Category Archives: Europe

Barcelona in Pictures

Lisa and I went through all of our pictures from Barcelona, and here are our favorites. (You can click on any picture to see a larger version. Once there, you can click through to the next one. Nice, eh?)

I’ll write more about the trip itself soon.

Posted in Europe, I am Rembrandt, Photography, Travel | Leave a comment

Your “Property”

Iberia was running late. When we checked in, our flight from Barcelona to Madrid was already close enough that we had “Short Connection” stickers on our luggage. And now they were running late. We arrived in Madrid with less than a half-hour to make our flight to Boston. We didn’t know which part of the terminal we had to go to make the connection, but we knew that it was in another building and that we had to take a train to get there. The signs directing us said to expect to take 21-28 minutes.We would have run to and from the train, but Lisa was carrying the ceramic vase we bought, so we fast-marched through the airport.

When we arrived at E.U. exit control there were no other passengers there—thanks to the fast march—but I decided to use the “connections with less than 1/2 hour” lanes out of principle. The border guards looked at my passport, (maybe) looked at me, used his big stamp, and waved us through. Fortunately, we didn’t have to go through security again, and we just had one small stop before our gate where they double-checked people with American passports to make sure that we had them and were on the up-and-up.

Simple. And appropriate. If we had looked suspicious or acted oddly or not been running through the airport to catch our flight, I’m sure we might have gotten a little extra scrutiny. And that makes sense.

Furthermore, when we were going through security at Barcelona’s airport it was an easy and relaxed experience. Here’s what it was like. First, after waiting in almost no line, someone who looks an ordinary civil servant looks at your passport and boarding pass to make sure you’re going the right place and have the documentation to get there. Next, you take all of the metal out of your pockets, take off your jacket, watch and belt, and go through the magnetometer, to meet your items on the other side of the X-ray machine. The security guard sees your pump, points at it, gives you the thumbs up, and goes about his business. Your pants may hang low; they may wobble to and fro; but you can throw your bags over your shoulder and saunter over to a nice collection of tables to reassemble yourself. The trays aren’t deep, decaying, table-busing tubs; instead, they’re shallow, smooth, and easy to take things out of. Your Euros slide nicely back into your hand and into your pocket without you needing to scrape your fingers along the bottom of the tray to retrieve them.

Notice that at no time did you have to (a) take off your shoes, (b) get an aggressive pat-down, (c) let go of your wallet, (d) explain your medical device, or (e) feel rushed or under suspicion.

Let’s compare and contrast this with going through security at Boston’s Logan International Airport—with which I am quite familiar—the last three or four times.

You arrive at the airport, check in, and go to a long security queue where a uniformed representative of the U.S. government looks at your documents under a black light and then back at you skeptically, considers the situation, and then writes something inscrutable on your boarding pass which might translate into “Bonne Voyage!” or “Send this man directly to Gitmo.” You go through another queue where you jostle with other people who are taking everything out of their pockets—wallet, coins, keys, glucose tablets, Kleenex, scraps of paper, chapstick, the random Stop & Shop card, etc.—and putting it into a bin along with their belt, shoes, jacket, and watch. You walk (in your socks with a hole near the big toe) to another uniformed officer, point at your pump and say, “I’m not supposed to take this through the back-scatter X-ray imager.” To which he replies, “It’s okay. You weren’t supposed to take them through the magnetometers.” Uh-huh. Okay. You’re the boss, chief.

You stand, holding your pump facing a device that showers you with X-rays. They say it’s safe, but radiologists who have looked at the images suggest it actually does penetrate the skin and sinus cavities and have called it “the biggest low-dose radiation clinical trial without informed consent ever performed” (or something like that). Another TSA agent somewhere else can see that you don’t have any weapons, but then you will still get an extra-thorough pat-down.

After a few seconds, you step out of the machine so a guy (for me) can ask, “What side is your property on?” Do you mean my pump? “No. Your property.” Oh. My junk. The one thing I didn’t take out of my pants. Uh huh. And then comes the very thorough going over. Up one leg. Down the other. All the way around the inside of my waistband of my pants. Down both arms (since they were less visible because I was instructed to hold my pump in my hand.

Going to Buffalo last week, after the TSA agent who swabbed my pump and hands walked away to test for explosive residue, the woman behind me said quietly, “Makes you want to go through again, huh?” We New Englanders have dry cynicism down cold.

Eventually, once it’s clear to The Man that you’re not a terrorist, you get to go collect all of your stuff that’s been sitting unattended on the X-ray belt: wallet, fancy watch, coins, glucose tablets, Stop & Shop card, hand luggage, etc. Plus, oh yeah, your shoes and belt. Good luck finding a nice, out-of-the-way place to put everything back on. You’re going to be in the way and feel rushed.

And don’t get me started about coming back into the U.S. from another country. Getting into Canada is easy: “Are you transporting anything to sell or give away in Canada? Do you have any guns?” The UK and E.U. don’t care about anything as long as you’re not trying to stay for an extended period of time. Australians (and Californians) just want to make sure you aren’t bringing any microbes in that might destroy the local flora and fauna.

But coming back into the U.S. lately has involved a whole bunch of suspicious questions and needless queuing, especially to declare that I have nothing to declare. Just put an “OK” stamp on the duty card and let us walk out of the airport already. Jebus.

Is this really the right way to make us safe? Has this actually stopped anything? (I doubt it. And you know if it had, the TSA would be crowing about all of the Mega-Badness they prevented.) So why treat passengers like criminals? (BTW, I get less intense scrutiny when I visit my brother in the pokey.) Why subject us to extra-thorough screening because we have medical devices? (It’s not like they haven’t seen insulin pumps or CGM transmitters before.) Why, more than ten years after 9/11, do we still have a ridiculous system for getting through airport security and customs?

I have my suspicions, but I’ll just keep them to myself so that I don’t get branded as anti-American and put on a “no fly” list.

Hint, it’s part of the “fortress mentality.” (Which is also the reason why architecture from the 1960s and 1970s sucked so bad.)

Posted in Canada, Diabetes, Europe, This is who we are, Travel | 2 Comments

Odds and Ends, Follow-up Edition

Hi, dear readers. The big post about our recent trip to Barcelona is going to need to wait a little bit longer. I’m still a bit jet-lagged, and I’ve just barely started going through the 1,700+ photos from our trip. But I have a lot to say, and I’m eager to get it down. Especially since I leave for Canada tomorrow to run Around the Bay and meet some wonderful people. I seem only to be able to think about one thing at a time, so it’s best to get it out of the way before embarking on a new adventure.

Speaking of tying up loose ends, here are a few follow-ups to recent posts.

I. What to listen to next? I wanted to listen to something new, but I wasn’t sure where to go next. Then yesterday on the way home, I heard an NPR segment on U.K. reggae. (It’s okay. You can admit that you listened to it to, and that you occasionally discover new music via public radio. Your sense of being special and nonconformist is safe here, friends.) One of my earliest memories of music that made me sit up and take notice was hearing a bit of calypso, so it feels a bit like diving back into the music of my early youth. Years later, when I first started listening to some early 80s British music, I was amazed at how much reggae and ska influence there was in it. (And then there’s this.) So why not dig into reggae for a while?

II. No hablo español. Turns out, you don’t need to know Spanish to have a good time in Barcelona; most of the shop clerks, hotel folks, and wait staff knew enough English for us to communicate. And the locals are at least as friendly as the French to people who try to speak a few words of the local language before asking if they know English. (I will grudgingly say the Spaniards are perhaps even a little friendlier.)

Often people could tell after my first few words of Spanish that I wasn’t very proficient, and they just switched to English. Evidently, Lisa and I don’t look Spanish either. One woman at the Madrid airport tried to say something to me in Spanish, which I didn’t understand, so then she asked, “Nicht verstehen?” (“You don’t understand?”) After I answered, “No,” she proceeded to try to speak to me in German. She could have also said one of the two or three things in Arabic I remember—”لا أفهم؟”—and my answer would have been the same. (I was telling Lisa how bizarre it is that I can say “I don’t understand” in Arabic and German but not Spanish.) So I countered with “¿Habla ingles?” and “Parlez-vous français?” with the same result. My helping her was not meant to be. Anyway, I guess that we look more German than Spanish.

Thanks to “Sesame Street” and my mom teaching me a few words as a preschooler, I can count to twenty and be on the look out for “entradas” and “salidas” and “peligro.” When we had to use Spanish, we were still able to buy things and order food, and I even gave directions to a woman looking for the street she was walking on. By the time we left I had the simplest of conversations with the check-in agent at the Iberia desk in Barcelona, which only broke down when she asked what kind of seats we wanted for the flight back to Boston. I laughed when she said that I speak Spanish very well, and she seemed amused when I said that I don’t speak Spanish at all.

And then there’s Catalan, which was everywhere in Barcelona. It’s a beautiful, funny thing that sounds not quite French and not quite Spanish. At any rate, I found the Catalan menus easier to read than the Spanish ones. Boy oh boy, did I want to speak French a lot on this trip. . . .

III. City Running. I have decided that big cities are not easy places to run in unless you’re willing to make a commitment to travel to a nice place to run: along the Seine or Thames, Central Park in New York, the Domain in Sydney, the waterfront in any city lucky enough to have one, etc. Suburbs are easy enough to manage, but if you’re staying in the city where all the action is, there’s just so much stopping and starting.

Except Boston. Somehow Boston has been blessed with plenty of long streets with minor side streets, meaning you usually don’t have to stop at every corner. And these streets take you quickly to the Charles River trails or to the Emerald Necklace and its parks. I’m trying not to sound parochial—especially since I don’t run in Boston often—but the number of people running all over Boston at any time of day just helps prove the point that Boston might be one of the best running cities in the world.

Nevertheless, I needed to run on our trip. This vacation was a perfect time to taper, but I still had to put a few miles in every other day just to keep my legs fresh and ready. (My orange New Balance shirt and I have now run in five countries on three continents.) So if you’re staying in the L’Eixample neighborhood of Barcelona and you need to run a few miles, what to do? First, use the Passeig de Gràcia or the Rambla Catalunya to head to La Rambla, the super-touristy pedestrian area. If you finish your run before 9:00AM, you don’t have to dodge many people. Also—and this seems true for most European cities—head to the old city where the streets are one-way, windy, narrow, and designed for pedestrians. You’ll often get lucky and an early-morning delivery vehicle will block traffic, letting you run in the street without too much worry.

Just have a good idea where you’re going and don’t get lost.

IV. Pool ladies. Honestly, it would be easier if the four of them weren’t trying to swim in my lane.

Posted in Europe, Life Lessons, Running, Swimming, Travel | Leave a comment

Santa Maria del Pi

We’re back. It was a great trip, and I have so much to say about it and Barcelona. Right now, though, I’m so tired. It feels like 2:30 AM tomorrow morning, even though it’s not yet 10:00PM in Massachusetts. So you will have to wait a little bit longer for the travelogue and pictures.

In the meantime, here’s a little scene we stumbled upon on Sunday.

(Watch this video on YouTube.)

The amazing thing about this is that the church and the neighborhood are only a couple blocks away from La Rambla, the busiest, most touristy part of Barcelona, but it felt like another city entirely. It was the best kind of travel accident.

Posted in Europe, Travel, Video | 2 Comments

Wicked Nervous

We’re going to Barcelona tomorrow, and I’m having a wee bit of anxiety. Somehow I feel unprepared. We haven’t even packed yet, I don’t 100% sure how we’re getting from the airport to the hotel. And I don’t know Spanish or Catalán.

But everyone says Barcelona is fantastic, and even Lisa says not to fret.

So I won’t.

Much.

And probably not at all after we arrive.

¡Ay!

Posted in Europe, Travel | Leave a comment

Tora! Tora! Tories!

Elections are coming soon in the U.K. Here’s a little something for my British coworkers and readers:

Posted in Europe, General | Leave a comment

Oh the places you’ll go…

Lisa and I recently booked our tickets to Wyoming for the week of Thanksgiving. We hadn’t expected this trip — we had thought we would be hosting holiday festivities — but I’m very happy that we’ll be in the Cowboy State again so soon. Then, a month later, we’ll be in Oregon for Christmas.

It seems like we’ve been traveling a lot this year. If you’d asked me after our western adventure last year, I wouldn’t have expected any of this (except maybe Christmas and the cruise in February). Here’s what we’ve done this year so far.

Denver International Airport (January 2009)
Denver International Airport (January 2009)
Downtown San Jose (January 2009)
Downtown San Jose (January 2009)
Aboard the Carnival Destiny (February 2009)
Aboard the Carnival Destiny (February 2009)
Can you find me?
Can you find me?
Notre Dame - Paris (March 2009)
Notre Dame – Paris (March 2009)
Paris from the Arc de Triomphe
Paris from the Arc de Triomphe
The Champs Elysees - Paris
The Champs Elysees – Paris
At the Louvre - Paris
At the Louvre – Paris
Place de la Concorde - Paris
Place de la Concorde – Paris
Monmartre - Paris
Monmartre – Paris
View from the Eiffel Tower - Paris
View from the Eiffel Tower – Paris
Musee d'Orsay - Paris
Musee d’Orsay – Paris
View of the Seine - Paris
View of the Seine – Paris
View of the Pont Neuf - Paris
View of the Pont Neuf – Paris
Notre Dame - Paris
Notre Dame – Paris
Inside Notre Dame - Paris
Inside Notre Dame – Paris
Place des Vosges - Paris
Place des Vosges – Paris
Jardins des Tuilleries - Paris
Jardins des Tuilleries – Paris
Parisian sunset
Parisian sunset
Crocuses (March 2009)
Crocuses (March 2009)
National Gallery of Art - DC (April 2009)
National Gallery of Art – DC (April 2009)
Cherry Blossoms - DC
Cherry Blossoms – DC
Cherry Blossoms - DC
Cherry Blossoms – DC
National Air and Space Museum - DC
National Air and Space Museum – DC
Temple Square - Salt Lake City (April 2009)
Temple Square – Salt Lake City (April 2009)
Salt Lake City Temple
Salt Lake City Temple
Packing in Moab - UT
Packing in Moab – UT
Arches NP - UT
Arches NP – UT
Canyonlands - UT
Canyonlands – UT
Canyonlands - UT
Canyonlands – UT
Canyonlands - UT
Canyonlands – UT
The Hobos - UT
The Hobos – UT
Looking out over Canyonlands - UT
Looking out over Canyonlands – UT
Our friends' baby (April 2009)
Our friends’ baby (April 2009)
Courtney - Boston (May 2009)
Courtney – Boston (May 2009)
Hitting on proto-feminists - Boston
Hitting on proto-feminists – Boston
Walk for Hunger - Cambridge (May 2009)
Walk for Hunger – Cambridge (May 2009)
Kerry and Lisa - Worcester (May 2009)
Kerry and Lisa – Worcester (May 2009)
My father's apartment - Des Moines (May 2009)
My father’s apartment – Des Moines (May 2009)
Humboldt - IA
Humboldt – IA
Great-aunt and uncle's farm - IA
Great-aunt and uncle’s farm – IA
Family reunion - IA
Family reunion – IA
My cousin and her cutie - IA
My cousin and her cutie – IA
Hiking Mount Monadnock - NH (May 2009)
Hiking Mount Monadnock – NH (May 2009)
Hiking Mount Monadnock - NH (May 2009)
Hiking Mount Monadnock – NH (May 2009)
Hiking Mount Greylock - MA (July 2009)
Hiking Mount Greylock – MA (July 2009)
Norma and Kerry - Boston (July 2009)
Norma and Kerry – Boston (July 2009)
At Fenway Park - Boston (July 2009)
At Fenway Park – Boston (July 2009)
Happy Tooth Day - Boston
Happy Tooth Day – Boston
Kitty (July 2009)
Kitty (July 2009)
At Sail Boston (July 2009)
At Sail Boston (July 2009)
Aboard the U.S.S. Eagle - Boston
Aboard the U.S.S. Eagle – Boston
National Gallery of Art - DC (August 2009)
National Gallery of Art – DC (August 2009)
Farmer Jeff's meager haul of beans (August 2009)
Farmer Jeff’s meager haul of beans (August 2009)
Hiking in the Great Blue Hills (August 2009)
Hiking in the Great Blue Hills (August 2009)
Taking a break from riding - Medfield (August 2009)
Taking a break from riding – Medfield (August 2009)
Toilet repair (September 2009)
Toilet repair (September 2009)
Setting off from Salisbury, CT (September 2009)
Setting off from Salisbury, CT (September 2009)
Rendez-vous in Pittsfield - MA
Rendez-vous in Pittsfield – MA
Too much traveling? - Winfield, KS (October 2009)
Too much traveling? – Winfield, KS (October 2009)
Relatives' shoes - KS
Relatives’ shoes – KS
Lisa's new BFF - KS
Lisa’s new BFF – KS
Steve, Lisa's brother - KS
Steve, Lisa’s brother – KS
Lisa and her dad - KS
Lisa and her dad – KS
Family portrait - KS
Family portrait – KS
At the Sonic - KS
At the Sonic – KS
Checking in for another flight - Tucson, AZ (October 2009)
Checking in for another flight – Tucson, AZ (October 2009)
Tucson Mountain Park - AZ
Tucson Mountain Park – AZ
Ocotillo = Ouch - AZ
Ocotillo = Ouch – AZ
A brief respite - AZ
A brief respite – AZ
At the reception with Mary - AZ
At the reception with Mary – AZ
Adam, the groom - AZ
Adam, the groom – AZ
Heading out to ride around the Quabbin (October 2009)
Heading out to ride around the Quabbin (October 2009)
In New Salem, MA
In New Salem, MA
Taking a break in Hardwick, MA
Taking a break in Hardwick, MA
Quabbin Hill Road - MA
Quabbin Hill Road – MA
Our traveling tires out Kitty (October 2009)
Our traveling tires out Kitty (October 2009)
Metropolitan Museum of Art - NYC (November 2009)
Metropolitan Museum of Art – NYC (November 2009)
Posted in City of Light, Cycling, Europe, NaBloPoMo, NaBloPoMo 2009, Photography, Travel, USA | 3 Comments

Paris in Pictures – Day 4

On our fourth and final full day in Paris, we went to a couple of small museums that didn’t allow photography inside, and we did a little shopping, too. The weather was perfect for walking, so Lisa suggested that we walk from the Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe. It was quite nice.

Click any picture for a larger version. You can also read all about our trip and see photographs from day one, two, or three.


Our Hotel on rue de Buci.


More great grafitti.


Crêpes . . . mmm.


These kids at Notre Dame de Paris went to my high school in Iowa.


Stained glass inside Notre Dame.


Stained glass inside Notre Dame.


Inside Notre Dame.


Jeff’s new wardrobe.


Our new car.


The art covering the scaffolding bisected the whole Musée Picasso.


Self-portrait at the Musée Picasso.


Self-portrait at the Musée Picasso.


The Place des Vosges.


The Place des Vosges.


Not sure what these kids were doing at the Place des Vosges.


At the Place des Vosges.


Not sure what the big deal is these days about the Place de la Bastille.


The Institut de France.


The view of rue de Buci from our window.


Parisians.


Lisa has fly-away hair.


Lisa at the Louvre.


At the start of our walk from the Louvre to the Arc de Triomphe.


Flowers? For me?


In the Jardins des Tuileries. Do we really have to leave Paris?


Sunset over the Seine.


Sunset over the Seine.

Posted in City of Light, Europe, Photography, Travel | 3 Comments

Paris in Pictures – Day 3

The Eiffel Tower is a beautiful structure, and we seemed to make a lot of photographs of it. On our third day, we also visited the Musée d’Orsay, which had plenty of great art and opportunities for people-watching. The late afternoon walk along the Seine back to our hotel was really wonderful. Here are some photos; you can also see day one and two.


Below the Eiffel Tower.


In the elevator going up.


View northward from the Eiffel Tower.


The Jardins du Trocadéro from the Eiffel Tower.


Paris from the Eiffel Tower.


Looking up at the top.


Lots of steel.


Everyone is waiting to take the elevator down…


The stairs were much more enjoyable.


View from the first level.


View below the Eiffel Tower.


The Eiffel Tower.


The Jardins du Trocadéro.


Lisa’s picture of us at the Eiffel Tower.


Do I really look like that when I check my photos?


After a satisfying walk down the tower.


One last close-up look.


At the Champ de Mars.


More us . . . more Eiffel Tower.


The Eiffel Tower from the Champ de mars.


The Eiffel Tower from the Champ de mars.


Resting.


View of the Eiffel Tower from the Trocadéro.


The Musée d’Orsay.


Those 19th century painters only had one thing on their minds.


At the Musée d’Orsay.


After our day at the Musée d’Orsay, the David LaChapelle exhibit didn’t seem so racy.


Whistler’s mother and father?


Along the Seine.


Along the Seine.


Rue du Bac, Paris.


The Pont Neuf and the Seine.


Hold me.


Nortre Dame de Paris cathedral.

Posted in City of Light, Europe, Photography, Travel | 3 Comments

Paris in Pictures – Day 2

On our second day in Paris, Lisa and I went to the Louvre and Montmartre. You can see pictures from the first day, too.


The cheese delivery people.


Naughty nurses for scooters?


M. Voltaire.


Inside the pyramid at the Louvre.


Extra sculptures.


The winged Nike of Samothrace.


By the Mona Lisa.


By the Mona Lisa.


Napoleon wills us to be strong as we tour the Louvre.


In the Louvre.


Lamps in the Louvre.


Paintings in the Rubens room.


French sculpture.


French sculpture.


The head of that crazy French dude.


After several hours in the Louvre, this is how we felt…


Okay, we actually felt quite good.


Plotting out our next move.


In the Louvre.


Oh look! It’s the Venus de Milo.


Posing by the Venus de Milo.


Photographing the Venus de Milo.


I think the young woman was live-blogging her Louvre experience.


Pondering Ingres.


Psyche holds on as Cupid listens to the audio tour.


Psyche and Cupid.


Outside the Louvre.


Outside the Louvre.


View of the Eiffel Tower from the Jardins des Tuileries.


Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel.


In the Jardins des Tuileries.


In the Jardins des Tuileries.


In the Jardins des Tuileries.


In the Jardins des Tuileries.


View of the Eiffel Tower from the Place de la Concorde.


They say Paris is a very romantic city…


The Obelisque and the Place de la Concorde.


The Champs Elysées.


Lisa and the Obelisque.


10K race in Montmartre.


Grafitti in Montmartre.


Basilique du Sacre Cœur, Montmartre.


View of Paris from Montmartre.


Fence at Sacre Cœur.


Montmartre.


Montmartre.


Basilique du Sacre Cœur, Montmartre.


Carrousel on rue Tardieu, Montmartre.


The Louvre at night.


The Eiffel Tower and Jardins des Tuileries at night.

Posted in City of Light, Europe, Photography, Travel | Leave a comment

Paris in pictures – Day 1

Here are some pictures from the first day of our trip to Paris last week. (Click any image for larger.) Pictures from other days are on the way. . . .


On the bus to Logan.


Notre Dame de Paris cathedral.


Faux façade on the police headquarters.


Statue of Charlemagne. When I failed to show adequate interest, Lisa knew I wasn’t feeling well.


Sleeping in the hotel lobby.


Grafitti outside our hotel.


Mural on the police headquarters.


At Notre Dame.


Notre Dame gargoyles.


Inside Notre Dame.


Inside Notre Dame.


The south rose window, Notre Dame.


The south rose window, Notre Dame.


Inside Notre Dame.


Inside Notre Dame.


Inside Notre Dame.


Saint Denis, Notre Dame.


Judgement day scene, Notre Dame.


Notre Dame.


Notre Dame.


Notre Dame.


Lisa at Notre Dame.


Jeff at Notre Dame.


Île-Saint-Louis.


Île-de-la-Cité.


The Rive Droite.


Cheese store on the Île-Saint-Louis.


View of La Défense from the Arc de Triomphe.


Atop the Arc de Triomphe.


The Eiffel Tower.


The Eiffel Tower.


The Champs Elysées from the Arc de Triomphe.


Lisa and Jeff atop the Arc de Triomphe.


Study of a crazy French dude.


Lisa descending the Arc de Triomphe.


The Arc de Triomphe.


The Arc de Triomphe.


The Arc de Triomphe.


The Arc de Triomphe.


Lisa at the Etoille.


Tomb of the unknown soldier.


The Saint-Michel Metro station.


Notre Dame at night.


Street Poet on the Pont Saint-Louis.


Paris at night.

Posted in City of Light, Europe, Photography, Travel | 1 Comment

Grandes Expectations, a.k.a “Four Days in Paris”

We’ve just done something that I’ve been wanting to do for almost twenty years. Lisa and I returned yesterday from a short trip to Paris, France. We had a great time, and it’s going to be a little hard to go back to work tomorrow. I suspect we could have enjoyed several more days in Paris, but it seems like the right amount of time for a first (but definitely not last) time.

I first dreamed of going to Paris during high school when French was one of my favorite subjects. I studied it for five years before jumping straight into a 300-level French literature course in my first semester at Grinnell. Taking that class was something of a mistake, since I was a bit out of depth in terms of study skills. It was also my last French course, and I was a little worried that after fifteen years of not speaking French I would flounder helplessly around the streets of Paris; but I realized I was doing fine when I started rather effortlessly thinking of ways to insult the panhandlers (as well as other Americans) en français. To be honest, the only really difficult thing was ordering ice cream.

(Before going too much farther, I want to give a big, big shout out to the staff at the Hotel de Buci in the Saint Germain des Prés section of the 6e arrondisement. I didn’t feel very well a few hours after our red-eye flight landed on Friday morning. And although we arrived about five hours before check-in time, they had us in a room by 10:00AM. It’s these little acts that make all of the difference. So, “Merci beaucoups, Hotel de Buci!”)

We arrived Friday morning without much of a plan for the next four days. We knew we wanted to see some of the big attractions that everyone visits — Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame de Paris, Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre, Montmartre — but we wanted to just do whatever struck our fancy. And I think that was exactly the right way to see Paris. Like good Calvinists, we awoke around 8:30 most mornings, which was a couple hours before our neighborhood got going, although the museums and monuments were open by the time we arrived.

On Friday — after my refreshing nap — we went back to Notre Dame (where I had first realized I wasn’t feeling well), walked around the two main islands in the Seine, and climbed the Arc de Triomphe. I love the way Paris looks, with its dense, low-rise cityscape. And our first day was a great introduction to the place. You can’t do much better than looking down on the city or loitering on a quiet bridge of the Seine eating Berthillon ice cream in the early spring sunshine while someone nearby plays an accordion.

Saturday and Sunday were museum and monument days. The Louvre was much bigger than I had expected; we only saw about a quarter or a third of it. I still don’t understand the big deal about the Mona Lisa; but she distracted everyone, and we had a room full of Rembrandt paintings to ourselves. And I had never seen the tiny ship on the horizon in Gericault’s Raft of the Medusa before I saw the larger than life-size painting. It’s always wonderful to see art that I’ve only ever experienced in books, since it’s (usually) much larger and more detailed. And the works are also (usually) situated amidst other contemporaneous works that provide a richer context. That’s all true at the Louvre, but I think half the fun of the Louvre is people-watching. I think the Musée d’Orsay was my favorite of the three museums we visited. (On Monday we went to the Picasso Museum.)

M. Eiffel’s tower was so much more amazing than I had ever expected it would be. The London Eye was great, to be sure; but it’s a recent creation. I kept wondering at the fascination a Parisian must have felt upon seeing the biggest thing yet built rise 1,000 feet over her city, not to mention the pleasant terror of taking an elevator to the top of it. Lisa and I enjoyed it very much.

The area around the Eiffel Tower and the Trocadéro across the river are wonderful but have (by far) the densest concentration of panhandlers and illicit peddlers anywhere we went in Paris. If someone asks you whether you speak English, just say “No!” If you answer “yes,” they will hand you a card with a sob story about being a poor Bosnian with a brother with leukemia who can’t get the medicine he needs. Definitely a scam, since they all say the same thing. (By the time we left I was ready to ask one of them — in French, of course — whether they speak English and whether they could read the card to me.)

And then there were the ubiquitous guys selling miniature trinkets of le Tour Eiffel. Evidently they lacked some kind of essential permit and were likely in the E.U. illegally, because at one point there was a lot of yelling and then a lot of running away from police officers on bicycles. Dozens of West African men were hiding out in the subway, behind fences, etc. Apparently I looked like “The Man,” because when I asked one of them in the station if he was waiting in line for tickets, he looked thoroughly frightened.

Montmartre has a distinctly different touristy feel, and I loved it. The Sacre-Cœur basilica is sublimely beautiful.

On our last full day in Paris, we visited the Musée Picasso, wandered around the Marais neighborhood, did a little shopping for ourselves and friends at the enormous BHV department store, and walked from the Bastille to the Arc de Triomphe along the Rue Rivoli and the Champs Elysées. We also had the culminating culinary experience of our trip.

You see, it took us quite a while to actually figure out Paris’s “café culture.” The sidewalk cafés serve much more than coffee and pastries, but it took us some time to clue into that. And I suspect our feeble American minds never really understood that one might actually eat whole meals on the sidewalk while watching the world go by. Food is meant to be consumed indoors. Or at least ordered indoors and then taken to a park, which is what we did. We interpreted the line spilling out the door of a deli on the Rue Rivoli as a good sign, ordered the French version of a hot dog and fries, and took our meal to the Place des Vosges and had a nice little picnic.

Now, we’d some interesting experiences with French food, and our lunch continued the trend. To be sure, we had some very wonderful meals; but there were some surprises. We weren’t expecting palak paneer (an Indian dish) to have cream cheese in place of Indian cheese. And the next day we still were naïf enough to be surprised by gorgonzola in our Mexican dishes. So we were amused (but not surprised) to see that the French treat a hot dog like a sandwich instead of a grilled item. To make a French hot dog: split a baguette down the middle, add two previously boiled hot dogs, cover with mozzarella cheese, bake until the cheese has a light crust, et voilà. To be completely fair to the French, I’m not sure we actually had any traditionally French food while were there (other than crêpes and pain au chocolat). French food scares me. Not like Japanese food fills me with terror, but still. . . .

So now we’re home, but a large part of me still wishes I were in Paris. I loved what we did, and there’s still more I would like to have done. I find the city fascinating, very dense and low-rise and vibrant and walkable and engaging. It’s the kind of place I would love to have a flat for the occasional week-long or month-long trip. But I think the beautiful people (with their fancy, continental ideas) would give give me a complex, and I’m not sure I could live there for an extended period. To visit, though, was divine.

Sure, the streets are narrow and crowded. And I was only about 50% successful feeding the RER turnstiles my tickets. (Yes, I was briefly trapped in the Musée d’Orsay train station.) And the panhandlers and peddlers are rather aggressive. But it’s wonderful! The people we met were friendly and direct, and they put up with my rather simple French. (Perhaps the source of our nation’s mutual misunderstanding is that they think we Americans are only as smart as the ideas conveyed by our miserable French.) In general, I preferred the French I met to the American tourists I encountered. The food we had was delicious. The art and architecture are great. The prices are reasonable, and there’s always something to do.

So, à bientôt, Paris. We’ll be back before too long.

And I’ll post pictures soon, too.

Posted in City of Light, Europe, Travel | 2 Comments

Four days in London

I love international travel. Don’t get me wrong; visiting different parts of the U.S. is great, too. I’ve just always had such a great time being foreign.

To be honest, I can’t really believe that almost three weeks have passed since we went to London. Work and classes have kept me busy since our return, delaying me from posting pictures and an itinerary for those crazy enough to try to visit London over a long-long weekend. Despite rumors to the contrary, such a trip doesn’t present too many challenges. You won’t see everything, but definitely enough to make you eager to come back for more.

Caveat #1: I’m a big fan of red-eye flights when going in an eastward direction. If you’re not, you’ll need to pad your trip appropriately. In addition, we only lost five hours via time zone changes overnight. Once again, your situation may require more jet lag adjustments.

Caveat #2: We’re not exactly party animals. If you imbibe, you may need to plan on doing somewhat less than us.

Caveat #3: After almost a decade of really poor fiscal policy from so-called conservative government, an atrocious national current accounts balance, and falling confidence in a once rock-solid American currency, the dollar was trading at $2.27 per British pound as our trip began. When coupled with the fact that the prices listed on goods are roughly the same in both countries despite the unfavorable exchange rate, we didn’t do a lot of shopping. (£11 for the new Bruce Springsteen CD? I think I’ll wait ’til we get home.) If you have a large budget, feel free to go nuts.

On to the itinerary. . .

Day One — Getting Oriented

Arrive at London’s Heathrow Airport sometime around 7:30 and go to the immigration line. This is your introduction to queuing. You’re in Britain. You’re going to queue. Also notice how multicultural London is. We were between some obnoxious older women from Boston and some Arabs women in full abayas and niqabs. At the airport we got a bite to eat, a SIM card for our mobile phone (an unlocked, multiband model we bought before our trip to India), and tickets for the Underground. We definitely recommend getting “Oyster cards”, the smart card that gives you reduced fare prices and extra convenience.

After dropping of your luggage at the hotel several hours before you can check in, why not take a walk around to see what London is like. Be sure to read the instructions to “Look Right” and “Look Left” when crossing the street. As far as we could tell, they’re not just for tourists, since sometimes it’s hard to tell which direction the traffic will be coming from.

Our first stop was the Victoria and Albert Museum, a truly random assortment of high-end stuff. The fashion collection is really quite exciting.

The V&A is a great introduction to the London of Queen Victoria and her beloved Prince Albert. Their name is on everything around London. Of course, she did reign for more than sixty years, she was crazy in love with Albert and wanted to show it, and England was reaching the zenith of its imperial power. There was a lot of money for the powerful, and the nation was really proud of its position in the world. In nearby Kensington Gardens, there’s an enormous monument to Albert, with statuary depicting the four major continents of the British Empire — Europe, Asia, Africa, and America — making up the pedestals upon which monarchical power rested.

We enjoyed a pleasant stroll through the gardens and adjacent Hyde Park. We saw lots of people enjoying the beautiful early October weather as we walked past Kensington Palace. Speakers’ Corner appeared to be all talked out by four in the afternoon, and the Marble Arch was a bit out of the way. But in its shadow, we saw a washed up skinhead (complete with Dr. Marten boots) who looked like he might have been an extra in “This is England“. (The first five minutes of the Shane Meadows film is perhaps the most brilliant film introduction I’ve ever seen.)

The jetlag combined with the scant sleep from the red-eye left us in a perpetual limbo, not knowing (or really caring) what time it was throughout the whole trip. But on the first evening, we felt it a bit more, so we headed back, checked in, and got a bite to eat in Earl’s Court. The food in England gets an undeservedly bad rap. In London, at least, we had a lot of really good food — Thai, Indian, gourmet burgers, gourmet pizza, etc.

The night life in London is pretty vibrant, too. On our next trip we definitely plan on seeing a show in Covent Garden or going to the pub with friends, but this trip we took it pretty easy in the evening, attempting to divine the rules of rugby, working on homework, and doing other rather boring activities.


Day Two — Museum Hopping

We came to London with very few plans. We knew there was more to do there than we would have time to accomplish, so we just decided to hit a few things near the top of our list and then whatever else happened to be nearby. Lisa loves paintings by the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, so we visited the Tate Britain, which just happened to have an exhibit on Millais, allegedly the best of breed.

Two things topped my list: the British Museum and London’s modernist architecture. The latter was on display everywhere, so we took the tube over to the museum, saw the world’s largest enclosed public square, marveled at the Rosetta Stone and loads of other cultural treasures, which somehow includes both Napoleon’s and Oliver Cromwell’s death masks.

Leaving there we walked through trendy Covent Garden on our way to the National Gallery and Trafalgar Square. We planned to visit the Photographers’ Gallery on the way, but couldn’t find the exact street we needed. While we stood looking at our rather good map trying to figure out where we were, a trendy fellow about our age asked if we needed if needed help. That sort of thing would never happen in Boston or NYC.

Trafalgar Square was full of people. It was glorious.


Day Three — The Death March

Our third day was supposed to start with a “flight” on the British Airways London Eye (Get it? British Airways? Flight? Ha!) followed by a bit of walk around Central London ending with a bus ride to Cambridge to see friends from the UK office of The MathWorks. But conflicting information on the Hinterweb led me to believe that we needed to book tickets, which caused me more than an hour of frustration ending with the Internet dying and us deciding that Cambridge would just have to wait for our next trip to the fair island.

So Sunday began at our typically early hour of 9:00 or so with a trip to the pastry shop and a ride on the Underground to Waterloo Station. I could hear our British friend Tish’s words in my mind as we walked through the terminal on our way out of the station: “You could go to Paris in two hours on the Eurostar if you wanted to.” Next time.

The nearby London eye, an enormous glass-enclosed observation wheel rising over 400 feet above the Thames, is well worth the somewhat high ticket price. The views of Parliament, the City, Buckingham Palace, Saint Paul’s Cathedral, and the Thames were pretty good despite the haze. It was nice to have an idea of where we were going on the day’s death march.

First, across Westminster Bridge to see Big Ben and Parliament. Britain hasn’t yet succumbed to paranoia about every last little thing, and you can still walk right up to the building (or at least to the ornate gates around it). Then to nearby Westminster Abbey. Church was going on, and we could hear the great organ playing, but heathens like us were satisfied seeing the 13th century chapter house and its frescoes and stained glass windows, some of which survived World War II.

Then we had lunch with Her Majesty the Queen. That is to say, we had lunch and then saw Buckingham Palace. (We didn’t actualy see E.R. in the hizzle.) Again we thought of empire while looking at the Canada Gate and South Africa Gate and every last gilded thing. The Queen Victoria statue seemed to have lost her nose at some point and received a new one (just like Tycho Brahe except hers was marble not gold alloy).

We strolled along the mall and through the arch in the Admiralty Buildings just in time to see the changing of the horse guards before seeing Lord Nelson again at Trafalgar Square. Across the Hungerford footbridge we started walking downstream along the Thames Embankment, a pleasant wide pedestrian thoroughfare with trendy shops, cafes, and used book sellers.

We popped in the embarrassing Tate Modern. I’m usually a fanboy for modern art, but even I had to alternate between choking down my bile and just shrugging my shoulders. Poor Lisa, the Calder mobile was too small to make up for the indignity she suffered finding it.

Across the no-longer-wobbly Millennium footbridge, into the historic City of London, past the heraldic registry of coats of arms, and up the hill to Saint Paul’s Cathedral. It’s quite an imposing edifice, enormous inside and quite beautiful. Because it was Sunday, a day for quiet reflection and prayer, we couldn’t see most of the church. Finally, down Cheapside and Poultry Streets to the Bank of England, which was wrapped like a Jean Claude and Christo installation.


Day Four — Windsor Castle

What can I say about Windsor Castle? Well, it’s a nice day trip, that’s for sure. On weekdays, trains go there directly every half-hour or so. The twenty-five mile trip takes about an hour and passes through some of the less savory parts of London before entering what passes for suburbia in England near Heathrow and then some tony semi-rural burgs.

The castle itself is quite impressive. In fact, it wouldn’t be a terrible place to live, but I would definitely need to change a few things inside the state apartments. The room with the decorations made out of weapons can stay, but most of the rooms were just so gaudy and overwrought. The simplicity of the Garter Throne Room moved me unexpectedly, but as someone committed to the principles of republican democracy I just couldn’t get over the idea of one family having a divine right to all of that wealth and power. I know they’re just people destined to live lives of luxury, boredom, and public scrutiny simply by accident of birth, but it seems anachronistic.

Windsor town is the closest thing to a tourist trap that we saw in England. It must be absolutely mad during a summer weekend, but on a Monday in early October there weren’t many people about. In fact, early October is a great time to visit London.

What I’m going to write next might seem contradictory given what I what I’ve said about opulence and tourist traps, but I really enjoyed Harrods Department Store. We stopped in the world’s most famous department store on the way back from Windsor. The guard at the door said something almost indecipherable — “Carryabaginyand.” — the first time during the trip that we really felt like we’re from two nations separated by a common language. I faked being foreign: German or Canadian or something. “Your bag. Carry it in your hand.”

After a few galleries (for want of a better term) I could see why I needed to exercise extra caution. Lisa fancied the £480 handmade glass frog. I rather fancied the mammoth tusk for a mere £9,600. We both thought the Persian carpet for £16,000 seemed a bit excessive, though. We ended up just buying some chocolates; after all, we could buy $700 Jimmy Choo shoes back home . . . not that we would, of course.


Epilogue

It started to rain lightly as we left Earl’s Court for Heathrow, just in time for us to return home.

Four days hardly seemed enough time to see this fantastic city, but it was all we could do with the time and money that we had. Next time we’ll go to Cambridge (and maybe Stonehenge), see a show, watch rugby at the pub, and stalk M.I.A. in East London, where the Desis live. London is not just one of the world’s great cities but a city that seems to have the whole world; it seems right to visit some of the London neighborhoods and see more of the globe. (I’m sure it will be just like Epcot. Ha!)

Posted in Europe, Travel | 3 Comments

London v. NYC

One of my very good friends, who is also a coworker, loves New York City and started ribbing me for saying that “London may be the greatest city in the world”. This despite the fact I was sharing frou-frou chocolates from Harrods and plain old Cadbury’s milk chocolate from Sainsbury’s. (After tasting the Cadbury’s chocolates, I must agree that it tastes better than its American cousin and Hersheys, too.)

I ♥ NY, too — and it’s a lot closer to Boston than London — but I’m going to stick to my story here. To be fair, let’s admit that New York has the edge when it comes to tall buildings and shopping and nightlife and quirky neighborhoods. There are more museums and galleries than you can hope to visit in a month. It’s the capital of fashion and contemporary art and publishing and consumer culture. Central Park is perfect, especially when you want to escape all the great things about the city. The trains go express. Yankee Stadium is almost as much fun as Fenway. Everybody in the world lives there, the food is great, and the world’s best photography store is on 9th Avenue between 33rd and 34th. And there’s no attitude in the world quite like the ones you’ll find in the five boroughs and Jersey. New York is the best city built on a grid in the world.

But London . . . I could live in London. It adds beauty to function, gentility to urbanity, livability to opportunity. New York encompasses and influences the whole world; London integrates it. On our first train ride we heard people talking in English, Hindi, Nigerian, Russian, Chinese, Polish, German, Dutch, and others I’m probably forgetting. London has fantastic style in type, design, and dress. New York has parks; London has parks with palaces. London is quieter, cleaner. And let’s face it: Londoners are nice.

Perhaps it comes down to this: New York is built on its own money and energy, while London became great largely through empire and capitalizing on other people’s goods, land, and labor. The American part of me salutes and revels in New York despite its coarseness. The human part of me loves London despite its past.

Posted in Europe, This is who we are, Travel | 4 Comments

Hail Britannia

Did you know that residents of the UK need to license any television or device that can play or record television?

And it’s expensive, too. About $275 . . . each . . . a year.

We’re having a great time in London. We’ve seen a lot and been all over. I think this might be the best city in the world, although Vauxhall looked a bit dodgy from the train. Too bad we have to go home tomorrow.

Did we miss anything?

Posted in Europe, Travel | 2 Comments