Accents to Die For: Our Sojourn in London

Within a few minutes of arrival in London, a few things became quite evident: 1. I did not really need to see anything in London as long as I could go people watching… or more specifically, listening. (Hence the title of the blog entry.) 2. London is really cold 3. London, or at least its major train stations, is extremely poorly marked and not tourist-Friendly. 4. British is the one foreign language you can’t find offered in American schools, yet this does not mean we speak the same tongue! The prepositions they use when offering directions don’t exactly correspond to anything American and aid more in confusion than in any form of guidance. (Next time I am asked, I will have to respond that I am fluent in American, not English.)

Not to fear, this blog entry will extend beyond the train station as we ultimately did find an escape route! Better yet, it led to King’s Cross, a must-see spot where Harry begins each new school year. (HP and I, we’re on a first-name basis, that’s right.) We made it to platform 9 ¾ (sweeeeeet) and my life was complete, even if I couldn’t make it through the wall. But hey, if you ask the Boston Globe, I’m already in Azkaban, which makes me way more magically powerful than those little witches and wizards who still need to slide through that wall anyway. (For those out of the loop, I’m referring to an article published last June following J. K. Rowling’s commencement speech at Harvard which outlined all the reasons why Harvard = Hogwarts. I quote, “Azkaban: Hogwarts students dread the notorious sea-bound prison where wizards adept at the dark arts are locked away in squalor while their strange obsessions slowly drive them mad. To Harvard students, this could be none other than MIT, whose glowering dome sits along the gray, tempest-tossed Charles.”) Having satiated my inner-nerd, I was once more ready to tune into the sweet sounds of the British voices.

Emerging into the sunlight, we first found Potters Fields through which we approached Tower Bridge, which is actually way more impressive than the London Bridge we all sing about as little kids. After a brief break here, we sallied forth and found ourselves a small, inexpensive Indian restaurant for lunch. Indian food in Britain is supposed to be as popular and prevalent as Chinese in the US, so this only seemed appropriate. (We had fallen under budget on transportation costs and now had some room to spare.) Crossing Tower Bridge, we found the Tower of London, deceptively named as it’s really much more castle-like than tower-like. Next we found the Big Ben and Westminster Abbey. We couldn’t help but notice this whole time how everywhere we wandered, several surveillance cameras could easily be spotted from the rooftops. The whole city is under constant watch! It felt really creepy, too Orwellian for my tastes. We wandered some more, found some friendly animals, and lay down for a much-needed solid nap in the Saint James Park right outside of the Household Cavalry Museum.

Upon awakening we were all… well, frankly, exhausted (and fairly chilly, too). Though the brief rain shower earlier in the day didn’t get us thanks to Anastasia’s ponchos, the overall weather was still gloomy and much cooler than any August day I’ve ever experienced in the US. As much as I hated to surrender to it, we made a pit-stop at a nearby Starbucks to refuel. We whipped out our maps, drew out a tourist-plan-of-attack in my notebook, and tried to warm our frozen fingers. From here we hit up Trafalgar Square, found ourselves some ice cream (true, we were frozen, but we were doing so well eating ice cream in every different country to which we traveled that we couldn’t let the cold stop us now!), and proceeded towards our dinner destination, the Rock and Sole Plaice in Covent Garden for a classic dinner of fish and chips. Oily, yes, but also quite delicious. As night fell, we took the tube to Saint Paul’s Cathedral, from which point we walked past the London Bridge (yes, the real one!), and ultimately reached Shakespeare’s Globe Theater after a few wrong turns and misleading signs. Late that night we turned in to our hostel and I’m certain we all slept soundly.

Bright and early the next morning, our alarms let us know that ready or not, it was time to crash this city (in a non-terrorist, please-don’t-let-the-London-surveillance-misinterpret-this-and-catch-me way) as we had hardly any time before our departure for Dublin. We first saw Buckingham Palace, which was beautiful but hardly impressive after Versailles, the Louvre, and Paris in general. We walked the streets of London and found Harrod’s, some sort of famous, major department store in London which sadly would not allow us to enter with our backpacking gear. But not to worry, we had bigger and better things to do. We head over to the Museum of London and learned more about the history of the city we were touring. We learned all about how the Romans invaded and abandoned the city. We read a lot about the fire that pretty much destroyed London (which was not actually started by the man who was executed for the crime) and we read about several bouts of the plague that wiped out huge portions of the city’s population.

We caught the subway (alternatively called the underground or the “tube”) back to Covent Garden (which reminded me strongly of Quincy Market in Boston) for lunch. Although Londoners seemed in general to be taller than the Parisians, it was funny to note that their public transportation, the tube, gave one the sensation of being in precisely that: a small tube. The cars were narrower and the ceilings rounded such that it was nearly impossible to stand in many parts of this tube. Each time the doors opened, Londoners were not reminded to watch their step but rather to “Mind the Gap.” Like some sick version of the play by Sartre, we discovered that there are no exits from the London tube. (Fortunately, following the signs for “Way Out” generally suffice.) I noticed that in the stations in the underground, there were many full-sized color ads for books on the walls. It seemed unusual, since it’s something I never really see in the Boston T stations. I wondered if perhaps Londoners are more in the habit of reading than the average American. (But that might not say much…)

For lunch we stopped at the Cornish Bakehouse where I devoured a lamb and mint pasty and some other baked goods. Although it seemed extremely unhealthy, the meal was delicious, enough so that I would definitely get this again when I return to London. We wandered along a few streets and, before we knew it, our time had run short. We returned to King’s Cross and prepared ourselves for the last leg of our crazy journey.

Paris, land of baguettes and more art per capita than imaginable

Late in the evening I arrived in Paris, having taken a different train than my cousins due to computer issues and time-difference confusions. Fortunately, we found each other quickly and headed out to my friend Yuri’s apartment. After dropping off our stuff, she took us out to a bar where, much to our delight, we found more of this amazing Belgian beer! Being partial to hard liquor, I got something strong and pear-flavored, but I generously helped out Yuri when she found herself unable to finish her full Kriek-Lindemans Raspberry beer. As we prepared to pay the bar tender, he handed us an incredible sketch of Alex with beer in hand. Apparently the man at the table next to us had been drawing the whole time we’d been sitting next to him without any of us noticing. What a fun little souvenir of our first night out in Paris!

The next morning we woke up to the sun shining brightly through the windows of Yuri’s apartment. After a slow start, we found ourselves a supermarket and a boulangerie, where we bought a jar of strawberry jam and several baguettes. These would serve as our primary source of sustenance during the next few days… and boy, did they sustain us. Why has no one in America learned just how to make bread like the Parisians? I’m sure it would be extremely lucrative; there’s got to be a market for this stuff. Oh, is it good.

We caught a train to Versailles and spent the next several hours standing outside in the heat wishing we could have found a way to purchase our tickets before arriving. Eventually we made it in, and it was even more beautiful (and way more crowded) than I remembered it from my last trip in January. We started out with a brief stop in the gardens to snack on said baguettes. We wandered through the palace, the highlight of which had to be the Hall of Mirrors. Every room was so incredibly rich. Each little corner and crevice was incredibly ornate. I was slightly jealous of the little children running around the premises who had no idea how lucky they were to be there, but also grateful that I had to wait twenty years before I could lay my eyes on anything so magnificent in person. Growing up so far removed from such a wealth of beauty has made me so sensitive and appreciative to its beauty and value.

After we were kicked out of the palace, we spent some more time on the grounds. What did you expect, that we would get all the way here and not spend some time doing backbends, headstands, and tumbles through the gardens? Don’t be silly…

Back in Paris that evening, we climbed up to Montmartre to get a full view of the city at dusk. What a magnificent place. I looked on longingly, wishing I had enough time to wander through all those streets again. Last January, I was incredibly lucky to be selected as one of this year’s eight January Scholars in France, a program designed for the top French students at MIT. Scholars are sent to Paris, each housed in a private hotel room, and taken on personalized walking tours and trips through all major monuments and museums in Paris. We were taken out to several performances including a ballet in the Opera House and fed fancy meals nearly every night. On top of all of this, we were each given so much spending money that I couldn’t even spend half of what I’d been given during my two weeks in Paris!

For dinner, we went back to the fifth arrondissement for a crêperie I’d found near my hotel in January to which I am partial. I had a crepe with salmon on a bed of spinach and a dessert crepe with fruit and ice cream. It was every bit as delicious as I remembered it being in January.

Today (or yesterday by this hour) we woke up early, prepared to tackle as much of the city as absolutely possible in one last, sweet day. The weather in Paris was nicer than anywhere else we’d been since leaving Italy, but it was still remarkably cold for August. Fortunately, for once, I was able to walk around in a t-shirt as we set off. First stop: boulangerie, what else? We found a bank and a post office and, with postcards sent, cash in hand, and baguette/pain au chocolat in stomach, we were ready to face the day.

We began with the Eiffel Tower like classic tourists. It was so exciting to walk between the buildings, anticipating our first glance of the world-famous monument. Many photos and a brief rain shower later, we walked over to the Arc de Triomphe. It’s not quite as big as one might expect, really. It’s kind of just there in the middle of the street with these giant flags hanging from its center and cars constantly driving around it. As the Arc de Triomphe is located at the end of the Champs Elysée, this was the next thing to check of the list of tourist been-there’s. However, if one only has a single day in Paris, I wouldn’t actually recommend coming here. It’s a giant street with wide sidewalks and major chain stores. It reminds me entirely too much of New York, just with shorter buildings. It certainly does not have the narrow streets, small boutiques, and quaint feel that give Paris much of its allure. After wandering down this street to my cousins’ satisfaction, we caught the metro to Ile de la Cité to check out Notre Dame and my favorite church in Paris, l’Eglise Saint-Chapelle. This tiny church has the most magnificent painting and stained glass of any church I’ve seen so far in Europe. Its small size only serves to enhance the effect by truly making one feel embraced in the brilliant display of lights and color. Even having seen this place before, I still caught my breath as I finished winding my way up the narrow staircase and got to peek within.

After this, we walked along the Seine towards the Musée de l’Orangerie, a personal favorite because of the incredible Monet waterlillies. The museum is right next to the Place de la Concorde, where Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette met their fate. Today it’s home to an Egyptian obelisk, a gift from Egypt in 1831. The Place de la Concorde borders on the Jardins de Tulières, where next we turned to walk. It’s impressive to note, as we did while wandering through the gardens, that Paris truly is the city of love. We saw couples of all ages cuddling and kissing in park benches, corners, and middles of walkways everywhere. There was even a Muslim woman wearing her headscarf and wrapping her legs around someone on a park bench, which struck me as quite ironic since generally the scarf is associated with a certain sexual modesty she certainly didn’t express. We picnicked in the gardens right by a fountain, finishing off the last of that delicious jar of strawberry jam (sans high fructose corn syrup!!). I got in touch with Marta, a friend and fellow Biological Engineer from MIT. We walked back over to the Ile de la Cité to meet her at Notre Dame and then all returned together to the Louvre for an evening visit.

Oh, the Louvre. How can one begin to describe it? There is so much art jammed within this building, not to mention that the walls which encase these famous works are an art worthy of display all on their own. The one thing I hadn’t known before coming here in January was that the Louvre only holds classical artwork. You’ll have to some of Paris’s other many fine museums if your interested in anything recent. But there is more than enough classical art to fill this whole museum. My mouth must have been hanging open for half of the time that I wandered through the halls. I think my favorite work in the building is the sculpture entitled Psyché ranimée par le baiser de l’Amour by Antonio Canova. The sculpture seems to me so passionate, fluid, and alive.

Eventually, once again, we were kicked out of a museum. This time Marta led us onward to Saint-Michel, a young and trendy area where we found some ice cream and a late dinner. The evening became a bit complicated as we had to grab our stuff from Yuri’s place and transport it to Anya’s (another one of my sorority sisters in Paris for the summer), where we crashed for our final night. Eventually we made it to her apartment and found a place to lay our weary heads for a few short hours. Though I’d resisted the temptation all week, I finally opened my email and was greeted by an impeccably timed response. Just as I was bemoaning my sad fate of leaving this beautiful city, I received a message from a professor in a Parisian laboratory stating that I “couldn’t be a more perfect candidate” for his lab and that, furthermore, he actually has the funding available for one additional grad student at the moment. On that note, I must have fallen asleep with a smile still stretched across my face.

Brussels, where Beer and Waffles Rule

After stepping off the train into what was most certainly not the prime real estate area of town, we quickly oriented ourselves, grateful to the people who consider poor lost souls when deciding to offer free maps in the train station. Soon we were in the Grand Place, a most accurate name for the location. The square was surrounded by a set of some of the most incredible buildings I’ve ever seen. We simply stood there gaping for a few minutes as we turned around and let ourselves absorb the immense beauty of it all. To think that some people can walk past architecture—art, really—like this every day, to have it as simply a backdrop to the monotony of every day life is beyond me. At home in Pisa, I still wake up each morning, walk out my front door, and shake my head in wonder at that leaning tower staring back at me. Meanwhile, most residents, my roommates included, seem to simply forget it’s even there. I would love to have the opportunity to immerse myself in a beautiful city for a few years. Just think, I could buy a tourism book and really go to every single place mentioned. (Grad school, anyone?)

But back to Brussels. I was pulled down to reality by the bottomless pit that is my stomach, particularly a stomach on a three-euro-a-day diet. Fortunately, before budgeting everything and discovering that we only had three euros a day left for food, we put aside 15 whole euros per person for a Belgian waffle restaurant (and another 15 euros per person for a creperie in Paris). This meant that today, for the first time since leaving Pisa, I could eat to my heart’s content, comparatively speaking at least. Discovering that waffle restaurants didn’t require a full 15 euros, we stopped at a waffle street vendor to start the day off right. Oh my goodness, does Belgium know how to do waffles! There were sugar chunks throughout the soft, crispy waffles. As I devoured my meal, my mouth didn’t think it could get much happier.

We wandered down the streets admiring the shops and discovering that Brussels is actually quite a hilly city! In one shop window, Alex stopped us in shock. Turning to look for the source of his surprise, we found a pack of Duracell batteries… with a bunny on the pack. What have we now, the Duracell bunny?? Hmm… We past the Royal Gallery and arrived at a cathedral and discovered in its front lawn a set of pimped-out, contoured park benches. While cat-napping on these, I spotted a truck. A red truck. A Pump and Mixing Service Truck, as the small print indicated. Though most of the text written on the vehicle was in another language, this essential part was in English. Yes, though I could hardly believe my eyes, I had found a red PMS mobile. Shrieking in delight, I jumped off my bench and began chasing the truck with my camera. My cousins quickly realized what I had discovered, but were somehow more amused by my response than by the vehicle itself. Okay, maybe I am ridiculous. I think the picture to the right captures quite perfectly my response to this wonderfully amusing truck. But seriously, you know there must have been an English-speaking person on that team just dying as his company chose the logo to paint on the truck. After this, what better an activity to do outside a cathedral than to teach your second cousins once removed how to do headstands? Irreverant, you say? No…

We wandered through the Parc de Bruxelles, where we saw men of all ages running in very short shorts past business men enjoying the lunch-break strolls. The prevalence and stark contrast of the two types of people filling the park was amusing. On the opposite edge of the park, we found the Palais Royal (Royal Palace!), where we stopped again to do some arches and headstands, including the tricky one-on-top-of-the-other arches.

Finally, it was lunch time. Returning to the Grand Place, we ordered a rich meal of waffles and Kriek-Lindemans Raspberry beer, which hardly tasted like beer and turned out to be a truly unforgettable beverage. It was in this restaurant that we found the most wonderful news article: a whole page on the strengthening of the dollar against the euro. There is hope yet, America!

After lunch we made the requisite stop at Mannekin-Pis, affectionately nicknamed P-Dawg by our very own Al. It turns out the little guy is actually quite small, and not nearly remarkable enough to be the city’s greatest source of pride. Stick with the waffles as your selling feature, Brussels. In our remaining time, we power-walked it towards the Museum of Army and Military History, where we heard we might find a most excellent set of arches. Along the way we passed by any EU government offices, since Brussels is the center of the EU government. It was really cool to get the chance to see that all. Of course we also enjoyed a chance to sprawl out in the grass by the museum and have some fun. On the way back, Alex and I were excited to find the solution to love! (Too bad it's just the equation for a heart in polar coordinates.) We took the time to admire the Palais de la Nation (and continue stretching out those sore backs). We strolled the scenic route back towards the train station, passing the Eglise Notre Dame de Sablon, the Place du Petit Sablon, and the Royal Musical Conservatory. Our trek led us to the Place Poelaert (the Brussels Courthouse) a majestic building, from which we got a full view across Brussels. Conveniently, there was also a giant glass elevator which we were able to ride down to reach the lower city-level. It gave a very Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator feel for a few moments. We meandered through some wonderfully old, classically European streets and made it back to the station with time to spare. That evening, we rode to Paris.

Bonn, home of Beethoven… and not much else

We arrived in the birthplace of Beethoven with high hopes, but the city, it turns out, could really use something else going for it. The whole town seems to be devoted completely to Beethoven. We started our day out at the Münster Platz and the Basilica of Saint Martin (called the Münsterbasilika). From here we found the Beethoven house, the place where he was born and lived for seven years. After wandering through the rooms, we went to Saint Remigus Parish Church, where Beethoven played the organ as a child. Next stop was the Beethoven concert hall, which was basically a regular old building but it had a funky statue outside it called “Beethon,” which is apparently a play on words since beton = concrete.

We found the residence of the electoral princes of Köln. (Yes, Köln—Cologne—not Bonn. No, you’re right, we were in Bonn.) That called for some arches, and we even tried some fancy work leaning on our heads and holding hands. In our wanderings, we made our way back to the good old Rhine, but this time we didn’t take a nap. Trekking onward, we arrived at the Bonn Universitat, which had some wonderful grass for frolicking and rolling around. As you may imagine, I did precisely that. After some more walking and a strange encounter with a sketchy, blue-lit bathroom, we discovered our castle, which was also labeled as a molecular physiology building. However, much more tempting than the interior was the grounds of the castle: before you knew it, we were climbing and swinging from trees like hooligans. It was here that I performed my first headstand in Europe. We also found some mega-cool poisonous berries. They may not have been poisonous, but it was much more exciting to determine that they were.

We watched with excitement as a man and woman became entangled when their dogs, with matching leashes, suddenly ran towards and around each other. To our dismay, we looked on as destiny was thwarted when the man and woman managed to untangle their leashes and continue on in separate directions. Clearly, Bonn is not the city of romance (or anything very exciting). We walked down some quaint German streets lined with old houses, and questioned as we observed young children playing with some rather unusual water toys. We returned to the train station, bought ourselves a couple of excellent German soft pretzels, and caught an evening train home.