Another week gone, another yet to begin, and here we are again. It's crazy to me how fast this term is flying by. Back in September, I had a whole nine months stretching out before me to explore an unknown world. Without fully realizing it, that long stretch of months has been filed down to a mere three. Where has the time gone??? Wait. Silly question that. All I have to do is look back at these posts, or the hundreds of photos on my computer to answer that. Yet despite the evidence, it feels as if I arrived in Scotland, heavy suitcases in tow, only the other day. Maybe it's all that Scottish water I've been drinking--the effects it may have had on my brain have now been passed along to my bloodstream. I can't complain too much, though. There aren't a lot of places like Scotland that really get into the blood.
I'm not sure if all these revelations have become apparent to me because I booked my flight home today, or because the disturbingly vivid dreams I've been having the last few nights are now affecting my subconscious. One dream in particular has been an affliction--in the dream I'm back home, driving my car. Really, it doesn't sound so strange. Yet after growing used to riding in automobiles on the LEFT side of the road and sitting in the passenger seat of cars where the American steering wheel should be.....well, you could say it's making me nervous to go home and drive. I keep seeing an image of myself hesitating as I merge onto the freeway and drifting into the wrong lane or looking in the wrong direction to pass a car. Once or twice, my dreams have been so nice as to even allow me to crash into another car while driving the back roads towards home. All I can say, is thank goodness I haven't tried driving here. I don't think I could handle the reality of that situation.
There really is something to be said of this travelling bug that I happened to pick up. No longer does it seem impossible to make a plan of travelling somewhere far and undiscovered and actually stick to it. It took me until age 20 to finally procure a passport and now way in Hades am I going to waste it. I've learned there are simply too many things to see by wasting time with the too-often used phrases "I should go here...." or "I'd like to see...." No, indeed. There will be no more wasting time on such phrases. The doing is much better than the saying....Mother, I'm going to ask you to excuse the innuendo there, for it was wholly unintended. On another note, some friends I made last term have talked about planning a reunion in New York in a year or so, for which I am extremely glad. Coming to a new country and trying to absorb the culture allows a person to fall into friendships in new and interesting ways--luckily for me, I've made some friends who I know I will be seeing again in the near future. I figure if I made it to Scotland, I'm sure I can do some travelling around my own country.
Since this weekend has been more of a quiet one around here at my chalet---composed of laundry washing, movie absorption, and the reading of school texts---I'll stop before I end up going into further detail about the dreams I mentioned earlier on. There is a definite reason why the subconscious shields certain dreams from the mind upon waking. I'm not exactly sure what that reason is, but when I figure it out, I'll be sure to share the good news. For now, I'm going to lay off the chocolate before going to sleep. Mom always did say that was my problem and I'm beginning to take stock in that argument.
As always, warm [nightmare-free] wishes from Scotland
xxoo
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Sunday, February 15, 2009
The name is Austen...Jane Austen
I've said it once, but I'll say it again a thousand times more: I just love the holidays. Valentine's Day is no exception. I mean, can you really complain about a day celebrating love? Of course, that is forgetting how commercialized the holiday has become due to our lovely capitalist country, but I'm choosing to forget that part. Celebrating Valentine's Day in Scotland was also quite fun. Although there was no sitting at the dinner table with mum and the girls and the little treats she'd gotten us, Lisa, Alicia, and I, took on the holiday by heading out to one of our favorite pubs. Of course it was bespectacled with heart-shaped lights, soft candlelight, and cloth tablecloths--they do have to cater to couples on this night--but we were lucky enough to find an open, un-booked table by the bar where we proceeded to sip fine [cheap] wine for the duration of the evening. Whoever said you have to be in a relationship to enjoy Valentine's Day certainly didn't have enough chocolate and/or good friends to celebrate it with. More's the pity.
In other news, classes have officially started up here at Stirling and this coming week will be the first week where I have all my classes. It's weird to think that I'm just now starting courses, while most of my friends back home are already halfway into the new term. Not that I'm complaining of course. It will be nice, though, to have a set schedule to stick too--something which I miss about Chico. Compared to there, my schedule over here is more like a holiday. I figure if I'm going to be in Scotland, though, I'd rather have more time out of the classroom anyways.
Speaking of classes, I found out some amazing news concerning one of my classes. Back during summertime, before I'd even left for Scotland, I was going through the process of picking out my classes for the coming year. I happened to come across a course called "Jane Austen" in which class participants would be reading, analyzing, and interpreting her work, among other things. For those of who know me, my relationship with Ms. Austen is something along the lines of "obsession." It's probably a good thing I can't meet her in person--I have the feeling I'd terrify her 18th century senses into running as far away as her empire-waisted gown would allow. Nonetheless, I have always been fascinated with her work and her role as a woman writer for as long as I can remember. Thus, it came as an extreme disappointment to find out that I couldn't get into the class because it was already full. Instead I would be taking "African Writing in English" which did sound interesting, but wasn't exactly a Jane Austen-replacement for me.
About a week ago, though, it turns out that after emailing the English Department secretary with a long, pleading email to see if it was at all possible to get into the class that a spot had cleared!! She then informed me that she would switch me from taking African Writing in English to Jane Austen instead. I was so excited I could barely type a proper email thanking her for her assistance. Mom and dad had been on me ever since I'd arrived in Scotland to still try and get into the class--they knew how much it meant to me and thank goodness for that. Good luck was on my side and after being to just one day of the class, I can already tell that I'm going to love it. It's also funny to see that of the thirty people in the class, two of them are actually male (one of whom happens to love Thomas Hardy, another Victorian writer, and I gave him props for not being intimidated by a class full of female Austen-ites).
With the good news on my side and the motivation to get busy, I am definitely looking forward to this new term. In addition to the Austen course I am also taking a creative writing class and another called "Scotland & Empire: Writing and History". One of the nicest things about each of these classes is that they don't require exams. Instead, my grades in the classes will be based on two papers for each--allowing me to finish up my classes by May 11 or 12 and giving me a bit more time to explore Scotland before I head home May 28. You could say I've got all the ingredients to make my cake. Or cookies. Maybe even brownies. I'll let you decide. As long as I make sure not to let it [or them] burn, and not eat all the batter ahead of time, this cake/cookie/brownie is going to put Willy Wonka's creations to the test. I think he can handle the competition. And with someone like Jane Austen on my side, I might even have time to find my own Mr. Darcy. I know how much Mom would love that one..................
Sending all my love,
xxxooo
P.S. I've also posted another video link, this one a short tour of my chalet. Dad mentioned to me that I hadn't actually shown him what my housing looks like, so the video should rectify that. Enjoy!
In other news, classes have officially started up here at Stirling and this coming week will be the first week where I have all my classes. It's weird to think that I'm just now starting courses, while most of my friends back home are already halfway into the new term. Not that I'm complaining of course. It will be nice, though, to have a set schedule to stick too--something which I miss about Chico. Compared to there, my schedule over here is more like a holiday. I figure if I'm going to be in Scotland, though, I'd rather have more time out of the classroom anyways.
Speaking of classes, I found out some amazing news concerning one of my classes. Back during summertime, before I'd even left for Scotland, I was going through the process of picking out my classes for the coming year. I happened to come across a course called "Jane Austen" in which class participants would be reading, analyzing, and interpreting her work, among other things. For those of who know me, my relationship with Ms. Austen is something along the lines of "obsession." It's probably a good thing I can't meet her in person--I have the feeling I'd terrify her 18th century senses into running as far away as her empire-waisted gown would allow. Nonetheless, I have always been fascinated with her work and her role as a woman writer for as long as I can remember. Thus, it came as an extreme disappointment to find out that I couldn't get into the class because it was already full. Instead I would be taking "African Writing in English" which did sound interesting, but wasn't exactly a Jane Austen-replacement for me.
About a week ago, though, it turns out that after emailing the English Department secretary with a long, pleading email to see if it was at all possible to get into the class that a spot had cleared!! She then informed me that she would switch me from taking African Writing in English to Jane Austen instead. I was so excited I could barely type a proper email thanking her for her assistance. Mom and dad had been on me ever since I'd arrived in Scotland to still try and get into the class--they knew how much it meant to me and thank goodness for that. Good luck was on my side and after being to just one day of the class, I can already tell that I'm going to love it. It's also funny to see that of the thirty people in the class, two of them are actually male (one of whom happens to love Thomas Hardy, another Victorian writer, and I gave him props for not being intimidated by a class full of female Austen-ites).
With the good news on my side and the motivation to get busy, I am definitely looking forward to this new term. In addition to the Austen course I am also taking a creative writing class and another called "Scotland & Empire: Writing and History". One of the nicest things about each of these classes is that they don't require exams. Instead, my grades in the classes will be based on two papers for each--allowing me to finish up my classes by May 11 or 12 and giving me a bit more time to explore Scotland before I head home May 28. You could say I've got all the ingredients to make my cake. Or cookies. Maybe even brownies. I'll let you decide. As long as I make sure not to let it [or them] burn, and not eat all the batter ahead of time, this cake/cookie/brownie is going to put Willy Wonka's creations to the test. I think he can handle the competition. And with someone like Jane Austen on my side, I might even have time to find my own Mr. Darcy. I know how much Mom would love that one..................
Sending all my love,
xxxooo
P.S. I've also posted another video link, this one a short tour of my chalet. Dad mentioned to me that I hadn't actually shown him what my housing looks like, so the video should rectify that. Enjoy!
Sunday, February 8, 2009
It's a Boot-Shaped Country for a Reason
Yes, Italy is definitely boot-shaped and for good reason. My new, knee-high leather boots from Milan are testament to that fact. And man, oh man, those Italians know their leather. After Lisa and I departed from France for Italy--our first stop in Milan--it only took a day to realize that my shoes weren't going to live up to the snow that was still on the ground and the rain that was still pouring from the skies. By the second day, the holes in my shoes had taken to absorbing water and soaking my socks, so I made for a shoe store as fast I could. The shoes I've returned to Scotland with make me want to wear them to bed. If only one could find such high-quality leather, for an affordable price, everywhere one went. I suppose that's a reason Milan is so well-known for the fantastic shopping there. But let's not rush things. I don't think the Italians would approve.
When Lisa and I flew into Milan and wandered around in the pouring rain, searching for our hostel, we wondered if we'd made the right decision in coming to Italy during the winter season. It didn't help that Lisa kept chanting "we should've gone to Greece" while we huddled under a haphazard umbrella trying to read an Italian map. By that point, I was ready to hop on a plane to Greece myself. The Fates are known for their irony, though, and luckily we found our hostel (more like a hotel) without too much more incident. It also helped having an amazing room, so amazing I had to take pictures of it. Some of them you can see in the albums I've posted. As I mentioned, Milan is definitely regarded for the sheer amount of shopping that can be done there. Lisa and I avoided the designer stores as if the plague could be found within them. No sense in teasing ourselves. Instead, we appeased our materialistic tendencies by wandering through some of the main piazza's to admire the Duomo and Castle that reside nearby. We were lucky, that our second day there it didn't rain and we could actually admire the sights. Also, despite the cold weather, I dragged Lisa into having our first gelato of Italy while in Milan. To say it was delicious is like saying chocolate tastes like chocolate. A sheer understatement. And even though the gelato might have tinged our lips blue with cold, I'd repeat the experience any day of the week.
After two days in Milan, Lisa and I caught a train to Venice, which I was really excited for. Milan had been fun, but nothing compared to walking out of the train station and glimpsing my first sight of Venezia. Standing on the steps of the Santa Lucia train station and looking out over the expanse of the Grand Canal in front of me, it felt like I had truly arrived in Italy. The age-worn stone streets and boats bobbing in the water made me think of how far I'd come from California. Nothing in the world is quite like Venice, a fact which thousands have said before me, but is still true to this day. As Lisa and I followed the precise directions to our hostel, crossing bridge after bridge, the colors of Venice struck me the most. Every building was painted in different shades of oranges, reds, creams, and yellows, reflecting off of the green-blue water of the canals. I was eager to know just how deep the canals were, but Lisa took away my only option of finding out by refusing to be pushed in. I figured I could wait until she least expected it :).
Once we found our hostel, a small hotel with narrow hallways and even steeper stairs (what, did they think we needed more stairs after the five flights we had to climb everyday in Paris??), Lisa and I deposited our things before heading back out to explore. The weather was much warmer here than in Milan, but still cold enough to be bundled up in a scarf with gloves. I knew beforehand that walking around in Venice was going to require some patience and fortitude, because there is really no such thing as not getting lost in a city where a narrow alleyway--big enough to accommodate only one person as a time--is considered a major street. If you've viewed the video "Getting Lost in Venice" I posted, you can understand our humor of the situation.
Of the three days we spent in Venice, my favorite would have to be our second day, in which we walked around for a full eight hours, covering as much ground as we could of the main island. From churches to an old Ghetto that was the heart of the Jewish community in Venice, Lisa and I walked until we thought our feet would fall off. From the famous San Marco Piazza to the Rialto Bridge (one of the main bridges that crosses the Grand Canal--only 3 bridges cross the Grand Canal), to the fruit markets where pigeons try to make a move when the vendors aren't looking, Venice reminds a person that places of magic really do exist. Thousands of footsteps have come to this city before mine, but I'm lucky enough to have mine join the rest. Who knows--perhaps I passed a building Leonardo Da Vinci once leaned against, or crossed over a bridge that Giacomo Casanova once stood on, admiring the female form of his latest conquest. In Venice, one never knows. In this city, where even the fog adds to the backdrop of beauty, anything seems possible.
Lisa and I were also lucky enough to make new friends with the two other people staying in our room. My video "Tipsy in Venice" was actually shown to them after the night we all went out to dinner together, and they really got a kick out of it. Which is a good thing, considering the focus of that video. It turned out that the girl in our room, Kelly, was actually from Quincy, not an hour or so away from where I go to school at home. That was definitely surreal and added to the saying of the world being a small place. Well, that or there are just A LOT of people in it!
The other highlight of exploring Venice was going to the island of San Michele --'Island of the Dead' as it is known--where the whole island was turned into a cemetery. I guess the Venetians found out the hard way that burying the dead in the catacombs doesn't really work when your city is constantly flooded. Good thing Napoleon showed up and instigated the idea of San Michele being a burial ground. Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take any pictures or video on this island, due to it being a holy site, but I suppose it's only fair to the deceased. The whole island had an air of eeriness to it, so I wouldn't be surprised that they prohibit photographs due to ghosts showing up in the pictures. Venice already has enough tourists. From San Michele, we headed to the next island over, Murano, where the art of glass-blowing is practised. I'd never seen the actual process before, so it was neat to watch that and escape from the cold for a bit. The rest of the day, we spent on a water taxi, drifting through the Grand Canal and main bay, trying not to think about how high the water was while still admiring the tenacity of Venice in refusing to sink into it.
While it was sad to leave Venice behind, Florence and Pisa were calling to us. During our three day stay in Florence, we again tried to see as much as we could of this huge city. I'd taken an Italian Renaissance class a couple of years ago, so it was fascinating to see the reality of this city. From the Galleria degli Uffizi with it's private Medici art collection (including Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" and "Spring") to the Galleria dell' Academia which housed the amazingly sculptured and unbelievably beautiful David statue (a Michelangelo creation of course), as well as Piazzale Michelangelo, a public square that sits above the city centre and gives breathtaking views of the Tuscan countryside along with a bronze copy of the David, Florence is a lot like what my friend Sam told me--Disneyland. But without the It's a Small World ride of course. I was lucky enough to celebrate my birthday here as well, a treat which Lisa and I took full advantage of by having dessert and drinks in true American-Canadian-Florentine style!! Also, in lieu of my birthday I purchased a mouthwatering Victorian-style jacket that I couldn't take my hands off of. Even now....I swear, all the sensory overload in Italy made me think there HAD to be something in the water!!! I couldn't think of any other explanation.
From Florence, Lisa and I spent one night in Pisa. As well as it having that famous architectural-disaster known as the Leaning Tower of Pisa, this city was also blessed with the warmest weather we'd come across in Italy. Warm, sunny, and mild, we couldn't get enough of it. I'm wondering if that's one of the reasons we really decided to let loose that night and do what every other tourist enjoys now and then --- a bit of 'local' fun. Which we ended up finding at a cake shop while Lisa and I were on the prowl for post-alcohol munchie food. It was the first time on our trip we really got to know some foreigners, and we ended up hanging out with our new friends late into the evening before finding our way back to our hostel in order to get some sleep before our departure for Rome the next day.
Just like with Venice, Rome became one of my favorite spots in Italy, but the getting there was easier said then done. Due to the "fun" we'd had the night before in Pisa, Lisa and I had what everyone likes to call a major hangover and we spent most of the three hour train ride either holding onto our stomachs or hoping the aspirin would kick in and overshadow the headache. It's only fair, I can say now in retrospect and with the hangover no more than a memory. Despite the nauseous stomach and sensitive eyes, Rome was a welcome sight.
How does one describe seeing over 2,000 thousand years of history? Despite the modern and upbeat pace of this city, where street hawkers stand on every corner displaying fake designer bags and shiny sunglasses, all one has to do is turn a corner and there you have the Colosseum. Or the Roman Forum. Or the Trevi Fountain. The history jostles alongside the Chanel and Dior shops, not even having to fight for attention. And it shouldn't have to. Just looking at the crumbing edges of the Colosseum's arches, or the towering columns in the Roman Forum and it's easy to understand why this place has such a draw on the human mind. My mother refuses to believe I will be able to step back in time, but she doesn't have to worry [much]. Being in Rome is like taking that step. Every stone has a meaning, every fountain, and sculpture a history behind it. We're unbelievably lucky things have been preserved the way they have.
By the time Lisa and I reached Rome, we were just about churched-out, so we spent most of our three days there exploring the outside sights such as the Spanish Steps, the huge gardens/park behind the Medici Villa, the vast number of piazzas with outside fountains, as well as Vatican City. In Vatican City, quite the small place surrounded by high walls, we were also able to see things like the Sistine Chapel and one-of-a-kind sculptures in the museums there. The pictures I've taken do better justice to those sights. I realize that three days is not exactly a huge amount of time to see ALL that Rome has to offer, but Lisa and I gravitated towards as many things as we could with the time we had. I still think we filled our sightseeing palate with more than we could imagine, but places like Rome do that to a person. It also didn't hurt that the weather was perfect for our plans. After climbing out of bed at 7:30 in the morning and spending all day walking around, the warm sunshine and cloudless skies were a welcome companion to our cameras and eager eyes. I never thought I'd say it, but coming back to the snowstorm in Scotland after the mildness of Rome almost gave me frostbite. When in Rome......that saying definitely makes more sense now.
Before Lisa and I returned to our pre-Eurotrip lives in Scotland, one of the things we made sure to do was make a movie list of all the films we now wanted to see. The films we listed would help serve as reminders of the places we had gone and the things we had seen. Not to mention we were now eligible to shout out "We've been there" in the middle of said film. That plan is working out very nicely so far I might add.
So there you have my winter travels. The new spring term officially starts tomorrow, but I won't actually be attending any classes until the end of the week. Yes, Fasha, I am now ready to start school if you can believe it. It's a brand new year and I'm up for anything it may throw in my path. Wait. Let me rephrase that. I'm up for anything so long as it doesn't break too many laws and will get my father shaking his head at me, saying "I don't want to know." That sounds about right. After all this IS Scotland and I am a Harrison...............Need I say more???
As always,
xxxooo
When Lisa and I flew into Milan and wandered around in the pouring rain, searching for our hostel, we wondered if we'd made the right decision in coming to Italy during the winter season. It didn't help that Lisa kept chanting "we should've gone to Greece" while we huddled under a haphazard umbrella trying to read an Italian map. By that point, I was ready to hop on a plane to Greece myself. The Fates are known for their irony, though, and luckily we found our hostel (more like a hotel) without too much more incident. It also helped having an amazing room, so amazing I had to take pictures of it. Some of them you can see in the albums I've posted. As I mentioned, Milan is definitely regarded for the sheer amount of shopping that can be done there. Lisa and I avoided the designer stores as if the plague could be found within them. No sense in teasing ourselves. Instead, we appeased our materialistic tendencies by wandering through some of the main piazza's to admire the Duomo and Castle that reside nearby. We were lucky, that our second day there it didn't rain and we could actually admire the sights. Also, despite the cold weather, I dragged Lisa into having our first gelato of Italy while in Milan. To say it was delicious is like saying chocolate tastes like chocolate. A sheer understatement. And even though the gelato might have tinged our lips blue with cold, I'd repeat the experience any day of the week.
After two days in Milan, Lisa and I caught a train to Venice, which I was really excited for. Milan had been fun, but nothing compared to walking out of the train station and glimpsing my first sight of Venezia. Standing on the steps of the Santa Lucia train station and looking out over the expanse of the Grand Canal in front of me, it felt like I had truly arrived in Italy. The age-worn stone streets and boats bobbing in the water made me think of how far I'd come from California. Nothing in the world is quite like Venice, a fact which thousands have said before me, but is still true to this day. As Lisa and I followed the precise directions to our hostel, crossing bridge after bridge, the colors of Venice struck me the most. Every building was painted in different shades of oranges, reds, creams, and yellows, reflecting off of the green-blue water of the canals. I was eager to know just how deep the canals were, but Lisa took away my only option of finding out by refusing to be pushed in. I figured I could wait until she least expected it :).
Once we found our hostel, a small hotel with narrow hallways and even steeper stairs (what, did they think we needed more stairs after the five flights we had to climb everyday in Paris??), Lisa and I deposited our things before heading back out to explore. The weather was much warmer here than in Milan, but still cold enough to be bundled up in a scarf with gloves. I knew beforehand that walking around in Venice was going to require some patience and fortitude, because there is really no such thing as not getting lost in a city where a narrow alleyway--big enough to accommodate only one person as a time--is considered a major street. If you've viewed the video "Getting Lost in Venice" I posted, you can understand our humor of the situation.
Of the three days we spent in Venice, my favorite would have to be our second day, in which we walked around for a full eight hours, covering as much ground as we could of the main island. From churches to an old Ghetto that was the heart of the Jewish community in Venice, Lisa and I walked until we thought our feet would fall off. From the famous San Marco Piazza to the Rialto Bridge (one of the main bridges that crosses the Grand Canal--only 3 bridges cross the Grand Canal), to the fruit markets where pigeons try to make a move when the vendors aren't looking, Venice reminds a person that places of magic really do exist. Thousands of footsteps have come to this city before mine, but I'm lucky enough to have mine join the rest. Who knows--perhaps I passed a building Leonardo Da Vinci once leaned against, or crossed over a bridge that Giacomo Casanova once stood on, admiring the female form of his latest conquest. In Venice, one never knows. In this city, where even the fog adds to the backdrop of beauty, anything seems possible.
Lisa and I were also lucky enough to make new friends with the two other people staying in our room. My video "Tipsy in Venice" was actually shown to them after the night we all went out to dinner together, and they really got a kick out of it. Which is a good thing, considering the focus of that video. It turned out that the girl in our room, Kelly, was actually from Quincy, not an hour or so away from where I go to school at home. That was definitely surreal and added to the saying of the world being a small place. Well, that or there are just A LOT of people in it!
The other highlight of exploring Venice was going to the island of San Michele --'Island of the Dead' as it is known--where the whole island was turned into a cemetery. I guess the Venetians found out the hard way that burying the dead in the catacombs doesn't really work when your city is constantly flooded. Good thing Napoleon showed up and instigated the idea of San Michele being a burial ground. Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take any pictures or video on this island, due to it being a holy site, but I suppose it's only fair to the deceased. The whole island had an air of eeriness to it, so I wouldn't be surprised that they prohibit photographs due to ghosts showing up in the pictures. Venice already has enough tourists. From San Michele, we headed to the next island over, Murano, where the art of glass-blowing is practised. I'd never seen the actual process before, so it was neat to watch that and escape from the cold for a bit. The rest of the day, we spent on a water taxi, drifting through the Grand Canal and main bay, trying not to think about how high the water was while still admiring the tenacity of Venice in refusing to sink into it.
While it was sad to leave Venice behind, Florence and Pisa were calling to us. During our three day stay in Florence, we again tried to see as much as we could of this huge city. I'd taken an Italian Renaissance class a couple of years ago, so it was fascinating to see the reality of this city. From the Galleria degli Uffizi with it's private Medici art collection (including Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" and "Spring") to the Galleria dell' Academia which housed the amazingly sculptured and unbelievably beautiful David statue (a Michelangelo creation of course), as well as Piazzale Michelangelo, a public square that sits above the city centre and gives breathtaking views of the Tuscan countryside along with a bronze copy of the David, Florence is a lot like what my friend Sam told me--Disneyland. But without the It's a Small World ride of course. I was lucky enough to celebrate my birthday here as well, a treat which Lisa and I took full advantage of by having dessert and drinks in true American-Canadian-Florentine style!! Also, in lieu of my birthday I purchased a mouthwatering Victorian-style jacket that I couldn't take my hands off of. Even now....I swear, all the sensory overload in Italy made me think there HAD to be something in the water!!! I couldn't think of any other explanation.
From Florence, Lisa and I spent one night in Pisa. As well as it having that famous architectural-disaster known as the Leaning Tower of Pisa, this city was also blessed with the warmest weather we'd come across in Italy. Warm, sunny, and mild, we couldn't get enough of it. I'm wondering if that's one of the reasons we really decided to let loose that night and do what every other tourist enjoys now and then --- a bit of 'local' fun. Which we ended up finding at a cake shop while Lisa and I were on the prowl for post-alcohol munchie food. It was the first time on our trip we really got to know some foreigners, and we ended up hanging out with our new friends late into the evening before finding our way back to our hostel in order to get some sleep before our departure for Rome the next day.
Just like with Venice, Rome became one of my favorite spots in Italy, but the getting there was easier said then done. Due to the "fun" we'd had the night before in Pisa, Lisa and I had what everyone likes to call a major hangover and we spent most of the three hour train ride either holding onto our stomachs or hoping the aspirin would kick in and overshadow the headache. It's only fair, I can say now in retrospect and with the hangover no more than a memory. Despite the nauseous stomach and sensitive eyes, Rome was a welcome sight.
How does one describe seeing over 2,000 thousand years of history? Despite the modern and upbeat pace of this city, where street hawkers stand on every corner displaying fake designer bags and shiny sunglasses, all one has to do is turn a corner and there you have the Colosseum. Or the Roman Forum. Or the Trevi Fountain. The history jostles alongside the Chanel and Dior shops, not even having to fight for attention. And it shouldn't have to. Just looking at the crumbing edges of the Colosseum's arches, or the towering columns in the Roman Forum and it's easy to understand why this place has such a draw on the human mind. My mother refuses to believe I will be able to step back in time, but she doesn't have to worry [much]. Being in Rome is like taking that step. Every stone has a meaning, every fountain, and sculpture a history behind it. We're unbelievably lucky things have been preserved the way they have.
By the time Lisa and I reached Rome, we were just about churched-out, so we spent most of our three days there exploring the outside sights such as the Spanish Steps, the huge gardens/park behind the Medici Villa, the vast number of piazzas with outside fountains, as well as Vatican City. In Vatican City, quite the small place surrounded by high walls, we were also able to see things like the Sistine Chapel and one-of-a-kind sculptures in the museums there. The pictures I've taken do better justice to those sights. I realize that three days is not exactly a huge amount of time to see ALL that Rome has to offer, but Lisa and I gravitated towards as many things as we could with the time we had. I still think we filled our sightseeing palate with more than we could imagine, but places like Rome do that to a person. It also didn't hurt that the weather was perfect for our plans. After climbing out of bed at 7:30 in the morning and spending all day walking around, the warm sunshine and cloudless skies were a welcome companion to our cameras and eager eyes. I never thought I'd say it, but coming back to the snowstorm in Scotland after the mildness of Rome almost gave me frostbite. When in Rome......that saying definitely makes more sense now.
Before Lisa and I returned to our pre-Eurotrip lives in Scotland, one of the things we made sure to do was make a movie list of all the films we now wanted to see. The films we listed would help serve as reminders of the places we had gone and the things we had seen. Not to mention we were now eligible to shout out "We've been there" in the middle of said film. That plan is working out very nicely so far I might add.
So there you have my winter travels. The new spring term officially starts tomorrow, but I won't actually be attending any classes until the end of the week. Yes, Fasha, I am now ready to start school if you can believe it. It's a brand new year and I'm up for anything it may throw in my path. Wait. Let me rephrase that. I'm up for anything so long as it doesn't break too many laws and will get my father shaking his head at me, saying "I don't want to know." That sounds about right. After all this IS Scotland and I am a Harrison...............Need I say more???
As always,
xxxooo
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Un Croissant et un Cappuccino, Merci Beaucoup
As promised, I am here once again to detail the events of my travels with my flatmate Lisa. Of course I have to start with Paris, the first stop on our French/Italian Winter Tour. I realize of course, that the places I visited have been written about by bigger, more renowned, and more poetic people, but I figure I deserve a chance to add my input. Besides, Paris can move over and make room for all of us.
When Lisa and I first arrived in Paris, we arrived in the small town of Beauvais, about an hour outside of the city. From there, we were able to hop on a bus that delivered us right into the heart of the city. Unfortunately for us, we were so deep in the heart (at least it felt that way) and it was around eight in the evening making it hard to recognize landmarks. We wandered away from the bus stop, our backpacks and bags strapped against us, trying to figure out the maps from Lisa's travel book and the French signs that we could find. To say it took forever to find our hostel was a slight understatement. We finally decided to hop on the metro system, which is huge in France, but weren't sure what stop to get off on, so we ended up choosing the one that looked closest to our destination. From there, we walked around somewhere, even down some streets I don't wish to visit again, before we couldn't take it anymore. Of course, as soon as we grab a taxi and Lisa tells the driver in French where we need to go, he explains to us that it is right around the corner. Perfect. I should've known, though, that it wouldn't be that easy though. We hopped out of the taxi, but as soon as we went around the corner we found a square with a name that was almost exactly the same as the one we were looking for, but not the right one. Onward we walked, until finally we could find another taxi--this time we stayed in the car. I found it hard not to laugh when we took us too the SAME wrong square. Thank goodness Lisa speaks French. After some rapid-fire conversation between the two of them, we finally got it figured it out and he delivered us to our hostel. It turns out, that not two minutes away, was the metro stop we should've gotten off on. The irony of travelling has not failed to hit me. We were lucky enough, though, that after struggling with the metro maps, we now know them like the back of our hands!!
The next day, our first official one in Paris, we took advantage of the good weather by spending all day wandering around. I cannot explain what it is like wandering around in a new city like Paris. The culture seeps through your skin, and your struck by the most minute details: the way the sky looks bluer, the way the air tastes of almond-paste croissants and high quality cappuccino, and the smell of expensive cigarettes still lingering on the sidewalks. At the same time, you have iconic landmarks like the Eiffel Tower shooting up into the sky with such a blase attitude, that it can only be French. Walk around one corner and you see an old beggar woman wrapped from head to toe in vibrantly colored rags, her entire face covered by the fabric, and her forehead pressed to the ground while she holds her hands out in prayer. A plastic cup that has seen better days sits at her side with a photo of the Madonna and a few coins inside it. While you're still trying to take that in, you round another corner and you're now in a square that boasts some of the most high-end shops with some of the heaviest price tags I couldn't bear to look at. It's almost sensory overload in this place.
While I wasn't going cross-eyed over actually being in France, Lisa and I were able to go to many different places (places I listed a couple of blog posts ago), the first being the Louvre Museum. If you've looked at the video I posted from that place, I sure you can understand why I was so goggle-eyed there. I really had no idea just how huge it was. To top it off, despite it being the size it is and holding as much art as it does, the basement of the building is still packed with things that aren't on show. It's unbelievable. The high point at that place for me would have to be seeing The Winged Victory of Samothrace which is a sculpture of Nike that I was able to study in one of my art classes a couple of years ago. It was so heady seeing it in person.
I've posted a small photo here (the bigger one is in my albums) of what she looked like. Despite her having no arms or a head, she is still one of the most magnificent pieces of sculpture I've come across. I've always enjoyed the sculpture more than the paintings, which might explain why I was more excited over this piece, instead of Da Vinci's Mona Lisa which was also housed here. I took a picture of the crowd surrounding said painting, because I was so astounded at how such a small painting (not much bigger than an 8X10 photo if you can believe it!) could ricochet throughout history the way it has.
Not far from the Louvre, is another symbol of Paris called the Arch of Triumph, a huge mass of stone with so much detail embedded in its surface, it can give you whiplash just staring up at it. After admiring that sight, we continued on our walk throughout Paris and finally came one of Paris' most, if not the biggest, recognized symbols--the Eiffel Tower. Now while I may have stared at the Mona Lisa with a sense of confusion, there was no misunderstanding how this tower became such a figure in history. The closer I walked to it, the more the power of the twisted iron bars struck me. Standing underneath its base, with the four giant feet stretching out towards the ground, the reddish-brownish colors of the tower seemed to incline its [metaphorical] head in a gesture of Frenchly arrogance and age-old wisdom. I was so giddy I hoped I wasn't scaring Lisa. If I did, she handled it well :) There is really no way to describe the way it feels to finally have seen these things. You grow up learning about them and seeing them in textbook photographs and cheap postcards, but it's something completely different breathing in the air and squinting your eyes against the sunshine, fighting to see around the people in front of you. My only regret, is that I couldn't share it with my friends and family. There is nothing I could've wished for more at those kinds of moments--staring history in the face and thinking how neat it would've been to look to my side and see the people who mean the most to me. I can only hope, the words I write now travel the 6,000 miles home and find a place in every imagination.
Our second full day in Paris, Lisa and I travelled about 40 minutes outside of Paris to the town of Versailles. If the name alone doesn't ring a bell, it should. While the town itself may be smaller than Paris, Versailles is the home of Chateau De Versailles, better known as Versailles Palace in English. This palace served as the royal home and as seat of French Monarchy to figures like Louis XIV, XV, and the XVI (who incidentally was married to Marie Antoinette). Of all the places we visited in Paris, this had to top the list for me. We were lucky enough that the gardens were open to the public on the day we went. Just a week or so prior, France had gotten some heavy snowfall and they'd closed the gardens. I'm so glad we were able to view them though--they're almost more exciting then the Palace itself--even in winter. They're also incredibly huge. Lisa and I spent all day there, just walking around and soaking up the atmosphere. We got there early enough, that by the time we left all the crowds had started amassing. But what a day it was. With many of the places I went on this trip, Versailles included, there is such attention paid to detail. How many people actually notice the window frames with individual reliefs and gold gilding that sit three or four stories up? That seems besides the point though. It doesn't matter who noticed it, and who didn't. It was more about creating something that truly meant something to someone. Now, I wouldn't want to be the person climbing those three or four stories up just to get a good luck at the decoration, but still, there is a reason they have binoculars these days :)
The Grand Opera House of Paris and Notre Dame Cathedral were other favourites of mine. The Opera House was unbelievably opulent--after seeing a couple of them throughout Italy, I still find the one in Paris remarkable. The Grand Foyer there was even more intense then the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles and that is saying something. Notre Dame was also a sight I'm glad not to have missed. I still wish I would've gotten to see Quasimodo, but a girl can't have everything.
Now, there is one last, very clear, very interesting memory I have of our stay in Paris. It actually has to do with the day we prepared to leave to head onto Milan, Italy. At 5:30 in the morning the day of our departure, Lisa and I were trying to figure out a way to get back to Paris-Beauvais airport. Not only would a taxi NOT take us to the bus stop (it wasn't a far enough distance for them and they wouldn't get paid very much), but by this point it was too late to make it anyhow. So instead, we had to take a taxi all the way to the airport. Luckily, another woman from the hostel was going to the airport as well, so it was a little easier splitting the 150 euro it cost for the ride there between the three of us. When Lisa and I went up to the desk to check in, though, we realized a minor error. The man who took our passports and input our information started frowning--this should have been our cue, but that's what retrospect is for. After giving him our confirmation number for the flight, the man suddenly looked up at us and proceeded to explain that the flight we had booked was for the next day, not the day we were there. I think it would be interesting to see what Lisa and my faces looked like at that moment. Something like confusion, mixed with embarrassment and a dash of exhaustion. After mumbling our excuses and sidling away from the check in desk, it took Lisa and I few minutes of staring helplessly at our planners (which DID have the correct dates on both of them) to realize that we'd gotten the dates confused in our heads. It's a good thing both of us were able to laugh at that moment. At first we decided we would just spend the rest of the day in the airport. There was no way we were going to pay that exorbitant amount for a taxi to and from the airport again. It turned out, though, that small airports like the one in Beauvais don't stay open all night. That put a slight crimp in things. After sitting for an hour or so in the airport, Lisa and I hitched a ride on a bus into the town of Beauvais, hoping we could find a cheap hotel for the night. It took a bit of wandering around in the early, quiet morning hours of Beauvais before we were able to find one that was both open and had vacancies. You could say it was more of a morning then we had been hoping for. It was a nice hotel, though, and Lisa and I made our flight the next day without any mishaps---including no knowing glances from the man at the check in desk who happened to be the same from the first morning. If I've learned anything from the experience, its that it is better to be a day early rather than a day late.
So there you have my highlights of Paris. I'll stop here for now. My Italy tales will probably be broken up as well, just so as not to overwhelm the eyes (Courtney, you know who I'm referring to....that is if you're even reading this!!) I hope you've enjoyed my trials and errors--it's certainly been entertaining playing the leading role in them. I'll be back with more soon. In the mean time, I've added a couple more photo album links, as well as video links. Take a gander and enjoy.
As always, love from Scotland once again
xxoo
When Lisa and I first arrived in Paris, we arrived in the small town of Beauvais, about an hour outside of the city. From there, we were able to hop on a bus that delivered us right into the heart of the city. Unfortunately for us, we were so deep in the heart (at least it felt that way) and it was around eight in the evening making it hard to recognize landmarks. We wandered away from the bus stop, our backpacks and bags strapped against us, trying to figure out the maps from Lisa's travel book and the French signs that we could find. To say it took forever to find our hostel was a slight understatement. We finally decided to hop on the metro system, which is huge in France, but weren't sure what stop to get off on, so we ended up choosing the one that looked closest to our destination. From there, we walked around somewhere, even down some streets I don't wish to visit again, before we couldn't take it anymore. Of course, as soon as we grab a taxi and Lisa tells the driver in French where we need to go, he explains to us that it is right around the corner. Perfect. I should've known, though, that it wouldn't be that easy though. We hopped out of the taxi, but as soon as we went around the corner we found a square with a name that was almost exactly the same as the one we were looking for, but not the right one. Onward we walked, until finally we could find another taxi--this time we stayed in the car. I found it hard not to laugh when we took us too the SAME wrong square. Thank goodness Lisa speaks French. After some rapid-fire conversation between the two of them, we finally got it figured it out and he delivered us to our hostel. It turns out, that not two minutes away, was the metro stop we should've gotten off on. The irony of travelling has not failed to hit me. We were lucky enough, though, that after struggling with the metro maps, we now know them like the back of our hands!!
The next day, our first official one in Paris, we took advantage of the good weather by spending all day wandering around. I cannot explain what it is like wandering around in a new city like Paris. The culture seeps through your skin, and your struck by the most minute details: the way the sky looks bluer, the way the air tastes of almond-paste croissants and high quality cappuccino, and the smell of expensive cigarettes still lingering on the sidewalks. At the same time, you have iconic landmarks like the Eiffel Tower shooting up into the sky with such a blase attitude, that it can only be French. Walk around one corner and you see an old beggar woman wrapped from head to toe in vibrantly colored rags, her entire face covered by the fabric, and her forehead pressed to the ground while she holds her hands out in prayer. A plastic cup that has seen better days sits at her side with a photo of the Madonna and a few coins inside it. While you're still trying to take that in, you round another corner and you're now in a square that boasts some of the most high-end shops with some of the heaviest price tags I couldn't bear to look at. It's almost sensory overload in this place.
While I wasn't going cross-eyed over actually being in France, Lisa and I were able to go to many different places (places I listed a couple of blog posts ago), the first being the Louvre Museum. If you've looked at the video I posted from that place, I sure you can understand why I was so goggle-eyed there. I really had no idea just how huge it was. To top it off, despite it being the size it is and holding as much art as it does, the basement of the building is still packed with things that aren't on show. It's unbelievable. The high point at that place for me would have to be seeing The Winged Victory of Samothrace which is a sculpture of Nike that I was able to study in one of my art classes a couple of years ago. It was so heady seeing it in person.
I've posted a small photo here (the bigger one is in my albums) of what she looked like. Despite her having no arms or a head, she is still one of the most magnificent pieces of sculpture I've come across. I've always enjoyed the sculpture more than the paintings, which might explain why I was more excited over this piece, instead of Da Vinci's Mona Lisa which was also housed here. I took a picture of the crowd surrounding said painting, because I was so astounded at how such a small painting (not much bigger than an 8X10 photo if you can believe it!) could ricochet throughout history the way it has.Not far from the Louvre, is another symbol of Paris called the Arch of Triumph, a huge mass of stone with so much detail embedded in its surface, it can give you whiplash just staring up at it. After admiring that sight, we continued on our walk throughout Paris and finally came one of Paris' most, if not the biggest, recognized symbols--the Eiffel Tower. Now while I may have stared at the Mona Lisa with a sense of confusion, there was no misunderstanding how this tower became such a figure in history. The closer I walked to it, the more the power of the twisted iron bars struck me. Standing underneath its base, with the four giant feet stretching out towards the ground, the reddish-brownish colors of the tower seemed to incline its [metaphorical] head in a gesture of Frenchly arrogance and age-old wisdom. I was so giddy I hoped I wasn't scaring Lisa. If I did, she handled it well :) There is really no way to describe the way it feels to finally have seen these things. You grow up learning about them and seeing them in textbook photographs and cheap postcards, but it's something completely different breathing in the air and squinting your eyes against the sunshine, fighting to see around the people in front of you. My only regret, is that I couldn't share it with my friends and family. There is nothing I could've wished for more at those kinds of moments--staring history in the face and thinking how neat it would've been to look to my side and see the people who mean the most to me. I can only hope, the words I write now travel the 6,000 miles home and find a place in every imagination.
Our second full day in Paris, Lisa and I travelled about 40 minutes outside of Paris to the town of Versailles. If the name alone doesn't ring a bell, it should. While the town itself may be smaller than Paris, Versailles is the home of Chateau De Versailles, better known as Versailles Palace in English. This palace served as the royal home and as seat of French Monarchy to figures like Louis XIV, XV, and the XVI (who incidentally was married to Marie Antoinette). Of all the places we visited in Paris, this had to top the list for me. We were lucky enough that the gardens were open to the public on the day we went. Just a week or so prior, France had gotten some heavy snowfall and they'd closed the gardens. I'm so glad we were able to view them though--they're almost more exciting then the Palace itself--even in winter. They're also incredibly huge. Lisa and I spent all day there, just walking around and soaking up the atmosphere. We got there early enough, that by the time we left all the crowds had started amassing. But what a day it was. With many of the places I went on this trip, Versailles included, there is such attention paid to detail. How many people actually notice the window frames with individual reliefs and gold gilding that sit three or four stories up? That seems besides the point though. It doesn't matter who noticed it, and who didn't. It was more about creating something that truly meant something to someone. Now, I wouldn't want to be the person climbing those three or four stories up just to get a good luck at the decoration, but still, there is a reason they have binoculars these days :)
The Grand Opera House of Paris and Notre Dame Cathedral were other favourites of mine. The Opera House was unbelievably opulent--after seeing a couple of them throughout Italy, I still find the one in Paris remarkable. The Grand Foyer there was even more intense then the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles and that is saying something. Notre Dame was also a sight I'm glad not to have missed. I still wish I would've gotten to see Quasimodo, but a girl can't have everything.
Now, there is one last, very clear, very interesting memory I have of our stay in Paris. It actually has to do with the day we prepared to leave to head onto Milan, Italy. At 5:30 in the morning the day of our departure, Lisa and I were trying to figure out a way to get back to Paris-Beauvais airport. Not only would a taxi NOT take us to the bus stop (it wasn't a far enough distance for them and they wouldn't get paid very much), but by this point it was too late to make it anyhow. So instead, we had to take a taxi all the way to the airport. Luckily, another woman from the hostel was going to the airport as well, so it was a little easier splitting the 150 euro it cost for the ride there between the three of us. When Lisa and I went up to the desk to check in, though, we realized a minor error. The man who took our passports and input our information started frowning--this should have been our cue, but that's what retrospect is for. After giving him our confirmation number for the flight, the man suddenly looked up at us and proceeded to explain that the flight we had booked was for the next day, not the day we were there. I think it would be interesting to see what Lisa and my faces looked like at that moment. Something like confusion, mixed with embarrassment and a dash of exhaustion. After mumbling our excuses and sidling away from the check in desk, it took Lisa and I few minutes of staring helplessly at our planners (which DID have the correct dates on both of them) to realize that we'd gotten the dates confused in our heads. It's a good thing both of us were able to laugh at that moment. At first we decided we would just spend the rest of the day in the airport. There was no way we were going to pay that exorbitant amount for a taxi to and from the airport again. It turned out, though, that small airports like the one in Beauvais don't stay open all night. That put a slight crimp in things. After sitting for an hour or so in the airport, Lisa and I hitched a ride on a bus into the town of Beauvais, hoping we could find a cheap hotel for the night. It took a bit of wandering around in the early, quiet morning hours of Beauvais before we were able to find one that was both open and had vacancies. You could say it was more of a morning then we had been hoping for. It was a nice hotel, though, and Lisa and I made our flight the next day without any mishaps---including no knowing glances from the man at the check in desk who happened to be the same from the first morning. If I've learned anything from the experience, its that it is better to be a day early rather than a day late.
So there you have my highlights of Paris. I'll stop here for now. My Italy tales will probably be broken up as well, just so as not to overwhelm the eyes (Courtney, you know who I'm referring to....that is if you're even reading this!!) I hope you've enjoyed my trials and errors--it's certainly been entertaining playing the leading role in them. I'll be back with more soon. In the mean time, I've added a couple more photo album links, as well as video links. Take a gander and enjoy.
As always, love from Scotland once again
xxoo
Monday, February 2, 2009
Smile Like You Mean It
So I'm just about more than halfway done uploading things. I've got everything up until Pisa and Rome online so here are a few teaser photos that are courtesy of Lisa. These are some of the ones from her camera of us. The rest you can find in the links alongside the posts. Enjoy!!!
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