From Rainy London to Rainy Paris; the Rain feels the same

Today was a stressful day, to say the least.  Everyone had to check out of the hotel this morning, though we weren’t going to get released for the independent travel break until two. So half of us paid to have our luggage stored at the hotel, then the professors arrived and convinced the hotel to let everyone store their luggage for free.  We didn’t get our money back.  Then, while some kids got to ride the London Eye, I got stuck in the group that toured the Docklands.  Which are no longer Docklands, but now the London financial district.  And it took us about two hours to get there, to walk around in the rain for another two hours.  Needless to say, everyone was wet and cranky by the time we got released.

Went back to get my stuff, then headed off to Waterloo train station to buy my train ticket to Paris.  It cost 40pounds –about $85ish!  But got on the train by myself and tried to sleep off the crummy morning.  Spoke with the man next to me, a sweet man from Jordan who now lives in Manchester.  He tried to teach me some Arabic but it just wasn’t working, haha.

Arrived in Lille Europe, where I needed to get another train to go the rest of the way to Paris.  Go figure, I ran into Caitlin, Ashley, and Rachel at the travel desk!  So the four of us banded together and rode the rest of the train together.  They were at a different hostel, though, so we had to part ways at the metro station.  Fortunately, though the Paris metro kinda looks shady, it’s really not.  I never felt threatened or anything, and it was surprisingly easy to get to my stop.  Paris subway trains go wicked fast, but they have SO many stops.  I was literally one one train for fourteen stops!  And you have to really leap on and off.  A man played sax on the first train I was on but no one gave him money.  Though it was raining outside –POURING rain– my gut told me correctly which way was North.

Unfortunately, I arrived to discover the manager had given my bed away!  Fortunately, the man working (an Englishman?) was extremely nice and really mad at her.  He called her right then and there to yell at her, then told me, “She does this every f— time to every f— guest.  Don’t worry; I’ll find you a bed.”  So he did.  Decided, in light of the travel and the rain and the hour, to not go exploring.

In the room next to me, this Hungarian boy and Italian girl had gotten very drunk and were horribly rude to me once they found out I’m an American, but a nice German boy finally told them to shut up.  Ah, thus is typical hostel life.  The hostel is way overpriced but not nearly as bad as I had worried and certainly not the worst I’ve stayed in. 

Quote from my journal: “Well it’s only 10-something but I’m certainly not going out.  I think I’ll read and sleep early since I’m rising early to meet the girls tomorrow.  So far I have no impression of Paris since all I’ve seen is the metro –better than NY’s– and a rainy street –they all look the same.  My roommates are British boys.  Go figure.  67 days left til home!  5 days left til castle-home!”

I could not be a nun because abbeys&convents kinda scare me

Had another church service today, though this time it was at Westminster Abbey, and only Bridget and I stayed after a terrible tour with all of Emerson.  The clergy workers were extremely rude and strict during visiting hours, but once everyone left, were very nice to us.  We wound up getting mistook for family members of the choir boys, who were singing for the last time before leaving for their tour of Australia tomorrow, and so got to sit in the back row of the quire row, each in this Gothic pew boxes, right in among the choir boys!  We were literally surrounded by the singing, which was amazing.  Also, the high commissioner of Uganda was there and gave the second lecture; just a neat little coincidence. 

The Abbey itself is somewhat surreal.  Such a vast collection of famous dead people, or at least their grave markers, crammed into an initimdating and lonely stone abbey.  Everywhere you turn are statues or small chapels dedicated to figures that are now more legendary than they ever were while alive: Queen Elizabeth, Mary Queen of Scots, Charles Darwin, TS Eliot, Lawrence Olivier.  All manner of accomplished people.  Everything is oppulent and ornate, gilded and carved, overly done, but in an older, colder way than St. Paul’s, which I think is actually older (or at least the original St. Paul’s came first).  I can’t imagine living there, walking around that daunting abbey with all the echoes and creepy statues.

Later on, headed back, we randomly ran into David and Jessye in the metro coming back from a show.  So the four of us went on one final walk for our last night in London, down along the Thames, past Parliament, out onto a bridge.  It was a lovely stroll to enjoy what has been a wonderfully fun excursion.  I’m glad we’re coming back in December –at Christmas!!

The Abridged Version of Sunday’s Events

Speaker’s corner!  What a marvellous time.  But to take things in order.

Had planned on going to Abbey Road with Amanda and Jessye this morning, while Bridget and David did Tower of London.  But I couldn’t find my metro pass (it was in my back pocket the WHOLE time), so I sent them on without me, then spent my Sunday morning strolling through London.  We met up at Speaker’s Corner at noon, and then the real fun began.

Speaker’s Corner comes alive at the Marble Arch every Sunday around noon.  Anyone who has any point to make can bring a box or stepladder, get on their soap box, and spout out to the crowds of people who gather to listen. 

First, we wound up listening to this CRAZY lady who was calling for England as the master race.  She insisted everyone should stop immigrating and intermarrying, stick with people who look like them; that England is polluted with all these racial impurities; that people should stop being “what they are” and instead be “what they were meant to be.”  My favorite parts were when she told a German man that only English people have any God-given right to speak English and that American English is a bastardized English.  Other good quotes: “You will never live to be as old as me!”  “Who invited you and your kind into England?  Get out!” (At which point I began my constant muttering to Jessye, demanding, “Well who invited England into Africa, Asia, Australia, and the Americas?”)  I grew so agitated with the BS she was spewing that I literally began shaking but I was determined to not make a scene, so I just muttered to Jessye.  When she began speaking of the purity and importance of the English race, I politely inquired what the races were.  Everyone knew she was crazy, though, and by asking questions that she couldn’t answer had backed her into a corner.  So she kept lashing out, either by insulting the question-asker or telling them to shut up.  She assumed my question was an insult and demanded, “Oh, and where are you from, you and your red hair?”  I said my family was Irish, German, and Polish, that I was an American, then had to raise my voice to be heard over her childish taunts about the pitch of my voice, my red hair, and saying I was prissy for stating where my family was from (though she had just asked me, and just before that told everyone they should be proud of it).  I asked if she realized that English was actually a language derived originaly from German and then fluffed up with French, Spanish, and Latin words; if when she spoke of the English race she meant the original tribes, or else the Saxon and Norman invaders.  Furthermore, I pointed out that if she was going to continuously consult God as the creator of races, she should take into account that God originally created only Adam and Eve, not an Adam and Eve of every race, meaning that God created humans without race.  And never has ANYONE sadi there is “an English race.”  Unfortunately, she was so bent on imposing only her crack-pot ideas on everyone that she couldn’t handle dissension or anyone pointing out the obvious holes in her flaws, and was literally reduced to making an idiot of herself by throwing childish and petty insults.  Everyone agreed with me, though, and another boy a little older than me who was one of the other most talkative gave me a thumbs-up.  I just couldn’t remain silent any longer, though, when she called us “grey sexless, genderless, raceless, classless people,” and “gypsies intent on destroying the world.”  She declared she was the only true Englander in the crowd, which INFURIATED the English people there, and also that she’s not the only one who thinks all this, that she has friends.  The whole crowd grew weary of gawking at her outrageous ignorance and racism, though, and when one British woman suggested we stop giving her a crowd, we dispersed.  The fact that people like her exist is depressing, but that everyone present realized how absurd she was is encouraging for the future of the world, I think.  She could make fun of my red hair all she wanted; at least I wasn’t claiming to be a member of the master race.  Bridget said later on she remounted her box and began calling for the uniting of the original twelve tribes of Britain.  Mental . . .

We listened to a couple more speakers, but none that got me so riled up that I felt inclined to participate.  I LOVED it, though; that atmosphere of debate and ideas is very much what I love.  If/when I’m in London for longer, I believe I’ll frequent Speaker’s Corner quite a bit, and someday have my own box.  However, such a thing would never work in America.  Brits can yell at each other; when Americans yell at each other, someone throws a punch.

Wandered around Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens a bit to show them the Peter Pan statue and the Diana Memorial.  Went next to Harrod’s to buy scones and explore a bit more.  Found the pet shop and Christmasland, and watched the pizza chef SING OPERA while he tossed the dough.  Unreal!

Made it to Camden Market and searched for about an hour for an ATM for Amanda and Jessye to get money.  All the ATMs were out of money, though, so I wound up loaning them cash so we could all buy scarves, which I’ve been looking forward to since July. 

On the subway yesterday (forgot to write this), this mom and her adorable little girl were listening to me and Chris talk.  When they got up to leave, the mom leaned over to me and said, “My daughter said she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”  How flattering!  Not sure why, but still!

Later that night, Jessye, Bridget, and me went to Platform 9 3/4 to take pictures again. It was kinda fun to go back to the same spot to take a similar picture as July.  Went back and waited for people to get back from the Philharmonic concert (stuff like that and the Globe were only available to kids in certain classes; none of my classes got to do anything fun), then went dancing at the Rocket, a nearby bar that was having TERRIBLE karaoke.  Oh, and because the drinking age is 16 in England, there are all these high schoolers in bars, which is weird.  Hung out with friends until late, late and wound up stumbling into bed sometime around three. 

Emily, David, me, Bridget, and Jessye dancing up a storm to Footloose!  David is one happy&lucky guy! haha

We actually converted to Hinduism but Bridget isn’t a vegetarian so we went back

(Bridget’s actually Roman Catholic, and I’m Southern Baptist.  Could we be any further from Hindu?) 

In the morning, while everyone else got to go to cool museums (Imperial War Museum, V&A, etc.), I got stuck going to the National Gallery.  Fortunately, my tourguide was Allerd, this adorable Dutch art professor, probably early 30s, who I’m madly in love with.  The kind of guy, though, that you fall in love with, go on a romantic weekend retreat with to some Mediterranean Island, and he spends the entire time working on writing a poetry anthology.  But he made the National Gallery more fun that it would have been otherwise.  It’s kind of one of those museums that you really only need to do once.

Afterwards, Jessye and I picknicked in St. James’ park.  There was a HUGE “Free the leader of Burma” protest in Trafalgar Square that everyone, like the good little crazy-Emerson-kids that we are, joined in on.  Unfortunately, as is often the case with protests, few people protesting could tell me anything more than that the leader of Burma had been put in jail.  Crowd mentality at its finest.

Then had possibly one of the most painful lectures of my life, again with Dulcia, but at the Tate Britain.  In three hours we saw maybe six paintings.  I overall like Dulcia, and I would have been interested in the art, but it was cold and too little variety.  And I didn’t get to see the Millais exhibit that’s there (he’s one of my favorite artists!) which made me sad.

The real fun of the day, though, came that night.  Jessye, David, and Amanda went to see a play at the Globe Theatre, so Bridget and I were left to our own devices.  We ate ramen noodles and muffins and yogurt back at the hotel, then set out exploring.  We found Chinatown –or rather China Street; it’s not more than that– that I didn’t even know exhisted in London.  We spent some time exploring the overly crowded little shops, and then talking to a hysterical British guy trying to rope people into a comedy club.  When he found out we’re Americans, he started to say we probably shouldn’t go because the lead act was a Muslim woman, which was terribly narrow-minded of him.  I explained my boyfriend’s Muslim, at which point he yelled, “Oh, wicked!  I thought you were going to say your boyfriend is in Iraq.  Well it’s great, isn’t it?  My wife’s Japanese and I love it.  You can drop racist jokes in the middle of dinner and it’s okay because you’re family.  It’s wicked!”  He hardly seemed old enough to be married, though.  Then suddenly a great commotion down the street, and he yelled, “Oh, a parade!  Time to dance!” and ran off to wave his sign up and down in front of the parade, which was a line of dancers for Hare Krishna.  One man came up to Bridget and I and gave us a book about Hinduism and invited us to a big party Sunday night (which we wound up not going to, afraid of what we might get entangled in).  He asked for money and Bridget gave him a pound or something like that. 

Our adventures continued: the rest of China Town street, the bright lights of Picadilly Circus, the flashing callboards of West End, the happening clubs of SoHo, the naughty window displays of London’s own Red Light District, the teen hooligans flirting violently (literally!) in Trafalgar Square, the quirky indie movie&music shops.  We discovered quite a bit I hadn’t even found in my two weeks there in July. 

The most frustrating part is that we literally just missed a big free Mozart concert at St. Martin-in-the-fields, which has the organ that Bach and Mozart played, the one I wanted to see in July but that was closed.  They were shutting down the church after the concert, but Bridget and I snuck in behind their backs and wound our way up the stairs to see the organ.  She worried but I assured her that it’s not possible for Christians to trespass in God’s house.  We saw the organ, looked a bit more, then snuck out, but not before checking behind a few closed doors to see if we could find a way down to the crypt. 

Finally, tired, we set off in what we thought was the right direction to get back walking.  An hour later we wound up EXACTLY where we had started, having made just a giant loop around London.  Our feet hurt and we were cold, so we took the Tube back.  Then discovered my watch had broken; I hate not knowing what time it was.

More tea, more reading, then off to sleep!

Fish&Chips, Giggles, and Museumoverload!

Today was day one of our actual London excursion program.  They divided us into I think maybe five groups.  I was in Dulcia’s, the head of the Kasteel Well program, group for the walking tour that consisted of Buckingham Palace, the outside of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, and headed up towards Trafalgar Square.  Even though I’d seen it all before, it was nice to get a little more history about the architecture and whatnot.  She also bought everyone (20 kids) in our group drinks from Caffe Nero!  I was so excited to get an Americano again.

Had a break for lunch during which I made myself a pb&j sandwich back at the room.  I brought bread, rice cakes, peanuts, peanut butter, and jelly from Well in order to save money.

Then off to the British Museum.  Again, the background information was nice, though I hate tours even more within museums when you aren’t free to wander.  Marion was nice, though, and I was happy to be back inside one of the best museums in the world.

Once finished with that museum, Amanda, Bridget, Jessye, me, and David decided to head on down to Tate Modern, since none of us will get to be in the group that tours that.  We went mainly to ride the slides that take you from one floor to the next, that Amanda’s sort-of boyfriend had written to her about.  unfortunately, that was just an exhibit and was no longer there.  Disappointing.  And, of course, overall I’m not a fan of most modern art.  I think most modern art is crap.  People attaching insignificant meanings to work preschoolers could do with their eyes closed.  Howeer, I did find a couple exhibits I liked –one about political African paintings mainly concered with Darfur, Rwanda, and Uganda; also a video art about Brazilian ants having a parade with confetti.  It’s hard to explain.  I don’t remember when I’ve seen David laugh so hard.

By that point, we were museumed out and starving, so after another maybe two hours of walking around, we stumbled into a pub for some fish and chips and “GIANT chocolate cake” (that’s how the sign advertised it).  What a lovely combination! 

Funny story: we were stumbling back across the river to northside, all giggles and whatnot in the night.  I’m sure there were all sorts of wrong assumptions made due to our excessive giggles and goofiness.  Then suddenly Jessye yelled “surprise trust fall!” and fell backwards, expecting Amanda and Bridget to catch her.  They did, but all of us were seriously doubled over with laughter.  Yeah, I know, it’s one of those things where you had to be there.  But then I looked up and realized there were about three different kinds of British police slinking along; we had stumbled into the middle of a police search!  They had HUGE guns and were checking out every dark corner.  Scary!  I suggested we scoot along or get caught in the middle of a shoot-out.

We were out walking along late, but I still settled down for some tea and reading.  It’s a lovely routine that I wish I could always mantain.  A little after midnight, once Ashley got back, we talked and then slept.

Haha, Kate caught me looking SO interested in Dulcia’s lecture.  But it was the changing of the household regiment!

David, Bridget, Jessye, and me with a giant spider statue at the Tate Modern.

The faultiness of Airport Security and Overly-Oppulent Churches

So today was the day we left for London, flying on RyanAir from Duesseldorf to London.  We left the castle at 6am and I don’t think anyone in the entire group slept more than an hour or last night.  Travel itself was uneventful, though, except that Jenna’s and my passports got SWITCHED at the ticket counter.  We made it through security AND passport control before she noticed.  First, it was stupid of me not to check earlier that they had given me my right passport back.  What if we hadn’t noticed until three weeks later when suddenly I’m in Vienna and she’s in Copenhagen, and I need my passport?  But secondly, security and passport control neither one looked at the photo to see if we had the right passports.  Thanks, airport security.

RyanAir is a rather crummy airline and I never want to fly it again.  The way it’s so cheap is that there are commercials on the PA every few minutes, and every flat space is covered in ads.  But we got to London, made the two hour busride from Stanstead to our teeny, tiny, crummy hotel.  I roomed with a wonderfully nice girl, Ashley.  Short orientation and then we were released for the day.

Me, Bridget, Amanda, Emily, and Jessye headed off to St. Paul’s to attend Evensong.  The church inside is opulent to the point of making me somewhat uncomfortable.  It makes you every aware of how small and insignificant you are in the grand scheme of things, and at least gave me the feeling, “In the face of such a big world, why would God care about you?”  But the music was goosebump-inducing, bouncing off the dome and tiled floors and mosaics covering the walls and paintings on teh ceilings, every sharp gold-embossed corner of the cathedral.  The amount of work that went into the church is undeniable.  A sign said it costs 63millionpounds a year to keep the church up and running.  It just . . . bothered me.  But I was glad we went for the experience, and to see the inside.

After mass, we ambled around town for several hours.  Walked by the London Eye, some of Southbank, I thought the girls how to use the metro.  Went back to the room early and had a LOVELY evening, sipping tea and coffee in my tiny hotel room and reading A Clockwork Orange.  I can’t remember the last book I read for fun.  I’m also in love with our room.  It’s tiny, but instead of feeling claustrophobic, it feels like a cozy little safehaven in the big city of London. 

Quote from my personal journal: “It feels so good to be back in London.  That’s all I can say.  Maybe I never really left.  This is second only to going home.  I belong here, at least for some time.”

And another: “Sipping tea now.  Traffic still drifting on a breeze through the open window.  A tiny room.  A TV from the 90s and the faint smell of old carpeting and cigarettes.  I epitomize . . . something.” -8:51pm

Bonding through Boarding

Yay!  I have a ticket!

Plane landed and I started getting nervous about time.  Passport control took a while.  The small room everyone was being pushed through was overheated and had no a/c, so they were only letting a few people get off the plane at once.  But that meant everyone was standing on a boiling airplane, so that didn’t really help matters at all.

Then, trying to get my bag, it kept not coming and not coming.  Saw it, grabbed it, took off.  They didn’t care to check my tea and chocolate, so customs was nothing.  Found teh gate easy enough and the woman agent gave me a ticket on the spot.

I’ve talked to Dad (taking Thomas to a Ranger’s game!) but not Mom.  Reapplied (or rather applied) make up and deoderant while bitching with an older American woman about noisy babies and the cost of London, haha.

Just talked to Mom and she made me miss London even more.  I have so many stories to tell her!  She laughed when I mentioned Cifi is Greek.

And gosh how applicable my fortune was!  I got this fortune the week before I left:

“Seek friendship and you will find someone special this month.”

It’s amazing how many wonderful people I met in London, and how many friends I made.  And how much fun I had!  It’s so much easier for me to be happy and nice in London than it is in Boston or Dallas.

Well, I think they’ll probably start boarding the flight soon.  Almost home!  Except I wish I was back in London.

-5:59pm RDU-time, 19.7

I watched Blades of Glory and liked it

Getting close!  About 30 minutes until we reach RDU, and then the really stressful part of the day begins.  As if it wasn’t arleady rather stressful to begin with.  I’ll land, get my bag, and go to the connections counter.  Mention even at the gate that I’m D1 and a connection.  I’m just still really nervous.  With the flight this morning, I wanted to get on, but there was still another flight.  With RDU-DFW, this is it.  If I don’t make this flight, I’ll be stuck at the airport overnight, at least twelve hours.  Been there, done that, not fun.

Please, dear Lord, let me make this flight.  So far, today has been as good a day of travel as is really possible.  I’ve even seen some good movies.  Please don’t let the bottom be about to drop out of that.

Thirty-one minutes.  Ears started popping a while ago, so we’re definitely descending.  We’re over Virginia right now.  Go figure.  I wish I was either home already or still in London with Amberlee.

Anxiety is setting in.  Please let me make this flight without any problems.

-4pm, 19.7

Coffee, universal happiness

I’m on the flight in my bulkhead seat.  It’s freezing cold, though, and my head is hurting from a lack of coffee and food.  I wish I had got some in the airport, over-priced as it would have been.  Hopefully they’ll bring us drinks and a snack soon.  All overseas flights get at least one snack, right?

We’re a bit behind schedule.  I don’t think we left until a little after one (I was asleep).  Captain said we should get in around 4:30 and my flight to DFW leaves at 6:20.  Hopefully customs and passport control don’t take long and I make it on teh flight okay.  Hopefully.

Ugh it’s so cold!  I need coffee!  And food!

Dollars and pounds and euros, oh my!

Went in search of food and drink, but I really didn’t want to spend any more money, so instead I exchanged my pounds and euros.  I kinda regret that, though, since the rate will probably only get worse, and I’ll need them in the fall anyways.  Worse than that, thoguh, is that they charged a rather hefty commission.  I was working myself up enough abotu it that I threw the receipt away and I’m convincing myself that the rates would have been worse in the states.  I just shouldn’t have exchanged.

And I am proud of myself that I resisted my initial temptation to get the internet (T-Mobile).  $10.40 (5pounds) for an hour is a lot!  I’m managing okay, though.

Did I really get up six and a half hours ago?  It feels simultaneously too long and too short ago.

I think I’ll stop worrying so much about money once I get home and can focus on hos much I have, not how much I have spent.  Plus, I have a paycheck and at least one week of tips waiting.  Some ebay sales to make.  I’m going to be okay.  I think my brain just has to obsess over something, usually food or money.  At the moment, it’s money.

Ugh, getting so sleepy . . . nap time until I board?  Si!

-11:32am, 19.7