So, London. Finally back in the English-speaking world. I hadn't been to London for more than 12 hours since 2001, so it was nice to be back. Of course, the last time I was in London for more than 12 hours, I was a practicing lawyer with lots of cash and a rolling suitcase on a one week vacation, not a soon to be grad student finishing up several months of travel possessed only of a very large backpack. Very different vibe.
Initial annoyance: I (foolishly) booked a hotel for my first night in town on Expedia. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. Plus, the photos of the hotel seemed fine, and they had room service, which was key, since I was arriving late with no chance to have dinner beforehand (yes, this will be relevant). Upon check-in, I was immediately taken across the street to overflow housing (what hotel has overflow housing?), where I was given the smallest hotel room I've ever seen (seriously) with the tiniest bathroom to match. Starving, I began searching frantically for the room service menu (no luck). So I called the front desk to ask where the menu was. No menu.
ME: Well, is there room service. Because the website says there's room service. FRONT DESK: Yes.
ME: Well, what do you have?
FRONT DESK: Sandwiches.
ME: What kind of sandwiches?
FRONT DESK: We may have vegetable. I'll have to check.
ME: Forget about it.
When a website indicates that a hotel has room service, I take that to mean a menu, some options, and a guy who comes to the room carrying a tray and expecting a tip. Not maybe we have vegetable sandwiches. (Maybe I'm just like my mother/She's never satisfied.)
My other favorite thing about the hotel: it was situated about 10 feet away from a Tube platform, so my room shook every time the train zoomed by. Good times.
Aside from the first night, London was great. I spent the rest of my stay there with my friend Nina, who is lots and lots of fun. I went to Hampton Court Palace my first full day in town, which was just the right amount of cool historical stuff (fitting in rather nicely with my having just read a historical novel about Lady Jane Grey) and lovely soothing rose gardens. I also finally made it to the London Eye. The views are amazing, it's true, but I don't think I go to London for views of that kind. The things I want to see are all on the ground and not terribly high up.
More fun things in London: drinks with Todd and Carol and Jacqueline Kennedy (and of course Nina). Well, technically, Jacqueline Kennedy wasn't having "drinks" with us, as she is a little dog and a teetotaler, but she was allowed in the pub. Todd also let us see his amazing flat in Notting Hill which features (among other crazy rock star things, like his bathroom, which is considerably bigger than the hotel room I mentioned earlier) a garden AND a small house, the sole purpose of which is to give Todd a place to work on and store his mosaics(!?!) Love it. I also got to see a new friend I met in Tonga (not Tongan) who is now in business school in Spain, and who I think is pretty amazing. And not just because he's going to business school to do socially responsible entrepreneurship (although that helps).
Oh, weird conversation I overheard (so not English). While waiting for Nina to get home from work, I decided to have some Indian. Note: the Indian food I had in London was much tastier (and spicier) than anything I got in India. I'm just saying. The restaurant was empty, with the exception of a couple that came after I'd already been seated. Yes, I know that when there's not the general buzz caused by multiple simultaneous conversations, you can hear your fellow diners more easily. You can also hear them more easily when they shout. Basically, an older white American guy was there with his significantly younger West African companion. And the older guy decided that everyone in the restaurant needed to hear every story of every time he or anyone he knew had been gay-bashed, particularly those stories involving West African women doing the bashing (a former paramour of his had ended up in the hospital in this way). His young companion kept trying to make him lower his voice, but the speaker would have none of it (something to do with not being ashamed, and also wanting more wine). While I completely agree that being bashed is nothing for the victim to be ashamed of, I think it is completely appropriate to be ashamed when every diner and server in a restaurant can hear your conversation so well they'd think you were talking to them. Advice to the West African beau: start eating dinner at home.
So, I confess, I haven't done London justice. Part of this is faulty memory. The rest is the fact that London book-ended my trips to Bath and Oxford, so not only was I not there long, but I wasn't there continuously. Bath and Oxford will be the subject of my next entry.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Finishing Up Before Starting Something New: Verdun Sur Garonne and Toulouse
So, I realize that I've let 3.5 months go by without touching the blog. Despite the fact that I wasn't finished. As I was saying to a friend when describing the blog today, I at least need to write myself home. So, relying on my very good memory, here goes.
Ankle slightly recovered, I took the train from Paris to Toulouse. Amusing fact: on picking me up (very late), my cab-driver (yes, I know it should have been the Metro, but my backpack was heavy and cumbersome and I didn't feel like dealing with the transfers and the trek) bombarded me with questions and comments and observations. Actually, I have no idea what he bombarded me with, because he spoke in French more quickly than I speak in English. Fortunately, he was very good-natured about my not really speaking French and we managed to have a non-conversation (in French) to the station. I could sit in that cab and not talk with him for hours. And still find plenty of things to not talk about.
The train ride: well, again, I splurged a little, in this case getting the first class ticket (really only negligibly more expensive than second class, and such a lovely compartment). Unfortunately, I failed to notice that the seats were assigned, and was forced to relocate. My favorite part of the ride, aside from the lovely countryside: two women sitting across the aisle from me both had cats, which they took out of their carriers for most of the trip. I kept up a bit of a flirtation with the cat nearer to me (shiny and black with big green eyes) and fantasized about getting one just like her when I got back to the US. (More on that later.)
So, a long train ride and a short train ride later, and I arrived in a village (Dieupentale) in the Midi-Pyrenees not too far from my friend's even smaller village. Let me just say that I loved visiting my friend and her family when I came in summer of 2006. She wasn't working at the time, so the only real time limits imposed were for dropping off and picking up her son from school (also for lunch). Granted, this meant that unless her husband took off from work, we couldn't venture far, but there was plenty of time for catching up and sitting around in their lovely old home or the garden. This trip was a little different, as my friend now works. But she likes her job and the people she works with, and the job is pretty flexible, so there was still plenty of time for relaxing.
Highlights of the visit from a tourist perspective: we took a long drive one day, primarily to visit an old castle and some ruins in Bruniquel, where Romy Schneider (aka Princesse Sissi) and Phillippe Noiret filmed in "Le Vieux Fusil" ("The Old Shotgun") [THANK YOU, JUDI], but also just to drive and talk. A lot of the visit centered around talking (with some driving) and it was very satisfying. Judi (the friend I visited) is my oldest friend with whom I'm still in regular contact (we met when we were fourteen), and it's nice to have that kind of history. But I digress. I spent one day of my week there as a real tourist: a nice three-course lunch with wine at a restaurant on the Place du Capitole, a visit to the Basilique St-Sernin, a stroll around town, a stop at the Cathédrale St-Etienne (which, I am ashamed to say, I preferred to the Basilica, possibly because I have never studied architecture and don't properly appreciate these things), and a visit to the Musee des Augustins. A note on the latter: one room is full of nothing but pieces of statuary from the above-mentioned two churches. This may be interesting the first few times, but an entire room? I'd just come from the churches themselves; I felt that it was overkill. Also, I have very little knowledge of fine arts and no knowledge of how to hang art in a museum or gallery, but I am not a fan of the stacking method. The painting galleries at the Musee des Augustins had ridiculously high ceilings which the curators chose to fully utilize by hanging pictures as high as they could, making it impossible to see most of the paintings without craning my neck AND standing on the other side of the room. I suppose it made the experience memorable, but it did not make me long to visit that museum again.
Ankle slightly recovered, I took the train from Paris to Toulouse. Amusing fact: on picking me up (very late), my cab-driver (yes, I know it should have been the Metro, but my backpack was heavy and cumbersome and I didn't feel like dealing with the transfers and the trek) bombarded me with questions and comments and observations. Actually, I have no idea what he bombarded me with, because he spoke in French more quickly than I speak in English. Fortunately, he was very good-natured about my not really speaking French and we managed to have a non-conversation (in French) to the station. I could sit in that cab and not talk with him for hours. And still find plenty of things to not talk about.
The train ride: well, again, I splurged a little, in this case getting the first class ticket (really only negligibly more expensive than second class, and such a lovely compartment). Unfortunately, I failed to notice that the seats were assigned, and was forced to relocate. My favorite part of the ride, aside from the lovely countryside: two women sitting across the aisle from me both had cats, which they took out of their carriers for most of the trip. I kept up a bit of a flirtation with the cat nearer to me (shiny and black with big green eyes) and fantasized about getting one just like her when I got back to the US. (More on that later.)
So, a long train ride and a short train ride later, and I arrived in a village (Dieupentale) in the Midi-Pyrenees not too far from my friend's even smaller village. Let me just say that I loved visiting my friend and her family when I came in summer of 2006. She wasn't working at the time, so the only real time limits imposed were for dropping off and picking up her son from school (also for lunch). Granted, this meant that unless her husband took off from work, we couldn't venture far, but there was plenty of time for catching up and sitting around in their lovely old home or the garden. This trip was a little different, as my friend now works. But she likes her job and the people she works with, and the job is pretty flexible, so there was still plenty of time for relaxing.
Highlights of the visit from a tourist perspective: we took a long drive one day, primarily to visit an old castle and some ruins in Bruniquel, where Romy Schneider (aka Princesse Sissi) and Phillippe Noiret filmed in "Le Vieux Fusil" ("The Old Shotgun") [THANK YOU, JUDI], but also just to drive and talk. A lot of the visit centered around talking (with some driving) and it was very satisfying. Judi (the friend I visited) is my oldest friend with whom I'm still in regular contact (we met when we were fourteen), and it's nice to have that kind of history. But I digress. I spent one day of my week there as a real tourist: a nice three-course lunch with wine at a restaurant on the Place du Capitole, a visit to the Basilique St-Sernin, a stroll around town, a stop at the Cathédrale St-Etienne (which, I am ashamed to say, I preferred to the Basilica, possibly because I have never studied architecture and don't properly appreciate these things), and a visit to the Musee des Augustins. A note on the latter: one room is full of nothing but pieces of statuary from the above-mentioned two churches. This may be interesting the first few times, but an entire room? I'd just come from the churches themselves; I felt that it was overkill. Also, I have very little knowledge of fine arts and no knowledge of how to hang art in a museum or gallery, but I am not a fan of the stacking method. The painting galleries at the Musee des Augustins had ridiculously high ceilings which the curators chose to fully utilize by hanging pictures as high as they could, making it impossible to see most of the paintings without craning my neck AND standing on the other side of the room. I suppose it made the experience memorable, but it did not make me long to visit that museum again.
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