Loove at the Louvre

Though I have visited Paris before this trip, I has never made it to the Louvre.  Realizing this oversight, Josh and I set out to visit one of the largest - and the most-visited - museum in the world.  Housed in a former palace that was reclaimed for the people soon after the country was, the Louvre is a spectacular structure and a great museum.  While recent additions like I. M. Pei's glass pyramids caused a stir in the Parisian community, I like that the space continues to evolve as necessary.  In this case, a new entrance was needed because the former entrance couldn't handle the volume of tourists that passed though each day.  And, hey, Parisians love to complain about changes that they later embrace... like the Eiffel Tower.

Since a true appreciation of the Louvre collection is a multi-day or -week or -year undertaking given its 35,000 works of art on display (of 380,000), we decided to stop at the pieces that have made the Louvre famous and unique.  The museum has a strong collection of ancient Roman and Greek art, with many pieces in incredible condition.  It also boasts the French Crown Jewels, since it is a palace that was taken over.  Some of its pieces, like the Mona Lisa, were property of the king (King Francis I reportedly fell in love with the Mona Lisa painting as soon as he saw it).  We wandered through the various galleries, appreciating the beauty of the Venus de Milo, the painted ceilings, ancient codices, Winged Victory, Boticelli paintings, Da Vinci portraits, and numerous other priceless works.

"Look at that six-pack!  I guess the avenues de Milo did crossfire."  -Josh Ruck

Trying out for the position of future Queen

Clearly, we take our art very seriously.  And after the Louvre, we spent the afternoon exploring the other arts of Paris.  For lunch, we enjoyed the art of fine dining at Le Fumoir, where I had the most delicious goat cheese, eggplant, roasted tomato, and roasted pepper sandwich ever created.

Next was the art of high fashion, which Josh modeled quite well. (Paris was having huge sales everywhere, so we decided to see what was "in" these days)

Next was the art of architecture, at Notre Dame (we finally went inside).  And finally, we explored the art of friendship, a little bit by accident.  We went to dinner at a wonderful little restaurant on a hidden side street - Heureux Comme Alexandre on Rue de la Parcheminerie.  While we had picked it for the rave reviews of its cheese fondue, we were too seduced by the idea of cooking our own meat and veggies on a hot stone.  And were filled with regret.  So on the way out we asked a lone man if we could try just one little piece of bread dunked in the cheese (the minimum order is for two people, so he had extra).  And he wholeheartedly agreed that we should try it.  We ended up sitting with him for quite some time, learning about his business (geology) that brought him to Paris (working for an oil company).  He was so lovely, and the fondue... Well, the fondue was fantastic.  The cheese was so delicious and melted on a piece of French bread well... I was heart-stopping, but totally worth it.

Tired from a long day, we headed home filled with memories and cheese.

Spotted: Graffiti.  There is a surprising amount of graffiti decorating odd walls, metro lines (on lines that run every 3-5 minutes until 1 am), and an assortment of hard to reach places.  While I have a great appreciation for street art, most of this is rather poorly done and makes the city look dirty.  What a pity.

The Lumière at the End of the Tunnel

Bright and early, we crept from the apartment in Greenwich and took two buses, a train (through the tunnel from London), and a metro to our new home in Paris.  Paris!  A city known for glamour, romance, buttery pastries, cafés, and gorgeous architecture (among other things).  We were staying in a beautiful, airy room in the 18th Arrondissement, a neighborhood that we later learned houses both very wealthy and very poor Parisians.  It is sometimes described as "rough" but our street was quit charming and we loved the convenience to downtown on our nearby metro line.

Since we had most of the day, we decided to walk around.  Even on the short walk to the metro, we got a snapshot of Parisian life.  Men called from market stalls offered a taste of the delicious fruit selection.  Street musicians played the accordion instead of the guitar.  Young Parisians dressed in high fashion showed their edginess with a piercing above the lip like a glinting beauty mark.  They say that in Paris there is no downtown, because each arrondissement is its own little village or community. We certainly got that feel.

Still, drawn by the allure of Parisian history and grandeur, we made our way to Point Zero.  

Identified by a plaque on the ground in front of Notre Dame, this point is a reference from which all distances in Paris are (supposedly) measured.  We decided to go into the cathedral another time due to the blocks-long line, but appreciated the gorgeous facade and used it as a starting point for our Rick Steve's audio guide of historic Paris.  [When I said that my bare shoulders weren't appropriate, Josh also suggested that I tell the church employees that I was "cloaked by the Holy Spirit."]  From the souls in Purgatory leering it from the sides of the cathedral to its pensive gargoyle on the top right corner, detail after detail caught our eyes.

Fun fact: this year, Notre Dame celebrates its 850th birthday

From Notre Dame, we proceeded to the cathedral gardens, the Deportation Memorial (for the 200,000 Jews deported and killed during WWII), the Ile St. Louis, the Left Bank, and various sites relating to medieval Paris.  Then, dipping into what became one of our favorite neighborhoods, we saw the quirky bookshop Shakespeare and Co.  This bookstore was a hotspot for famous writers of the early 20th century, albeit at a different location.  The bookstore today is stuffed from floor to ceiling with a diverse array of volumes.  An adjacent room houses the rare books, some of which are for sale.  Most interesting to me was the continued support of the bookstore for young aspiring writers,  they can apply to have a sort of "writer-in-residence" status at the bookstore, living for free upstairs.  Pretty cool, huh?

After Shakespeare and Co, we wandered down Rue St. Severin to admire cathedrals and small pedestrian streets that bring Paris such charm.  Then we were struck again by the scale of Paris as we encountered the Conciergerie (known for being a former jail and torture chamber, as well as for its old public clock outside), San Chapelle, and the Pont Neuf.  It was a nice sample platter of Parisian offerings, from the grim to the gorgeous, the ancient to the relatively new.  What other city offers a 400-year-old tree with a name, a bridge with thousands of locks proclaiming love (of another or of travel, it seems), and a melting pot (of cheese or people, take your pick) to enrich your experience, all within a few blocks?  Incredible.

We returned to our little Parisian home, tired but satisfied, sunburned but glowing.  Paris has a romance, yes, but it is the romance of discovery.

Spotted: Art.  As Josh commented, he understands why artists flock(ed) to find inspiration and success.

The GQ Model Next Door

When it comes to being fabulous, there are few places that rival the free for all of the Henley Royal Regatta at Henley-on-Thames.  And so, yielding to the call of our fabulous, social, British selves, we joined the thousands of posh internationals along the riverbanks.  

Men wear seersucker, blazers (specially-designed Henley blazers if they have ever raced in the regatta), and wield picnic baskets and cocktails with familiar ease.  

Women tiptoe in heels down dirt paths wearing long dresses (below the knee is required for the enclosures, and God forbid you show up in trousers!) and shading themselves from the sun with fanciful hats.  

Small golden or paper badges flutter from breast pockets, signifying entrance to the exclusive enclosures.  And then there are all the people who throw formality to the wind, swing blankets and bottles of wine, and camp out on the banks.  Baguettes and wedges of cheese spill out of grocery bags and a riverside party commences.  Many small clusters of youths sit far from the river, eschewing prime real estate for the convenience of the clearings.  They care for the London social calendar, not for the rowing itself.

Indeed, it was a mixed crowd with mixed motivations.  Some cheers, some imbibed, some did both.  We chose to cheer, making our seat on extra plastic grocery bags and our meal of sandwiches, a baguette, and a round of Camembert.  We scored a spot along the bank, close to the finish line and in the shade.  And good thing we did.  From the time we sat down until the time we left hours later there was a constant flood of people back and forth along the path.  The next available seat couldn't have been as convenient or comfortable.  And we had great neighbors!  An enthusiastic cheering section from New Zealand picnicked to our right, the parents of a former Oxford rower (president of the Blue Boat) sat to our left, and boats full of old men rowing their adorable old wives glided by in the water at our feet.  Occasionally, a wake from a race or passing boat would splash water up at our feet, making us all laugh.

My favorite neighbor was the mother of the former Oxford rower.  She was originally from Slovenia but had lived in England for most of her life.  She was a typical mother, trying to coax me onto the blanket she shared with her husband so that I didn't dirty my dress, bragging good naturedly about her son as she glowed with pride (this is how we found out he had been in GQ because of his prominence in the British rowing world), and asking us about our trip and such.  We found out that we knew a rower in common (we knew him from his Yale days; she knew him from his time at Oxford) and from that moment on we were clearly on the same page: appreciative of rowing and of the crews at the regatta, and proud of our rowers (her son and my Josh).  When her son came over, he was dutifully embarrassed by his mother's affection, pride, and bragging.  He was quite nice, though, and offered to let us buy tickets to the enclosures.  Since we has already seen most of the races that we had come for, we declined.  Maybe next time.  But meeting such a lovely family made the afternoon.  We also ran into friends - rowing is a small world - and Josh conspired to create a boat for a future Henley regatta. I'm rooting for this idea.  The race is quite fun when you have a stake in it (through friends).  Or when you have a handsome man who suddenly gets excited about dressing up.

That evening, our last in London, we enjoyed a wonderful spread of breads, cheeses, and sausages with the lovely Aunt Martha brood.  Welcoming us into their apartment and sharing their feast and company with us? I really do have the best family.

Spotted: Strawberries and cream.  I'm not sure if this is a Henley thing or a Henley and Wimbledon thing, but it was everywhere.  At the tents at Henley.  In a special Starbucks drink for the month.  Advertised in store windows.  Sounds like a pretty delicious tradition.

They Must Be Giants

Another day, another day trip.  On Friday, we hopped on another train, this time to Salisbury.  We were off to see not only a cute, historic town, but also an ancient and mysterious monument, a layer cake of historical fortresses, and the tallest church spire in England.

First, we followed the allure of ancient mystery out to Stonehenge.  

While some people laughed off our day trip because of the effort needed to see these stones, I remember marveling at them on my last trip and thought that Josh, a mechanical engineer, would share my appreciation of them.  I was right.  After all, the stones to make this monument were floated and/or carried 150 miles (240 km) from the Preselli Hills... in 2600 BC.  Pretty incredible.  But that was the second use of the site.  First, a large pit was dug and used as a sit for burial.  These bones were originally dug up, deemed unimportant, and reburied in a single hole.  While most people gaze at the stones of Stonehenge, you can still see the dip of this giant pit, despite thousands of years of erosion and sediment deposits.

And then came the stones.  

Two concentric rings of stones were created, using as many as 80 stones.  Not all remain today.  The stones that most people think of are actually from the third stage of Stonehenge construction (the second stone stage) and involved the import of sarsens.  These enormous chunks of rock, roughly hewn, often jointed and grooved to help them fit together, stand today in a proud circle.  While the ring used to have a complete circle of sarsens around the tops (these stones were even curved on the side to form a circle), today so many have fallen that Stonehenge resembles a math equation of ones and pi symbols.  It is incredible that any of the standing posts fell, given that they are buried to a third of their height.  It's also incredible that they got there in the first place, since they each weigh 25 tons (or 50,000 pounds).  Oh, and they are perfectly placed so that the sun shines through a different opening each month.

While our visit was short - you can only see a circle of stones from so many vantage points and gather something new - it was lovely.  We had taken the Stonehenge Tour bus there, so we got to cut the lines and enjoy a history lesson to and from the site.  The bus also dropped us off at another historical site: Old Sarum.

Old Sarum is a hill that has been used by numerous invading forces - Normans, Romans, etc - over the years.  Each time, they built a bit higher up on the hill, topping the glory of the previous owner.  While little remains today, it's quite an interesting sight from both the side and - a bit trickier - from an aerial perspective (I recommend looking at a postcard).  It always baffles me how so many cultures decide to descend and capitalize upon the same place, century after century.

Finally, we explored Salisbury.  This quaint little town is very old (especially to two young Americans) and has become both a modern shopping destination and a glorification of antiquity.  The cathedral and the Close (the surrounding neighborhood of very expensive, exclusive houses) date back centuries.  

The cathedral was built because of a reaction against the rulers on Old Sarum; they moved down to this available patch of land and built a gorgeous cathedral in a mere 38 years (compared to the hundreds of years typical of the day).  

A view down half of the cathedral, with the cross-shaped baptismal fountain (not a font) flows water into grates on the floor.

The tower, which has become a symbol of the cathedral's magnificence, was added later.  It has shaped the cathedral's future - literally and figuratively - ever niceness.  The weight of the tower has bent the main stone pillars of the cathedral outward (seeing a bent, giant stone pillar seems somehow impossible, yet there it is) and necessitated emergency interventions ever since: additional pillars, diagonal supports hidden in the first balcony, and other clever tricks have finally stabilized the structure.  The tower is also one of the reasons why Salisbury was not bombed during WWII; the pilots would use it as a reference point, orienting themselves for their missions.  And today, it still wows as it soars above an otherwise rather quaint (beside the commercial streets) English town.  If you have time, also check out the ancient clock and the array of flags that were retired from battle as they became threadbare.  Oh -- and make sure to pick up some pastries from Reeve's (Reeve The Baker).  It's just the thing to revive you after all that walking.

Spotted: Just the foundation of modern democracy.  Salisbury Cathedral boasts one of the four copies of the Magna Carta (1215) that have survived to the modern day.  It is also the copy in the best condition and is quite legible... If you speak Latin well enough to recognize abbreviated words.  Each copy was printed on a single sheet of vellum, meaning that the words had to be shortened to fit.  There are little lines over the words where vowels were skipped.  Another fun fact?  Jay Z revealed the art for his album, Magna Carta... The Holy Grail? in that room.  And the cathedral loved it.

If You Build It

Since Josh got to plan this trip, I got to tag along to place that I otherwise wouldn't have ventured.  This is not because I am not interested in them, but merely because I wouldn't remember that they exist in the hurried planning stages.  The first of these was, of course, Legoland.

When people heard that we were going to Legoland, there were two types of reactions: jealousy (often with an oh-I've-been-meaning-to-take-my-nephew slant) or disbelief (perhaps that we are such huge nerds).  This Legoland was not just any Legoland, either.  It has a special Star Wars exhibit, which just opened last year, making it Josh's fantasy land.  Legos AND Star Wars?  Nerd overload.

Given the reactions, it was no surprise that we were the only people on the bus that hadn't recently given birth or completed the first grade.  But in many ways that made it the most enjoyable scenario.  The park is vast (overwhelming for our legs, let alone miniature ones) and the Lego creations are magnificent. We walked through every themed area, posing with all the Lego creations from the sandy Egyptian obelisks and stereotypical Arab camel trader to the leering dragons and swarthy Vikings.  We did save the best for last, though.  Well, Star Wars came last.  But just before that we went around Miniland.  The only way to describe this is possibly the most fun customized architectural Lego creations imaginable.  Boats that sail through ponds drawn by magnets.  Cathedrals and famous office buildings and castles and peasant villages.  A pagan midsummer party at Stonehenge.  Romeo and Juliet dangling off a balcony, lusting after each other with the irrationality of teenagers everywhere.  It must have been so much fun to design and execute this part of the park.  Nearly all the scenes were from London, the UK, or other parts of (northern) Western Europe, suggesting that the various Legoland parks try to represent their own regions in their Minilands.

And then there was the Star Wars exhibit.  Small children were not allowed in without an adult, given the battle sound effects, dim lighting, moving replica ships and leering life sized recreations.  Adults acting like small children entered undetected, so Josh and I got in without issue.  It was quite fun, more so because Josh could explain everything, from naming characters to worlds to plot twists.

And then home again.  Sadly, we didn't have time to explore Windsor or its eponymous castle.  We had a lot to do that evening: we were moving!  We bid farewell to James et al. and took a very confusing route across London to my aunt's temporary apartment in Greenwich, with a pit stop at my cousin's Goldsmiths MFA art show on the way.  The scene was, well, artsy.  I'm not sure what the British take on hipsters is, but they were out in full force.  As with the modern art museum, some exhibits delighted while others confused and a couple horrified.  But such is art.

It was good to be with family.  We enjoyed a delicious dinner at a nearby restaurant (The New Cross Inn, I believe*) and ended the night snuggled up on a pull-out couch.  Hurray for free housing!

* Note: the pizzas are great, but the steak burger is the real winner.  The waitress suggested it, and while going halvesies - the usual - Josh and I both loved the burger most.

Spotted: 43 million bricks.  That's the number used to create JUST MiniLand at Legoland Windsor.  Josh and I wondered aloud at how many were in the whole park.

Performance Piece

While London is expensive, it does boast an array of free (!) activities and museums.  This is especially important because the student discount is negligible, often a pound off of a £20 admission fee.  Josh and I decided to make the most of it.  We didn't have time to go into all of the sites we wanted to see, so we would go into the free one and ogle the others from the outside.

Since we are very modern people, we started with modern art.  The Tate Modern is the most-visited modern art museum in the world and is built in the former Bankside Power Station.  While admission is free, some of the temporary exhibits inside are not, as we quickly discovered.  We started with a societal critique by an African artist, and accidentally ate lunch in part of the exhibit.  Don't worry - it was a series of picnic tables meant to be used; we just didn't realize that it was a continuation of the exhibit.  The same artist, when his exhibit opened, had a fleet of golden bikes that were "art" and would bring his collection into the everyday city bustle.  Sadly, they now sit behind glass in the museum.  We also made a point of seeing the Surrealist art, a collection that was certainly thought-provoking.  We loved some of the pieces, debated others, and were quite confused by many of the pieces - but such is art.

Next, we popped by a neighboring building, the Globe Theater, to try and catch a tour.  Sadly, the tours are only available in the mornings, as actors take over in the afternoon and stage Shakespearean plays.  Ticket sell out about eight weeks in advance, so definitely book early if you plan to go.  The morning tours, on the other hand, are available for walk-ins and are cheap (less than £10) by London standards.

Our third stop was Buckingham Palace.  While we weren't invited inside, we did join the throng of tourists taking pictures and managed to trade jokes with the guards.  I'm glad they choose people with a good sense of humor for these jobs.  Dealing with tourists all day must wear on their good spirits.  Especially people as silly as us.  

The palace is beautiful, as befits a building that has housed monarchs since 1837.  It has a whopping 775 rooms (given my recent housing search, I can appreciate this) and has 50,000 invited guests per year among its various parties.  I can't fathom how I could make it on that guest list, but it would be pretty amazing to attend one of the garden parties.  The people watching must be incredible.

Book ending our day with art, we stopped at both the National Gallery and the adjacent National Portrait Galleries.  

While we did neither collection justice, both museums fascinated us.  The National Gallery was beautiful and HUGE.  We skimmed the various galleries, enjoying in particular the Monet, Manet, pointillist, and other more modern paintings.  Then, with only a few minutes before closing, we stopped by the National Portrait Gallery.  This museum features drawings, caricatures, cartoons, and paintings of just about anybody who is anybody.  As we walked upstairs, we saw a series of studies of TS Elliot, as well as quite a few renderings of Churchill.  We had read that there was a self-portrait of Churchill in the museum, but discovered that this was false.  Instead, there was merely a self-portrait there that he liked best.

Before heading back to the flat, we made one more stop.  Josh, humoring me, agreed to attend choral evensong at St. Marten's in the Field.  It was a gorgeous service.  Short and filled with musical prayer, it brought me back to my own days in choir and made me miss them more than I could have imagined.  While the quartet singing the service was wonderful, the soprano had a particularly glorious voice.  Between the music, the saucy program notes about Twitter and TMI, and the wormhole-like cross picking up the dusk light, it was a memorable evening.

We metro-ed home, legs tired and heads full of remembered paintings.  And stomachs rumbling.  We had made plans to go out with James and his flatmates to a pub that evening, and we were reading for dinner.  His flatmates were lovelier than we had thought (which is saying something because they already seemed so wonderful), the food was quite good, and the walk was beautiful.  It was all inspirational: I found out that James is doing a two-week trek around the bottom half of Everest in December and am completely in awe of his twice-a-year adventures.  Perhaps I should become a contractor, too.

Spotted: Sausage stack.  Apparently a stack of everything non-vegan.  It's standard British pub fare, according to our authentic British guides.

Eye on the Prize

And thus the great catch-up begins.  I have been in Europe with my boyfriend, Josh, for just over a week now and have yet to blog.  Therefore, bear with me as I recall funny moments and memories, as well as compile a future To Do list for myself for each city.

This catch-up will begin, as our travels did, in London.  With overcast skies and a chill in the air (but a forecast of beautiful weather all week), we descended from the skies into London.  From a bit of reading about the city, I learne that the name London is from the older name Lundinium, although the origins of that name remain hypothetical.  We passed brick rooftops and sooty facades, but also bundled-up locals and tourists alike enjoying the beautiful, historic city.

Josh and I were staying with James, James Bond, a friend that I had met in central Vietnam who kindly offered his couch (and got his flatmates to agree to it) to Josh and me for our first few nights in the city.  Beside the company, the best part of the deal was the convenient location with regard to the (very best) metro line.

From the first few hours, we determined to make the most of our time in London.  We went for a walk around some of the major monument, stopping at Big Ben (actually the bell inside the tower, Elizabeth Tower), the Houses of Parliament, and other attractions in time to the Rick Steves free audio guide tour of the city.

Fun facts:

Big Ben is either named after a heavyweight boxing champion around the time that it was cast or after the commissioner of works, a large man named Sir Benjamin Hall.

The bell cracked, was recast, and then cracked again.  This time, they simply turned it to present an untracked portion to the hammer, and the bell continued to toll.

The walk around the city was just what we needed.  We saw the London Eye, walked over and around the Thames, 

the Boadicea Statue (which I would have been clueless about otherwise - look her up!), Parliament Square, Whitehall, the Cenotaph (currently being renovated), 10 Downing Street (the PM's house - the bricks were originally yellow but were soothed black, and now are painted black), the Banqueting House (huge party space - Victoria was such a party animal), the horse guards (try keeping a horse calm when thousands of people touch and poke it each day), and Trafalgar Square. 

 Call me maybe?

 It was sufficient to give us a sense of the downtown layout and feel like we'd had a taste of history.  It also piqued our curiosity: we had stops near the National Gallery, St Martin's in the Field, and various other buildings that seemed interesting.  It also brought us past unexpectedly poignant landmarks, like the Nelson Mandela statue strewn with flowers and lit by a small army of tea lights.  Handwritten letters blanketed his feet like palms thrown down to soften his path.  It was an intimate moment during a walk of awe and stiff grandeur.

We ended the night with dinner at a pub (Fish and chips! Big Ben burger! Swapping mushy peas for something that sounds more appetizing!) 

and then discovered the most recent Crown Jewel of Britain: Sainsbury supermarkets.  This supermarket chain became a lifeline for us in London, feeding us well with its array of fruit, its 3 pound lunch special (giant sandwich + cut fruit + drink - try beating that!), and one pound rolls of McVitties Digestives with chocolate.

And then to our air mattresses, for sweet dreams and a duel with jet lag.

Spotted: driving - and walking, and everything - on the wrong side of the road.  Even the escalators are on opposite sides!  Luckily, the British realize how silly and unique they are and have written "Look left" or "Look right" in white paint at intersections so confused pedestrians can cope.