Hollywood actresses and English princesses Margaret and Elizabeth she pasted to the walls. One of Otto’s employees who helped hide the Franks also hid Anne’s diary and returned it to Otto after Anne’s death. He made his daughter’s dream of becoming a published author come true. He published her dairy!!! I really want to re-read it now; hopefully I’ll find and English bookstore in the next couple of cities.
We spent our final afternoon in Amsterdam wandering around the ugly art-deco Jewish quarter. I mentioned that this was the only section of Amsterdam damaged during the war, but it was not because of battle. During the exceptionally cold winter of 1944, the food was gone, and the residents of Amsterdam were freezing to death in their own homes. All the trees in the city center were cut down to burn for heat, leaving no choice but to tear down the vacated buildings of the Jewish quarter, using the wooden structures as firewood. The streets have been refurbished with the ugliest modern, brightly colored, and asymmetrical buildings you can imagine. It sticks out like a sore thumb, but I suppose it also sticks out a sore reminder of not-too-distant history.
Summary: Didn’t love Brussels. Loved, loved, loved Amsterdam.
Next stop: Copenhagen, Denmark.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Parisian
I will apologize in advance for my spelling. I know NOTHING about French.
After 16 long hours in the bus, we arrived in Paris on Monday 16 March. Actually, the bus trip was not bad at all. I slept nearly the entire time, and there were few enough people that Anna and I each got our own seats. We stopped every couple of hours for a rest break, and the driver would make an announcement (in Spanish, of course) every time. If I paid attention really hard, occasionally I could make how long the rest break would last. Once we reached what I assume was the French border, two police officers got on the bus and delivered a very bad piece of news: our passports will not get any stamps by driving across borders. Or at least it doesn’t look good. The officer flipped through my passport, compared my incredibly awkward picture to how I looked at 5:00am, and handed it back to me with a “merci.” I will be visiting 11 countries in total with little to no stamps to prove it.
Anna and I were wiped out after our bus trip, so we decided our best option would be to rest, relax, and catch up on email correspondence in order to store up energy for a touristy Tuesday. So that’s what we did. We wandered around our section of Montmartre for dinner, but not much else.
We started Tuesday with the New Europe free walking tour. I swear by New Europe; the company is brilliant. Their free walking tours (the guides work on tips-only) work as advertisements for their other tours. A tour of the city on the first day is also a great way to get your bearings and to help decide what sights you do and do not want to visit. We met at St. Michael’s fountain. We gawked at Notre Dame. We walked along Pont Neuf. (King Henry IV held a masquerade ball celebrating the opening of this new bridge. He had an artist chisel the faces of his guests across the width of the bridge, and by the looks of their faces, the wine was in abundance. This is also the bridge from Bourne Identity.) I took a picture of the fountain where Anne Hathaway threw her phone in The Devil Wears Prada. I got really excited when I saw the bridge where Big kisses Carrie in the last episode of Sex and the City. We walked through the Louvre (where 4 businessmen in power suits ate McDonald’s for lunch…talk about a funny sight) and around the Arc de Triomphe and in the runway gardens.
Our tour guide talked a great deal about World War 2 throughout the tour, but this was my favorite story. Napoleon (the nut-job he was) built himself a tomb. The tomb is positioned so that it is lower than the ground, leaving the observer no choice but to lean over the railing to have a look, inadvertently bowing to Napoleon. Hitler visited Paris only once, and he made a point to visit Napoleon’s tomb. Refusing to bow to the deceased emperor, he arranged for two of his soldiers to hold mirrors so that Hitler could get a look through the reflection; however, the soldiers held the mirrors at the wrong angle. When Hitler took a step backwards in order to get a glimpse of the tomb, he stepped on another soldier’s shoe and stumbled, his hat falling to the ground. Hitler scooped down to pick up his hat just as he realized that not only was he bowing to Napoleon, but he had also removed his hat, a sign of even greater respect. He threw a temper tantrum and ran out, not forgetting to arrange the immediate execution of the two soldiers who held the mirrors.
After the tour, Anna and I took a trip up the Eifel Tower. The top floor was closed, so we could only go to the second (but my fear of heights kept me from being too disappointed about that). The view was breathtaking, but in a way I would not have expected. I’ll get to that in a minute. After our descent back town to ground-level, we celebrated with a nutella crepe. Yum.
On Friday, our last day in Paris, we started off with an art museum. I generally do not enjoy art. I’ve never studied it. I have no talent for it. I have little patience with it. Some people do not like reading or listening to classical music; I do not like art. I did promise Anna, however, that I would visit a few museums with her, and so we visited the Musee d’Orsay. Anna chose the museum because while the Louvre has the most impressive collection of artwork stolen by Napoleon from the edges of the world, the Musee d’Orsay has the best Impressionist collection (Anna’s favorite). I will admit this in writing: I enjoyed the museum! I really like the Van Gogh collections; you cannot tell from pictures of his paintings how elaborate, colorful, and textured they are. An impossible task.
We finished off our last day in Paris with the New Europe tour of Montmartre. Paris used to be made of small, winding streets (like Montmartre is even today); when the inner city was demolished in order to build the long tree-lined boulevards we know today, Montmartre was made a tax-free residential area to encourage people to move there. Two groups took advantage of the tax break: the wealthy bourgeoisies and the starving artists. We saw the Moulin Rouge. We saw Van Gogh’s flat and his favorite restaurant. The owner of the restaurant allowed him to eat for free occasionally, and he purchased the only painting Van Gogh sold during his life. We saw where Picasso lived and his favorite restaurant as well. Picasso used to woo the waitresses with sketches to get free meals. When the owner found out, he told Picasso he could eat there occasionally in exchange for a few canvases a month; when Picasso hit the spotlight, the owner was able to retire to the south of France with his wardrobe full of Picasso originals. We saw the only vineyard left in Paris. We climbed the hill to the Sacre Coeur. GORGEOUS! The cathedral is glistening white! We also saw bits and bobs from the film Amélie, one of my favorites! We saw the café where she works, the market where she shops, and the carousel at the bottom of the hill from the Sacre Coeur from the final scenes.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to like Paris or not. As it turns out, I really did like Paris. It is a gorgeous city, and the buildings are so ornate. From the Eifel Tower, these gorgeous buildings spread as far as the eye could see, specked here and there with lush, green gardens. Paris is beautiful. But…since Edinburgh holds the key to my heart… I compare everything to it. Paris is beautiful because the buildings and the gardens are beautiful. It’s a superficial beauty, I suppose. On the other hand, Edinburgh—or Scotland in general—is beautiful because the land is beautiful. I miss Edinburgh.
We finished the tour and our trip to Paris with a Nutella crepe. Naturally
Pictures to come soon.
After 16 long hours in the bus, we arrived in Paris on Monday 16 March. Actually, the bus trip was not bad at all. I slept nearly the entire time, and there were few enough people that Anna and I each got our own seats. We stopped every couple of hours for a rest break, and the driver would make an announcement (in Spanish, of course) every time. If I paid attention really hard, occasionally I could make how long the rest break would last. Once we reached what I assume was the French border, two police officers got on the bus and delivered a very bad piece of news: our passports will not get any stamps by driving across borders. Or at least it doesn’t look good. The officer flipped through my passport, compared my incredibly awkward picture to how I looked at 5:00am, and handed it back to me with a “merci.” I will be visiting 11 countries in total with little to no stamps to prove it.
Anna and I were wiped out after our bus trip, so we decided our best option would be to rest, relax, and catch up on email correspondence in order to store up energy for a touristy Tuesday. So that’s what we did. We wandered around our section of Montmartre for dinner, but not much else.
We started Tuesday with the New Europe free walking tour. I swear by New Europe; the company is brilliant. Their free walking tours (the guides work on tips-only) work as advertisements for their other tours. A tour of the city on the first day is also a great way to get your bearings and to help decide what sights you do and do not want to visit. We met at St. Michael’s fountain. We gawked at Notre Dame. We walked along Pont Neuf. (King Henry IV held a masquerade ball celebrating the opening of this new bridge. He had an artist chisel the faces of his guests across the width of the bridge, and by the looks of their faces, the wine was in abundance. This is also the bridge from Bourne Identity.) I took a picture of the fountain where Anne Hathaway threw her phone in The Devil Wears Prada. I got really excited when I saw the bridge where Big kisses Carrie in the last episode of Sex and the City. We walked through the Louvre (where 4 businessmen in power suits ate McDonald’s for lunch…talk about a funny sight) and around the Arc de Triomphe and in the runway gardens.
Our tour guide talked a great deal about World War 2 throughout the tour, but this was my favorite story. Napoleon (the nut-job he was) built himself a tomb. The tomb is positioned so that it is lower than the ground, leaving the observer no choice but to lean over the railing to have a look, inadvertently bowing to Napoleon. Hitler visited Paris only once, and he made a point to visit Napoleon’s tomb. Refusing to bow to the deceased emperor, he arranged for two of his soldiers to hold mirrors so that Hitler could get a look through the reflection; however, the soldiers held the mirrors at the wrong angle. When Hitler took a step backwards in order to get a glimpse of the tomb, he stepped on another soldier’s shoe and stumbled, his hat falling to the ground. Hitler scooped down to pick up his hat just as he realized that not only was he bowing to Napoleon, but he had also removed his hat, a sign of even greater respect. He threw a temper tantrum and ran out, not forgetting to arrange the immediate execution of the two soldiers who held the mirrors.
After the tour, Anna and I took a trip up the Eifel Tower. The top floor was closed, so we could only go to the second (but my fear of heights kept me from being too disappointed about that). The view was breathtaking, but in a way I would not have expected. I’ll get to that in a minute. After our descent back town to ground-level, we celebrated with a nutella crepe. Yum.
On Friday, our last day in Paris, we started off with an art museum. I generally do not enjoy art. I’ve never studied it. I have no talent for it. I have little patience with it. Some people do not like reading or listening to classical music; I do not like art. I did promise Anna, however, that I would visit a few museums with her, and so we visited the Musee d’Orsay. Anna chose the museum because while the Louvre has the most impressive collection of artwork stolen by Napoleon from the edges of the world, the Musee d’Orsay has the best Impressionist collection (Anna’s favorite). I will admit this in writing: I enjoyed the museum! I really like the Van Gogh collections; you cannot tell from pictures of his paintings how elaborate, colorful, and textured they are. An impossible task.
We finished off our last day in Paris with the New Europe tour of Montmartre. Paris used to be made of small, winding streets (like Montmartre is even today); when the inner city was demolished in order to build the long tree-lined boulevards we know today, Montmartre was made a tax-free residential area to encourage people to move there. Two groups took advantage of the tax break: the wealthy bourgeoisies and the starving artists. We saw the Moulin Rouge. We saw Van Gogh’s flat and his favorite restaurant. The owner of the restaurant allowed him to eat for free occasionally, and he purchased the only painting Van Gogh sold during his life. We saw where Picasso lived and his favorite restaurant as well. Picasso used to woo the waitresses with sketches to get free meals. When the owner found out, he told Picasso he could eat there occasionally in exchange for a few canvases a month; when Picasso hit the spotlight, the owner was able to retire to the south of France with his wardrobe full of Picasso originals. We saw the only vineyard left in Paris. We climbed the hill to the Sacre Coeur. GORGEOUS! The cathedral is glistening white! We also saw bits and bobs from the film Amélie, one of my favorites! We saw the café where she works, the market where she shops, and the carousel at the bottom of the hill from the Sacre Coeur from the final scenes.
I wasn’t sure if I was going to like Paris or not. As it turns out, I really did like Paris. It is a gorgeous city, and the buildings are so ornate. From the Eifel Tower, these gorgeous buildings spread as far as the eye could see, specked here and there with lush, green gardens. Paris is beautiful. But…since Edinburgh holds the key to my heart… I compare everything to it. Paris is beautiful because the buildings and the gardens are beautiful. It’s a superficial beauty, I suppose. On the other hand, Edinburgh—or Scotland in general—is beautiful because the land is beautiful. I miss Edinburgh.
We finished the tour and our trip to Paris with a Nutella crepe. Naturally
Pictures to come soon.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Vive Espana
Anna and I went to Spain. We got to Madrid early Saturday afternoon after a very emotional 24 hours. Following a successful Metro navigation from the airport, we arrived at Hostal Yolanda, our abode for the next few days. “Hostel” may not be the best word to describe Hostal Yolanda; guest House Yolanda might be the more appropriate name. Classification aside, it was precious. A Spanish-only-speaking elderly couple runs the joint. They greeted us at the door with a big smile on their faces, and the woman showed us through the winding hallways to our room. The language barrier made checking in and checking out interesting, but we managed. The one and only Mary Kathryn Dykes showed up shortly after we did. Mary Kathryn is a sorority sister and is currently a junior at PC. She is putting her Spanish major into practice by studying abroad in Salamanca this semester. Her boyfriend flew into Madrid on Sunday, so she visited with us (and served as our translator) until then.
We had a late lunch after MK got there. Correction: we had a regular Spanish lunch once MK got there. The Spanish eat lunch around 2-3pm, tapas around 5-6pm, and dinner around 9-10pm. We had traditional “tortillas Espanolas,” kind of like a potato and onion omelet. We leisurely explored the city by foot before a dinner of tapas and vino blanco and then bed.
Sunday morning, we went to Toledo!! Claire Atkins, a friend of Anna’s from Kanuga, has been studying abroad there since September. Over her Christmas break, Claire visited us in Edinburgh, so it was her turn to show us around her neck of the European woods. Toledo is BEAUTIFUL! Claire showed us all around the city. I am not exaggerating in the least when I say we walked ALL DAY LONG. But I’m not complaining; I walked around befuddled at how pretty the city is. The city is very hilly. Our first path was to view all there was to view as we walked down the city. But don’t worry your pretty head about us having to hike back up all the hills because there is an escalator built in the side of the mountain. No joke.
Serving as the religious capital of Spain, the architecture shows the cultural combination of Jewish, Catholic, and Muslim. Since I know next to nothing about architecture—religious or secular—I took Claire’s word for it. We went in the cathedral. I generally stand by the theory that a cathedral is a cathedral is a cathedral. The same goes for this one. It was stunning. It was impressive. It was MASSIVE. The artwork was elaborate (featuring most of Goya’s artwork that is not showcased in the Prado Museum). The statues were everywhere. (The quire featured statues of the lineage of Jesus according to the Gospel of Matthew. Except the women were left out. Figures.) The stained glass windows were colorful. It really was beautiful. But it was just another cathedral.
I should mention that we had authentic Spanish sangria whilst enjoying the breeze at an outdoor café. We went back to Madrid that night.
MK left for the airport early Monday morning, leaving Anna and me to our own defenses in the language department. Yes, I have took 4 years of Spanish in high school and another semester in college, but being able to translate on a 3rd grade level doesn't help much with communication skills. MK did write out a few pointers for us, i.e. how to ask our hostel lady if we could store our bags there for the day. After checking out, Anna and I caught up with New Europe’s free walking tour. We’ve done the tour in Edinburgh (several times), London, and Dublin as well. The company’s guides work on a tips-only basis with the philosophy that everyone can take the tour regardless of budget restrictions. In Madrid, however, there is a law that only licensed guides can charge customers for tours. New Europe has been functioning in the gray area: they do no charge for tours, so they do not have to be licensed guides. The Madrid guides are mad that this company is taking away business, so they are protesting. As a result, our tour was joined by 4 protestors holding up signs that read, “ILLEGAL TOURS!” AND “BLACK MONEY IN MADRID!” Of all the things to protest in the world, they choose a tour company??
We learned a lot on the tour. We saw a lot. I probably couldn’t recall 25% of it if I tried, so I won’t. The tour took up most of the day, leaving us time to stroll through the Puerta del Sol and the Plaza Mayor once more before hopping on our short 16-hour bus ride to Paris.
This ends my busy, successful, and fabulous trip to Spain.
We had a late lunch after MK got there. Correction: we had a regular Spanish lunch once MK got there. The Spanish eat lunch around 2-3pm, tapas around 5-6pm, and dinner around 9-10pm. We had traditional “tortillas Espanolas,” kind of like a potato and onion omelet. We leisurely explored the city by foot before a dinner of tapas and vino blanco and then bed.
Sunday morning, we went to Toledo!! Claire Atkins, a friend of Anna’s from Kanuga, has been studying abroad there since September. Over her Christmas break, Claire visited us in Edinburgh, so it was her turn to show us around her neck of the European woods. Toledo is BEAUTIFUL! Claire showed us all around the city. I am not exaggerating in the least when I say we walked ALL DAY LONG. But I’m not complaining; I walked around befuddled at how pretty the city is. The city is very hilly. Our first path was to view all there was to view as we walked down the city. But don’t worry your pretty head about us having to hike back up all the hills because there is an escalator built in the side of the mountain. No joke.
Serving as the religious capital of Spain, the architecture shows the cultural combination of Jewish, Catholic, and Muslim. Since I know next to nothing about architecture—religious or secular—I took Claire’s word for it. We went in the cathedral. I generally stand by the theory that a cathedral is a cathedral is a cathedral. The same goes for this one. It was stunning. It was impressive. It was MASSIVE. The artwork was elaborate (featuring most of Goya’s artwork that is not showcased in the Prado Museum). The statues were everywhere. (The quire featured statues of the lineage of Jesus according to the Gospel of Matthew. Except the women were left out. Figures.) The stained glass windows were colorful. It really was beautiful. But it was just another cathedral.
I should mention that we had authentic Spanish sangria whilst enjoying the breeze at an outdoor café. We went back to Madrid that night.
MK left for the airport early Monday morning, leaving Anna and me to our own defenses in the language department. Yes, I have took 4 years of Spanish in high school and another semester in college, but being able to translate on a 3rd grade level doesn't help much with communication skills. MK did write out a few pointers for us, i.e. how to ask our hostel lady if we could store our bags there for the day. After checking out, Anna and I caught up with New Europe’s free walking tour. We’ve done the tour in Edinburgh (several times), London, and Dublin as well. The company’s guides work on a tips-only basis with the philosophy that everyone can take the tour regardless of budget restrictions. In Madrid, however, there is a law that only licensed guides can charge customers for tours. New Europe has been functioning in the gray area: they do no charge for tours, so they do not have to be licensed guides. The Madrid guides are mad that this company is taking away business, so they are protesting. As a result, our tour was joined by 4 protestors holding up signs that read, “ILLEGAL TOURS!” AND “BLACK MONEY IN MADRID!” Of all the things to protest in the world, they choose a tour company??
We learned a lot on the tour. We saw a lot. I probably couldn’t recall 25% of it if I tried, so I won’t. The tour took up most of the day, leaving us time to stroll through the Puerta del Sol and the Plaza Mayor once more before hopping on our short 16-hour bus ride to Paris.
This ends my busy, successful, and fabulous trip to Spain.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Emotionally Drained and Physically Exhausted
This is my attempt to catch up so I can start recording my travels. (Oh yeah… I’m not in Edinburgh anymore.)
Let’s take a trip back in time to two weeks ago. My last day of work was Friday 27 February. Saying goodbye to Mary, Ronnie, Kathleen, Theresa, Ella, and all my other co-workers made me realize that my time in Edinburgh really was coming to an end. I was very excited to have two weeks in the city to do as I pleased, but the end of work meant the end of Edinburgh.
To celebrate our last days as UK tax payers and to end Scotland with a bang, Anna and I went to the most beautiful place on the face of the earth: ISLE OF SKYE!!!!! After our dear friend Erin’s recommendation, we went with the tour group MacBackpakers. If you should find yourself in Scotland (and you should make an effort), you will want to go to Skye. If you are under 30, you should go with MacBackpackers. We easily bonded with our travel buddies (the only Americans again!), and our tour guides could no have been any better. Words cannot describe nor can pictures capture how beautiful this island is. Nothing will do it justice. Here are the links to my picture albums from the trip: album 1, album 2, album 3. I put these up right after we came back, so there are little anecdotes in the captions.
The following Friday (6 March), I had a night on the town with my St. Raphael’s co-workers. Mary, Kathleen, and Theresa all live towards Glasgow and wanting to send me off in a big way and to celebrate their being reinstated in the jobs they never deserved to lose, the girls got a hotel room in Edinburgh. We started the night in Ronnie and Tony’s favorite bar, La Monde on George Street. After dinner, we made our way to Hawk and Hunter, a former townhouse turned private club turned upscale bar. My friends are grungy pub people, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. But it was fun to get gussied up and go to a classy joint. We met for breakfast Saturday morning before the ladies headed back home, giving me one last chance to tell them goodbye and farewell. These women are strong and determined; they fought for their jobs and for what was best for the residents. Although work at St. R’s was not always pleasant, these women (and Ronnie) made it worth while! I am so blessed to have been able to work with them for nearly 4 months!!!
The rest of the week was spent running errands, deciding what to (and not to) pack for my European excursion, and spending time with friends. I went to the Brass Monkey a couple of times. I met friends at the Mosque Kitchen twice. (Yes, the Mosque in Edinburgh serves food, and it is the best – and cheapest – curry available). I pretended like I was JK Rowling at the Elephant House Café. We said goodbye to the gorgeous Italian waiter at Ciao Roma. Finally, it was time to say goodbye. It was also time to do something with our excess luggage; FedEx picked up our bags to be delivered to the US, but the guy wasn’t too sure our forms would suffice with the US customs officers. Keep your fingers crossed for that one… Thursday 12 March was our last night in town. We met our friends at The Globe for the best Snake Bites in town. Everything was smooth sailing…until we had to say goodbye. With every hug, the lump in my throat grew bigger and bigger. With every hug, the haunting fact that I will (more than likely) never live in Edinburgh again grew more and more real. With every hug, the idea that I may never see these people again dangled in front of my face. With every hug, my one-way plane ticket out of Scotland crept closer and closer. Saying goodbye to my friends and to my Edinburgh was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. Why is it we always take something for granted until it is taken away from us?!?!?!?!
Anna and I woke up long before the sun so we could catch the 7am bus to the airport. At 6:30, our buzzer rang. My heart sank into my stomach. I just knew it was going to be the FedEx guy with our rejected suitcases. I opened the door… and it was Ross and Ron!!!! Ron couldn’t make it to The Globe the night before, so he came by to say farewell. Ross lived with us in our flat during Christmas, and he’s become like my little brother. I love this kid so much, I donated extra kids so I could take home the huge teddy bear he gave me for Christmas. Seeing him at my door immediately made me cry one of those cries where you can’t tell if you’re happy or sad. The guys chatted with us while we finished our packing, walked us to our bus stop, and saw us off.
So that’s the end. No more 26 Gardner’s Crescent, snake bites, Visas, Lothian buses, council tax, etc.
But it’s also the beginning of my 6-week trek across Europe!!! I’m in Spain now, but more to come on that later.
Hasta luego.
Let’s take a trip back in time to two weeks ago. My last day of work was Friday 27 February. Saying goodbye to Mary, Ronnie, Kathleen, Theresa, Ella, and all my other co-workers made me realize that my time in Edinburgh really was coming to an end. I was very excited to have two weeks in the city to do as I pleased, but the end of work meant the end of Edinburgh.
To celebrate our last days as UK tax payers and to end Scotland with a bang, Anna and I went to the most beautiful place on the face of the earth: ISLE OF SKYE!!!!! After our dear friend Erin’s recommendation, we went with the tour group MacBackpakers. If you should find yourself in Scotland (and you should make an effort), you will want to go to Skye. If you are under 30, you should go with MacBackpackers. We easily bonded with our travel buddies (the only Americans again!), and our tour guides could no have been any better. Words cannot describe nor can pictures capture how beautiful this island is. Nothing will do it justice. Here are the links to my picture albums from the trip: album 1, album 2, album 3. I put these up right after we came back, so there are little anecdotes in the captions.
The following Friday (6 March), I had a night on the town with my St. Raphael’s co-workers. Mary, Kathleen, and Theresa all live towards Glasgow and wanting to send me off in a big way and to celebrate their being reinstated in the jobs they never deserved to lose, the girls got a hotel room in Edinburgh. We started the night in Ronnie and Tony’s favorite bar, La Monde on George Street. After dinner, we made our way to Hawk and Hunter, a former townhouse turned private club turned upscale bar. My friends are grungy pub people, and I wouldn’t change that for the world. But it was fun to get gussied up and go to a classy joint. We met for breakfast Saturday morning before the ladies headed back home, giving me one last chance to tell them goodbye and farewell. These women are strong and determined; they fought for their jobs and for what was best for the residents. Although work at St. R’s was not always pleasant, these women (and Ronnie) made it worth while! I am so blessed to have been able to work with them for nearly 4 months!!!
The rest of the week was spent running errands, deciding what to (and not to) pack for my European excursion, and spending time with friends. I went to the Brass Monkey a couple of times. I met friends at the Mosque Kitchen twice. (Yes, the Mosque in Edinburgh serves food, and it is the best – and cheapest – curry available). I pretended like I was JK Rowling at the Elephant House Café. We said goodbye to the gorgeous Italian waiter at Ciao Roma. Finally, it was time to say goodbye. It was also time to do something with our excess luggage; FedEx picked up our bags to be delivered to the US, but the guy wasn’t too sure our forms would suffice with the US customs officers. Keep your fingers crossed for that one… Thursday 12 March was our last night in town. We met our friends at The Globe for the best Snake Bites in town. Everything was smooth sailing…until we had to say goodbye. With every hug, the lump in my throat grew bigger and bigger. With every hug, the haunting fact that I will (more than likely) never live in Edinburgh again grew more and more real. With every hug, the idea that I may never see these people again dangled in front of my face. With every hug, my one-way plane ticket out of Scotland crept closer and closer. Saying goodbye to my friends and to my Edinburgh was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. Why is it we always take something for granted until it is taken away from us?!?!?!?!
Anna and I woke up long before the sun so we could catch the 7am bus to the airport. At 6:30, our buzzer rang. My heart sank into my stomach. I just knew it was going to be the FedEx guy with our rejected suitcases. I opened the door… and it was Ross and Ron!!!! Ron couldn’t make it to The Globe the night before, so he came by to say farewell. Ross lived with us in our flat during Christmas, and he’s become like my little brother. I love this kid so much, I donated extra kids so I could take home the huge teddy bear he gave me for Christmas. Seeing him at my door immediately made me cry one of those cries where you can’t tell if you’re happy or sad. The guys chatted with us while we finished our packing, walked us to our bus stop, and saw us off.
So that’s the end. No more 26 Gardner’s Crescent, snake bites, Visas, Lothian buses, council tax, etc.
But it’s also the beginning of my 6-week trek across Europe!!! I’m in Spain now, but more to come on that later.
Hasta luego.
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