Stonehenge & Bath

England is far more than just London, and the all-day bus tour to Stonehenge and Bath was a perfect escape from the crowded, urban scene. Both are located westerly in the English countryside. Our bus guide, Paul, was a seventy-something Irishman with two jobs (as a guide and working at Harrods) and a quick wit to boot, never ceased heckling our bus driver, Malcolm, or charming his audience. He was full of knowledge and contextual trivia, and he seemed to recall an age of the authentic tour "guides," who really guided the traveler. Nowadays, bus tours jam-pack as many sites as possible within a day, but we were able to spend a good portion at each site in leisure.

Stonehenge is a marvel mainly due to its mystery. Its preshistoric culture is lost to us, and it began formation around 3,000 B.C. until 1,600 B.C. It is aligned with the midsummer sunrise and midwinter sunset, and it's exact purpose? Unknown. Of course, it's considered a place of inspiration and worship, as well as other notions for its purpose (alien landing, assembled by giants, work of the devil, the druids' return, etc.).

I had minimal expectations of Stonehenge as I was told by mere appearance it's unimpressive, so of course I was impressed. Having little to no expectations sometimes work wonders when you travel, or perhaps in general. 

That would be a sprinkler next a 5,000 year old monument.

It's like the dark clouds are looming toward Stonehenge.

We headed to Bath just in time for lunch and a good three hours of wanderlust and respite, just like in a Jane Austen novel. Two of Jane Austen's works: Northanger Abbey and Persuasion were largely set in Bath, and Jane also was a resident for five years. When you turn around the bend, and suddenly see a little mini-city of honey-colored terrraced homes nestled in green hills amid the English fog -- it's exactly what I imagined! I see why the Brits would head there for health; Bath has a charm and feeling of "lightness of being" difficult to describe.


We had lunch at the famous Sally Lunn's, the oldest house in the city, and where people (such as the likes of Charles Dickens) have had their tea since the 1600s. The house was built in 1482.

This is a freshly baked (and tart) apple pie with clotted cream, also known as devonshire cream, also known as heaven.

There are Roman Baths, Georgian Baths... 

Outside the Jane Austen Centre

 Sheep delighting in the English countryside...

It was refreshing to spend a day in  another part of historic, bucolic England -- the England of Austen, Keats and Coleridge. Stonehenge was impressive, Bath enchanting. And the writer in me felt a little bit of home while sipping a Sally Lunn tea near the ghost of Dickens' past...

In Paris... Part Deux

Day 2 in the magnificent city of Paris began as it ought -- at a nearby pâtisserie. Per my earlier post, I've been determined to eat a freshly baked croissant with une café au lait. I was not disappointed. And I didn't feel more French, just a fatter but happier American. We discovered a cheap and friendly bakery where the croissants and pastries baked merely an hour before opening, and the buttery, crisp flakiness surrounding a soft, nearly melting center can only be described as délicieux.

We spent most of our day on L'Open Tour, a Parisian double decker bus. It's a hop on, hop off tour frequenting over 50 locations including Avenue des Champs-Élysées, Arc de Triomphe, Notre-Dame Cathedral, Grand Magasins, Sorbonne, River Seine, Louvre, Bastille area (now a busy traffic roundabout since the prison was demolished by the Revolutionaries in 1789), and of course the Eiffel Tower. If you have only a weekend or three days in a city, open bus tours are highly recommended.








(Photo above is of two elderly Parisian friends holding hands, quite sweet really).

After a mid-afternoon nap, we then headed to the edge of the Latin Quarter to meet a friend of mine from graduate school for a drink. It was typical, you know, Paris. The evening sun lighted the narrow cobblestone streets, glinting off the white walls of Parisian architecture; we sat in an open café drinking framboise and catching up on the last five years.

My friend also recommended a lovely bistro, where Mary and I leisurely had dinner for the next couple of hours before wandering the enchanting maze of backstreets toward our hotel. We were seated next to an older German couple celebrating their anniversary and playing footsie. He kept speaking in German, and she kept gently reminding him "en français, mon amour" (in French, my love). Which brings me to the topic of how displays of affection -- particularly long passionate kisses -- is ubiquitous in Paris. Mary found it cute; I found it annoying after ten minutes.

We stumbled upon an amazing La chocolaterie called Maison Larnicol. We went a little nuts.



Our last day in Paris was much colder and drearier. We waited for nearly an hour in the searing wind for the Catacombes de Paris, which runs underground of the city and holds the remains of nearly six million people including some of the saints. It was a macabre sight and bone-chilling (Dad, that was for you). Actually, it was impressive, and the entire tour -- though self-guided -- had a quiet air of reverence. As we navigated the dark tunnels, sometimes we'd see a staff worker huddled in a corner reading a book in the dim light. Surrounded by passages of bones.

I couldn't exactly smile.

Skulls (below) are placed in a heart-shape.

While visiting the catacombs was our last site before heading back to London, it did not dampen our spirits nor our desire to return, and I certainly plan on being back -- perhaps in the next five years.

Paris is a city I hope you visit. There is a tenor to this city, a timeless familiarity that's mesmerizing and magnetic. Monuments and history everywhere. It's easy to navigate by foot, metro, and bus. And at the risk of over-romanticizing, I'll still say it -- it's easy to fall in love here, whether it be with a person, a place, a café, even a croissant, the environment welcomes you.  Next time, care to come with me?

Enchanted in April... in Paris

They say Paris is for lovers and romance. They say it is for the young. And for the old, and for the free-spirited. They say Parisiennes are refined creatures. I arrived to Paris with all these preconceptions and more, and admittedly, rolled my eyes every time I heard someone remark: "Paris? I love Paris!"

Let me be clear: all of my expectations of Paris were true, but this city is much, much more. Paris, like seeing an old friend after a decade, suddenly took me by surprise and delight. Paris? I LOVE Paris.

Paris: Day 1

The French capital -- the centre -- is divided into 20 arrondisements (districts). Mary and I stayed in the 10th, République, which is just a little northwest of the river Seine. We had quite the journey into the city by 1) tiny Air France plane, 2) shuttle, 3) bus, 4) RER train into the city, 5) underground metro, and 6) by looking at our Lonely Planet map, we picked a station to stop at and in hot 80s weather (dressed in London clothes of jeans and jackets), lugged our suitcases a couple miles hunting our hotel located on some boulevard at some intersection somewhere in France.

But we arrived. And immediately went searching for food late Sunday afternoon. Our hotel is next to the Canal St. Martin, and it was brimming with life. Students sitting along the canal reading philosophy, pregnant mothers eating ice cream, older couples holding hands, friends, lovers, little girls riding bicycles singing Lady GaGa... all walks of life. We did have a classic "dumb American" moment while ravenously searching for an open café -- I hadn't eaten since 6:30 a.m.. We found a place where people were still eating and was relatively crowded, so we sat down only to wait for an hour --  faulting our lack of French and our waiter's busy-ness -- and after making the motion to eat, we soon discovered they had just stopped serving food. I was tempted to steal the non-eaten basket of crudites at our neighbor's table.

By the Canal St. Martin

The evening before flying to Paris, I had taken a one hour French lesson via YouTube and jotted down useful phrases. And that was a clever idea, if I say so myself. From one non-francophone to another, Mary said my French was quite good. To be fair there is this preconception that the French are snobby toward Americans especially those who don't speak French. And that intimidated me.

My Lonely Planet guide on France relayed (disclaimer: do not travel without one; Mary recommended Lonely Planet guides, and I've found them extremely useful, culturally respectful, and informative) that if you at least attempt to speak French, most Parisiennes will respond welcomingly. And that makes sense. Paris is the MOST visited city in the world. Who would want an American bursting into their café without as much as a Bonjour and speak English without trying? That's why we're sometimes considered loud and rude. We found that the French were hardly snobby and really quite lovely, so my advice if you're a non-Francophone -- say "Bonjour" or "Bonsoir," followed by a "Parlez-vous anglais?" and that shall take you far.

As another aside, French women have such a unique style from London women (who sport tights and flats and cut-off jeans and boots). Neither are better nor worse than the other, just very individually... European.

Following our piping hot afternoon lugging suitcases and searching for food along the river, Mary and I took a much needed nap. After I stopped by a bon bon stand en route to the hotel, of course. Then we headed to the Latin Quarter to meet one of Mary's friends for a drink at 9:30 p.m. Yes, this is Europe time.

Hôtel de Ville (circa 1246)

Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris

 Paris is magnificent at night. She is something else. Huge landmarks and old buildings with stunning and detailed architecture are illuminated at night, and simply takes your breath away. As we walked to the Latin Quarter, we passed Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris, which was a beautiful sight. And then we crossed the bridge over the river Seine. The Latin Quarter is renown for its intellectual vibe, the students studying at the Sorbonne (dating back to the 13th century), bistros, and vibrant life. After meeting up with Mary's friend, we ate dinner around 10:45 p.m. or so then took a midnight stroll back to our hotel.

Vive La Paris!

Brick Lane, Camden Shopping, and Mummies

Brick Lane is a melting pot and literally a long brick lane of many curry houses. It's a vibrant part of London, and restaurant workers will stand in doorways enticing you to enter their curry house. Nik was a gentleman and politely turned down all offers for dinner, although one covertly got passed him and purred to Mary and I, "Hello my ladies. How about some curry?"


We ate at a BBC recommended curry house, and the food was delicious!

London neighborhoods have a main shopping street called the "high street" and is typically stylish and chic. The American equivalent would be a Main Street. I've visited one of the best London Bookstores at Marylebone High Street and have been in happy active pursuit of the many shopping districts London offers. Regent Street is one of the main and high-end shopping streets in London's West End.

Camden Market. It was orginally a crafts market but evolved into hundreds upon hundreds of vendors/stalls indoors and outdoors of converted horse stables selling everything from London souvenirs to antiques to Gothic clothing. It has a mixed bohemian, punk, and grunge feel and is just really lively to walk through!

Brunch - to the left is "Soft Boiled Eggs and Soldiers," apparently a throwback breakfast dish to the British child's past. You crack the egg, then dip the pieces of bread -- soldiers -- into the egg. Charming, no?

My breakfast was the eggs benedict. Yum.




The British Museum

The British Museum has an extensive Egyptian as well as Greek and Assyrian collection. It was very impressive, and that was the first time I've seen an Egyptian sarcophagus. And not to mention, the Rosetta Stone.

The Rosetta Stone among a plethora of schoolchildren

 Next, we're off to Paris!



Touched Down in London Town!

Apparently tales of London Fog are merely fable. I expected 40s and 50s and what kind of weather did I find? Warm and sunny 70s. The English became toasty Brits as they basked in the sun at Hyde and Regent's Parks (near to where Mary and Nik live) --  and honestly don't think I've seen so many white people lounging around on the grass. It was like Waikiki beach minus the beach and bathing suits, and people were everywhere: in business clothes, jogging, taking a stroll with their partner, chatting with girlfriends and wine, reading a book, snogging on the grass, walking their tots.

In the evening pubs were filled to the brim, and men spilled outside for after work drinks.  (I'm told it's a bloke thing to have a beer with the guys after work.  Hardly any women, although pubs offer fruity drinks like strawberry beer.)

Below are photos of both Parks. Regent's Park was filmed in the "The King's Speech." Also, Regent's will be utilized for the Olympics 2012. Latest word is that both parks will broadcast the Royal Wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton on gigantic screens, and many women will sport bridal gowns and sip champagne in the parks. The Brits are even granted a four day weekend for the wedding!

*Note: The peace sign is a signature Asian, especially Japanese, trend in photos.

** The UK doesn't subscribe to euros. I felt like an ignoramus attempting to purchase a ticket with euros instead of pounds.

Recognize this from a recent Academy Award-winning film? Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush had an argument right about here.

Day 1: The Double Decker Red Bus: The Original London Tour

 

It's always been my dream to travel throughout London via the vibrant red bus. And it certainly wasn't disappointing.

Basking in yet another lovely day of sunshine, and with Londoners decidedly cheerier, we saw the London Bridge, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben & Parliament, St. Paul's Cathedral (one of the choices for the upcoming royal wedding), Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, Tower of London (yes, the execution place), Shakespeare's Globe, and the National Gallery amongst many other English landmarks.

Our tour guide was witty and full of English charm and clever factoids. Did you know "wharf" is actually an acronym for Warehouse and River Front?

 Big Ben from a distance atop the Double Decker.

 

Photos Above: London Bridge; back of The Palace

  

 
          

  

One of four bronzed lions built to protect the city. Each lion faces a corner. It seems very Narnia-esque particularly with that highschooler sitting on it.

 This sign is posted in Tralfagar Square. Whatever happened to the compassionate "Feed the Birds" from Mary Poppins?

Thus far I'm most impressed with London's international flavor. There is a level of sophistication to this kind of melting pot that feels... distinctly London. And English girls are lovely, and some even have the porcelain skin from a BBC film. English blokes... not so bad either.

Cheerio.

Crossing the Atlantic

As a little girl I dreamed of Paris because Sabrina went to Paris. And because of La Vie en Rose. And as a teenager in Señora Slate's class I dreamed of Madrid because of Pedro Almodovar, horchatas in the morning, and flamenco at dusk. And London because of my dad, C.S. Lewis, and Tolkien.

My friend Kate asked what I most look forward to on this European adventure. I have such strongly resonant images and feelings about each city even though we've only been introduced via literature and film. I look forward to being wrong. Or validated. Will eating a croissant at a Parisian café amid city bustling feel and taste exactly as I imagined it?

But enough philosophical conjecture. I really look forward to food and wine. A lot of it. !Ole¡

So here's where you'll be joining me as I travel-log: London, Paris, Madrid, two days back in Hawaii, then Bangkok (for work; I was asked to speak at a Trafficking in Persons conference). I'm honestly really proud that I surpassed my new year's resolution of two countries a year, or more accurately, I'm really blessed. And who knows? Perhaps like Sabrina, I'll come back an Audrey Hepburn with a Humphrey Bogart on my arm.

Charles Bukowski

At Eastern Market DC nearly six years ago, I bought an indie black t-shirt of Charles Bukowski holding a can of beer. It says: "To do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art." If he only knew that a poetry student would fashionably sport around his face as a bohemian-nouveau trend.

Bukowski like Joseph Brodsky like Hemingway  have a scotch in one hand and shotgun in the other personal flair, yet still have the capacity to craft delicately. He seems less dangerous and a little more know-able.

No. 6

I'll settle for the 6 horse
on a rainy afternoon
a paper cup of coffee
in my hand
a little way to go,
the wind twirling out
small wrens from
the upper grandstand roof,
the jocks coming out
for a middle race
silent
and the easy rain making
everything
at once
almost alike,
the horses at peace with
each other
before the drunken war
and I am under the grandstand
feeling for
cigarettes
settling for coffee,
then the horses walk by
taking their little men
away --
it is funereal and graceful
and glad
like the opening
of flowers.

Jing and Shelgo Take Japan (a Brown Power Production)