Spain was my favorite place I've visited thus far, despite the fact that for the whole of my trip I had a fever and a cold. The people were friendly, the weather was beautiful, and the scenery was breathtaking...and packed with history.
Our trip started out on Wednesday morning. After are last travel-related debacle (missing our flight to Paris) we made sure to leave extra early for Luton Airport. Getting there was simple. The flight to Barcelona was about an hour and a half- we arrived around 5 at night. None of us could control our elation after leaving the airport and realizing how WARM it was! And a blue sky! And the sun! I didn't realize how much I missed the sun until I was in Spain. It was a hard transition to make coming back to grey and cold London. We took a bus into Barcelona from the airport, which ended up taking an hour or so. By the time we found our hostel it was pretty dark. The one thing on our mind, as it tends to be, was DINNER. The American working at the desk told us to go to a small tapas place near the hostel that had its own taps built in to the table. The food was pretty good. Thank god they had menus in English! The biggest hit that night was the potatoes in a spicy sauce. They were so good we had to return to this restaurant the next day. After eating we decided to go straight to bed. I had a fever so I took some tylenol and conked out.
The next day we woke up and make our way to the more central area of Barcelona. We took a free walking tour around the city for a few hours- this tour was not as good as others we have taken in the past. We did not really get to see the main sights of Barcelona, but we were sternly warned about the high chances of being pickpocketed in the city. (Little did we know that two of our own traveling group would have their wallets stolen!) One of the fun things we had to do on the tour was find someone you didnt know and be their "walking buddy," that is, tell that person your name, favorite drink, where you are from, and walk with them for a short while. I met a guy name Jean from Australia. His favorite drink was Cooper's Pale Ale, and he was traveling in Europe for 6 months. In Australia he is dives for pearls...at least I think that was what he said...(?) After the tour we went to a small restaurant for lunch. A note on the dining habits of Spain: Lunch is the largest meal of the day, after which most restaurants close for siesta and do not open until wayyyy later in the evening. Dinner consists mostly of smaller portions of tapas. We learned certainly learned of the "big lunch" concept at the restaurant. For 8 euros we got a three course meal! Spanish olives, bread, wine, vegetable lasagna, paella, dessert. Needless to say after this meal I felt like taking my own mini-siesta. But before I did, four of my friends decided to get ear piercings! It took all of my strength not to get one, myself. There was something exhilarating about seeing my friends do something so spontaneous in Barcelona. After this, I went back to the hostel and crashed. I was too sick to go out that night, but my friends went to a few clubs on the beaches. They said it was fun.
On Friday, Taylor, Sanam and I were planning on going on a hike on a mountain an hour away from Barcelona. I have realized that even more than the amazing museums and architecture, the thing that really enthralls me is being in nature. I have been CRAVING the outdoors lately, and all I wanted to do was hike in the woods. Unfortunately, Simon (the obnoxious know-it-all hostel worker) decided to cancel the tour due to the impending rain. I was very disappointed, but the day turned out to be amazing, just the same.
Michal, Sanam, Taylor and I went to the Picasso Museum. It was really interesting to see Picasso's progression as an artist. He went from doing traditional portraits to Toulouse-Lautrec inspired sketches, to his more traditional cubist works. Next to the final paintings the museum included several studies which showed how much planning was done/how many changes were made before Picasso's finished pieces. Very cool. After the museum we went back to the hostel to pick up the other girls. We split up for the afternoon- Taylor and I went to the Boqueria, which was one of the most wonderful places I visited...I know...I love food too much. In this open air market I was able to see HUGE lobsters, cod, prawns, chickens with their heads still attached, cow tongue, fresh fruit, bread, candy, nuts, vegetables...the list goes on. I cannot imagine how wonderful it must be to have fresh FRESH fruit and vegetables year round. Taylor and I both agreed that the Boqueria was as good as any museum we had been to. In the market we got fresh fruit juice...mine was mango and pineapple, and Taylor got raspberry and pineapple. We also got some chocolate covered cashews that were amazing. After the market we made our way to Montjuic where we were going to meet the rest of the girls. At first I thought what we were climbing was a tiny hill of sorts. Soon after I realized it was a legit mountain with a city built into it! As we continued to walk up the path we saw the swimming pool from the 1992 Olympics! It was built right onto the side of the mountain and overlooked all of Barcelona. As we kept walking, the view of Barcelona/the mountains/ocean got even better. We thought we were supposed to meet Michal, Ellie, and Sanam at the Castle, so thats where we went. As we kept climbing we were struck by the number of stray cats wandering around! And though I was still feverish, I felt exhilarated by the walk and the view. We finally reached the top of the mountain/hillthing and found ourselves looking at an old castle. The views from the top were extraordinary. (We didn't have our cameras with us, as we were advised to lock them up so they wouldn't be stolen.) I know I will never forget my experience at the Castille.
After Taylor and I got back to the hostel, we quickly got ready and went to the cooking class we signed up for. The class was held at a quaint little restaurant near Las Ramblas. We were a rowdy crew made up of Australians, Germans, Brazilians, and Americans. Our "instructor" was the head chef and owner of the restaurant. He showed us how to make our own Sangria and tapas. The Sangria was only okay, as it was made with boxed wine...The tapas were good, as the chef bought the ingredients at the market earlier that day. To make the tapas we had to take a slice of bread and rub/squeeze a slice of tomato and a slice of garlic on it. Then we could top the bread with slices of spanish chorizo or salami, cheese, and/or an omletteish thing with potatoes in it. After the tapas, the chef showed us how to make a traditional paella. The paella had real saffron in it, which was delicious. It also had fresh fish and prawns (the prawns freaked me out because they still had their heads on...). The food was delicious. I will definitely try to make paella at home someday.
The next day we headed for Seville. Seville is probably my favorite city I have been in so far. The weather was sunny and warm, and there were several groups of old couples and children walking around. On the bus to our hostel we met a remarkable young boy and his sister who struck up a conversation with us. (The boy was about 7, the girl was 5ish.) These two kids were American/German/World Travelers, and have been to more places than I have...including Missouri. After meeting these two children I realized that in my travels I have not seen young children walking around in the cities! Other than the small school located across from my flat, I dont see children anywhere! Weird.
We got to our hostel around 3. It was AMAZING! It was called Samay Hostel, and it won Best Hostel in Spain in 2009. It felt more like a hotel than a hostel. There was a rooftop deck with plenty of seating and a spectacular view of the city. After sitting down in a chair on the roof, I was afraid I wasnt going to be able to get back up. At 4 we decided to go on a free walking tour, which was amazing. The tourguide provided us with a lot of history surrounding the Jewish Quarter/Inquisition, the city's Moorish/Roman roots, and the history of Christopher Columbus. After the tour, our guide recommended a place for us to go to see amazing Flamenco dancing. We had some tapas for dinner and then went to a small art studioish looking place called la casa memorial. Inside was a really small but beautiful room with a small stage. There we heard some amazing Spanish guitar and singing, and saw some incredible flamenco dancing. I was completely taken aback by the amount of passion with which they danced. It was truly art.
Our last day in Seville was spent mainly on the rooftop deck in the sun. We also walked around a bit more in the city and got some souvenirs. Oh, and churros. And Ice Cream.. And more Tapas... Oh my!
Now I am back in good ol' London. Even though I love where I am, I cannot help but daydream about the blue skies, orange trees, and spanish guitar back in Seville. This is one city to which I must return.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Paris...[insert something witty about how it was a disaster]
Well after FULLY recovering from our Dublin trip, ie. spending three days in bed, we went to Paris. Everything that could have went wrong DID go wrong. But I will try not to harp on these aspects of my trip too much. I will only present you with a numbered list.
1. We missed our flight. Yes, we are idiots. But the train to the airport did not leave when it said it would.
2. Our hostel reservation got cancelled. Curse you Milan, the man who did not re-book our rooms for us!
3. Six of us slept in a three person bedroom. A tight squeeze!
4. Once we got back to the airport we couldn't get through the train station doors! I had to sneak in with an old couple.
5. Ellie ate a hamburger with a fried egg on top...which led to food poisoning...which led to dehydration...which led to a hospital trip after she collapsed in the airport.
6. Our train was once again delayed, making us wait for an hour or more in the cold.
Now that I got THAT out of my system.
After arriving in Paris, we took the subway to the Jardin Tuileries. Paris is beautiful at night, and I was overcome with a sense of aweinspirationemotionblahhhh. I can see how so many writers and artists choose to live in Paris. Everywhere you look is beauty. Yet there is something about Paris, something distancing and perhaps cold, that reminded me that I did not belong. Or maybe it is that Paris does not wear its heart on its sleeve as Dublin does. The city reminded me of something both beautiful and damned (pardon the Fitzgerald ref.), something that when the surface was broken seemed somehow dangerous. It is for this reason that Paris both attracted and repelled me.
Since I was the only one who spoke french, it was my duty (well, Molly did speak a little, too...) to navigate us around the city. We stopped at a place where we got a plate of cheeses. AMAZING. Then we went into the Louvre for free. It is so big and so beautiful that it actually was overwhelming. We only made it to one section of the museum. I will go back with my mother in April and spend a day there, I am sure. We saw these amazing 16th century statues that truly showed the beauty of the human form. It was incredible to see that each vein in the arm, each curve in the thigh was perfectly represented in marble. I found myself staring at certain statues for several minutes contemplating how these artists could capture such life in cold stone.
After getting back to the hostel we decided to get dressed up and go exploring in the area called Bastille (?). There were many people there, including a sup rising amount of Americans. During the cab ride home I was able to have a conversation with the cab driver...in French! It is amazing how much I could remember the language after four years.
The next day we woke up early and took a free tour which started in the Latin Quarter at Saint Michel. Our tour guide was a fiery little Australian woman named Jacq. The tour lasted three and a half hours, and covered everything from the Notre Dame to the Musee D'Orsay. Jacq shared with us many interesting historical facts about France, and warned us about the gypsies who approach tourists and ask them "speak English?" in order to cheat them of money. After the tour we walked to the Arc de Triomphe, which was HUGE and beautiful. It is located in the center of one of the most dangerous rotaries in the world. Statistically speaking, every 30 minutes an accident happens. Most car insurance companies will not cover you if you get into an accident there. We then walked to the Eiffel Tower, which was breathtaking. It made me think of how on my parent's honeymoon they visited that exact spot. Now it was my turn to see the monument. I wonder how many generations of my family will see the Eiffel Tower.
Our last day in Paris, after walking around Montmatre and eating at a restaurant across from the Moulin Rouge, we went back to the Musee D'Orsay. For FREE! WOO! I was literally moved to tears after seeing Van Gogh's work...he is one of my favorites. While looking at his paintings I wished I could see the world as Van Gogh did. I could live in the colors he uses in his paintings. I also saw several works from Monet, Degas, Matisse, and Renior. One of my favorite pieces was from Henri Toulouse Lautrec called "Le Lit."
After the museum we headed back for London. I know I have only just scraped the surface of all that should be seen in Paris. I can't wait to go back in the Spring when it is warmer and even more beautiful (is it possible?) than it was in January.
More adventures to come.
1. We missed our flight. Yes, we are idiots. But the train to the airport did not leave when it said it would.
2. Our hostel reservation got cancelled. Curse you Milan, the man who did not re-book our rooms for us!
3. Six of us slept in a three person bedroom. A tight squeeze!
4. Once we got back to the airport we couldn't get through the train station doors! I had to sneak in with an old couple.
5. Ellie ate a hamburger with a fried egg on top...which led to food poisoning...which led to dehydration...which led to a hospital trip after she collapsed in the airport.
6. Our train was once again delayed, making us wait for an hour or more in the cold.
Now that I got THAT out of my system.
After arriving in Paris, we took the subway to the Jardin Tuileries. Paris is beautiful at night, and I was overcome with a sense of aweinspirationemotionblahhhh. I can see how so many writers and artists choose to live in Paris. Everywhere you look is beauty. Yet there is something about Paris, something distancing and perhaps cold, that reminded me that I did not belong. Or maybe it is that Paris does not wear its heart on its sleeve as Dublin does. The city reminded me of something both beautiful and damned (pardon the Fitzgerald ref.), something that when the surface was broken seemed somehow dangerous. It is for this reason that Paris both attracted and repelled me.
Since I was the only one who spoke french, it was my duty (well, Molly did speak a little, too...) to navigate us around the city. We stopped at a place where we got a plate of cheeses. AMAZING. Then we went into the Louvre for free. It is so big and so beautiful that it actually was overwhelming. We only made it to one section of the museum. I will go back with my mother in April and spend a day there, I am sure. We saw these amazing 16th century statues that truly showed the beauty of the human form. It was incredible to see that each vein in the arm, each curve in the thigh was perfectly represented in marble. I found myself staring at certain statues for several minutes contemplating how these artists could capture such life in cold stone.
After getting back to the hostel we decided to get dressed up and go exploring in the area called Bastille (?). There were many people there, including a sup rising amount of Americans. During the cab ride home I was able to have a conversation with the cab driver...in French! It is amazing how much I could remember the language after four years.
The next day we woke up early and took a free tour which started in the Latin Quarter at Saint Michel. Our tour guide was a fiery little Australian woman named Jacq. The tour lasted three and a half hours, and covered everything from the Notre Dame to the Musee D'Orsay. Jacq shared with us many interesting historical facts about France, and warned us about the gypsies who approach tourists and ask them "speak English?" in order to cheat them of money. After the tour we walked to the Arc de Triomphe, which was HUGE and beautiful. It is located in the center of one of the most dangerous rotaries in the world. Statistically speaking, every 30 minutes an accident happens. Most car insurance companies will not cover you if you get into an accident there. We then walked to the Eiffel Tower, which was breathtaking. It made me think of how on my parent's honeymoon they visited that exact spot. Now it was my turn to see the monument. I wonder how many generations of my family will see the Eiffel Tower.
Our last day in Paris, after walking around Montmatre and eating at a restaurant across from the Moulin Rouge, we went back to the Musee D'Orsay. For FREE! WOO! I was literally moved to tears after seeing Van Gogh's work...he is one of my favorites. While looking at his paintings I wished I could see the world as Van Gogh did. I could live in the colors he uses in his paintings. I also saw several works from Monet, Degas, Matisse, and Renior. One of my favorite pieces was from Henri Toulouse Lautrec called "Le Lit."
After the museum we headed back for London. I know I have only just scraped the surface of all that should be seen in Paris. I can't wait to go back in the Spring when it is warmer and even more beautiful (is it possible?) than it was in January.
More adventures to come.
The Dubliners.
Ah Dublin.
So in truth I sat here for five minutes trying to recall what exactly I did there. Like the fog that clouded the streets of Galway so was my brain...clouded. Whatever that sentence didn't make any sense. Im keepin' it.
Two Wednesdays ago, after seeing a lovely little (or rather, epic) play called War Horse (Its alright, Joey! Its alllllrightttttt.) Molly, Enka, Taylor, and I started packing for our trip to Dublin. We left Goldsmiths at 2:30 am and walked down to the bus stop. At this time New Cross was pretty dead, except for a young lad who was soon after nicknamed "Bloody Crutches." This gentlemen of sorts was also waiting for the bus. He found it fit to explain to us how he got this "fresh" blood all over his pants. Turns out he got the "lead pipe treatment" from his sister's boyfriend. But enough about that. I do not want to worry any relatives who might be reading this blog. Bloody Crutches was harmless, and we were very safe. Like most of our trips thus far, we began our journey by RUNNING to the bus which would take us to the inner sanctum of hell known most commonly as the Luton Airport. After taking a brisk 20 minute walk to the gate (LITERALLY. There were signs notifying the unknowing traveler that gate 26 was another 5 minutes away...) we became aware that NO ONE WAS THERE. Not even a flight attendant! NO ONE. After another hour people started arriving. Which was a relief.
We arrived in Dublin early in the morning. By that point we were delirious, having had no sleep for a day or so. We took a bus to our hostel, which was simply LOVELY. An angel sent from God by the name of Shawn welcomed us, took our bags, and directed us to the neared breakfast buffet. At the time the food there tasted good. Reflecting back on the whole food situation I now realize it was rather disgusting. But most of my five senses had long since revolted and closed shop. No matter. Right outside this breakfastbuffetblechhhh was a statue of James Joyce! What a strapping looking fellow he was. I took several pictures with him. We made our way back to the hostel where we slept in the common area on some gnarly looking couches. My mind was screaming SCABIESS SCABIESSS DISEASEEEE but my body won the fight. The cour of us conked out until 1 when we could check into our rooms.
At first we had a little bit of a freak out when we entered our hostel room. The heat had not yet been turned on and there were no blankets on the beds. Our poor minds could not process this information, and instead of asking someone to turn the heat on/provide us with blankets, we proceeded to freak out for several minutes. Shawn must have anticipated our woes, and had blankets brought up/heat blasted immediately.
Anxious to look around Dublin, (which is actually quite small!) we decided to go to the Irish Writer's Museum. Fresh off my trip to Westminster Abbey, this museum was a little anti-climactic. However, each station talked about an Irish Writer in great depth. It had never occurred to me how many of my fave writers were Irish! Wilde, Shaw, Joyce, Swift.... There were early publications of many written works, and rooms full of portraits. Totally Bangerag. After the museum we went into a traditional Irish pub. Or at least we thought we did...? It seems that wherever we go we are attracted to the tourist traps. I tried an Irish Coffee which was pretty disgusting and very strong. Thank God for Enka, who traded her Heineken for my alchocoffee. We went back to our hostel, showered, and went exploring. Of course on our way to Tritity we got distracted by several shops. Yet once we made it over the bridge (a very small one) we were near Trinity College! For dinner we went to the Oliver St. John Gogarty. The owner (and the pub's namesake) was actually a man on which James Joyce based the character of Buck Mulligan in "Ulysses!" Coooollllll. The pub was smallish and played really awesome oldies. The food was so delicious it managed to lift us from our funk. It was one of the best meals I have had since landing in Europe. My favorite meal of all time is shepherd's pie, and they had it! It was served with fat and crispy chips, and a glorious salad. With actual vegetables. And lettuce. There was so much food it was overwhelming. We all began to share our dinners like a reall familyyyy...awwwwww.
The next day we woke up bright and early at the crack of 10 and went on a free tour of Dublin. The tourguide was a ginger named Seamus. Seamus had recently graduated Trinity with a major in Literature and History! Becuase of this he made a swelll tourguide. We went to some really cool places, including the building where Swift was born in. After the tour Seamus showed us an amazing crepe place called Lemon where we had breakfast. Then I went and bought my wool Irish knit sweater which I have been wanting for SEVERAL years. We did a bit more shopping/looking around, and then got tea at a local Costa. We made our way back to the hostel where Michal and Alex were waiting :) We had just enough time to get ready before the pub crawl, which lasted until about 12.
On our third day in Ireland we went to Galway. The busride took FAR longer than we had hoped, and the entire city was enveloped in fog. All we did was go to a pub by the water and walk around. The people there were nice. I made friends with a crepe man, who made Alex and I a delicious banana and nutella crepe. We then walked around and went into a local coffee shop. Before we knew it we had to board the bus and go back to Dublin. That night we stayed in and got some rest.
On our final day we went to a tourist-y shop and bought some souvenirs. Then we walked to the Guinness Factory (a mistake) and went on the tour! The museum itself was actually REALLY cool. It was seven floors. On the first floor the four ingredients of Guiness were discussed. Water, Barley, Hops, and Yeast. Then on the second floor we learned just how Guiness was made. After that there were large sections of the museum devoted to old advertizements, beer glasses, and history. At the top floor which was made TOTALLY OF GLASS we got our free pint. This part was pretty incredible, as we could see all of Dublin. The bartender told us how to pour a perfect pint. If a beer could be like poetry, this beer was. It looked so amazing I didnt want to drink it! I soon got over that, however. It was some of the best beer I have ever had.
After the factory we went to Oliver St. John Gogarty's again. The food there was just so good. We needed to share our experience with Michal and Alex. We all ordered waters in order to save money (beer there was over 6 euro!) and the irish man playing with his band began to make fun of us. He then sang us a song to make up for it, though, which was nice. After the pub we made our way back to the airport.
We got home from Dublin at 3am. Phew. What a trip. Overall I had a very wonderful time. It sometimes seemed like the Irish really did not like America, although they always asked us about Obama. Little did I know of the dislike awaiting us in Paris! Dublin as small but packed with history, and had an intangible spirit of unity and sense of pride that I have not yet felt in any other city I have visited.
So in truth I sat here for five minutes trying to recall what exactly I did there. Like the fog that clouded the streets of Galway so was my brain...clouded. Whatever that sentence didn't make any sense. Im keepin' it.
Two Wednesdays ago, after seeing a lovely little (or rather, epic) play called War Horse (Its alright, Joey! Its alllllrightttttt.) Molly, Enka, Taylor, and I started packing for our trip to Dublin. We left Goldsmiths at 2:30 am and walked down to the bus stop. At this time New Cross was pretty dead, except for a young lad who was soon after nicknamed "Bloody Crutches." This gentlemen of sorts was also waiting for the bus. He found it fit to explain to us how he got this "fresh" blood all over his pants. Turns out he got the "lead pipe treatment" from his sister's boyfriend. But enough about that. I do not want to worry any relatives who might be reading this blog. Bloody Crutches was harmless, and we were very safe. Like most of our trips thus far, we began our journey by RUNNING to the bus which would take us to the inner sanctum of hell known most commonly as the Luton Airport. After taking a brisk 20 minute walk to the gate (LITERALLY. There were signs notifying the unknowing traveler that gate 26 was another 5 minutes away...) we became aware that NO ONE WAS THERE. Not even a flight attendant! NO ONE. After another hour people started arriving. Which was a relief.
We arrived in Dublin early in the morning. By that point we were delirious, having had no sleep for a day or so. We took a bus to our hostel, which was simply LOVELY. An angel sent from God by the name of Shawn welcomed us, took our bags, and directed us to the neared breakfast buffet. At the time the food there tasted good. Reflecting back on the whole food situation I now realize it was rather disgusting. But most of my five senses had long since revolted and closed shop. No matter. Right outside this breakfastbuffetblechhhh was a statue of James Joyce! What a strapping looking fellow he was. I took several pictures with him. We made our way back to the hostel where we slept in the common area on some gnarly looking couches. My mind was screaming SCABIESS SCABIESSS DISEASEEEE but my body won the fight. The cour of us conked out until 1 when we could check into our rooms.
At first we had a little bit of a freak out when we entered our hostel room. The heat had not yet been turned on and there were no blankets on the beds. Our poor minds could not process this information, and instead of asking someone to turn the heat on/provide us with blankets, we proceeded to freak out for several minutes. Shawn must have anticipated our woes, and had blankets brought up/heat blasted immediately.
Anxious to look around Dublin, (which is actually quite small!) we decided to go to the Irish Writer's Museum. Fresh off my trip to Westminster Abbey, this museum was a little anti-climactic. However, each station talked about an Irish Writer in great depth. It had never occurred to me how many of my fave writers were Irish! Wilde, Shaw, Joyce, Swift.... There were early publications of many written works, and rooms full of portraits. Totally Bangerag. After the museum we went into a traditional Irish pub. Or at least we thought we did...? It seems that wherever we go we are attracted to the tourist traps. I tried an Irish Coffee which was pretty disgusting and very strong. Thank God for Enka, who traded her Heineken for my alchocoffee. We went back to our hostel, showered, and went exploring. Of course on our way to Tritity we got distracted by several shops. Yet once we made it over the bridge (a very small one) we were near Trinity College! For dinner we went to the Oliver St. John Gogarty. The owner (and the pub's namesake) was actually a man on which James Joyce based the character of Buck Mulligan in "Ulysses!" Coooollllll. The pub was smallish and played really awesome oldies. The food was so delicious it managed to lift us from our funk. It was one of the best meals I have had since landing in Europe. My favorite meal of all time is shepherd's pie, and they had it! It was served with fat and crispy chips, and a glorious salad. With actual vegetables. And lettuce. There was so much food it was overwhelming. We all began to share our dinners like a reall familyyyy...awwwwww.
The next day we woke up bright and early at the crack of 10 and went on a free tour of Dublin. The tourguide was a ginger named Seamus. Seamus had recently graduated Trinity with a major in Literature and History! Becuase of this he made a swelll tourguide. We went to some really cool places, including the building where Swift was born in. After the tour Seamus showed us an amazing crepe place called Lemon where we had breakfast. Then I went and bought my wool Irish knit sweater which I have been wanting for SEVERAL years. We did a bit more shopping/looking around, and then got tea at a local Costa. We made our way back to the hostel where Michal and Alex were waiting :) We had just enough time to get ready before the pub crawl, which lasted until about 12.
On our third day in Ireland we went to Galway. The busride took FAR longer than we had hoped, and the entire city was enveloped in fog. All we did was go to a pub by the water and walk around. The people there were nice. I made friends with a crepe man, who made Alex and I a delicious banana and nutella crepe. We then walked around and went into a local coffee shop. Before we knew it we had to board the bus and go back to Dublin. That night we stayed in and got some rest.
On our final day we went to a tourist-y shop and bought some souvenirs. Then we walked to the Guinness Factory (a mistake) and went on the tour! The museum itself was actually REALLY cool. It was seven floors. On the first floor the four ingredients of Guiness were discussed. Water, Barley, Hops, and Yeast. Then on the second floor we learned just how Guiness was made. After that there were large sections of the museum devoted to old advertizements, beer glasses, and history. At the top floor which was made TOTALLY OF GLASS we got our free pint. This part was pretty incredible, as we could see all of Dublin. The bartender told us how to pour a perfect pint. If a beer could be like poetry, this beer was. It looked so amazing I didnt want to drink it! I soon got over that, however. It was some of the best beer I have ever had.
After the factory we went to Oliver St. John Gogarty's again. The food there was just so good. We needed to share our experience with Michal and Alex. We all ordered waters in order to save money (beer there was over 6 euro!) and the irish man playing with his band began to make fun of us. He then sang us a song to make up for it, though, which was nice. After the pub we made our way back to the airport.
We got home from Dublin at 3am. Phew. What a trip. Overall I had a very wonderful time. It sometimes seemed like the Irish really did not like America, although they always asked us about Obama. Little did I know of the dislike awaiting us in Paris! Dublin as small but packed with history, and had an intangible spirit of unity and sense of pride that I have not yet felt in any other city I have visited.
It's Ketchup Time! Westminster.
AHHHHH! So its been approximately two weeks since I've blogged. I suppose its ketchup time.
Two Wednesdays ago I went to Westminster Abbey. It was the first time since being in London that I was truly moved to tears by any place that I visited. Where specifically was I emoting all over the place? In Poet's Corner. (Would you expect any less from me?) Buried underneath me were some of the greatest writerspoetscomposersthinkers that ever lived. Browning. Chaucer. Tennyson. Dickens. These men have in some form or another inspired me, frustrated me, or "spoke" to me in my years studying literature. BAHH! AMAZING. Also at the Abbey was Sir Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin. Did I mention Queen Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots? Eh? It was far too much for me to handle. Having all of those incredibly influential people buried under one roof. I suppose it was TMI- too much incrediblosity.
After spending several hours exploring Westminster listening to a commentary courtesy of Jeremy Irons (yes, that would be the voice of Scar in the Lion King), we (and by "we" I mean the amazing Alex, Michal and Taylor,) listened to Evensong. This service took place in the central area of Westminster. A place where Princess Diana's funeral service took place. Handel was buried only a few feet away from where I was sitting. The organ music was almost eerie when coupled with the soprano voices of the young choir boys. It was a very odd sensation sitting there and listening to it all. The music seemed to drift above us and lift our own minds and souls to a higher place. That sounds terribly cheesy I know. But don't knock it until you try it.
After our four hour Westminster visiting extravaganza, we went to the Red Lion Pub located across from Parliament. It was filled with members of Parliament who were drinking in the downstairs bar area...this area was decorated in rich mahogany, was terribly small, and was void of women. With that said, we decided to dine upstairs. Now until this point I had not eaten a proper meal while in London. I ordered the sausage casserole, which turned out to be a mix of homemade sausage and vegetables, served with a side of mashed potatoes. It was life changing. I almost wept. The four of us also shared THREE AMAZING Desserts, including a Sticky Toffee Pudding served with warm custard. Heaven. As you can tell thus far, my friends and I are equally as passionate about food as we are about sight-seeing. After our meal we made our way down to the bar with a new found confidence. We ordered "Honey Dew" Beer, which was brewed a few blocks away. This beer was light and sweet with undertones of..you guessed it...honey. However, I was so full from our feast that I could not even make a dent in my pint. Alas.
I went home this day feeling full. Physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually...full.
Two Wednesdays ago I went to Westminster Abbey. It was the first time since being in London that I was truly moved to tears by any place that I visited. Where specifically was I emoting all over the place? In Poet's Corner. (Would you expect any less from me?) Buried underneath me were some of the greatest writerspoetscomposersthinkers that ever lived. Browning. Chaucer. Tennyson. Dickens. These men have in some form or another inspired me, frustrated me, or "spoke" to me in my years studying literature. BAHH! AMAZING. Also at the Abbey was Sir Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin. Did I mention Queen Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots? Eh? It was far too much for me to handle. Having all of those incredibly influential people buried under one roof. I suppose it was TMI- too much incrediblosity.
After spending several hours exploring Westminster listening to a commentary courtesy of Jeremy Irons (yes, that would be the voice of Scar in the Lion King), we (and by "we" I mean the amazing Alex, Michal and Taylor,) listened to Evensong. This service took place in the central area of Westminster. A place where Princess Diana's funeral service took place. Handel was buried only a few feet away from where I was sitting. The organ music was almost eerie when coupled with the soprano voices of the young choir boys. It was a very odd sensation sitting there and listening to it all. The music seemed to drift above us and lift our own minds and souls to a higher place. That sounds terribly cheesy I know. But don't knock it until you try it.
After our four hour Westminster visiting extravaganza, we went to the Red Lion Pub located across from Parliament. It was filled with members of Parliament who were drinking in the downstairs bar area...this area was decorated in rich mahogany, was terribly small, and was void of women. With that said, we decided to dine upstairs. Now until this point I had not eaten a proper meal while in London. I ordered the sausage casserole, which turned out to be a mix of homemade sausage and vegetables, served with a side of mashed potatoes. It was life changing. I almost wept. The four of us also shared THREE AMAZING Desserts, including a Sticky Toffee Pudding served with warm custard. Heaven. As you can tell thus far, my friends and I are equally as passionate about food as we are about sight-seeing. After our meal we made our way down to the bar with a new found confidence. We ordered "Honey Dew" Beer, which was brewed a few blocks away. This beer was light and sweet with undertones of..you guessed it...honey. However, I was so full from our feast that I could not even make a dent in my pint. Alas.
I went home this day feeling full. Physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually...full.
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