September 03, 2006
Thoughts on Paris and the UK
First, I want to thank my friend Erik and our friend Clare for allowing our smelly butts to stay in their homes in London and Edinburgh, respectively. It's really such a bonus to be able to relax in a comfortable home rather than whisking from hostel to campsite, not to mention the huge cost-saving considering the ridiculous USD-to-Pound exchange rate. So thank you both very much! It was really a pleasure.
Scottish Highlands
Samantha detailed our Paris itinerary already in her post, so I only have a few ramblings. I agree that Paris is the most beautiful city that we saw in Europe, hands down. But I can't use words like "stunning" or "unbelievable" because such superlatives are reserved for sights like Fjordland in New Zealand, the Swiss Alps, Banff National Park in the Canadian Rockies, and so on. But Paris was a pretty town, no doubt.
Deb Siegel, thank you very much for the copius guidance you provided us about Paris. There is no substitute for a friend's advice, and I/we appreciate it.
London was a different experience for a few reasons. First, we'd both been there before. So hanging out with my friend Erik was more of a priority than seeing the sights a second time. Also, Erik's apartment was super-comfy, so we rested our feet from all of our Paris walking. The lack of a language barrier and an absurd exchange rate also made our London trip a different endeavor than other European cities. But we did manage to cover a lot of ground during our combined 5 days there.
Speaker's Corner is a corner of Hyde Park in London where people congregate to rant. Various opinionated ranters bring some kind of stepping stool or soapbox and carry on with the shouting. It got really noisy in amongst them, as one would guess, and you had to strain to hear some of them above the cacophony. Many of the ranters were spouting about some religious matter, be they Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or whatnot. Some were more philosophical in nature, preaching anarchy or nihlism or morality in general. One rather mean-looking guy in particular was shouting about how American and British governments are trying to "create their own reality in the Muslim world" and had commanded quite a crowd. But the best was a fellow who was mocking the whole scene by loudly begging anyone within earshot to please consider their options: "It's going to bloody pour [rain] any minute now, what are YOU going to do? Are you going to put on a rainjacket? Or carry an umbrella? Or just get bloody SOAKED? The Moment is coming!!" Satirically deadpan as can be, complete with red face and bulging veins. Hilarious.
My buddy Erik lives in Chelsea, which is a preposterously wealthy part of the London metro area. Insane. I have never seen so many Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Bentleys, Maseratis, and Porsches creeping around a neighborhood, not to mention the lowly BMWs and Benzs. So this sets me off on another tangent... My man Erik is a trader and will soon be a high-roller like these guys, and he has worked hard to get there. But I couldn't help thinking about Africa; I wonder if all of these rich folks in Chelsea and the rest of the civilized world are as happy about life as many of the poor smiling Africans we encountered a few months ago. While driving a Porsche would be fantastic, I don't want to let myself be lured into thinking I'd be happier if I had one. I'd like to think I will be just as happy without it. I'm not going to be an apologist for being born a healthy white American with a functioning brain that I choose to use, but I don't have to let materialism define my happiness. But I digress...
The Tower of London was a rip-off at ~$30 USD per person. I implored Samantha that we should go there, because I remembered that as a 13-year old, I'd seen diamonds there as big as a human head. I swear, you wait and see! In reality, the diamonds were substantial but about the size of a kiwi fruit. That's a big gem, but when you're expecting a skull-sized chunk of diamond, anything less than a fist is, well, a letdown. I cursed my infuriating and exaggering memory, apologized to the missus, and went through the sight-seeing motions in the remainder of the Tower complex trying desperately (and unsuccessfully) to eek out $30 USD worth of enjoyment. Bummer.
From London, we went north to Edinburgh, Scotland. We stayed in the home of Clare and Clive MacMillan, a lovely Scottish couple who are currently living in our home in Seattle. They have a brillant and accomodating home in Edinburgh, and we were very happy to stay there. We were lucky that Clare was back in Scotland during our visit, and armed us with all of the info we needed to experience Scotland properly. Most importantly, we would see the Fringe Festival - before we left Seattle, Clive made me promise to see a day's worth of shows. If there was an place in town where 10 or more people can collect, there was a play, comedy act, singing group, or gallery there. Really a remarkable event, and I was glad we'd experienced it. Clare and Clive: thank you so much for the hospitality and guidance. You are both diamonds!
While in Edinburgh, I had haggis, neeps, and tatties for lunch. Actually not bad. Plus I get to say that I ate tatties. That just *sounds* cool. I shall henceforth now refer to any and all potato dish as "tatties". It's a way better word, and it makes me sound much cooler, having cooler "lingo". And the words "bollocks" and "rubbish", too. As in: "Those tatties were rubbish, really bollocks." I think that sounds cool.
The Scottish Highlands were really extraordinary to see. We took a day-trip north as we left Edinburgh. After some rocky farmland, we saw windblown mountains, geologically smoothed as if shaped by a potter, with very few trees and muted earth tones. Unimposing but weathered, in subtle light and shade, and carefully measured spaces between the rolling mounts, foothills, and lakes. It really captured my attention, and I was very glad to have seen the terrain in decent weather.
From Scotland we drove south to Leeds, where Queen Hatshepsut had purchased one-day tickets to the Leeds Festival. Pearl Jam would headline on the first day of a 3-day festival. The grounds of the festival were massive, with acres of farmland packed beyond reason with tents, with often less than a foot or two between tents. This created a maze effect for people trying to find their tent, at night, drunk, with all of the guylines acting as tripwires late at night. The common toilet area stank from 50 yards away (already on the first day of the event), and the insides of the "stalls" were predictably vile. $6 USD for a hotdog, $11 for a shoddy burger. We camped in there on Thursday night before our Friday shows, although our ticket specifically precluded us from camping. We'd spent 2+ hours in traffic trying to get into the event grounds, only to be told to come back tomorrow. If not for a very lenient and understanding security dude, we would have have a meltdown-type of situation - fortunately,I was not directly or indirectly responsible for this outcome because my head would roll otherwise. But after experiencing a night among the hordes of drunken and hilarious British kids, Samantha wanted out again. So Friday morning, before the shows, we left the grounds for a quieter nearby camping area, then went back to the festival. It turned out to be a much more civil and sedate set-up for us.
Dozens of bands played all day on 3 different stages. None of the other shows could even touch Pearl Jam, though, and it was one of the best concerts I have ever seen. I was drenched in sweat about 5 or 6 bodies back from the front. Since Samantha is too small to contend with the mob down in front, I tried to expend the energy of 2 people, and I was totally spent after the show. Energy, adrenalin, intensity - damn I love a rock show. The UK crowd had trouble sustaining their enthusiasm when PJ went off the hook and extended a song with a jam for more than 4 minutes... I suppose these crowds are built for the bite-sized pop-trash that I heard from the other bands on the radio in days before and on the stages throughout the day.
Samantha met a nice Aussie gal during the show (more international friends!). She and her husband own a place in British Columbia, Canada, where they like to snowboard. We hope to meet them there in the future. :)
Now in Ireland, return to US on Sept. 9th. Bummer.
Scottish Highlands
Samantha detailed our Paris itinerary already in her post, so I only have a few ramblings. I agree that Paris is the most beautiful city that we saw in Europe, hands down. But I can't use words like "stunning" or "unbelievable" because such superlatives are reserved for sights like Fjordland in New Zealand, the Swiss Alps, Banff National Park in the Canadian Rockies, and so on. But Paris was a pretty town, no doubt.
- Tons of tourists, perhaps more tourists than Parisians since it was a French holiday weekend.
- Paris competes with London and Switzerland for the most outrageous prices for food.
- French baguettes ARE the culinary cat's pajamas, perhaps only matched by the occasional Italian baguette.
- I did not drink more than a glass or two of French wine, which I deeply regret, because I carried some kind of lingering stomach ailment from Amsterdam.
- The Musee D'Orsay ranks right up there as one of the best art museums in Europe.
- As for nightlife, we really didn't attack Paris in this way; low energy levels and high costs proved to be effective barriers.
- I did not have fondue, either, which I also deeply regret.
Deb Siegel, thank you very much for the copius guidance you provided us about Paris. There is no substitute for a friend's advice, and I/we appreciate it.
London was a different experience for a few reasons. First, we'd both been there before. So hanging out with my friend Erik was more of a priority than seeing the sights a second time. Also, Erik's apartment was super-comfy, so we rested our feet from all of our Paris walking. The lack of a language barrier and an absurd exchange rate also made our London trip a different endeavor than other European cities. But we did manage to cover a lot of ground during our combined 5 days there.
Speaker's Corner is a corner of Hyde Park in London where people congregate to rant. Various opinionated ranters bring some kind of stepping stool or soapbox and carry on with the shouting. It got really noisy in amongst them, as one would guess, and you had to strain to hear some of them above the cacophony. Many of the ranters were spouting about some religious matter, be they Christian, Jewish, Muslim, or whatnot. Some were more philosophical in nature, preaching anarchy or nihlism or morality in general. One rather mean-looking guy in particular was shouting about how American and British governments are trying to "create their own reality in the Muslim world" and had commanded quite a crowd. But the best was a fellow who was mocking the whole scene by loudly begging anyone within earshot to please consider their options: "It's going to bloody pour [rain] any minute now, what are YOU going to do? Are you going to put on a rainjacket? Or carry an umbrella? Or just get bloody SOAKED? The Moment is coming!!" Satirically deadpan as can be, complete with red face and bulging veins. Hilarious.
My buddy Erik lives in Chelsea, which is a preposterously wealthy part of the London metro area. Insane. I have never seen so many Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, Bentleys, Maseratis, and Porsches creeping around a neighborhood, not to mention the lowly BMWs and Benzs. So this sets me off on another tangent... My man Erik is a trader and will soon be a high-roller like these guys, and he has worked hard to get there. But I couldn't help thinking about Africa; I wonder if all of these rich folks in Chelsea and the rest of the civilized world are as happy about life as many of the poor smiling Africans we encountered a few months ago. While driving a Porsche would be fantastic, I don't want to let myself be lured into thinking I'd be happier if I had one. I'd like to think I will be just as happy without it. I'm not going to be an apologist for being born a healthy white American with a functioning brain that I choose to use, but I don't have to let materialism define my happiness. But I digress...
The Tower of London was a rip-off at ~$30 USD per person. I implored Samantha that we should go there, because I remembered that as a 13-year old, I'd seen diamonds there as big as a human head. I swear, you wait and see! In reality, the diamonds were substantial but about the size of a kiwi fruit. That's a big gem, but when you're expecting a skull-sized chunk of diamond, anything less than a fist is, well, a letdown. I cursed my infuriating and exaggering memory, apologized to the missus, and went through the sight-seeing motions in the remainder of the Tower complex trying desperately (and unsuccessfully) to eek out $30 USD worth of enjoyment. Bummer.
From London, we went north to Edinburgh, Scotland. We stayed in the home of Clare and Clive MacMillan, a lovely Scottish couple who are currently living in our home in Seattle. They have a brillant and accomodating home in Edinburgh, and we were very happy to stay there. We were lucky that Clare was back in Scotland during our visit, and armed us with all of the info we needed to experience Scotland properly. Most importantly, we would see the Fringe Festival - before we left Seattle, Clive made me promise to see a day's worth of shows. If there was an place in town where 10 or more people can collect, there was a play, comedy act, singing group, or gallery there. Really a remarkable event, and I was glad we'd experienced it. Clare and Clive: thank you so much for the hospitality and guidance. You are both diamonds!
While in Edinburgh, I had haggis, neeps, and tatties for lunch. Actually not bad. Plus I get to say that I ate tatties. That just *sounds* cool. I shall henceforth now refer to any and all potato dish as "tatties". It's a way better word, and it makes me sound much cooler, having cooler "lingo". And the words "bollocks" and "rubbish", too. As in: "Those tatties were rubbish, really bollocks." I think that sounds cool.
The Scottish Highlands were really extraordinary to see. We took a day-trip north as we left Edinburgh. After some rocky farmland, we saw windblown mountains, geologically smoothed as if shaped by a potter, with very few trees and muted earth tones. Unimposing but weathered, in subtle light and shade, and carefully measured spaces between the rolling mounts, foothills, and lakes. It really captured my attention, and I was very glad to have seen the terrain in decent weather.
From Scotland we drove south to Leeds, where Queen Hatshepsut had purchased one-day tickets to the Leeds Festival. Pearl Jam would headline on the first day of a 3-day festival. The grounds of the festival were massive, with acres of farmland packed beyond reason with tents, with often less than a foot or two between tents. This created a maze effect for people trying to find their tent, at night, drunk, with all of the guylines acting as tripwires late at night. The common toilet area stank from 50 yards away (already on the first day of the event), and the insides of the "stalls" were predictably vile. $6 USD for a hotdog, $11 for a shoddy burger. We camped in there on Thursday night before our Friday shows, although our ticket specifically precluded us from camping. We'd spent 2+ hours in traffic trying to get into the event grounds, only to be told to come back tomorrow. If not for a very lenient and understanding security dude, we would have have a meltdown-type of situation - fortunately,I was not directly or indirectly responsible for this outcome because my head would roll otherwise. But after experiencing a night among the hordes of drunken and hilarious British kids, Samantha wanted out again. So Friday morning, before the shows, we left the grounds for a quieter nearby camping area, then went back to the festival. It turned out to be a much more civil and sedate set-up for us.
Dozens of bands played all day on 3 different stages. None of the other shows could even touch Pearl Jam, though, and it was one of the best concerts I have ever seen. I was drenched in sweat about 5 or 6 bodies back from the front. Since Samantha is too small to contend with the mob down in front, I tried to expend the energy of 2 people, and I was totally spent after the show. Energy, adrenalin, intensity - damn I love a rock show. The UK crowd had trouble sustaining their enthusiasm when PJ went off the hook and extended a song with a jam for more than 4 minutes... I suppose these crowds are built for the bite-sized pop-trash that I heard from the other bands on the radio in days before and on the stages throughout the day.
Samantha met a nice Aussie gal during the show (more international friends!). She and her husband own a place in British Columbia, Canada, where they like to snowboard. We hope to meet them there in the future. :)
Now in Ireland, return to US on Sept. 9th. Bummer.
