Bathrooms

So now it’s time to address something rather, well, private. The bathrooms.

When I imagined myself on this trip, I saw myself marveling at all the different architecture, the different people, the different language, the different art, etc. I never even gave a thought to how different the bathrooms would be.

I should have.

Okay, first of all, plane bathrooms. They are ALWAYS smaller than you remember. I mean, I understand you have to be compact, you’re relieving yourself on an airplane, but COME ON. Really? There’s not enough standing room for my knees, let alone my entire body to fit in that teeny two-by-two space. And that’s coming from a 5-foot-three, 115 pound girl. I felt bad for the 6-foot-3, 250 pound giant of a man sitting two rows down from me. HE could barely fit in the airplane itself! How on earth was he supposed to fit in the bathroom? Don’t even get me started in connection planes.

Question of the day: Are first-class bathrooms bigger than coach?

English bathrooms. Otherwise known as “the loo.” Most of the time, they are actually nicer. A stall, unlike economical American ones, has walls that reach from the ceiling to the floor and the door is full-sized so you have more privacy. It resembles a closet, which makes sense that it was once called the “water closet.” And the flusher is never actually attached to the toilet. You should’ve seen me frantically searching for the flusher the first time I used the bathroom. It was pitiful. To save you time and the horror of thinking one will not be able to flush, I’ll go ahead and tell you, IT’S ON THE WALL. And sometimes, it remarkably resembles a magical door handle into Narnia. Or just a silver panel above the toilet that you push in.

And when you wash your hands, don’t ignore the “WARNING: HOT WATER” signs, because the water is actually SCALDING. Even the cold water is hot!

French bathrooms. Are unisex.

I think I almost died the first time I used one. I innocently walked in and saw a man washing his hands at the sink. Embarrassed, I darted out, thinking I had unintentionally waltzed into the men’s room. Nope. I found no sign clarifying gender outside the bathroom. It just said “Toilet.” I wasn’t really sure if I should use this newfangled European restroom. But a full day of walking and French coffe had its effect on this poor little American tourist and I REALLY had to go. So, I braved the wild unknown and marched back into the bathroom. And to the right were the ladies’ stalls, to the left, the gentlemen. So I continued to march past the men washing their hands and right into that stall. It was a liberating experience. Not really. Just weird. What’s worse are bathrooms in restaurants. Because the urinals are not protected by doors. Need I say more? It’s just plain gross and washing my hands was not a cleansing experience. I learned to avoid eye contact, well, any contact, really quickly.

And last, but not least, you have to pay to use 80% of the bathrooms. the ones on the street are scary. they have this mechanic door that opens when you insert 50 pence or cents and you walk in, and it closes behind you and locks. and you feel like you have walked into a high-security prison rather than a bathroom. and you have twenty full minutes in a stall on the side of the road to yourself. It's...interesting, to say the least.

 

 

I’m sorry if this entry was really gross or too much for you to handle. I just wanted to give you fair warning. You know, prepare you for your exotic European excursion. I suggest taking hand sanitizer.

A Summation

So I have been home for an entire week now. And as my friend Michelle mentioned on Twitter about her trip to Spain, I think I experienced reverse culture shock.

It was odd, walking through the airport and saying “excuse me” rather than “pardonne” or “thank you” instead of “merci.”

Hearing English and being able to understand every word of the conversations around me was a bittersweet feeling. I no longer had to embrace the challenge of having to figure out French. But understanding everything in my own tongue was refreshing – it triggered an emotion of comfort I had never experienced. It was funny, when we were in France and how quickly my ears could pick up an English conversation from across a room or the street or when we were in England and I could hear an American accent from a mile away. Though I love the beautiful language that is French, it is nice to relax a little and not have to constantly be giving all my attention to understanding or generating another language.

The entire time I was in Europe, I never had a burger or French fries or any fast food of any kind. In all honesty, a fast food restaurant is hard to find. In the French airport, there were little kiosks, selling macaroons and sweet French delicacies, and a cafeteria-like food court with different fresh-food options that you had to walk to find. But as soon as we rolled into the Atlanta airport, I noticed right off as we exited customs, a Burger King and another fast food restaurant. And the fast food convenient restaurants like McDonald’s and Chick-fil-a and Wendy’s lined the walk to the gates. It was ridiculous. No wonder Americans are fat!

(we did, however, find an All-American Fried Chicken!)

One thing I did miss that I didn’t realize I missed was Southern sweetness. As soon as we started rolling through customs, the officer struck up a conversation with me, and almost all the Americans and airport officials I encountered became my best friend! I missed striking up friendly conversation with random strangers! And that is something you don’t do except in the South, and I truly missed it with even knowing it for the 10 days we were gone. And it made me realize, no matter how much I love other places, no matter how far I travel, I’m always gonna call this place home, because after it all, I’m still a small-town girl who enjoys the hustle and bustle of the big city, but whose heart belongs in the slow South.

And one last thing. Not gonna lie, I don’t miss the unisex bathrooms.

Honkage

If London drivers are crazy suicide drivers, then Parisian drivers are angry drivers.

Let’s begin with London. When we first began navigating the streets of London in that big bus shuttling us from the airport to the hotel, I had 12 million little heart attacks. The drive was beautiful. But the drivers. Oh my gosh. They are ridiculous. Cars and buses drive bumper to bumper, side by side, speeding up fast and stopping on a dime. And bikers! They weave in and out of traffic like the cars are stationary! They squeeze in between buses like little bugs, and I was so afraid we were going to squash one! Why aren’t there more accidents? I don’t get it. I never really appreciated the scene in the third Harry Potter movie (Prisoner of Azkaban) when Harry leaves the Dursley’s and catches the Knight Bus. If you have ever experienced London traffic, the scene is not far exaggerated. Okay, maybe a little. But London drivers are CRAZY.

And Paris. Well, the drivers aren’t quite so dangerous, just horn-happy. And when I say that, it’s because they honk their horns. At everything. They would rather lay on the horn than wait two more seconds for someone to move. And they let the rest of the world know that they are angry by honking their horns. Did you know there are different levels of honkage? Yep. There’s:

1) move

2) You’re in my way

3) I’m slightly irritated with you

4) Seriously? You just did that?

5) okay, NOW I’M ANGRY

6) ^$%#*#@($*%)#

And lanes don’t exist in Paris. I guess it works for the French.

There are also a lot more mopeds/motorcycles. And people park them on the sidewalks. Also, don’t be surprised if you see some classily-dressed lady riding down the avenue on her motorcycle. It’s actually really cute. I aspire to be like that one day.

Magical Memories

This time last week, I was riding the Eiffel Tower elevator to enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime experience…eating dinner in La Tour Eiffel itself.

I must say, I felt like some kind of superstar, because we had our tickets and reservations, so we got to pass the hours-long lines to get to the top and had to wait only a few minutes for our ride to the top. But I also must say that I did not feel very loved by those we were passing. The glares of other exhausted tourists will haunt me forever. WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE PAID FOR DINNER AND THE MONTHS-EARLY RESERVATION. Sucks to suck.

So we were seated. On the Eiffel Tower. With the best view of Paris ever. No biggie. BIGGIE.

So they brought us bread. French bread. Yummy bread. And then the most delicious spread, and the ingredients sound weird, but they were sooooo good. It was crabmeat and guacamole with a tomato, slice of grapefruit, and some lettuce.

Then came the entrée. The most tender grilled duck on a pallet of vegetables –not quite carmelized but a little more than stir-fried, with a dallop of whipped and bubbly egg whites. Sooooooooooo delicious.

And finally, dessert.

The very best part.

It was like a lemon custard, in a small pie crust, topped with singed dallops of whipped cream and drizzled in raspberry and lemon syrups.

And it was polished off with the most delicious cup of café,

After dinner, we climbed even more stairs and experienced Paris as it should be! It was so much fun, and I can say that I climbed the stairs up and down the Eiffel Tower.  

Then, there was this lovely carousel at the bottom of the tower, and we rode it! which was so much fun, I felt like a little girl again, and it was so dream like, Paris spinning before me, alternating views of the Eiffel Tower and the Seine and the Parisian streets themselves. and I knew right then, that I am definitely going back.

One Disappointment

Have you ever been to the Louvre? Well, if you haven’t, in my own opinion, you haven’t missed anything.

Maybe I shouldn’t have had any expectations going in. or maybe I should have had more sleep. But frankly, it was way too crowded. Too much so to actually enjoy the art. It was hot, and the thousands of pieces of artwork all started to look the same after a while.

Don’t get me wrong. I love art, I appreciate all different kinds. I love the Frist Center here in Nashville (especially that students get in free!). and I loved the Musee D’Orsay. But the Louvre, in all its hugeness, long lines, and pushy people, gave one no chance to actually enjoy art. It was too loud, too crowded, and you could never see a full painting or statue for the view was obstructed by

another curious human being.

I did go see the Mona Lisa, just so I could say I did. And it was disappointing. Wanna know something crazy? It looked just like it does in all the textbook photos! Whoa! And it was teeny tiny. And there were hundreds of people gathered around, pushing to the front to snap a picture of a picture.

(see that little painting on the other side of the picture - the one by itself on the small wall? if you can, that's mona.)

So if you want to say you went to the Louvre or saw Napoleon or Lady Liberty, fine then, go. But if you would rather spend your day and energy doing something, I don’t know, FUN or actually enjoyable, stay away from the literally mile-long lines of the Louvre, and find some lesser-known museums or just eat a croque monsieur at the local café.

Locks of Love

So, since I talked about romance yesterday, and swore I was never going to Paris again without a guy, I might as well get this one particular subject out of the way.

The morning after we saw the Notre Dame, we took a short walk behind the gothic cathedral, past the gardens, down a little road to a fairly quiet bridge. And I saw from a little ways off that the rails had a glint to them; they were colorful and sparkled in the sun. As I walked closer, I saw that the bridge was covered in colorful ribbons and thousands among thousands of locks. Curious, I asked Madame Taylor what it was all about. Supposedly, lovers take a lock, write or engrave their names and date on it, lock it to the rail, and then throw the key into the Seine. I was taken by the idea. It enchanted me, and I added it to my bucket list.

So, whoever you are out there, beware; I’m going to drag you to Paris so we can put a lock on the bridge and throw the key in the river. I hope you are as hopelessly romantic as I am.

Romance. Sucks. Period.

So the first thing I want to say is there is no way I am going to Paris again without a guy. Around every corner, there was a reminder screaming:

 “MWAHAHAHA, SUCKS TO BE SINGLE.”

To begin, nearly every café (and there’s one on every corner) had some cute couple sharing a coffee and dessert. Then there were all the other typical Parisian romantic hot spots we just had to pass/visit, with kanoodling lovers. The Eiffel Tower, the banks of the Seine, the multiple gardens, the cute stores. Everywhere, in every language and nationality, romance surrounded me. I just had to visit the city of love and be reminded that I am #foreveralone.

At one point, I realized that I was completely and totally cursed as our river tour guide told us to make a wish as we passed under the bridge of love, and I began to earnestly wish for my knight in shining armor to just drop out of the sky. Then she told us it would only come true if we kissed our neighbor. And I slowly turned to find my neighbor was none other than our group chaperone, Mrs. Walker, not exactly the drop-dead gorgeous French man I had hoped for. (love you Mrs. Walker!) And that’s when I realized that I was doomed to be a lonely teenage girl forever.

So, some words of advice to all you hopelessly romantic teenage girls in single situations:

Paris is not the place for you.

I'M BACKKKK.... :(

So I am back from Europe, extremely tired, but content. Since I did not have internet - funny story actually, I thought I had to get some crazy weird system update to pick up Wi-fi, but turns out, all I had to do was press a lovely little button on my computer, and voila! I would have had internet. I guess it's safe to say that I'm technologically challenged. So anyways, since I didn't have internet almost the entire time I was in Paris, I decided to do little snippets of commentary on different things about the city, rather than keeping track of what I did each day.
So, there's some to come soon!

5-3-2012

So yesterday was my last day in London. I was sad to leave such a wonderful city, but I was looking forward to finally seeing PARIS, the city of my dreams.

We originally planned on ferrying across the English channel, but it was more effiecient to take the tunnel. Not that I’m complaining, I can say I took the chunnel to France! It was my first European train ride, and I loved it! We loaded up on Platform 9 and ¾ (jk, jk – it was Platform 16) and embarked! I waved goodbye to London and we rode out into the English countryside via tunnel. I had my chewing gum prepared for the pressure change, but I was not ready for the pressure that filled my ears. It hit me and Nancy Claire at the same time, and we both reflexively ducked and held our ears and gasped at the sudden painful sensation that someone was filling out ears with bursts of air. Or pressing 20 pound weights on our eardrums. Needless to say, it was not my favorite part of the train. But the countryside was gorgeous! Even though our glimpses were few and far between because of the steep embankment, the rare moments we captured were priceless. And then we descended into the tunnel. And under the English Channel we rode. It was dark. That’s about it. Nothing exciting except for the thought that we were flying underneath an ocean of water. It took all of fifteen minutes to travel underneath it. that shows exactly how fast this incredible rail was moving.

So we resurfaced and had gorgeous views of French countryside. And it then dawned on me. I AM IN FREAKING FRANCE. It was a defining moment.

 (our ears hurt - scary picture)

As soon as we pulled into the station, we were surrounded by everything French. French food, French shoes, French hair, French kissing, French people, and French itself. My ears were buzzing with the words of the people.

Our tour guide met us and we hopped on our bus. And my very first French language exchange was rather disappointing, as I was shot down by none other than the Parisian bus driver who probably hates stupid Americans. All I did was cheerfully say “Merci monsieur” when he took my luggage and he replied with a tart “You are welcome.” Not to be bitter or vengeful “monsieur” but I FREAKING SPOKE YOUR OWN LANGUAGE. BELIEVE IT OR NOT, THAT IS A BIG DEAL. Yes, maybe it was only two words, BUT I TRIED. Why don’t you just go eat a lemon or something?

And as we rolled through the streets of Paris, my heart began to sink. This was not the Paris I imagined. My view from the bus window was bleak indeed as my blasphemous thoughts began to invade my heart and take root, creating a sinking feeling of despair as all my hopes and dreams began crashing down around me. The we stopped by the Eiffel Tower for a quick picture, and the plateau was occupied by a rather scary protest, and I hurriedly snapped a few, then left.

How could this happen???

But something changed as we entered the hotel. We received out keys and then climbed the Parisian spiral staircase to our room. We opened the door to a rather cozy room, but inviting. With a Parisian balcony overlooking a small rue and a window over a side alley, it began to lift my spirits.

And as we walked the streets of Paris, with Madame Taylor confidently leading the way, all of the nearly identical flats and shops began to no longer look intimidating, but warm. Warm sunlight flooded les rues de Paris and the subconscious language barrier began to break down as we tuned into Madame’s captivating history lectures and French conversations around us. Language is such a subconscious barrier, you let it intimidate you so easily when you can’t understand entirely what people are saying, or you can’t communicate a mere thought, it begins to dampen your attitude and outlook without even realizing it. But with an amazing teacher to guide the way, someone who can bridge those big and little gaps, they become far less monstrous. More to come!

25 things you should know when traveling to London...

1)      It is cold. Bring a jacket. Not just a cardigan. A jacket. Or a coat would be good. Foolish me brought about four cardigans, which does nothing to protect one against the tropic 50 degree F temperature and cold winds.

2)      It rains.

So bring an umbrella. And a scarf. It protects your neck when it isn’t raining, and serves as a glamorous, London-like fashion statement to protect your innocent hair from the constant precipitation.

3)      Mind the Gap.

4)      Always have at least 50 pence spare change in your wallet in case you need to use the bathroom and you can’t find a free public restroom. Then you can pay for 20 minutes of toilet time!

5)   Use the telephone booth at least once.

6)      Remember to look right before looking left when crossing the street. Don’t get hit by a car.

7)      Use public transportation. So much better than using a car. The tube is my favorite. And if you can catch one of the old red buses, it’s a cool experience.

8)      Beware of British children. They are the cutest thing known to man. And you’ll be sorely tempted to kidnap one and take it home with you for entertainment. Those accents.

9)      Beware of British boys. They have accents too.

10)   The Queen is a cultural icon. As is the rest of the Royal Family. So, if you buy that plastic crown or go to that one special event, you’re going to be just like the royal family.

11)  Water actually costs money. So you might as well be unhealthy and order soda.

12)  Drink tea. I had nearly four cups every day.

13)  Bring a calculator. Restaurants never give you separate checks. So you don’t want to be that stupid American that can’t do math and figure how much of the bill you owe.

14)  Always take the top level of the red buses. It’s so much more fun, so go ahead, let your inner child out and race to the best seat on the bus.

15)  Beware of the soothing rocking of the tube and the buses. They’ll put you to sleep faster than Lunesta.

16)  Try something new. Food wise. If you hate it, convince your friends or family that it is the best thing you have ever tasted and trade. Like fish n chips. It’s a once in a lifetime experience. Just do it.

17)  Never speak in a British accent. They know the truth.

And they will make fun of you.

18)  Wearing a British Union flag does not make you look British – it makes you look like an idiot. And they will make fun of you.

19)  Don’t take your camera into any of the churches. You will be tazed, fined, and exiled.

20)  When the signs in restrooms say “Caution: Hot Water” they mean it.

21)  The police are actually quite nice. I think it’s the hats. I mean, how can you be mean in that ridiculous constable’s helmet?

22)  If you are a girl, sit alone in a well-established café with an English book. If there is a young waiter, you will get free tea.

23)  If you don’t like birds flying within a foot of your face, London is not the place for you.

24)  Your hair will smell like smoke by the end of the day. Everybody and his brother smokes in London.

25)  And finally, don’t bring your phone. I left mine in Franklin to avoid roaming charges, and, at first, I was so lost without it. No time, no texting, no twitter. But I am so happy I left it at home. Oftentimes, I am so distracted by it, and though the convenience would help with certain situations, we fare just fine without it, and I love not having something that demands all of my attention.

Bells

Today was officially my favorite day in London so far.

First, much to my annoying persistence and insistence, Madame Taylor agreed to go to the British Library. And I’ll admit, my intentions were set on the free Wi-Fi and updating my social networking life, but, alas, I could not bring my laptop and I had to enjoy the library the old fashion way. Without internet. (Gasp!)

So we explored the British treasure room. Originally, I had anticipated a lame setup of the Magna Carta, but we discovered so much more. The room was a small museum, containing hundreds of ancient and recent original texts and manuscripts, my favorites being Jane Austen’s original manuscripts and writing desk (I nearly drooled all over the glass separating me from the amazingness) and a small unearthed and preserved original manuscript of the Gospel of John, two small pieces, handwritten in Greek. It was probably one of the most memorable moments of my life thus far. I could not believe I was so close to so much history.

So London is dressing herself for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, and the already bustling city is crowding even more with those pouring in to be a part of the historic celebration. Unfortunately, it makes the typical sight-seeing a little more difficult – we could barely see Buckingham Palace. But we fought the crowds, watching the changing of the guard and making our way to the Prime Minister’s house and then Westminster Abbey.

Which was incredible.

And I wish I could take more pictures. But pictures wouldn’t do it justice anyway. Saying that it is beautiful is just scratching the surface of any description.

The most surreal part was visiting the tombs of kings and queens like Henry VIII, Bloody Mary, and Elizabeth I, thinking how unbelievably close I was to the remains of such immortal historical names. It was crazy, the realization that these people actually existed and all that is left of them are some bones inside a marble tomb.

One of the many preparations for the Jubilee is the ringing of the bells, and everytime I heard them, i was reminded of either one of two things: Florence and the Machine’s song “Only if For a Night” and the wedding scene from “The Sound of Music”. Just a thought.

The sun also came out today in London! I shed my cardigan and loved wearing my sunglasses, if only for an hour or so! Though I do love the rainy weather of London – it is one of her many trademarks – I did enjoy the sun, and kept singing “Here Comes the Sun”, realizing for the first time the true triumph behind the Beatle’s song.

We love tea, so we went to Twining’s, the oldest tea shop in London.

Then, of course we went to the London Eye. Which made me further realize how enormous and expansive London really is. I was dumbfounded.

 And then tube to dinner! Our last one in London, it was a lovely!

I can’t believe I just finished my last full day in London – it flew by so fast. But I am ready to visit Paris! I can’t wait to be surrounded by everything French!

St. PancrEas

I love London. I truly underestimated this city.

It was so hard to get out of bed this morning, but we all did and rushed downstairs to eat and get started on our lovely tour of London. So, we drove all around the HUGE city (it actually never ends), learning fun facts and great stories about the ancient city.

After we finished the bus tour, we went to

Trafalgar Square

, the London equivalent to Times Square. It was so busy, there was life on every side of the square, and I was in love with the rush of it all, which is odd coming from someone who loves the ease of the South. But it is all so exhilarating.

Then we lunched! And I had soup! (surprise!)

After Trafalgar, we visited London’s most famous commercial attraction, the six level department store, Harrod’s. I could not believe the vastness of the store, but I am proud to say we girls visited every one of those six levels, plus we had quite the scary experience getting stuck on a lift (American translation: elevator), where I pushed the bell four times before it finally moved. Some advice: use the escalators. And I have to say, my favorite part was the food halls. And my favorite part of the food halls was the dessert hall, particularly chocolate. I was basically drooling the entire time.

Then we did even more shopping! And I am proud to say, I splurged and bought a pair of Oxfords on

Oxford Street

. They were 70% off! So I have a valid justification!

I also used my first red booth pay phone EVER to call my mommy! A novel experience that I will never forget!

So, proudly holding my new shoes, I opted with one half of our group to explore Chinatown, London, and it was incredible! My dinner was so yummy – duck egg rolls with egg fried rice! It was a great dinner, and I really enjoyed the conversation with a entertaining group, I loved bonding with some wonderful people!

I also used my first red booth pay phone EVER to call my mommy! A novel experience that I will never forget!

I don’t think I could ever get tired of using the tube! It is one of my favorite activities here, believe it or not! I look forward to using the tube so much, which may be a little weird, but hey, what can I say?

On our walk back to the hotel, we walked through the St. Pancras (which looks like St. PancrEas - just a thought) train station, with it’s wonderful glass roof and towering ceiling and hustle and bustle.