-
Showing posts tagged travel
-
…go to The Library. (Yes, it’s in caps for a reason.)
Oh man. As is usual I’ve done so much stuff since the last time I posted that I can’t even keep it all straight.
I’ve been doing a lot of going out and exploring London. Last weekend (I can’t believe it was only last weekend — the time moves so strangely here, I swear!) I went with some of my friends and did a tour of the Houses of Parliament on the last day that the offer tours before the fall session of parliament starts up again. It was actually really awesome, I’d recommend it to anyone who happens to be in London and has a passing interest in history or politics. The Parliament building itself has portions that date back to 1300. I have stood upon the spot where Charles I stormed the parliamentarians debating in the House of Commons and threatened them with their arrest; I have walked up the steps atop which the aforementioned king was tried and beheaded by the English people, the first king in western history to meet such a fate. Guy Fawkes was tried in that same room. Every year before the state opening of parliament, the security team does a sweep through the basements, just to make sure that no one’s trying the same trick again. I think I have to credit at least some of my enjoyment of it to my Milton class; without the brush-up on English political history that I received from Milton’s works, I wouldn’t have enjoyed the historical aspects of the place nearly as much.
This Friday, I also spent a full day in London. Me and Sam and Jess (two other girls here with the UC exchange program) woke up early to get to the theatre box office when it opened and secure 15 pound front row seats to the recently-opened production of Breakfast at Tiffany’s starring Anna Friel (from Pushing Daisies) and Joseph Cross (from Milk and Running with Scissors), which ended up being a fantastic play. I didn’t really remember much about the movie, except that I hadn’t quite liked it as much as I’d hoped I would when I first saw it, but the play was much better than my memory of the movie. Both the leads played their parts very well, though I particularly fell in love with Cross’s facial expressions, which were perpetually spot-on (and generally adorkable).
Between purchasing the tickets in the morning and going to see the play at night, me and Sam and Jess went to the Churchill Museum and War Rooms, housed underground in a building in Whitehall where, serious to God, Churchill and his underlings actually directed the Second World War. The museum and displays were extensive and we spent three hours in there, finally exiting only in response to the groans of our underfed stomachs.
Also, I should say that on our way to the Churchill Museum, we saw a short convoy of official-looking vehicles leaving Buckingham Palace area via Trafalgar Square. There were policemen who stopped traffic, and the people in the cars waved at us. We didn’t know who they were but Sam took a picture and later figured out that one of them was Camilla Parker Bowles!
After we ate lunch (at Pret, an eating establishment whose praise I will have to sing in another entry) we hopped on the tube and made the pilgrimage to the British Library. I may have mentioned my reaction to seeing the British Library for the first time this summer, but for those of you who do not already know, it’s pretty easy to sum up: I am in love with the British Library. One of my main goals in life is to undertake some sort of literary research that is sufficient enough excuse for me to get a reader’s card at the British Library. In the one room of the collection that is viewable to the public reside more treasures than any grand museum or art gallery (in my opinion, of course). In fact, three of the most stunningly beautiful works of art I have ever seen lie practically side-by-side in a stretch of glass case less than 5 feet long.
First, one of John Milton’s “commonplace books,” in which he would record his observations and thoughts about articles that he read, current events, and debates in the public arena. The pages to which this particular book is set open are a record of some of his early readings on the subject of monarchy, and how a monarch may rightfully rule. It’s hard to read some of it even though his handwriting’s clear, because he switches from English to French to Latin seemingly at whim depending upon which source he’s quoting or commenting upon. Page numbers and article titles are minutely detailed, presumably so that Milton could look these works back up if he so desired. There, in his own hand, are the seeds of political thought that would later justify the execution of an unjust king and attempt to create the authority necessary for Cromwell’s parliamentary government to succeed. There, in that ink, is the beginning of the story that does not end in the failure of the revolution, or even Milton’s death. His words became the inspiration for the revolutionaries that followed him.
Second, the manuscript copy of the last chapter of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, in a cramped and practically illegible hand, scrawled on small pieces of paper that, as the explanatory note informs the viewer, were likely intended to be so small that Austen could hide them away quickly if someone caught her at her writing. The pages have been backed and bound into a small volume that lies open upon Jane Austen’s own writing desk, a small inclined wooden surface inlaid with a green velour material that’s lost its plush over time, with spots for inkwell, quill, and glasses. Sometimes, looking at it makes me feel as though Austen herself has just been writing there, and been distracted for a moment, leaving her manuscript out so that she might return to finish it any moment now.
Third, Charlotte Bronte’s complete “fair copy” of Jane Eyre, perpetually open to the final chapter’s triumphant declaration: “Reader — I married him.” Charlotte’s hand is easy to read, much easier than either Milton or Austen, and as much as I admire seeing the other two specimens behind the glass, this is the one I would most like to remove from the case, to read through with my own two hands upon the pages where hers once rested. It makes my heart catch in my throat, just a little, to think that someday I might actually have that chance, if I become the kind of professor that I may be becoming, someone important enough to the world of scholarship that that hallowed volume might be taken gently out from its enclosure and placed upon a table in a small, quiet room just for me.
It seems strange now (as it seemed strange then) to come out of this temple of literature and go back to the world outside, where it was raining (apparently it does that here). We made our way back to Covent Garden, where I had a dinner of paella that I watched being made by a man running a food stand outside. They’re British, so rain doesn’t stop them!
I’ve spent the rest of the weekend getting work done mostly, since next weekend I am making my first journey further abroad. From Thursday through Sunday, I will be in Rome, staying with my aunt and exploring the city with my friend Andy, who’s an English major at Berkeley and who is studying abroad at Trinity College in Dublin. I’ve also made plans to go to Paris with friends at the end of the month — in fact, I will begin writing my NaNoWriMo novel (which I still need to figure out, but more on this later) in that magical city. It also seems likely that I will be visiting Berlin and Vienna and/or Prague during the second week of November. Part of me feels terribly guilty that I’ll be spending so much money, but most of the time that part is quickly shut up by the fact that this is most likely a once in a lifetime experience and I should make the most of it while I can. Besides, I can always take a vow of poverty when I get home. -
…go to Rome!
I spent three nights and two full days of this weekend in Rome. I was there for a week or so during July, and this was my fourth trip there in total (the first being six years ago, when I was just fourteen), but every time I visit, the city has something new to give me. This time, I met up with my friend Andy, who’s studying at Trinity College in Dublin for this school year and who had always wanted to go to Rome but had never even been to Europe until his trip to Dublin. With my more-than-average knowledge of the history, myth, legend, geography, and even language of Rome, I led us on a two-day whirlwind tour of all of the major sights and experiences, including:
the Vatican Museum + Sistine Chapel;
St. Peter’s Basilica + climb to the ‘cupola’ (the pinnacle atop the dome);
Piazza Navona;
the Pantheon;
Piazza di Spagna/Spanish Steps;
Trevi Fountain;
Piazza del Popolo and Via del Corso;
Borghese gardens;
Victor Emmanuel Monument;
Roman Forum;
Colosseum (properly known as the Flavian Amphitheatre, in case you were curious).
In fact, the best question is probably what we didn’t see. We didn’t cross the river and hang out in Trastevere, we didn’t go into the museum at the Villa Borghese, we didn’t rent Vespas…and really that’s about all that we didn’t manage that I have at some point done or wanted to do.
My favorite part was being in the Forum at sunset; I took more pictures in that one hour than I did at any other site we visited, I’m almost sure of it. There’s something beautiful about Rome at sunset, but the Forum at sunset in mid-October was totally breathtaking; I’ve never seen anything like it, in Italy or elsewhere (though Florence, near the Arno River, during a summer sunset comes to mind). I also really liked climbing to the top of the ‘Vittoriano,’ as the Victor Emmanuel Monument is called in Italian, and seeing the city from there, something my family and I had never done. The days were long, and there was a lot of walking, but I had a fantastic time — mostly because I’m slowly becoming more and more familiar with the city and its culture. I’m even getting confident enough in basic Italian to ask for directions, order a meal, and always say my pleases and thank-yous (not to mention read street signs and purchase train and metro tickets). Actually, it wasn’t until after I’d gone through the whole process in Italian that I realized the self-service metro ticket machines could be made to display their instructions in English.
This upcoming weekend will be spent reading Nicholas Nickleby and writing the first essay of the semester (a close textual analysis of a passage from Jane Eyre) because the weekend after that, I will be making my first ever trip to Paris! Then I have one more week of instruction before I get a whole week off for ‘Reading Week,’ in which technically you’re supposed to study and catch up with reading, but when I and my friends will be spending two and a half days in Barcelona followed by three and a half days in Marrakesh. I’m really excited to be doing so much traveling and experiencing so many different places while I’m here, but I’m equally excited to be able to call London ‘home.’
(I’ll post a few of my favorite pictures from the trip on this blog, but you can find a larger selection of them here.)
-
…fall in love with Paris
I don’t have enough time to provide a full update — November has started and with it, my frantic novel-writing; by this time next week, I will be in Barcelona, about to depart for Marrakesh, and very little of that is planned yet, aside from plane tickets and a place to sleep — but I find it necessary to relate that I spent a long weekend in Paris and fell in love.
It’s a different kind of love from the one I feel for London. Queen Mary is another “home” now, and this city feels contentedly mine in a way that only Berkeley really rivals. I still remember the first time I ever went to London, with my hopes all up, and I got this giddy feeling the instant I stepped off the plane, like being there had turned on some kind of switch and lit up something new.
Paris wasn’t like that — I landed at Charles de Gaulle airport at about ten in the morning Paris time, after having been awake since four in the morning London time in order to get to the airport, etc. I don’t know when it hit me that I was actually there. But once it did? The beginning of a beautiful friendship.
I’ve always loved French history. It’s part of the reason why I like romanticism so much — it’s a literary and artistic movement inspired in large part by the actions of the revolutionaries in France in 1789. I spent the summer reading and re-reading A Tale of Two Cities and thus getting to know Dickens’s Paris like the back of my hand. When I was walking the streets, everything came back to me, and even if I didn’t have a map in my head, I could tell you who the streets were named after. I love London for its history, as well, but the history in Paris has a different flavor to it, something I can’t quite pin down.
In four days, I saw so much that I had wanted to see — everything, in fact, that was on my list, and more besides. And yet I still know that there is plenty that will pull me back. It’s hard to say that I like it better than other places I’ve been, because all European cities are different, and admirable for different reasons. But still, I think it wouldn’t be entirely incorrect to state that, after London, Paris is the second most amazing city I’ve seen in Europe, and that I know I’ll be returning.
-
…talk some more about Paris.
Yes, this is the real Paris update you’ve all been waiting for. I’m afraid that since it’s been a week and a half (and since I have visited two more cities, two more countries, and one more continent since then!), my recollections won’t be as prolonged or vivid as they might otherwise have been, but you’ll have to bear with me through a rather impressionistic update. You can also look through my scenery-heavy pictures here.
Friday, October 30
We caught an early-morning flight out of London Luton airport, which is perhaps the most awkward airport in London to get to (although I can’t speak from authority, since I’ve only flown out of three of the five thus far). We had to get a taxi at 5:30AM in order to get to the airport in time to make it through security and be ready to board our plane on time. We arrived in Paris (at Charles de Galle, and after some more experiences with Ryanair, I have to tell you how rare it is for a discount airline to fly into a major airport) and took the RER train from the airport to Gare du Nord, where we took the metro straight to our hotel (Hotel Picard, inordinately proud of its two star rating). It was cheap and really just a place to sleep at night, but I’m totally fine with that, and it was only two blocks from Place de la Republique, which is pretty centrally located on the Metro, making it easy to get from place to place. I frankly love the Paris Metro; it’s easy to use, efficient, and clean. It doesn’t have the same kind of branding applied to it as the London Underground, but it doesn’t need it; the metro stops are still signed (for the most part) with the art deco-inspired signs developed when the metro was first implemented.
The first thing we did when we got there was go to Pere Lachaise, a very large and fairly well-known cemetery that was within walking distance of Place de la Republique (it would have been a very fast metro ride, but we wanted to find some food and some espresso along the way). I was a little tired and a little hungry and, at times, a little annoyed (it was very easy to get lost in Pere Lachaise, and none of us had maps), but the cemetery was beautiful. If any of you have seen the film Paris, Je T’aime, it’s the same cemetery that has Oscar Wilde’s grave in it. (For those of you who haven’t seen it, I’d recommend it, keeping in mind that it’s a bunch of short films and the caliber does vary.) I saw the grave of Wilde, as well as Eugene Delacroix (painter of “Liberty Leading the People”), Moliere, Chopin, and others that I can’t at this moment remember. Me, Sam, and Jess split off from the boys (Nav and Oren) pretty early on and spent three hours wandering through the place, trying to find all of the graves on our lists, but also taking the time to really enjoy the place. I took so many pictures, and they can’t even begin to capture it. The weather was just the right shade of gloom, the leaves on the trees were yellowing and beginning to fall — in short, perfect cemetery atmosphere.
After Pere Lachaise, we went to Montmartre and climbed the hill to see the church of Sacre Coeur. We went in, but didn’t climb to the top; it was a chilly, overcast day, so the view was obstructed by fog. We did, however, ride on a merry-go-round and giggle like small children, as well as eat our first Parisian crepes. (They were yummy!)
Saturday, October 31
Since Reno and Drew had class on Friday and couldn’t fly out with us, they came in Saturday. We had an unintentionally leisurely morning waiting for them to arrive, but once they got settled in and we got breakfast (for me, this consisted of croissants and a shared bottle of milk from the small corner store across the street from the hotel — thankfully Oren is also a nonfat milk drinker), we made our way to Ile de la Cite, arguably the center of Paris. This island in the middle of the Seine is home to Notre Dame, Saint Chapelle, the Conciergerie prison, and the Palais du Justice (and probably more, but those are the big things that I know about that are there). After having spent my entire summer reading and re-reading A Tale of Two Cities for work, actually seeing the sites of events during the French Revolution was impressive — for instance, Charles Darnay is imprisoned in the Conciergerie while he awaits his execution, and it is in this prison that Sydney Carton changes his life for Darnay’s.
I don’t even know what to say about Notre Dame, except that you can’t possibly do it justice. I want to learn French now (even more than I did before) so that I can read Victor Hugo without translation and see if he manages it. We climbed all the way to the top of one of the towers of the church, and the view out over Paris was spectacular. We also got to go up inside one of the bell towers and see one of the bells — one that they still actually ring. I was surprised how accurate Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame was to the architecture of the place; I even found individual gargoyles that looked a lot like the ones that come to life in the movie.
Inside, there was choral music playing, and the clouds cast alternating light and shadow through the hundreds of panels of stained glass. Paris taught me, among other things, that I am in love with stained glass. St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican might be the largest church in the world, but to me, it pales in comparison with Notre Dame. My friends (who have not yet been to Italy) laughed when I exclaimed at how much more intimate it felt — of course it’s still huge, but it’s nowhere near on the same scale as St. Peter’s. And perhaps that’s why I like it. It feels like a better compromise between God’s scale and man’s. I can actually imagine services being held at Notre Dame, and the next time I’m in Paris I would love to attend one.
Afterwards, we crossed the bridge to Ile de Saint Louis (a smaller island in the Seine) where we had lunch and ice cream accompanied by a beautiful view before making our way over to the Louvre. It was late afternoon, but I had remembered reading somewhere that the Louvre was open until 8pm. We got there at 4:30ish only to learn that it closed at 5:30, so we decided to come back the next day, and instead made our way over to the Eiffel Tower. Our timing was perfect; we arrived just as the sun was setting, about ten minutes before the tower lit up.
You don’t really realize how tall the Eiffel Tower is, even when you’re standing under it. At least, I didn’t. It wasn’t until I got up to the first observation deck, which is maybe a third of the way up the tower, that I realized this thing is big. This realization was followed in quick succession by the realization that I still had another two thirds to go up. In the elevator that takes you from the middle observation deck to the top, my ears popped. Oren and I were both squeaking like little girls about how we weren’t sure we’d be able to manage the height, neither of us being terribly fond of tall things. Jess had been before, and Reno is a self-proclaimed heights junkie, so there was a little laughter at our expense.
By the time we got to the top, we were high enough up that the entire view was shrouded in fog. It made the ground seem even further away — like it wasn’t really there, or like I was just looking at a picture. Frankly, it was probably easier that way than if it had been clear out. I would have been much more scared by the prospect of seeing exactly how far up I was. The fog made everything seem surreal, and diffused the light from the tower in strange ways. My knees were a little shaky, but I’m going to take the liberty of attributing that to the amount of walking I’d done that day.
Sunday, November 1:
Me, Oren, Jess, and Reno spent four hours of this day wandering the halls of the Louvre and being generally awed by the art. Nav and Drew were supposed to join us, but they were apparently out until 4AM the night before (we later learned they got caught up in an impromptu jam session on the banks of the Seine?) and we wanted to be there when the museum opened so the four of us left without them. Sam had been to Paris multiple times before and there were other museums she wanted to see, so she left us.
Originally we hadn’t wanted to go to the Louvre on this Sunday because it was the first Sunday of the month and admission was free; we were sure the crowds would be ridiculous. But since we had come too late the night before, we shrugged and just planned to show up early. Frankly, I didn’t have any problems with the crowds; there were a lot of people, it’s true, and in some places there were too many camera flashes going off for my liking (even though you’re not supposed to use flash in the museum), but we still saw everything we had really wanted to, and some things that were beautiful that I didn’t know were missing from my life until I saw them.
The first and foremost among this latter category is the partially intact sculpture known as the Winged Victory of Samothrace. This woman, arms and head missing, nonetheless stands victorious at the top of a staircase at the end of a long passageway, the museum seemingly designed around her. Winged Victory was more impressive than anything else I saw in the Louvre, all the famous and typical pictures included. The only things that came close for me were Delacroix’s “Liberty Leading the People” and David’s “Coronation of Napoleon” (which takes up an entire wall — it’s about as big as Napoleon’s ego).
After the Louvre, we decided to make our way toward the Garnier Opera House, made famous by Gaston Leroux’s novel (and later Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical) The Phantom of the Opera. We were planning on taking a guided tour, but it turned out we should have asked ahead — a matinee performance was scheduled, so the theatre was closed to tourists. We strolled back in the general direction of the Louvre and found a cafe where we had croques madame, very French sandwiches involving cheese, ham, and fried eggs. We met back up with Sam and walked in the rain (it was a very gloomy weekend) to the Musee d’Orsay, which houses impressionist art, but we didn’t end up going in since the lines were so long. Jess and Sam split to visit the Rodin sculpture garden, and along with Oren and Reno, I made my way back to Place de la Republique, where the three of us found a comfortable cafe and drank hot chocolate for a couple of hours. They read, I wrote, beginning my NaNoWriMo novel by hand in a small journal I purchased at the Louvre, with an image of Winged Victory on the cover.
Monday, November 2
We went back to the Garnier Opera House, and it was a good thing we did, because not only did we get in to see the opera house, we also got to take the guided tour, because we happened to be there in time for the one that was in English. The theatre is gorgeous, and walking through there felt like being part of Phantom of the Opera. (Sidenote: after getting back from Paris, Reno and I booked tickets to see Love Never Dies, the musical sequel to Phantom, during its opening run in London this spring. Will it be terrible? Probably. Will that still be awesome? Definitely.) Since Jess and Sam were gone, and Nav and Drew were basically doing their own thing, the day was really relaxed and we just took our time.
After the Opera House, we got coffee and cheesecake before heading back in the general direction of the Louvre and Notre Dame. We strolled and just checked out the area. Reno and I went into Saint Chapelle (reinforcing my love of stained glass), after which we found this strange American-style diner (Happy Days Diner, I believe) just across the river from Notre Dame, where we got cheap meals, which we ate in the plaza in front of Notre Dame before returning to our hotel, picking up our bags, and catching the bus back to the airport.
