My last blog post got cut short because, well, I got distracted. By something, I can't remember what to be honest. But I think I left off at Paris.
Anyway, so Paris was basically a whirlwind of museum trips, sightseeing, and long nights out. My favorite museum, by far was the Musee du Quai Branly. First off, the design of the museum was breathtaking. The exhibit is dimly lit with only the works of art being lit up brilliantly. Perfect setting for my hangover that day. The art was EXQUISITE. And I never use the word "exquisite." It was also radically cool. It's a museum of "first" arts (code word for primitive but they didn't want to offend) but is a vast array of more traditional art to modern pieces such as amazing sculptures and prints and textiles. Everything was colorful and shiny and...ethnic? I guess that's kind of offensive too. But it was definitely fascinating and they had art from pretty much every continent and tribal group. Almost everything I saw I wanted to put in my apartment as decoration.
We also went to the musee d'orsay where we also had "lunch". I put that in quotations because, after waiting in a long line and finally making it to the museum's restaurant STARVING, we were told it was only "tea time". How quaint. Except for that meant we were restricted only to cheese platters and small salads. I just wanted to wolf down a burger. We hit this road block a couple of times durng our stay. I guess they restrict lunch between the hours of 11-2 (although aren't the French supposed to have super long lunches? hmph.) The musee d'orsay was cool, not the kind of art I'm necessarily thrilled by but of course such art as Van Gogh's was interesting to see in person. My favorite was actually the neo-impressionists. The paintings were extremely colorful and dazzling, made by painting tiny little dots of color to form an image. I wouldn't call my taste "refined" by any definition of the word. I like flashy. Unashamed.
We also saw some of the natural history museums around the jardin des plantes such as the paleontology museum and the evolution museum. Lots of animals, taxonomy, and skeletons. And brains in jars. In addition to these museums we went to the Eiffel Tower (I didn't get a picture last time I came to Paris for three weeks one summer with my brother and mother) and Notre Dame. We didn't go inside Notre Dame because both of us had before.
Our nights out were especially fun. One night we went to rue de lapp which was arecommndation from cousin Sebastian. It was a little cobblestone street lined with bars. The first abr we went into was expansive and we sat by ourselves at a table near the window. Laura ordered a beer and I had a vodka soda but two older men started hitting on us when they heard us speaking in English so we dipped. We only had to walk next door to discover a tiny little bar that was booming with American music. We were enticed. It ended up being a good time and we met a couple of people from Spain. We got to dance and chit chat, all that we had really been looking for in the first place. Surprisingly, everyone we met at this bar, called Charlotte Bar, was not French. Spanish, Algerian, Dutch, yes. French, no.
Another niht we went to the Quarter de Latin for Spanish-French food with the Italian we met on New Year's Eve and a friend of his. The food was delicious, although covered in greasy meat and gravy and potato. Not really a part of my diet. Lots of wine drinking and talking too loudly on this night.
I think that sums up our experience in Paris pretty well. If I think of anything else I'll add it in, maybe with the help of Laura.
We came back to England on a Thursday and stayed in that night in order to rest up for our Frday night in London.
London was...interesting. We started off by seeing some of the sights in the evening. You know, the fancy castles and towers and the like. We had dinner at a Japanese place near the Tower of London in which I at light and healthy (go me!). I had a broth-based soup with seafood and chicken and vegetables in a paper bowl, which I had never seen before at a Japanese restaurant. After this we went to Camden, a popular destination for young partiers such as ourselves. First we went to a bar that was a recommendation from Laura's friend from Oxford. It was two-floored and had a sort of pub feel to it, playing rock music (even 70s rock a la Edward Caldwell...when was the last time you heard The Eagles in a bar?) We stood at the bar for a while, gathering our courage to approach people. Finaly, Laura decided to settle down next to a chubby Indian boy who would drunkenly intercept all of my conversations with other men the rest of the night screaming "you don't want to talk to guys like that! she's with me!" Nothing else has to be said about that. It was unappreciated. Also talked to a guy who insisted on talking about my "accent" (which really gets old after awhile...OK I get it. You have an accent. I have an accent. We're from different countries. BUT I CAN STILL UNDERSTAND YOUR LANGUAGE SO LET'S DISCUSS SOMETHING MORE INTERESTING). But he was OK. His friend, on the other hand, really just wanted to scream at me about American politics. I thought this was universally rude to do at bars, or at social gatherings in general, but I guess not in the good ol' UK. (I'm generalizing off of one drunk asshole, I know). One of his most memorable lines of he night was "YOU ONLY LIKE OBAMA BECAUSE HE KILLED OSAMA!" I had to just shut my mouth then or risk a pub brawl.
After this, I told Laura I wanted to go. The people in that bar were only getting on my nerves. So we walked outside and right in our face was a club. Which seemed to be heating up so we decided to go inside. Th rest is history. Let's just say: I was rejected by two men, Laura hit on a gay guy, no one could understand our accents against the loud music, and we eventually gave up and danced like drunken sailors. And left like drunken sailors. And boarded the bus like drunkard sailors. And by the time we got back to Oxford, I was rather sober. Laura, however, couldn't remember what our address was and insisted to the cab driver that we were going to Oxford University. Which is basically the entire town. :)
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Oxford-->Paris-->Oxford-->London
I received a trip to Europe from my parents as a gift for my birthday and for Christmas (among other things..they were quite generous).
The journey begins in Oxford, where I spend my first night. Cousin Laura goes to Oxford University for her study abroad this year and lives in a dormitory very near the center of town, on Ferrypool Road. That night, we go out to dinner at a Thai place in the city center where I am given a pile of chicken meat with virtually no vegetables. Woe is me. That's one thing I've discovered in my time here: Europeans are not so big on colorful, fresh vegeables. Which is the major portion of my diet in New York so I often feel quite restricted.
We then venture to a pub called te Three Goat Heads. My first English pub! In Oxford! I was revelling in the quintessential academic feel of the evening. At the pub, I am told to order cider, as it is what the pub, and all pubs, are known for. It's a very sweet beverage, something that I don't like very much in an alcoholic drink. Or in coffee. Or any type of drink, really. But I drink it for the experience and afterwards move on to my standard vodka soda. I notice at the table next to us that a group of guys are playing some sort of billiard game and they are quite rowdy. Looks fun. So I ask them what they're playing, hoping for an invite into the ruckus, which I do receive. The game is pucket, a table game which consists of six pucks on either side of the boar and an elastic band, used for launching the pucks through a small opening into the other player's side of the court. The objective is to be the first one to have no pucks on their side. The game begins with high fives between the two players while looking each other in the eye. This, I've discovered, is also required for toasting drinks. Needless to say, I lacked talent at this particular board game and was embarassingly defeated by all of my English gentlemen oppononents in a matter of seconds. The tables turned when I got to face my own American friends.
After the pub, we walked to a dance club where Laura and I remained for the rest of the night. When trying to get the bartender's attention, I said a friendly "hey!" to which she responded with "Don't "hey!" me! You don't "hey!" me!" Ooops...? This would occur again when I committed the same faux pas at a French bar and was responded to with "You say "excusez moi!"" I never learn.
The next day we had to get up very early to make our morning flight from Heathrow to Charles de Gaulle. We arrived in Paris in the afternoon and proceeded to our hostel. When we finally got there, after hauling multiple pieces of baggage through the metro system, the extremely flustered and nervous concierge boy informed us that he was very sorry, but there had been a mistake. There was actually no availability that night. Thankfully, he had been able to set us up in another hotel for the same price. The pain was that we had to go to a completely different location which ended up being pretty out of the way, in Vincennes. But the hotel was nice, decorated in a provincial French cottage sort of way with free continental breakfast and a comfortable bed.
On the first day, we checked into the hotel, went to Uncle Duncan and Aunt Nancy's for dinner, then proceeded with our New Year's Eve celebrations with Cousin Olivia, Cousin Sebastian, Cousin David, David's girlfriend Dareen, and a couple of Olivia's friends. We powerwalked to the Pont de l'Archeveche to view the fireworks from the Eiffel Tower. Only there weren't any fireworks this year. Only sparkling lights. Wop woppp. Sebastian, Laura and I proceeded across the bridge and became separated from David, Dareen and Olivia so we decided to go to the Canadian bar we thought they were planning on going to, The Moose. We arrived there and after about 15-20 minutes realized they weren't coming. Faceook came in handy for contacting Olivia who informed me they had gone to ANOTHER Canadian bar, The Great Canadian Pub. We spent most of the night there drinking. On the way out I met Michele, an Italian living in Paris who Laura and I would meet up with later in the trip. We spent about two hours wandering throughout the city, stopping for cigarettes down by the Seine and eventually ending up in a restaurant, Au Pied de Cochon, which was the only thing open late and a restaurant that I would find out later was frequented by many of my relatives decades before me, including my grandparents and my great aunt.
The journey begins in Oxford, where I spend my first night. Cousin Laura goes to Oxford University for her study abroad this year and lives in a dormitory very near the center of town, on Ferrypool Road. That night, we go out to dinner at a Thai place in the city center where I am given a pile of chicken meat with virtually no vegetables. Woe is me. That's one thing I've discovered in my time here: Europeans are not so big on colorful, fresh vegeables. Which is the major portion of my diet in New York so I often feel quite restricted.
We then venture to a pub called te Three Goat Heads. My first English pub! In Oxford! I was revelling in the quintessential academic feel of the evening. At the pub, I am told to order cider, as it is what the pub, and all pubs, are known for. It's a very sweet beverage, something that I don't like very much in an alcoholic drink. Or in coffee. Or any type of drink, really. But I drink it for the experience and afterwards move on to my standard vodka soda. I notice at the table next to us that a group of guys are playing some sort of billiard game and they are quite rowdy. Looks fun. So I ask them what they're playing, hoping for an invite into the ruckus, which I do receive. The game is pucket, a table game which consists of six pucks on either side of the boar and an elastic band, used for launching the pucks through a small opening into the other player's side of the court. The objective is to be the first one to have no pucks on their side. The game begins with high fives between the two players while looking each other in the eye. This, I've discovered, is also required for toasting drinks. Needless to say, I lacked talent at this particular board game and was embarassingly defeated by all of my English gentlemen oppononents in a matter of seconds. The tables turned when I got to face my own American friends.
After the pub, we walked to a dance club where Laura and I remained for the rest of the night. When trying to get the bartender's attention, I said a friendly "hey!" to which she responded with "Don't "hey!" me! You don't "hey!" me!" Ooops...? This would occur again when I committed the same faux pas at a French bar and was responded to with "You say "excusez moi!"" I never learn.
The next day we had to get up very early to make our morning flight from Heathrow to Charles de Gaulle. We arrived in Paris in the afternoon and proceeded to our hostel. When we finally got there, after hauling multiple pieces of baggage through the metro system, the extremely flustered and nervous concierge boy informed us that he was very sorry, but there had been a mistake. There was actually no availability that night. Thankfully, he had been able to set us up in another hotel for the same price. The pain was that we had to go to a completely different location which ended up being pretty out of the way, in Vincennes. But the hotel was nice, decorated in a provincial French cottage sort of way with free continental breakfast and a comfortable bed.
On the first day, we checked into the hotel, went to Uncle Duncan and Aunt Nancy's for dinner, then proceeded with our New Year's Eve celebrations with Cousin Olivia, Cousin Sebastian, Cousin David, David's girlfriend Dareen, and a couple of Olivia's friends. We powerwalked to the Pont de l'Archeveche to view the fireworks from the Eiffel Tower. Only there weren't any fireworks this year. Only sparkling lights. Wop woppp. Sebastian, Laura and I proceeded across the bridge and became separated from David, Dareen and Olivia so we decided to go to the Canadian bar we thought they were planning on going to, The Moose. We arrived there and after about 15-20 minutes realized they weren't coming. Faceook came in handy for contacting Olivia who informed me they had gone to ANOTHER Canadian bar, The Great Canadian Pub. We spent most of the night there drinking. On the way out I met Michele, an Italian living in Paris who Laura and I would meet up with later in the trip. We spent about two hours wandering throughout the city, stopping for cigarettes down by the Seine and eventually ending up in a restaurant, Au Pied de Cochon, which was the only thing open late and a restaurant that I would find out later was frequented by many of my relatives decades before me, including my grandparents and my great aunt.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)