(141) is today: Thursday, 27 May 2010.
I figured it only appropriate I write a sort of concluding entry about Paris just before I leave. Next entry will take us back to Greece, moving forward from there (gotta' love nonlinear storytelling). Anyway, as per the entry title, here's the list:
--When you're waiting for a Paris metro train, the one going the opposite direction always arrives before yours (sometimes more than once).
--As my host family astutely pointed out, I bring bad weather with me wherever I go. From 7+ days of snow in Paris this semester to cloudy weather in Austria and Germany to a sun-shower yesterday, I am 'Monsieur le Mauvais Temps.' Bodes very well for the British Isles...!
--Paris takes a long time to get to spring, but when it hits that note... it is pitch-perfect. Sunset at 9:30 is all I have to say about that.
--I'm glad I can say that I did it, but honestly, taking classes at the University of Paris was not a very fulfilling experience. I didn't learn as much as I normally do in Vassar (or even Reid Hall) classes and because I took the senior-level classes, the professors just talked about what they wanted to... I didn't even get a good feel for the teaching philosophy over here. I think I'd have been better off taking all Reid Hall classes and saving 300-levels (the real reason I signed up at Paris VII) for Vassar.
--Apparently my French has gotten better; the guy at the sandwich place yesterday asked where I was from. Already a good sign. I answered, "Etats-Unis." He replied, "Vous parlez tres bien."
--I'm pretty good at the whole travel planning thing.
--Paris is expensive, plain and simple.
--When I have a lot of free time in one place, I tend to stay up and sleep in late. This is compared to vacations, where I usually get up early enough to seize the day.
--I've thought a bit recently about what I'll miss about Paris. Believe it or not, I can't think of anything specific. "Specific" is the operative word there. Hemingway famously called Paris "a moveable feast" and-- before I slide into cliché-- I want to note that I find "feast" the operative word there. Maybe it's moveable, too-- I'll know that once I start moving. But even now, it is a feast. And the best part of a feast isn't the main course or the really good side dish your friend brought that they make better than anybody else. Best part's the ensemble: the experience of coming in, having it all in front of you-- experiencing each great part in its turn, sure... but the final (perhaps defining) part of a feast is that it leaves you with a dazed yet elevated state of accomplishment and satisfied nostalgia. Gratitude as well-- perhaps to the cooks-- but more to the experience itself for having happened.
27 May 2010
25 May 2010
(110): My Big Fat Greek Ferry Strike
(110) is Monday, 26 April 2010.
Imagine being Kirill, Liz, or both at this point. You've spent 5 days trying to get out of the Paris airport amid infinite hassle, you finally spend a few days in Rome, and upon arrival in Athens-- a one-night stopover-- you learn that the ferries taking you to the Greek Islands are on strike for the one day you happen to need them. One day! Who goes on strike for one day!?
Well, them. So much for being back on schedule.
Anyway, we decided to make the best of it and see Athens for the one day we had. I think it's pretty safe to say that one day was all the time we needed. There was a great walking tour (for free) that left from the (wonderful) Athens Backpackers Hostel at 9:15 and showed us around all the major sites: Temple of Zeus (more old stuff), olympic stadium, gardens, Syntagma Square, (which is in front of) Parliament, the Fuzzy Foot Brigade (to be explained shortly), a Greek Orthodox church, the flea market, a greek sandwich stand, and the Acropolis.
The Fuzzy Foot Brigade is my overly mocking description of the Greek secret service troops who stand at attention outside parliament, not unlike the guards at Buckingham Palace in London. Difference here is that, every half hour, the two guards engage in a very elaborate ceremony of walking about with extremely long steps. These steps are punctuated by their brushing their shoes against the ground: shoes that have fuzzy stuff on the front.
It's funny until the guide says they're for hiding knives.
The best part of this whole ritual, though, is that it's for them to stretch their legs. Seriously-- they've made an elaborate, tourist-friendly ceremony out of it. It makes sense, but it is just a little too much fun to watch.
So, back up at the Acrop*, the thing was under construction. I thought this was great-- first of all, as Judy pointed out, this is one for the travel article "Except While You're Here."** Renovations are annoying enough if you were really jazzed about seeing something, but here in particular, I have to ask: Seriously? The Parthenon? More than being annoying, doesn't this just defeat the purpose? I mean, they're ruins-- putting up scaffolding here is like saying that Stonehenge has fallen into disrepair.
I just didn't get it. So, I slipped on a dusty rock and landed on my tailbone. Nice view of the city from where I sat, though.
In the next few hours, Kirill and I ran some errands (like adjusting ferry tickets to compensate for the day's strike), and Liz and I took siestas (although I spent mine getting to know our roommate, a girl named Olivia who-- as I later would-- was travelling on her own).
We then found dinner. It was fine, but after a week in Italy, I was not much enamored of what I had here. Suffice it to say I would spend much of the next week living off of gyros.*** This cuisine depends much more on acquired tastes, which, as we've established, I generally don't have. And then there's ouzo... liccorice liquor. How to be witty with this description... Oh, I got it:
It tastes awful.
We didn't really know what to do at night (ended up hanging out in the room with Olivia). Just as well, since we had to get up REALLY early for our ferry.
So, yeah-- the walking tour was basically all we needed, and I'd like to point out that Athens suffers from pollution... I was coughing as I walked, and for once, I wasn't fighting a cold. And we were totally safe, by the way-- those riots you heard about wouldn't break out for another week, by which time we were all safely back in Paris.
Also, if you're in Greece, have fun with the language. This is the only country in the EU with a non-Roman alphabet (they even put the Greek spelling of "Euro" on every bill), and even some of the Roman letters used don't make the same sounds. 'P,' for instance, makes an 'R' sound, while pi (yes, the math thing) takes over for 'P.' I had to get the letters straight before I could get as far as not deciphering the language. And, of course, every piece of Greek I picked up flew out of my memory almost instantly.
Never mind that. On to Santorini!
-Andy
---------------------------------------
Footnotes
* I use "Acropolis" and "Parthenon" interchangeably, and here's why: the Parthenon is the famous monument itself, and the Acropolis is the hill on which it sits. The "Acrop," used as an abbreviation here, is also a loving reference to the similarly named 24-hour diner near Vassar, where all good nights go to get even better.
** I've even started a photo album that lovingly commemorates this phenomenon, and it may bear that title.
** For those as unfamiliar as I had been beforehand, a gyro is a circle of pita bread wrapped around various veggies, a creamy/tangy sauce, and meat (pork or chicken) that they shave off of a big rotating spit. You've seen them before, especially if you've been in Paris's Latin Quarter.
Imagine being Kirill, Liz, or both at this point. You've spent 5 days trying to get out of the Paris airport amid infinite hassle, you finally spend a few days in Rome, and upon arrival in Athens-- a one-night stopover-- you learn that the ferries taking you to the Greek Islands are on strike for the one day you happen to need them. One day! Who goes on strike for one day!?
Well, them. So much for being back on schedule.
Anyway, we decided to make the best of it and see Athens for the one day we had. I think it's pretty safe to say that one day was all the time we needed. There was a great walking tour (for free) that left from the (wonderful) Athens Backpackers Hostel at 9:15 and showed us around all the major sites: Temple of Zeus (more old stuff), olympic stadium, gardens, Syntagma Square, (which is in front of) Parliament, the Fuzzy Foot Brigade (to be explained shortly), a Greek Orthodox church, the flea market, a greek sandwich stand, and the Acropolis.
The Fuzzy Foot Brigade is my overly mocking description of the Greek secret service troops who stand at attention outside parliament, not unlike the guards at Buckingham Palace in London. Difference here is that, every half hour, the two guards engage in a very elaborate ceremony of walking about with extremely long steps. These steps are punctuated by their brushing their shoes against the ground: shoes that have fuzzy stuff on the front.
It's funny until the guide says they're for hiding knives.
The best part of this whole ritual, though, is that it's for them to stretch their legs. Seriously-- they've made an elaborate, tourist-friendly ceremony out of it. It makes sense, but it is just a little too much fun to watch.
So, back up at the Acrop*, the thing was under construction. I thought this was great-- first of all, as Judy pointed out, this is one for the travel article "Except While You're Here."** Renovations are annoying enough if you were really jazzed about seeing something, but here in particular, I have to ask: Seriously? The Parthenon? More than being annoying, doesn't this just defeat the purpose? I mean, they're ruins-- putting up scaffolding here is like saying that Stonehenge has fallen into disrepair.
I just didn't get it. So, I slipped on a dusty rock and landed on my tailbone. Nice view of the city from where I sat, though.
In the next few hours, Kirill and I ran some errands (like adjusting ferry tickets to compensate for the day's strike), and Liz and I took siestas (although I spent mine getting to know our roommate, a girl named Olivia who-- as I later would-- was travelling on her own).
We then found dinner. It was fine, but after a week in Italy, I was not much enamored of what I had here. Suffice it to say I would spend much of the next week living off of gyros.*** This cuisine depends much more on acquired tastes, which, as we've established, I generally don't have. And then there's ouzo... liccorice liquor. How to be witty with this description... Oh, I got it:
It tastes awful.
We didn't really know what to do at night (ended up hanging out in the room with Olivia). Just as well, since we had to get up REALLY early for our ferry.
So, yeah-- the walking tour was basically all we needed, and I'd like to point out that Athens suffers from pollution... I was coughing as I walked, and for once, I wasn't fighting a cold. And we were totally safe, by the way-- those riots you heard about wouldn't break out for another week, by which time we were all safely back in Paris.
Also, if you're in Greece, have fun with the language. This is the only country in the EU with a non-Roman alphabet (they even put the Greek spelling of "Euro" on every bill), and even some of the Roman letters used don't make the same sounds. 'P,' for instance, makes an 'R' sound, while pi (yes, the math thing) takes over for 'P.' I had to get the letters straight before I could get as far as not deciphering the language. And, of course, every piece of Greek I picked up flew out of my memory almost instantly.
Never mind that. On to Santorini!
-Andy
---------------------------------------
Footnotes
* I use "Acropolis" and "Parthenon" interchangeably, and here's why: the Parthenon is the famous monument itself, and the Acropolis is the hill on which it sits. The "Acrop," used as an abbreviation here, is also a loving reference to the similarly named 24-hour diner near Vassar, where all good nights go to get even better.
** I've even started a photo album that lovingly commemorates this phenomenon, and it may bear that title.
** For those as unfamiliar as I had been beforehand, a gyro is a circle of pita bread wrapped around various veggies, a creamy/tangy sauce, and meat (pork or chicken) that they shave off of a big rotating spit. You've seen them before, especially if you've been in Paris's Latin Quarter.
(105-109): Roma, Ro-ma-ma...
Ga-ga, oh la... la. Er, right. Moving on.
(105) is Wednesday, 21 April 2010.
Maybe I'm becoming a bitter old man, but I have to comment on how we got to Rome via the noisiest train ride of my life. There was a battalion of kids between 10 and 11-and-a-half either yelling or snapping pictures of themselves and friends and then looking at their portraits and shouting "Facebook! Facebook!" Oh, well. Only two hours' ride, and the countryside was great.
After checking into The Yellow (pretty standard as hostels go), Dan and I got a very tasty lunch at a nearby restaurant. We spent the rest of the day wandering the city and getting a feel for it in the following order:
Repubblica, walking distance from the hostel, had this really cool church next to it: big and open, very beautiful, with a pendulum (something about Galileo) on display.
The Spanish steps, where-- as always-- there were throngs of people. Today, though, a big army orchestra was playing. Apparently Dan and I picked Rome's Birthday, a local holiday, to arrive and walk around. I was especially tickled when they played this song, featured in my favorite Italian movie, 8 1/2. The steps also afford you a rooftop view of most of Rome. No city does rooftops quite like Paris, but this was still a neat photo-op.
Then there was a neat old pillar that's on most tourist maps.
We found more military music at another piazza. I was grinning because I got to hear-- are you ready for the Coldplay reference?-- Roman cavalry choirs singing.
The Wedding Cake, as most romans mock it, is a huge building built to look like ancient Roman architecture would have. But it sorta' fails. It's not far from the coliseum.
Piazza Navona was next (even a cursory look at a map of Rome will give you a sense of just how erratic our path was), and here we went to the gelato place at either 28 or 30 Piazza Navona. They're famous for Tartufo, a sphere of chocolate gelato-based dessert kept nice and cold. Worth every one of those 5 euros. Beautiful twilight was coming in on the piazza as well. This is one thing I love about Rome: the buildings are painted to catch twilight perfectly. I can't think of another city I've been to that is so beautifully suited to its natural environment.
The fountain at the Piazza Navona was under renovation, but you know what? The Trevi Fountain is a pretty good substitute. For those who don't know it, it's a marvelous (or should I say MARBLE-OUS?!) sculpted fountain depicting roman gods and other naked figures (apparently every day was Casual Friday back then). Epic site, and always full of people taking pictures and agreeing with that sentiment.
We then met up with Meredith, a good friend of mine from Vassar studying Art History this semester in Rome. She and her friends took me and Dan to this really good restaurant that I couldn't for the life of me direct you back to (it's on this secluded little piazza). Great food, though, and when you're in Italy, always get the table wine because it's reasonably priced and always good.
(106) is Thursday, 22 April 2010.
Dan and I started with the Forum ruins near the Wedding Cake and the Coliseum. Pretty cool to walk around, although like a lot of Rome's other attractions that fall into the category of "old stuff," you don't need to spend huge amounts of time there to get the idea. Very cool to see close up, though, and Culture Week was still our friend.
It is at this point in our story that Liz and Kirill finally catch up with us, after having spent 5 days in Paris's Charles-de-Gaulle airport and its environs. We found them at Termini* and took them to get settled at the hostel and course-correct for the next few days of our travel.
The next discovery was a delight. There's a little to-go pizza place just around the corner from the hostel. I'm getting hungry again just thinking about it... no, wait, I'm sorry. That's from being in Paris, where food is also good, but it's nowhere near as filling (and therefore satisfying) as in Rome. The pizza place had crunchy-crust pizza, any sort of combination of toppings, and low prices. I got a lot of pizza with cheese, pieces of potato, and bacon. REAL bacon-- not the small bits of ham that Paris tries to pass off as the good stuff. That pizza was greasy and wonderful. We would be back. I'd recommend this place, but even better than the food was this fact: pizza that good is everywhere in Rome.
We hit the coliseum next, where we took pictures and decided that the passageways in the center of the coliseum (under the now crumbled arena floor, these housed animals and gladiators/victims in ancient times) would be one of the best places in the world for a game of laser tag, especially when you fill the coliseum with spectators. Meredith then found us, and we hung out at Circus Maximus, where an Earth Day concert was happening. We all talked and eventually found dinner in the southwest part of town (across the Tiber from Circus Maximus), which is supposedly where students go to bars and otherwise hang out. We got a decent dinner at a place with crazy low prices.
Big discovery of the meal: prosciutto ham and melon. Anybody who knows me and my 7-year-old eating habits can have a good laugh imagining my face when I saw this as an appetizer. In line with those habits, it picked it because none of the other appetizers caught my interest any better. But it worked. I can't explain it-- really, I figure there is no explanation-- for why these two foods got along, but I can tell you right now that I will be living off of this combination for the next decade or so of preparing my own food.
And, because two great discoveries aren't enough today (or because 3 is the magic number), Meredith did us the great service of taking us to The Gelato Place. Now, any gelato shop that claims to be "artigianale" (meaning "homemade") is going to be good, but this place was just a charming experience. The manager is this very sweet middle-aged Italian guy who loved to smile and laugh and make jokes. My favorite part was when I asked him for a cone with three scoops, picked two (caramel and vanilla), and then got stuck on the third. I asked him what he would pick for the third flavor. He gave me this really good cookies and cream sort of flavor that, sure enough, finished the combo perfectly.** I left that shop with a big smile fueled by delicious ice cream and genuine Italian hospitality.
(107) is Friday, 23 April 2010.
We spent Dan's last day in Rome showing him as much art-and-humanities stuff as we could: today was Vatican Day. And how better to start it than being IN the Vatican with Liz's iPod and listening to Tom Lehrer's 'The Vatican Rag'.
There are a few smaller museums that actually have some really neat stuff... I was particularly taken with a few-- I want to say terra cotta?-- statues of angels that were partially broken, revealing the wire and hay on the insides. These otherwise beautiful, classical statues-- "broken angels," as I like to call them-- were my favorite image of this whole museum complex. And that's saying something, because the Vatican is the biggest small country I have ever been through. One of the reasons I probably didn't like it when I was 12... lots of hallways full of painstakingly elaborate rooms. Beautiful, yes, but the main walkthrough is so long that it gets a little gratuitous after a while. What's worse is that the famous Sistine Chapel is all the way at the end, by which time I was too tired and overstimulated by art to be able to appreciate it. And there's SO much art to appreciate in that room.***
Then there was St. Peter's Basilica, which floored all of us. So many photos...
We then walked along the river for a while and eventually found an okay dinner, which turned out to be two blocks from the super-inexpensive place from the night before. Thus, it was also near The Gelato Place, where we took this picture, one of my favorites of the whole trip:
We went back to the hostel and hung out for a while at the (very cool) attached bar, where we sipped limoncello and killed some time before Dan had to catch an early cab to the airport.
At some point around here-- probably a few days back-- I figured out how to put my camera in 16x9 widescreen mode. So emotionally satisfying.
(108) is Saturday, 24 April 2010.
You ever feel sometimes like these entries just don't end? Yeah, me too. Really, the only uniquely cool thing (the rest of it was uniformally cool) that we did was go to dinner with Judy Bachrach, mother of my dear friend Sam Seifman. She was teaching a journalism class at a Roman university this semester (which I mention because-- one, it's cool-- and two, that plot point will be relevant again in a few more entries). She made us very good pasta and sauce and then treated us to an excellent gelato place near her house.
We then caught a bus back to Termini and went book-browsing in the station's bookstore. I felt like doing some recreational reading for a change, so I picked up copies of Agatha Christie's The Clocks and Nick Hornby's High Fidelity (yes, the basis for the John Cusack movie).
(109) is Sunday, 25 April 2010.
Big event for today was the Borghese Gardens. We didn't get into the museum, but honestly, when you've got a frisbee and great weather, who needs it? Being able to say I once spent two hours throwing a frisbee in the Borghese Gardens in Rome with my friends is the best souvenir of Rome I think I could ask for.
I tipped Kirizabeth off to the wonders of Tartuffo at Piazza Navona (I got a 3-scoop of lemon, strawberry, and something called zambaione that was really good). We then got pizza and a taxi to Fumicino airport, from which we flew into Athens.
Paris excepted, Rome is my favorite place I've been this semester.
-Andy
--------------------------------
I want your footnotes and I want your revenge, you and me could write a bad romance...
* This quickly became one of my favorite train stations for a few reasons. There's the name, the good location on Rome's subway, and most importantly, one of those old-school information boards full of little rectangles that all flip and rattle and whir in a delightfully inefficient and dazzlingly choreographed display when even one field changes.
** By the way, you know the gelato's good when I go out of my way to record the flavors in the Moleskine that holds the details of each day.
*** Also to be appreciated, however, are the guards. Every 30 seconds, the guards call out "Shhh! No photo!" in a room where you're supposed to be silent. Sistine Chapel Security: defeating the purpose since 1929. For more funny info on the Vatican (and another link that most of you will never click on), check out this little gem.
(105) is Wednesday, 21 April 2010.
Maybe I'm becoming a bitter old man, but I have to comment on how we got to Rome via the noisiest train ride of my life. There was a battalion of kids between 10 and 11-and-a-half either yelling or snapping pictures of themselves and friends and then looking at their portraits and shouting "Facebook! Facebook!" Oh, well. Only two hours' ride, and the countryside was great.
After checking into The Yellow (pretty standard as hostels go), Dan and I got a very tasty lunch at a nearby restaurant. We spent the rest of the day wandering the city and getting a feel for it in the following order:
Repubblica, walking distance from the hostel, had this really cool church next to it: big and open, very beautiful, with a pendulum (something about Galileo) on display.
The Spanish steps, where-- as always-- there were throngs of people. Today, though, a big army orchestra was playing. Apparently Dan and I picked Rome's Birthday, a local holiday, to arrive and walk around. I was especially tickled when they played this song, featured in my favorite Italian movie, 8 1/2. The steps also afford you a rooftop view of most of Rome. No city does rooftops quite like Paris, but this was still a neat photo-op.
Then there was a neat old pillar that's on most tourist maps.
We found more military music at another piazza. I was grinning because I got to hear-- are you ready for the Coldplay reference?-- Roman cavalry choirs singing.
The Wedding Cake, as most romans mock it, is a huge building built to look like ancient Roman architecture would have. But it sorta' fails. It's not far from the coliseum.
Piazza Navona was next (even a cursory look at a map of Rome will give you a sense of just how erratic our path was), and here we went to the gelato place at either 28 or 30 Piazza Navona. They're famous for Tartufo, a sphere of chocolate gelato-based dessert kept nice and cold. Worth every one of those 5 euros. Beautiful twilight was coming in on the piazza as well. This is one thing I love about Rome: the buildings are painted to catch twilight perfectly. I can't think of another city I've been to that is so beautifully suited to its natural environment.
The fountain at the Piazza Navona was under renovation, but you know what? The Trevi Fountain is a pretty good substitute. For those who don't know it, it's a marvelous (or should I say MARBLE-OUS?!) sculpted fountain depicting roman gods and other naked figures (apparently every day was Casual Friday back then). Epic site, and always full of people taking pictures and agreeing with that sentiment.
We then met up with Meredith, a good friend of mine from Vassar studying Art History this semester in Rome. She and her friends took me and Dan to this really good restaurant that I couldn't for the life of me direct you back to (it's on this secluded little piazza). Great food, though, and when you're in Italy, always get the table wine because it's reasonably priced and always good.
(106) is Thursday, 22 April 2010.
Dan and I started with the Forum ruins near the Wedding Cake and the Coliseum. Pretty cool to walk around, although like a lot of Rome's other attractions that fall into the category of "old stuff," you don't need to spend huge amounts of time there to get the idea. Very cool to see close up, though, and Culture Week was still our friend.
It is at this point in our story that Liz and Kirill finally catch up with us, after having spent 5 days in Paris's Charles-de-Gaulle airport and its environs. We found them at Termini* and took them to get settled at the hostel and course-correct for the next few days of our travel.
The next discovery was a delight. There's a little to-go pizza place just around the corner from the hostel. I'm getting hungry again just thinking about it... no, wait, I'm sorry. That's from being in Paris, where food is also good, but it's nowhere near as filling (and therefore satisfying) as in Rome. The pizza place had crunchy-crust pizza, any sort of combination of toppings, and low prices. I got a lot of pizza with cheese, pieces of potato, and bacon. REAL bacon-- not the small bits of ham that Paris tries to pass off as the good stuff. That pizza was greasy and wonderful. We would be back. I'd recommend this place, but even better than the food was this fact: pizza that good is everywhere in Rome.
We hit the coliseum next, where we took pictures and decided that the passageways in the center of the coliseum (under the now crumbled arena floor, these housed animals and gladiators/victims in ancient times) would be one of the best places in the world for a game of laser tag, especially when you fill the coliseum with spectators. Meredith then found us, and we hung out at Circus Maximus, where an Earth Day concert was happening. We all talked and eventually found dinner in the southwest part of town (across the Tiber from Circus Maximus), which is supposedly where students go to bars and otherwise hang out. We got a decent dinner at a place with crazy low prices.
Big discovery of the meal: prosciutto ham and melon. Anybody who knows me and my 7-year-old eating habits can have a good laugh imagining my face when I saw this as an appetizer. In line with those habits, it picked it because none of the other appetizers caught my interest any better. But it worked. I can't explain it-- really, I figure there is no explanation-- for why these two foods got along, but I can tell you right now that I will be living off of this combination for the next decade or so of preparing my own food.
And, because two great discoveries aren't enough today (or because 3 is the magic number), Meredith did us the great service of taking us to The Gelato Place. Now, any gelato shop that claims to be "artigianale" (meaning "homemade") is going to be good, but this place was just a charming experience. The manager is this very sweet middle-aged Italian guy who loved to smile and laugh and make jokes. My favorite part was when I asked him for a cone with three scoops, picked two (caramel and vanilla), and then got stuck on the third. I asked him what he would pick for the third flavor. He gave me this really good cookies and cream sort of flavor that, sure enough, finished the combo perfectly.** I left that shop with a big smile fueled by delicious ice cream and genuine Italian hospitality.
(107) is Friday, 23 April 2010.
We spent Dan's last day in Rome showing him as much art-and-humanities stuff as we could: today was Vatican Day. And how better to start it than being IN the Vatican with Liz's iPod and listening to Tom Lehrer's 'The Vatican Rag'.
There are a few smaller museums that actually have some really neat stuff... I was particularly taken with a few-- I want to say terra cotta?-- statues of angels that were partially broken, revealing the wire and hay on the insides. These otherwise beautiful, classical statues-- "broken angels," as I like to call them-- were my favorite image of this whole museum complex. And that's saying something, because the Vatican is the biggest small country I have ever been through. One of the reasons I probably didn't like it when I was 12... lots of hallways full of painstakingly elaborate rooms. Beautiful, yes, but the main walkthrough is so long that it gets a little gratuitous after a while. What's worse is that the famous Sistine Chapel is all the way at the end, by which time I was too tired and overstimulated by art to be able to appreciate it. And there's SO much art to appreciate in that room.***
Then there was St. Peter's Basilica, which floored all of us. So many photos...
We then walked along the river for a while and eventually found an okay dinner, which turned out to be two blocks from the super-inexpensive place from the night before. Thus, it was also near The Gelato Place, where we took this picture, one of my favorites of the whole trip:
We went back to the hostel and hung out for a while at the (very cool) attached bar, where we sipped limoncello and killed some time before Dan had to catch an early cab to the airport.
At some point around here-- probably a few days back-- I figured out how to put my camera in 16x9 widescreen mode. So emotionally satisfying.
(108) is Saturday, 24 April 2010.
You ever feel sometimes like these entries just don't end? Yeah, me too. Really, the only uniquely cool thing (the rest of it was uniformally cool) that we did was go to dinner with Judy Bachrach, mother of my dear friend Sam Seifman. She was teaching a journalism class at a Roman university this semester (which I mention because-- one, it's cool-- and two, that plot point will be relevant again in a few more entries). She made us very good pasta and sauce and then treated us to an excellent gelato place near her house.
We then caught a bus back to Termini and went book-browsing in the station's bookstore. I felt like doing some recreational reading for a change, so I picked up copies of Agatha Christie's The Clocks and Nick Hornby's High Fidelity (yes, the basis for the John Cusack movie).
(109) is Sunday, 25 April 2010.
Big event for today was the Borghese Gardens. We didn't get into the museum, but honestly, when you've got a frisbee and great weather, who needs it? Being able to say I once spent two hours throwing a frisbee in the Borghese Gardens in Rome with my friends is the best souvenir of Rome I think I could ask for.
I tipped Kirizabeth off to the wonders of Tartuffo at Piazza Navona (I got a 3-scoop of lemon, strawberry, and something called zambaione that was really good). We then got pizza and a taxi to Fumicino airport, from which we flew into Athens.
Paris excepted, Rome is my favorite place I've been this semester.
-Andy
--------------------------------
I want your footnotes and I want your revenge, you and me could write a bad romance...
* This quickly became one of my favorite train stations for a few reasons. There's the name, the good location on Rome's subway, and most importantly, one of those old-school information boards full of little rectangles that all flip and rattle and whir in a delightfully inefficient and dazzlingly choreographed display when even one field changes.
** By the way, you know the gelato's good when I go out of my way to record the flavors in the Moleskine that holds the details of each day.
*** Also to be appreciated, however, are the guards. Every 30 seconds, the guards call out "Shhh! No photo!" in a room where you're supposed to be silent. Sistine Chapel Security: defeating the purpose since 1929. For more funny info on the Vatican (and another link that most of you will never click on), check out this little gem.
12 May 2010
(103-104): Florence
(103) is Monday, 19 April 2010.
Blogger seems to have confiscated my user-friendly blogging interface, which means I can't underline things and my fonts may come out looking funny. Don't quite know what the story is with this one, but my glass of Vanilla Coke and I are working on it.
So, Dan and I found ourselves awake and refreshed in Florence. First stop is the Piazzale Michelangelo, home of a fake version of the famous David statue (Dan tells me there are several about) and a show-stopping panoramic view of Florence. It's free, it's good exercise, and we had perfect weather. My suggestion as you climb to the top, though-- and I know this is difficult-- but do try to give it the Orpheus treatment. That is, don't look behind you from the steps. Wait until the lookout point. The sudden reveal is worth your patience.*
Dan and I were really hungry by this point, so we succumbed to lunch at the (relatively) pricey patio near the lookout point. One of many great things about Italian food: since all of it is SO GOOD, even the slightly overpriced stuff is worth it. I had a tasty pizza and Dan's lasagna turned out to be the best lasagna of our trip. The patio, view, and breeze were also a lovely combination.
We rather wandered back to the city... you know how they say "Not all who wander are lost"? Well, thank goodness for its corollary: "Not all who wander but are lost necessarily mind." It was a beautiful day, as I've said, and we found a nice tree-lined street and even a secluded playground that was neat to walk through. After crossing the Ponte Vecchio ("Old Bridge," full of merchants and stuff) back to town, we found the famed Duomo (yes, like Milan has a famed Duomo... I think they're a chain or something) among other cool old churches.
We then moved hostels to the originally planned Archi Rossi, which I highly recommend to hostel-goers. Fine location near the train station and great resources (best included hostel breakfast I've yet had) for a decent price. After a little siesta, we had gelato. Gelato may be the best ice cream in the world, but the cones are edible cardboard. I don't like this, but I think the idea is so that the cone doesn't distort or otherwise detract from the taste.
My high school friend Christina couldn't meet up with us for dinner, but she gave us a great tip, which I will now relay to you. Muna Ciello is on Via Maffia 31 (see here). Fun, funky place with, of course, great food.** After dinner, Christina and her friend Lauren joined us for hot chocolate at La Cite (mapped here). It's a neat bookshop/cafe/jazz hangout where a few of Christina's and Lauren's friends in their music program were playing that night. But the hot chocolate-- it's a must. They have a few flavors, and they froth it up all rich and thick. I picked white chocolate (my new favorite flavor this semester, likely for its sideways resemblance to vanilla). Delicious, just like the rest of that day.
(104) is Tuesday, 20 April 2010.
This is it, folks-- museum day. National museums are closed on Mondays, and trains taking Andy and Dan to Rome run on Wednesdays, so we had to cram it all in today. We got up early to head over to the Uffizi and beat the rush.
Yeah. THAT worked...
We spent two and a half hours in line, which turned out to be almost double the amount of time we spent actually inside the museum. And I hate to say this, given that time commitment, but I really didn't like the Uffizi that much.
Now, before you, my art-loving friends, forever abandon this blog and my company, I'd like to make my case. The Uffizi museum is famous for its collection of old art, which is my least favorite kind. You've got rooms and rooms and rooms full of old crucifixions depicted in old gold paint on old wood. I find that there are two (connected) problems with this.
1.) Anything can be old. I can paint my (now empty) glass of Vanilla coke and wait 650 years, but that doesn't mean I painted it well in the first place. That doesn't require any unique talent or vision-- that requires endurance, which, as WALL-E teaches us, any given object can have.
2.) Not only does being an old piece of art require no unique artistic vision, these particular old pieces weren't supposed to have any. This is a matter of personal taste, I understand, but if I'm going to spend my morning looking at crucifixions, send me back to the Prado, where each painting of the same thing had a unique perspective: a unique reason to be painted. The way I see it, the artists of the Uffizi's paintings didn't understand that you don't do a remake unless you've got something new to add to the original story.
To be fair (and to stop ranting), however, I suppose you can't go to Florence and not see this museum (unless you take my ranting to heart). And it was great to see Boticelli's 'The Birth of Venus'. Also-- big bonus-- our sojourn in Italy landed squarely in the middle of Culture Week, when all of Italy's state-run museums are free. If you're planning to visit Italy around mid-late April (you should), try to land it during this annual 10-day stretch.
Next stop was a private gallery with a surrealism exhibit focusing mainly on De Chirico, a founding painter of the movement. Dan and I spent a little while looking at De Chirico and Friends (the show included a few Magritte paintings as well). It was a cool exhibit, because some of the plaques accompanying the paintings addressed the movement's larger philosophical issues with sort of "Think about it yourself!" questions.***
Our final museum stop was the Galleria dell'Accademia. The big draw here, of course, is Michelangelo's David (the real David****). It's a great statue-- to be sure-- but what I like almost as much is how they don't open with it. Maybe I'm ruining the effect by mentioning it (and maybe the film major finds this more impressive than it actually is), but the reveal of this statue and where it's situated in the museum is at least as good as the masterpiece itself.
Also, the Galleria dell'Accademia has a lot of Uffizi-style Old Art. If you're hitting museums in Florence but don't want to wait on line for the Uffizi, this museum is a good pick because you'll see a smaller (but sufficient) sample of the same stuff. Or, you could book your Uffizi ticket in advance, which Dan and I didn't do.
We found a pizzeria on the east end of the city that seemed to be favored by locals. Cheap and tasty. We then savored dessert at Gelateria La Carraia, Christina's excellent pick of a Gelato place, easily found here.
I want to close this entry by reminding you that my challenge for major Bonus Points is still open, since my parents still have yet to correctly pronounce the French sentence "C'est une nouvelle année." Skype me, say it right, and WIN!
-Andy
---------------------------------
Tonight I gotta' cut notes! Footnotes!
* For those of you who still don't get the reference, go look up Orpheus and Eurydice in your copy of 'D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths.' Google it if you want to, but you should also invest in the book. Seriously-- your kids will love it.
** Also, how can you not love a place-- in Italy-- whose street is Via Maffia?? It's just too perfect. And if it's not perfect enough, can we also reflect also on how that street name sounds like you could translate it as "Thug Life"?
*** One went something like, "Surrealism often finds its inspiration in dreams, even nightmares. Freud said a nightmare was this, this, and this... do you have nightmares? Do they look like the style of this painting?"
*** No, the dog Paul Anka. 50 Bonus Points if you got that one.
Blogger seems to have confiscated my user-friendly blogging interface, which means I can't underline things and my fonts may come out looking funny. Don't quite know what the story is with this one, but my glass of Vanilla Coke and I are working on it.
So, Dan and I found ourselves awake and refreshed in Florence. First stop is the Piazzale Michelangelo, home of a fake version of the famous David statue (Dan tells me there are several about) and a show-stopping panoramic view of Florence. It's free, it's good exercise, and we had perfect weather. My suggestion as you climb to the top, though-- and I know this is difficult-- but do try to give it the Orpheus treatment. That is, don't look behind you from the steps. Wait until the lookout point. The sudden reveal is worth your patience.*
Dan and I were really hungry by this point, so we succumbed to lunch at the (relatively) pricey patio near the lookout point. One of many great things about Italian food: since all of it is SO GOOD, even the slightly overpriced stuff is worth it. I had a tasty pizza and Dan's lasagna turned out to be the best lasagna of our trip. The patio, view, and breeze were also a lovely combination.
We rather wandered back to the city... you know how they say "Not all who wander are lost"? Well, thank goodness for its corollary: "Not all who wander but are lost necessarily mind." It was a beautiful day, as I've said, and we found a nice tree-lined street and even a secluded playground that was neat to walk through. After crossing the Ponte Vecchio ("Old Bridge," full of merchants and stuff) back to town, we found the famed Duomo (yes, like Milan has a famed Duomo... I think they're a chain or something) among other cool old churches.
We then moved hostels to the originally planned Archi Rossi, which I highly recommend to hostel-goers. Fine location near the train station and great resources (best included hostel breakfast I've yet had) for a decent price. After a little siesta, we had gelato. Gelato may be the best ice cream in the world, but the cones are edible cardboard. I don't like this, but I think the idea is so that the cone doesn't distort or otherwise detract from the taste.
My high school friend Christina couldn't meet up with us for dinner, but she gave us a great tip, which I will now relay to you. Muna Ciello is on Via Maffia 31 (see here). Fun, funky place with, of course, great food.** After dinner, Christina and her friend Lauren joined us for hot chocolate at La Cite (mapped here). It's a neat bookshop/cafe/jazz hangout where a few of Christina's and Lauren's friends in their music program were playing that night. But the hot chocolate-- it's a must. They have a few flavors, and they froth it up all rich and thick. I picked white chocolate (my new favorite flavor this semester, likely for its sideways resemblance to vanilla). Delicious, just like the rest of that day.
(104) is Tuesday, 20 April 2010.
This is it, folks-- museum day. National museums are closed on Mondays, and trains taking Andy and Dan to Rome run on Wednesdays, so we had to cram it all in today. We got up early to head over to the Uffizi and beat the rush.
Yeah. THAT worked...
We spent two and a half hours in line, which turned out to be almost double the amount of time we spent actually inside the museum. And I hate to say this, given that time commitment, but I really didn't like the Uffizi that much.
Now, before you, my art-loving friends, forever abandon this blog and my company, I'd like to make my case. The Uffizi museum is famous for its collection of old art, which is my least favorite kind. You've got rooms and rooms and rooms full of old crucifixions depicted in old gold paint on old wood. I find that there are two (connected) problems with this.
1.) Anything can be old. I can paint my (now empty) glass of Vanilla coke and wait 650 years, but that doesn't mean I painted it well in the first place. That doesn't require any unique talent or vision-- that requires endurance, which, as WALL-E teaches us, any given object can have.
2.) Not only does being an old piece of art require no unique artistic vision, these particular old pieces weren't supposed to have any. This is a matter of personal taste, I understand, but if I'm going to spend my morning looking at crucifixions, send me back to the Prado, where each painting of the same thing had a unique perspective: a unique reason to be painted. The way I see it, the artists of the Uffizi's paintings didn't understand that you don't do a remake unless you've got something new to add to the original story.
To be fair (and to stop ranting), however, I suppose you can't go to Florence and not see this museum (unless you take my ranting to heart). And it was great to see Boticelli's 'The Birth of Venus'. Also-- big bonus-- our sojourn in Italy landed squarely in the middle of Culture Week, when all of Italy's state-run museums are free. If you're planning to visit Italy around mid-late April (you should), try to land it during this annual 10-day stretch.
Next stop was a private gallery with a surrealism exhibit focusing mainly on De Chirico, a founding painter of the movement. Dan and I spent a little while looking at De Chirico and Friends (the show included a few Magritte paintings as well). It was a cool exhibit, because some of the plaques accompanying the paintings addressed the movement's larger philosophical issues with sort of "Think about it yourself!" questions.***
Our final museum stop was the Galleria dell'Accademia. The big draw here, of course, is Michelangelo's David (the real David****). It's a great statue-- to be sure-- but what I like almost as much is how they don't open with it. Maybe I'm ruining the effect by mentioning it (and maybe the film major finds this more impressive than it actually is), but the reveal of this statue and where it's situated in the museum is at least as good as the masterpiece itself.
Also, the Galleria dell'Accademia has a lot of Uffizi-style Old Art. If you're hitting museums in Florence but don't want to wait on line for the Uffizi, this museum is a good pick because you'll see a smaller (but sufficient) sample of the same stuff. Or, you could book your Uffizi ticket in advance, which Dan and I didn't do.
We found a pizzeria on the east end of the city that seemed to be favored by locals. Cheap and tasty. We then savored dessert at Gelateria La Carraia, Christina's excellent pick of a Gelato place, easily found here.
I want to close this entry by reminding you that my challenge for major Bonus Points is still open, since my parents still have yet to correctly pronounce the French sentence "C'est une nouvelle année." Skype me, say it right, and WIN!
-Andy
---------------------------------
Tonight I gotta' cut notes! Footnotes!
* For those of you who still don't get the reference, go look up Orpheus and Eurydice in your copy of 'D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths.' Google it if you want to, but you should also invest in the book. Seriously-- your kids will love it.
** Also, how can you not love a place-- in Italy-- whose street is Via Maffia?? It's just too perfect. And if it's not perfect enough, can we also reflect also on how that street name sounds like you could translate it as "Thug Life"?
*** One went something like, "Surrealism often finds its inspiration in dreams, even nightmares. Freud said a nightmare was this, this, and this... do you have nightmares? Do they look like the style of this painting?"
*** No, the dog Paul Anka. 50 Bonus Points if you got that one.
11 May 2010
(---): Logistical Update
So, here's the deal. I don't typically do flash-forwards (flashback is the preferred medium), but I wanted to let you know of some grander changes going on in this whole Europe experience of mine.
As the blog's title change ((215) --> (199)) indicates, I am coming back to the States a little sooner than previously planned... I am getting on a flight back to Washington on Saturday, July 24 (those of you who I might see in Washington this summer, take note).
I moved my ticket because I am in the process of applying for a one-month summer program in Antibes, a town on the French Riviera. 4 hours per day (5 days a week) of language immersion, but free afternoons to enjoy and explore the place and get to know fellow students. I will still travel in June, but I will also have a place to really spend time and get to know people.
That's the story. Just thought you might want to know. Hope you're all still enjoying the blog, and I hope to hear from you soon!
-Andy
As the blog's title change ((215) --> (199)) indicates, I am coming back to the States a little sooner than previously planned... I am getting on a flight back to Washington on Saturday, July 24 (those of you who I might see in Washington this summer, take note).
I moved my ticket because I am in the process of applying for a one-month summer program in Antibes, a town on the French Riviera. 4 hours per day (5 days a week) of language immersion, but free afternoons to enjoy and explore the place and get to know fellow students. I will still travel in June, but I will also have a place to really spend time and get to know people.
That's the story. Just thought you might want to know. Hope you're all still enjoying the blog, and I hope to hear from you soon!
-Andy
07 May 2010
(100-102): The Wages of Cinders
(100) is Friday, 16 April 2010
After an omitted week of scrambling on two papers (including Hitchcock), we finally arrive at spring break. 17 days. Travel plans that had been in the works for a month. Italy! Venice, Florence, and Rome! Greece! Mykonos, Santorini, Ios (all islands in the Cyclades), and Athens!
Iceland. A volcano.
Hard to know what to say to that, right? I was at rather a loss for words myself (that takes a lot, a fact this blog often proves conclusively). I have to say, though, I had a hard time being too upset about this because, as travel screw-ups go, a volcano is a pretty epic reason.
Dan and I lugged our bags to the airport for our 6 PM flight; even if it was cancelled, we figured that was our best shot at seeing what the story was. Long story short, there was no flight that would give us any appreciable amount of time in Venice before our scheduled train would take us to Florence.
"Trains! Wait a second..."
In one of the most bizarre spots of luck, there is a train station at Charles de Gaulle. I say bizarre because-- think about it-- when would that ever matter? When would you get off the metro at the airport with your bags and your e-ticket and your passport and say "You know what, Dan? I think I'd rather have train lag tomorrow morning." Probably not that often, considering I don't think I know anyone else who's traveled recently with a Dan. But this was great; we saved time not going back to a station in Paris proper, and. If we had done that, we might have missed out on the patchwork of trains a very nice woman helped us book:
6:10 PM the next evening to Geneva (getting in around 10 PM)
5:45 AM train to Milan (Sunday, getting in around 10 AM)
Flexible time train Florence: skipping Venice, but getting us to Florence a day sooner
So, I went home to pick up the pieces from these changes and fill in the gaps. A few new reservations later, I decided we were in good shape. And since I had the evening and most of the next day free, I headed over to Kirill's most recent apartment (he's gone through about 10 different Parisian residences by this point in the semester) to join our other pals and watch Woody Allen's Sleeper for the first delightful time in years.
So, we re-booked our vacation to get us to Florence a day sooner. Your move, Volcano.
(101) is Saturday, 17 April 2010
Dan and I took the TGV to Geneva, which was very nice. Got us there in short order, and we learned en route that our VWPP pal Victoria would be in Geneva that night as well! Wonderful! She was waiting for us when we got off the train.
The plan, at this point, was to give Geneva what Dan and I call the Madrid Treatment. Fondly named after our last night in Madrid back in March, we would leave our bags someplace safe (a train station locker) and just explore the city. We wouldn't have the chance otherwise, and it didn't make much sense to us to book a pricey hotel for just a few hours.
Geneva is an expensive city. Switzerland's economy is good enough to justify staying on the Swiss Franc (better US exchange rate than the Euro, but not by much). I had to take out a minimum of 50 swiss francs from the ATM. A bag of malted milk balls (required to break that 50) cost me 6 swiss Francs. The train station locker cost us 8. And answering two guys who asked for the time cost me my wallet containing 44 Swiss Francs, about 180 Euros, 4 credit cards, and two or three pieces of ID.
You do get a rebate, actually, on everything but the cash (and your never-useful Reid Hall ID card) if you chase the guys and shout "Voleur! Voleur! Rendez-moi ma portefeuille!"**
Dropping the wry bit for a second, I do want to assure you that these guys only got the cash (and not even all of it: those under-the-shirt tourist wallets are a good investment). My IDs, credit cards-- even the wallet itself-- made it back to me and I was completely physically unharmed. Shaken for a while, but unharmed.
Well played, Volcano. Well played.
After taking a breather over dinner, we decided to seek a hotel after all. We found one near Cornavin (Geneva's big train station) called the Hotel des Alpes-- which you can book here. If you are EVER in Geneva, stay at this hotel for my sake and that of David, the very generous soul working the desk that night. The place was full, but when we explained what happened, David let us use the hotel's Wi-Fi so I could Skype-call my folks. That didn't work, so he let me call them on the hotel's phone. He then called several local hotels for us (all full). Finally, he offered us the lobby couches, water, and something to eat if we wanted (we didn't, but thanked him anyway) until we had to leave to catch our train.
All at no charge.
David also explained that the way I was pick-pocketed was rather common in those parts. I'm sorry to dwell on this subject, but this is good knowledge to have. After asking for the time, the pickpocket made some jovial comment about us being American and "football!" And then he starts in on what David called the jeu de jambes ("leg game"... my translation is less catchy and more suggestive... it figures). This is where the pickpocket starts stepping on my feet and getting up in my personal space. Naturally, I try to jump out of the way, but he keeps on me. My jumping around makes my wallet easier to spot and grab because, one, I'm distracted, and two, rather than keeping hands on my money, I'm using my arms to move away and maintain balance. Once they've got the wallet, they run.
Notes I took from this:
1.) Maybe this is cold, but when you're tired and in transit, let them ask somebody else for the time.***
2.) When someone goes for your feet, go for your pockets.
3.) When arriving at night, always have somewhere safe to go (hostel, hotel, whatever) as soon as you get off the train.
3b.) Giving a city the Madrid Treatment works better when you've already gotten to know it and you aren't tired/disoriented.
At 5:45, after leaving the hotel with gratuitous thanks to David, we found the train station. Victoria continued her journey elsewhere in Europe, and Dan and I boarded (and slept on) our train to Milan.
(102) starts when Dan and I arrive in Milan on Sunday, 18 April 2010
I like Milan. But I think the three hours we spent there was enough. The only thing that might have justified more time would have been seeing 'The Last Supper', but we didn't have the necessary advance reservation to the museum. Instead, we dropped our bags just long enough to wander, see the Duomo, and get lunch and the first of very much gelato. The Duomo is the highlight there-- easily the most ornate (and therefore impressive) Gothic building I have ever seen (and my exposure has skyrocketed since January). My camera died for this part, which was really, really sad.
After walking around a bit, we hopped the train to Florence, where we found pitch-perfect clear weather in the 70s (Fahrenheit). Dan and I took an inexplicably long time finding the hostel I'd finagled for the night, but we then relaxed for a while in the room, relieved that our 24 hours in transit were over. I got a call from Kirill, who reported that his and Liz's volcano troubles were only just beginning (I'd tell you that story, but I could never do it the justice that she or Kirill do). The next few days would feature many such calls and many more hours wondering when the next one would sound. Dan and I then went over to Gusto Leo, a very affordable place near our hostel. Decent food, a friendly atmosphere, and a 20% discount to anyone with a student ID card.
Tomorrow's entry: Vacation, Take 2.
-Andy
---------------------------------------
Footnotes
* Gare de Lyon, Gare du Nord (North), Gare de l'Est (East), Gare Montparnasse, Gare Bercy, Gare d'Austerlitz, and Gare St-Lazare. Any guesses on what the word gare means in English?
** "Thief! Thief! Give me back my wallet!" And, in case you ever need a such a rebate in a French-speaking country, here's the French version spelled phonetically: "vo-LUR! vo-LUR! RON-day moi mah POR-tuh-foy!"
*** You know, maybe that should have been my first clue... These two are in Switzerland-- the land of Swiss watches-- and they don't know what time it is?
05 May 2010
(94-95): This Time From Belgium
Photos corresponding with this entry can be found here.
(94) is Saturday, 10 April 2010
We're getting to that point in my abroad experience where I will go quite some time without staying in one place for more than a week. Which, as we're about to see, can be pretty rockin' awesome.
I got up way too early to make the bus at 6h30 at Opera Garnier, but I met up with a few friends from the Vassar-Wesleyan program. Here's the cast of this weekend's episode:
Corinne
Lucien
Molly
Max
Carryn
Jean
Me
We took a 4-hour-or-so bus ride (which featured a gorgeous sunrise, unlike the cloud-ridden one to Mont-St-Michel) that landed us at the south end of Bruges at 11:30 or so. First thing was a historical guided tour of the little city. It was okay... kind of obscure (included a nunnery, former poor housing run by another nunnery, and one of the canals). It was good to get a feel for the city, though, and we ended in the big square with the clock tower (where I'm given to understand most of the film In Bruges takes place). We now had three hours to spend as we chose.
We went back to the tiny little alleyway the tour guide had pointed out. While we didn't see the chocolate shop she mentioned (those were all on the various streets), it did have this neat little restaurant we decided to try. It started as a door with no clear view of the interior. But we go in. And then there's this classy-looking bar with a few indoor tables and, a few few steps later, a wooden patio with 20+ tables right on one of the canals. I'd recommend Eetcafe, but I can't seem to find it on the internet or tell you how to get there. Their house beer wasn't bad and I ordered a lasagna (don't ask me why) that was the best I'd had to date.
We then found a chocolate shop. Beautiful little place (check out the Facebook link at the top of the entry for proof) with really wonderful chocolate (and a free sample!). Unfortunately, I didn't get the name of this one, but you know the great thing about Belgium, and Bruges in particular? Walk into pretty much any chocolate shop that doesn't look like a chain (or one that does, if you prefer) and you'll almost certainly find great chocolate.
Back at the square, a few of us decided to go up the clock tower. Take the elevator if you can't deal with steep staircases. I'm 21 years old and reasonably healthy, and I still felt like James Stewart in Vertigo.
But the view from the top was great. It wasn't entirely panoramic, because they were renovating a bit of the top level,* but we still saw the city as well as a few energy windmills just outside it (am I the only one who thinks they look cool?). We found our way back down, back to the bus to meet up with the rest of the group and head to Brussels.
Bruges is an adorable little place. Although I wouldn't recommend spending more than two or three days there.
(94 ½) starts at 6 PM that day, upon our arrival in Brussels.
After settling in at the (inconveniently located) hostel, we found our way to the square at the city's center, which is rife with impressive large old buildings (see photos). We wandered for a bit and eventually found dinner: the biggest freaking pot of mussels I've ever had. And there were fries, of course-- this is Belgium. Moules Frites-- ask about it at the next bistro you go to.
After dinner, we found a bar we'd been recommended at the hostel; you can find Celtica here. Cheap local beer (or any kind of beer, really) and a lively crowd. We had a drink or two. I tried the local stuff. I think I like blonde people a lot better than blonde beer.
Well, I might as well spoil the ending: I spent this weekend trying beer and trying to like it-- I really did-- but it's just not my thing. I'll give it another shot when I go to Germany, but if I don't like it there, then that's that.
(95) is Sunday, 11 April 2010
We had most of the day to do as we pleased in Brussels. The seven of us headed for a reputed flea market away from the center of town. I had never really spent a lot of time at flea markets before, but I have to say I enjoyed it. It was a game "What will I find next?" I mostly looked but didn't touch, although I did end up spending a euro on this cool old key I found amid hundreds of others not quite like it. I don't typically go in for souvenirs for souvenirs' sake, but I liked this little guy. I imagined somebody else buying such a key and then going on a mysterious adventure trying to find the door it once opened.
We strolled back toward the main part of town, passing a few beautiful churches and cathedrals.** We even stopped into a little park with a fountain with frogs mating in the pond. Carryn saw fit to pick out one or two of the... shall we say "unoccupied"?... amphibians for a closer look.
Next stop: the Magritte museum. I love Magritte (most fun you may ever have on a google image search). Whenever I don't understand art or am not immediately taken with it (usually modern), my tendency is to simply laugh. Magritte and Surrealism make this delightfully easy. Each painting, odd without help, is teamed up with a title that has so little to do (at face value) with the image that I just can't keep it together. It's wonderful.***
So, exhibit's done, and we head down the hill from the museum to near where we had beer the previous night. It was long past lunchtime, and it is now long past time I explain to you the five food groups of Belgium:
--Chocolate
--Waffles
--Fries
--Beer
--Seconds
We got fries (that's frites in French, remember) and burgers at a sidewalk place and sat down to enjoy. I can't speak for everyone, but my burger was really just an excuse to make a meal out of the fries. We then moved one storefront over for waffles (welcome to Belgium), which needs no excuse ever. Fresh Beglian waffle with vanilla ice cream, strawberries and powdered sugar. Party like a rock star. We then went across the street to a chocolate shop for which the hostel had given us coupons. I got a few things to try and a little box for my host family.
After that, a few of us found-- are you ready for this? 'Cause I wasn't-- ruins in the middle of Brussels. Better yet, these were an indoor museum. Lucien was super-excited about this in his adorably enthusiastic way because he thought it was going to be like Indiana Jones. So, we went into a government-run (that's English for "legit") museum and bought tickets for the exhibit. The woman gave us a code to put in to get into the ruins. I think that set the tone rather nicely for this.
Well, we got down there. I don't really know how else to say this, but: Lucien's enthusiasm had been completely justified. The best part was that there weren't many boundaries. You just explored... great deal for 3 euros, and definitely goes on my list of Best Places to Play Laser Tag in Europe.
It was about 4:30 by the time we finished, and we had to get back to the bus by 6. We found another bar that had a HUGE variety of beers and a really cool converted-brewery sort of atmosphere. Delirium is a pretty big place, nestled away in a cul-de-sac amid a few alleys of restaurants (not unlike Paris's Latin Quarter). Right here if you're curious.
Here's the real reason I put "Seconds" on the list of food groups: I would very much like to come back. And next time, I'm going to see the Atomium.
-Andy
------------------------------------
Footnotes
* I don't know why they picked now, but about 1/3 of Europe is under renovation this semester. Saint Chappelle in Paris, this tower, and other things I would visit later. As Judy Bachrach (my best friend's journalist mother) would explain later, there's a great travel article to be written called "Except While You're Here," a guide to essential European attractions under renovation during your visit.
** I've been in Europe for four months now and I still don't know the difference.
*** On a serious note, I don't mean to make a mockery of this. I really do like Magritte and Surrealism, and there were even two or three paintings that spoke to me. Not literally. Although, if any school of painting would...
21 April 2010
(86-93): That Was the Week That... Was.
I promise to keep this short.
(86) is Friday, 2 April 2010.
I went to the Rodin museum today with my friend Victoria (also on VWPP). This museum is by and large about sculpture (and those are by and large the work of-- who'd have thought?-- one Auguste Rodin), although there are a few neat little painting gems, including this neat Van Gogh. The museum is this great old building (although it could use a new paint job in certain parts of the ceiling) and the art is really beautiful, but the true highlight of this place (at metro Varennes on line 13) is the sculpture garden. It's full of (are you ready for this?) Rodin sculptures, elegant plantings, well-trimed shrubs, and even a pond.
Even better is that many of these statues are doing Michael Jackson moves.
ThrillAH! Thrill-ah night!
A piece from Rodin's Moonwalk period
This one's titled "The Jackson 3, or, The Mighty Ducks"
So, after about two hours of browsing, Victoria and I decided to get lunch on this open Friday afternoon. So, we headed back to her place and made spaghetti and chicken, and we watched 300, which I had actually never seen.*
After the movie, I headed over to visit Aaron, Kirill, Dan, Liz, her father Andrew, and his copine (French for "girlfriend") Marci. We had sort of a potluck dinner of chili and other such things (I brought wine) before going to the theater. We bought tickets to Le Roi Lion. Any guesses on what that one is? Anybody?
The Lion King. The broadway musical. The one with the costumes. In French.
Pretty entertaining show, and a steal at 25 euro a ticket. Costumes and set were my favorite part. I had never seen the Broadway version, so it was a constant game of "Okay, how are they going to put this film-only scene on stage? ...Oh! Oh, that's pretty creative!" I don't want to spoil it for those of you who may yet make it to Broadway for this one (which I might recommend, provided you don't have any other shows you'd rather see), but some of the ways they turn people into animals and landscapes are really original. Musicals adapted from Hollywood movies are a collective pet peeve of mine, but I must admit that, artistically speaking, this one brings something new to the table. Rock on.
(87) is Saturday, 3 April 2010.
My host family was out of town for Easter weekend, so I chilled out at the house and did some writing (the creative kind) for a change. I also realized that this would be my last full weekend in Paris during my actual abroad program.
(88) is boring because it was almost exactly the same as (87).
(89), too. But did you know that Easter Monday is a national holiday in France?
(90) is Tuesday, 6 April 2010.
I got to Reid Hall early today, which is freaking bizarre, but I got to hang out with some people I don't see as much, including Myles, Tyler, Max, and Carryn.
Most of you readers probably don't know who I'm talking about. Hmm. Oh, well. On with the entry. We then had Reid Hall film class, where we talked about a bunch of different film versions of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Not a bad lecture, and it was graced with a uniquely gratifying moment near the end. One of the movies the professor** discussed-- with the same seriousness as the others-- was the 1963 film The Nutty Professor, written by, directed by, and starring Jerry Lewis.***
So the professor analyzes it. Picks it apart. Stops as often as he did for The Searchers. But the best part-- the BEST PART-- was when he stopped the movie just before Jerry Lewis transforms. There's a gag where Jerry is sneaking into the lab at night and his shoes squeak. He takes them off, keeps sneaking, and the noise continues anyway (probably the funniest part of the movie, and it was actually not a terrible gag). The professor stops the film and explains that, if I can translate, "the sound of the shoes has taken on a life of its own, just like Mr. Hyde will, once the transformation happens."
Best moment of the semester. I really do respect this man, but now I know he's making this shit up.
So, after class, I had host family dinner and then went out again. This is unusual for me on-- what, Tuesdays?-- but I had an invite from Lucien to join a bunch of people at Notre Dame. Max and Nathaniel Draper brought guitars, and we all sang. We moved down to the quai (sidewalk along the Seine) and just sang our favorites. It was a magical evening. And I even caught the last metro.
(93) is Friday, 9 April 2010. It concludes a few days I spent watching a lot of Hitchcock movies and working on my paper.
Next time, from Belgium.
-Andy
------------------------------
I'm talking to the man in the footnotes... I'm asking him to change his ways...
* Surprisingly good, probably because of my expectations. Definitely epic, Xerxes is a great villain, and that's probably the best role Gerard Butler will ever play. Although I was rather perplexed that such an epic movie took place on a platform of maybe 30 meters square. And lots of blood... so much lots of blood...
** I don't know if I've mentioned this, but my Reid Hall film professor is actually a big deal in the world of critical film theory. 'Cause that's a big deal. But seriously-- he's written a lot of books (including one I had to read last spring for my French New Wave class), and he was president of University of Paris VIII for a few years. That's the one with the REALLY good film program. If you're curious, google Jean-Louis Leutrat.
*** I'd like to take a minute to address this topic, one my father has been asking me about on and off since January. Many French people think Jerry Lewis is funny. I do not know why, and I feel almost embarrassed to ask. I think it's because he does slapstick like Jim Carrey (who is also very popular in France) and because there may actually be mise-en-scene things in his movies for big-deal French critical theorists to read into. What I don't get, especially after watching The Nutty Professor for this class, is how someone with Jerry Lewis's singing voice goes from Rat Pack ties to being so ridiculous and laughably unfunny. ...Wait... Yes, that's the wording I want. But does that even make sense? I supose not, but then, neither does Jerry Lewis, come to think of it.
Tuesday, April 6: Chilling at Reid Hall, Pense, dinner, singing on the Seine
Wednesday, April 7: Hitchcock, Torn Curtain, choir
Thursday, April 8: Stupid Day
Friday, April 9: watching movies
09 April 2010
(82-85): Days on the 10
Sit tight, folks, you're in for a long one.
(82) is Monday, 29 March 2010
Mom, Dad, and I all made it back from Mont-St-Michel and St-Malo. Yes, we were all there, but no, we didn't meet meet up because, no, they didn't have a working cell phone.
Yes. Anyway.
This week saw me commuting a great deal, almost exclusively on the Metro Line 10 ("Aha, the title is explained!" I hear you cry). Mom and Dad were staying near Odeon, so like the week before, I would hop on the 10, go join them for dinner, and then go home for the night.
Monday's version involved me going to 'Reagir Sur la France d'Aujourd'hui', my "writing-intensive"* class at Reid Hall. I stuck around Reid Hall to make a few more reservations for Italy/Greece with Liz and Kirill. We're so close to finishing this one, and it's going to be epic. Also, I wound up the accountant for this endeavor, which is no small task when you have to do a round-robin of credit cards to make sure all four seats get booked together.
At any rate, I met up with Mom and Dad for dinner at Allard on Rue St-Andre-des-Arts. It's this little bistro with a rep for great food and American customers. They put us in the corner (unlike baby**), so we had a slightly tougher time than usual conversing. The restaurant also crammed in a lot of tables, so they had to move two or three other tables each time somebody had to get in or out. But ask yourself: would I really recommend the place in spite of these things if the food wasn't to die for? I had foie gras (of which I've become a great fan), a gorgeous cut of salmon that was perfectly prepared, and two beautiful profiteroles. This was all on a prix-fixe menu of something like 33 euros.
(83) is-- wait for it-- Tuesday, 30 March 2010.
Today, I didn't have class until 3:30 (on the count of 3-- 1, 2, 3: "Andy doesn't go to school.") today, so I met my folks for lunch at Fauchon, a rather haute-cuisine eatery at the Madeleine plaza and metro station. They had a variety of tasty-looking things on sale. I had a smoked salmon sandwich, which was great, but I held off on dessert in favor of getting macaroons (that's macarons-- with one 'o'-- in French) at Laduree a few doors down from lunch. These macaroons...
They sent Pierre Herme home to cry.***
We then walked a bit, stumbling onto a street with many well-to-do designer clothing stores. Not a bad walk, although I can't remember the street. We then came to Angelina at 224 Rue de Rivoli (east on the same street as the Louvre, away from Chatelet). This place is an old-fashioned tea room which also makes wonderful-looking macaroons and other pastries. The real draw, though, is the hot chocolate. As my father had explained it, it's "like being enveloped in a warm blanket of chocolate." It was just him being, well, my father.
Then I tried the stuff. With a dollop of whipped cream and parents who get too full to finish theirs... beautiful. That's the only word... that and "blanket-y".
So, I dashed off to class, my Reid Hall cinema one with the very detail-oriented, pause-every-frame film professor. Average class. Fortunately, it went by a little faster than 24 frames-per-hour.
Dinner this evening was at a great little place (in French, that's bistrot) called Le Bistro de Chez d'Henri on Rue de Princesse, which is tucked away near the Mabillon and Saint-Sulpice Metro stations. This place had the best scalloped potatoes I've ever had, with a prelude of tasty foie gras and accompaniment of a sizable, excellently prepared steak.
I then hopped on the 10 to go home.
How you doin', need to take a break? Why don't you take a break? I'll wait.
...
(84) is Wednesday, 31 March, 2010
After Hitchcock class at Paris VII, I met up with my friend Meredith from Vassar. Meredith, who is studying Art History this semester in Rome, came up for a few days of vacation with two friends from her program. I showed them around a little, including a visit to St-Chappelle, a gorgeous chapel tucked in with the Palais de Justice (Paris is big into tucking buildings, it seems). That other place is essentially the French Supreme Court, a few blocks from Notre Dame.
If you go to Saint Chappelle, make sure it's a very sunny day or, if it's alternating (as it was on Wednesday), stay in there until you get some sun. The walls composed almost entirely of absolutely spellbinding stained glass will reward your eyes most handsomely for the wait. You should also hope that they aren't renovating, because that big Saint-Chappelle themed tarpjust doesn't catch the sun as well. Although it's a good thing they're taking care of the place, because it does deserve it. You can also tell which windows haven't been restored yet, because those are much less clean and luminous. In any case, it was well worth the 5-euro student admission (I think it's 8 for adults).
We then walked in the sunnier weather a ways. They wanted coffee. "No," I told them:
"You want hot chocolate."
So, of course, at the height of my culinary decadence, I went back to Angelina for a second day in a row. The upswing of this one, though, was that I got to sample two pastries that Meredith's friends couldn't finish. One was a larger-than-bite-sized raspberry macaroon (I usually eat smaller ones). They're big on raspberries over here, but I'm generally not. I make exception for two things: one is raspberry-flavored vodka (especially mixed into a cup of lemonade) and the other is the raspberries in this macaroon, which were hands-down the freshest and sweetest I've ever had.
The other dessert was a pastry that looked like a ball of light-colored chocolate mousse that had been squeezed out of a Play-Doh mold (one of the ones that gives you a long, textured string of the stuff). It was relatively firm, though, and hid a core of creme. I can't remember what it was called, but I feel confident that the Play-doh description will lead you right to it.
After our little tea-time, I met up with Mom and Dad at their hotel to get dinner for their last night in Paris. We took the metro to Le Temps au Temps on 13 Rue Paul Bert. I hesitated to put that one in bold because I honestly didn't like it nearly as much as the other places. I'm given to understand that the owner/chef has left the establishment in the last 6-12 months. Every part of the experience just barely missed somehow. There wasn't much on the menu that really captured my imagination, the wine we had was fine except for a weird aftertaste, the asparagus soup I had was good but not great... the steak I got was actually very good-- that's what saved this meal from mediocrity-- although they never asked how I wanted it prepared. The dessert, which is now escaping my memory, was good, but it came with a scoop of ice cream that was already melting by the time it arrived.
Oh, well. Can't win 'em all.
So, I went back to the hotel with Mom and Dad, we said our goodbyes, and I took the 10 back home.
(85) is Thursday, 1 Octember 2010. Ha. April Fool's.
I went to Music in Cinema today, which was normal. When I was almost home, I got a message from Izzy, a friend of mine also in the VWPP, who wanted me to join her and some of our other pals at a bar and then a club that night. I was already making plans to hang out with Allix Wright and Christina Allen, two friends from Sidwell, so I skipped out on the bar.
Christina was visiting from her JYA music program in Florence (now there are two people I can visit when I get to Italy!), so we all caught up. We went to Le Volcan on Rue de Mouffetard, since Allix and I hadn't been there in almost three months (I hadn't been to Mouffetard in a while, myself). We knew, however, that dinner would be quite good, down to that same delicious Charlotte au Chocolat that I ordered last time.
I then met up with Izzy and the others at Mix Club directly behind the Tour Montparnasse at the Montparnasse-Bienvenue metro station on line 6. This place was pricey-- 15 euro to get in and 2 more for the obligatory coat check. But they gave you a free beer (which I gave to my friend Max for a few euros) and... you remember in the beginning of The Matrix Revolutions (I know it's the worst one, but go with me for a minute) where Morpheus, Trinity, and (I think) Niobe go talk to the Merovingian in that ridiculously awesome-looking club?
This was kinda' like that.
It was worth the price of admission to come out to that balcony and meet the visual of the crazy strobe and colored lights over hundreds of ERASUMUS students dancing a story below (some on elevated blocks and other platforms). I stayed and danced with my pals a while before taking the Noctilien home.
No duets on the bus this time, though.
There, you made it! Well done!
-Andy
--------------------------------
Footnotes
* "Reacting to France Today," whose exercises are all based on our experiences and other current events and stuff. Supposedly. In reality, we do about a page worth of writing per week, with our only big papers about 3-4 pages. One was reacting to a really simple article, and the other was a personal reaction to a French film of our choosing. Our mid-class breaks (which most French professors do) last anywhere from 15-25 minutes. Like I always say: I don't go to school.
** Nor Swayze, who is instead, regrettably, in the coroner's.
*** The vanilla ones were especially rich. I've realized that one of the things I like about Paris is that I am in a place where people appreciate vanilla as much as I do. It's no small thing-- in America, most people think vanilla is the boring flavor, the one you need to make interesting or add chocolate to or whatever (even though I really don't like chocolate ice cream). But not here. Here, they know that vanilla is not simple, but rather subtle. It is something that can stand on its own if you take the time to do it well, and that is exactly what people do. I think this also speaks to how people care more about putting time and care into finer tastes, not just chocolate ice cream because more people will buy it.
06 April 2010
(80-81): There's a Saint... There's Another Saint...
(80) is Saturday, 27 March 2010
Okay, just so I can save myself the trouble of describing things that are really beautiful when I'm not that big on descriptions anyway, here's the link to my photo album about this weekend:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=416088&id=734690178&l=9d34c3b9b6
So! This weekend was a road trip of sorts. I got up at early o'clock to go to Opera Garnier (and this time, yes-- it was Garnier, not Bastille). I joined up with the CIJP (Club for International Young People in Paris), a buddy group of Reid Hall's, for a weekend trip to Mont-St-Michel and Saint-Malo. Turns out I didn't know anybody on the tour, and I'm real good at being awkward.
This was going to be fun.
Well, I befriended a girl named Emily, who took the bus seat next to me, and we chatted and napped.* We arrived at Mont-St-Michel around 12:30 and got out of the bus to scope it out.
Okay: here's what you need to know about Mont-St-Michel. It's a big Gothic church. On a hill. Surrounded by walls. And it turns into an island when the tide comes in. Swim through that water long enough and in the right direction, and you will make a straight shot to England. So, we looked around at the winding streets full of restaurants and souvenir shops, many of which were quite cool. Suits of armor and samurai swords-- 'nuff said, right?
Emily and I found lunch at a little crepe place, and we met up with the rest of the bus group at 2:30 for the guided tour. We had a very nice French lady show us around, but there were a lot of people and echoes, so I sort of tuned her out. Honestly, knowing me, I probably would have tuned her out either way in favor of looking, trading commentary with Emily, and snapping photos.
So, after the tour, we had another hour or so to look around, so we all ambled our way down the hill to where the bus was parked. We boarded at 4:30 and drove (that's English for "slept") for about two hours until we got to the hostel at St-Malo.
I got roomed with Sergio, a Spanish student studying in Paris, and Thierry, a young teacher working for the French Dept. of Education. We got one key for the three of us (STUPID system, especially since other people reportedly asked the front desk for extra keys and got them with no trouble). So, we all walked into town together after a while of getting settled in.
The only problem I found with this hostel was how freaking far away it was from the town itself. We had to walk for a good 20 minutes to get to the point on the coast where everything was located. It was a cute little seafaring town once we got to it. A small group of us had dinner at a forgettable sandwich place and strolled for a while. We found this one bar with a huge hodgepodge of stuff decorating the place: dolls, puppets, all sorts of knickknacks. Best part: the bar itself (as opposed to the tables) had 4 swings coming down from the ceiling as seats. Awesome. Second best part: the bartender was this really nice, knowledgeable guy who learned to speak English in London (so he was French with an English accent when he spoke English). He had lots of great stories about world travel, and was generally a pleasure to converse with. I'm just kicking myself, as I can't now remember the bar's name.
So, after this and a brief stint in a nightclub (before it got going), I headed back to the hostel to sleep for a few hours. I did, and woke up an hour sooner than I'd have liked (yay daylight savings!). We went on a historic tour of the town, which was another 20-minute walk away.
The reason we had to walk was great, partly because I had rather predicted it in some offhand remark the day before. Apparently the bus driver is not allowed to drive more than a certain amount of time before taking a break. This is standard, you would say. Right, I would reply even though I'm not using quotation marks, but is a limit of 2 hours standard? From the country that brings you regular strikes... oh, boy.
Anyway, we had another good tour guide (who I actually listened to this time). She told us about how this town lives by, for, and with the sea. It declared independence once, it had a lot of mercenary sailors, and the giant stone walls are all original, protected by giant logs stuck in the sand to break the force of the waves. Also, a few specific stories connected to photos you'll eventually find in my Facebook photo album.
There was once a navy attack on this town, but it defended itself so well that the only injury was done unto a cat. It lost a leg and thus walked funny. There was a street named after him: "Rue de la Chat Qui Danse," or "Street of the Cat That Dances."
Emily and I found a rather tasty pizza place for lunch. I found a macaroon store that was quite good (although it would later be dwarfed by the culinary wizardry that awaited me and my parents back in Paris).
There was also a street festival of sorts. This was a week before Easter, so I'm guessing that's why. There were elaborate costumes, dancers, drums, and general hubbub. It was great fun. We caught the parade (and the street-cleaners that didn't miss a beat in following them) just before getting on the bus to go back to Paris. We got back in around 10.
Conclusions: if you can, go see these two places. But make sure the weather's good.
-Andy
-----------------------------------------
Footnotes
*Probably not at the same time, though Sam Seymour claims that it has, in fact, happened.
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