just touched down in london town

The time has come for that London update! I guess I will begin at the beginning. This trip marks the first time that I have traveled alone, here in Europe, and I must say that it was very nice not having to wait for people and constantly worry about things. It also reaffirmed that yes, I can accomplish things by myself and find my way around. With the help of a good map, of course.

Anyway, I took the Eurostar to St. Pancras International. The train ride is about two and a half hours long, and probably 50% of the way is through tunnels. Therefore, my ears were going crazy trying to adjust to the constant changes in pressure. Going through the Chunnel was pretty cool, though, I suppose. I mean it was dark the whole time (about 20 minutes or so) but I got a text message on my phone the minute we sped into the countryside of Great Britain welcoming me, which made me feel pretty special. And hey, I've traveled through the Chunnel. Not everyone can say that.

Susie Q picked me up at the train station, and as soon as I walked outside I knew that I would like London. I stayed with Susie in her dorm room (yeah, sucks for NYU in London) but it was very clean and nice and perfect for the weekend. Let's see. What did we do the first day... After a lunch at Spaghetti House we spent some time exploring the National Gallery, and I got to see some very famous and very beautiful paintings. I must say, though, that late 19th century and 20th century art are definitely my favorite. And contemporary art. I am definitely not classic art's biggest fan. It all starts to look the same after a while; I like the originality and the innovation and the thought-provoking quality of modern art. But there were some Matisses and Monets, Magrittes and Picassos that I enjoyed. After the National Gallery we went to the London Eye and walked around the South Bank for a while, and got some snacks at Borough Market. That night we ate at a restaurant with the most ridiculous name ever: Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese. Yes. You read that correctly. I had myself some fish and chips with a side of mushy peas. Oh London. Later that night we hookah-ed and snuggled and I was a very happy camper.

The next day I walked Susie Q to class and saw the NYU in London building, which is pretty darn fancy. And then I was on my own until around 5 PM! Armed with my various maps and my itinerary, I attempted to take over London. I took a bus over to the Tate Modern, which took me a good forty-five minutes to find; it was only when I had given up on trying to find it when I actually found it. Funny how that happens. I blame it on poor road signs. Anyway, the Tate Modern was pretty cool. Much more up my alley. And I really love how museums are free! America should take note.

I had lunch at the Pret right outside the London Dungeon, and it was delicious, especially my dried mango slices. I then walked to the Tower Bridge and the Tower of London, and took lots of pictures, but didn't actually go in because it was too darn expensive. Looked cool, though. I walked around some more, taking photos, and then I ran around trying to find some place with WiFi so I could register for housing for next year. I ended up at a Pret, again, and munched on some more dried mango slices as I decided my fate for next year: Lafayette room #1001.

I met Molly and Ben on the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral afterwards, and we walked along the Thames and met up with Susie on the Jubilee Bridge. The four of us then walked by Parliament and Westminster Abbey, and then my feet began to feel like they were going to fall off. So we went back to Nido (the NYU dorm), I SHOWERED (exciting day!) and then we got dinner at a Caribbean-ish restaurant and it was scrumptious. The Bull and the Big Chill House that night. Yes.

Saturday was a pretty epic day. We all went back to Borough Market to get lunch, then spent a few hours laying around in Hyde Park, watching crazy people get arrested and pedal-boating. Hyde Park is beautiful and I loved laying in the grass sharing Stephen's iPod and feeling the sun warm my tired bones. My bones are tired. I am turning twenty in two weeks. Old.

We then walked around Notting Hill for a little bit, saw the Portobello Road market and got cupcakes at Hummingbird Bakery. Notting Hill, though it was really charming and quaint, was a bit of a disappointment because
a) I didn't get to see Abbey Road
b) Hummingbird was out of red velvet cupcakes
Oh well. I'll be back. Pretty sure I only saw about 35% of what I wanted to see in London.

Afterwards, Ben took us to Piccadilly Circus and Molly and I got cheapo tickets to see the Phantom of the Opera. She and I walked around Covent Garden and Theatreland for a while before the show, and I am completely and utterly in love with London. Granted, the weather probably had a lot to do with that, but I just really like the vibe of the city. Much more livable than Paris; at least where I'm living.

Anyway, Phantom blew my mind. I cried. I may or may not be a wimp, but I was very impressed with the performance. Then we made our way back to Nido, and subsequently went out and danced the night away at the Roxy.

And then I had to leave and I don't want to talk about it.

pensées du jour

I'll write about London soon.
But it's raining now. Thus, I am introspective.
Mint tea, Coconut Records,
and the sound of rain/against the windowpane
will do that to you.

I read a book for school this week.
It made me think. I love that.

Basically, trees are the only things that are free. I always thought birds were free, being able to fly wherever they please. Sometimes I wish I was a bird (even though I'm frightened of them). But this book says that trees are the only things that are free: they don't have to go anywhere. They don't have to do anything. They can just be and let the elements do their thing.

What do you think?
I wish I was a tree. Free.


In other news, I am making my bucket list.
The travel bug has bitten, and the eve of my twentieth rapidly approaches.

Life. It's all happening.

the travel bug bites

I suppose it's best just to jump right in: brace yourselves for a long (but hopefully interesting) entry!!

Barcelona

Despite ominous clouds threatening to dump water on us at any given moment and the chilly temperatures, and despite two of our party being sick and spending half their time here in the hostel, I really liked Barcelona. The sun did come out for brief periods of time, and all was right with the world.

Our hostel was right on the beach, which would have been ideal if the weather had felt like cooperating, but no matter: we were still close to Port Vell (above) and, thus, La Rambla, which is basically the main promenade in Barcelona. Let's see. Day One, we had some paella at a harbor-side restaurant, along with some two euro cerveza. Score. We then explored the Gothic Quarter a little bit, got gelato (of course) and had an amazing, amazing dinner: tapas are a great thing.

Day Two, the sun was out, despite Weather.com's warnings of "heavy rain." So we trucked it on up (rather, we took the subway) to Parc Guell, a park designed by Gaudi (below). This park is insane; it looks almost otherworldly! It was cool to walk around in this fantasy world and to see beautiful vistas of Barcelona and the ocean.

After that, we headed on down to Casa Mila, otherwise known as La Pedrera, and waited in line to see this ninety-degree-angle-free building for about two hours. No matter; it was worth it. I think I would have liked to meet Gaudi and talked to him for a little bit to find out what inspired him and what sorts of thoughts were in his head.

Day Three was Easter Sunday, so we went to church at Santa Maria de somethingorother. I only understood snippets of the Mass, since it was, of course, in Catalan, but it was cool to just get lost in the words and focus on the general ritual and the general feeling that I get whenever I'm inside a place of worship. I feel a lot more peaceful, and I reflected a lot about the current state of things in my mind. It started pouring after lunch, and it was probably about negative thirty degrees, so our visit to Sagrada Familia consisted of running outside the subway stop, snapping two or three pictures, and running right back to the subway. Easter dinner was absolutely scrumptious though; we decided to splurge and eat at a pretty ritzy restaurant. Let's just say my stomach was very, very happy, but my wallet was a little light afterwards.

Morocco (aka what you've all been waiting for)

All right. First up, and most importantly, Marrakech.

I am completely and utterly in love with Marrakech, in retrospect. While I was there I felt a little uncomfortable, for a couple of reasons. First of all, the men are very, very forward in their advances; worse even than European men. It is very disconcerting to walk past a café (which, in Morocco, are solely the men's domain) and to be hissed at, whistled at, and leered at. Some of the pickup lines were funny: I was called a Spice Girl, and Jennifer Lopez, and one guy told me he'd seen my Facebook, but I couldn't help but feel pretty uncomfortable. It takes a lot of getting used to. We also attracted a lot of strange looks from the locals because our group was entirely female, and a lot of skin was exposed. Relative to the locals, of course. But by the end of our three days in Marrakech I was getting the hang of the winding streets and I am now a pro at ignoring men. Oh well. I'll be back.

Anyway, Marrakech! We saw so many beautiful and exotic things that I don't even know where to begin. I suppose I could begin with our hostel, which was incredible. If you're ever in Marrakech, definitely stay at Equity Point: a rooftop terrace, delicious traditional Moroccan breakfast, lots of lounges with plush pillows and colorscolorscolors everywhere--and our rooms were pretty sweet too. It was basically a hotel: for 18 euros a night. Rough life, I know.

Day One: First up, Koutoubia minaret and gardens. This is the tallest minaret in Marrakech, which is quite a feat, considering that there are probably about 70 mosques in the medina (the old city) alone. We, as nonbelievers, were not allowed near the mosque, but its gardens are a breeding ground for tourists, and we joined their ranks. Marrakech is truly the city of roses.

We then headed to some more gardens: this time, Jardins Majorelle (above), which were maintained by Yves Saint Laurent (RIP). I thought I had found paradise on Earth, and I am not even kidding. I would definitely not mind living here.

Tangent: The more time I spend travelling, the more I realize that being around nature is very important to me. Beach, mountains, forests...I need it. And it's weird because I always thought that I was a city girl, going to school in NYC and Paris and everything. Looks like I'm going to need to compromise. West Coast here I come??

Day Two: I can officially say that I have ridden a camel. Well, a dromedary, but still. I have ridden one. Through an African oasis in the Palmeraies of Marrakech. Chicka chicka yeahhh. What else. We saw the Marrakech Museum, the Medersa Ben Youssef, and a 12th century mosque. I thought my eyes were going to go crazy from all those mosaics! Good thing I had all that thé à la menthe to calm me down.. Yummy. Moroccan food is incredible. Goodness, day two was busy. After lunch we plunged into the souks, or the artisan street markets to do some shopping. Haggling with vendors is intimidating! But I got the hang of it, and I got my parents some nice presents. Oh and a sweet ring for myself. Yes. And after that Sarah, Teresa and I ventured into the Djemaa el Fna, the main square in Marrakech. Snake charmers, trained monkeys, musicians, storytellers, fresh-squeezed orange juice for three dirhams (thirty centimes!) ... My favorite place. So much energy, so many colors, so much life! And what were we doing there? Getting henna tattoos, of course! Oh Marrakech. How I love thee.

Casablanca....did not live up to my expectations. I suppose I was imagining the Casablanca out of the movie, even though I knew that it wasn't actually filmed there. The real Casablanca is a dirty, gritty city. The buildings are white, though, and there were lots of palm trees (above) to distract me from the bidonvilles and stray cats everywhere. The second biggest mosque in the world (Mosquée Hassan II) was pretty impressive as well, and having cheesecake at Rick's Café (a tourist trap) was pretty nice as well. We could have gone to the beach, I suppose, but the clouds followed us to Casablanca as well. Oh well. Now I know!

Next up: London!

it's about time!

It's officially spring break!!

The final itinerary:

April 10-April 13
Barcelona, Spain

April 13-April 15
Marrakesh, Morocco

April 16-April 17
Casablanca, Morocco

April 18-April 22
Paris, France

April 23-April 26
London, England

See you soooooon =)

take a break, contemplate

I went to the Grande Mosquée de Paris today, again, this time with my Francophone Literature class. We're starting to study North African literature--les histoires du Maghreb--and, since the Francophone countries of North Africa (Morocco, Algeria..) are predominantly Muslim, the visit made perfect sense.

I found a couple of things particularly interesting.

We went on a guided tour of the mosque, which is huge and beautiful. Our guide told us, in his hard-to-understand French, something that I already knew, but hadn't really thought about much: it is forbidden for Muslims to represent any sort of god, deity, or prophet, be it in a painting, a drawing, a sculpture, a photograph, what have you. You can have all the patterns you want--and trust me, the mosaics in the Parisian mosque are absolutely stunning; I can't even imagine what it is I'll be seeing just next week in Morocco!--but you can't have a pictoral representation of "God." Why? It makes perfect sense: no one has seen what these gods and deities and prophets look like.

While I'm on the subject of stunning mosaics... As I was looking around in awe at my surroundings today, I couldn't help but be a little sad. All the places of worship that I have seen, churches, mosques--especially here in Europe--are absolutely beautiful. And I don't know whether my pangs of sadness came from the realization that these works of art have been built to pay respect to something/someone that, quite possibly, does not exist; or whether it is because there is nothing that I so strongly believe in that would make me want to create something as beautiful, ornate, and intricate. But, in the words of Adrian, "The world is our oyster. We may not believe in what the churches preach, but I believe that the world is beautiful. I kind of see nature as my temple, and whenever I take the time to notice how beautiful a tree is or how intricate a flower is, I feel that much more spiritual."

My professor ended up being a little late, so we ended up starting our guided tour a little late. But this turned out to be a blessing in disguise (perhaps I shouldn't be using religious references here), because we got to hear the Muslim call to prayer. 5:30 PM, a man in a suit walks outside the entrance to the actual mosque itself (the room where the men pray, shoeless, facing Mecca) and calls everyone to prayer. It was, quite frankly, really haunting and very beautiful. I'd never heard anything like it, and it was quite an experience to listen to this man singing an ancient prayer, an ancient ritual, and to see all the men shuffling in their flipflops towards the mosque, depositing their shoes just outside the door. The women, of course, went in another entrance--but that's another blog entry (or thesis, really) in itself.

What really bothered me, though, was that other tourists around us were taking pictures, as if this were some sort of spectacle. I was incredibly embarrassed for this woman who stood three feet away from the singing man (I'm sure there's a proper name for him, but Google is simply too many clicks away right now, as I am in the midst of an epiphany--here I go with the religious references..) snapping photographs left and right. I myself felt very disrespectful, being so close to the mosque and to these prayers when I don't believe in the things that they do. But perhaps I just think about things like that too much.

Anyway, it was very cool to think of millions and millions of people all praying at the same time, facing the same direction; perhaps thinking the same thoughts, perhaps not.

And then I watched "Religulous" when I came home, and all my thoughts about the beauty of religion have completely dissipated, and I am back to being just as confused and full of doubt as ever. Some quotes that particularly struck me:

"Religion is dangerous because it allows human beings who don't have all the answers to think that they do. Most people would think it's wonderful when someone says, 'I'm willing Lord, I'll do whatever you want me to do.' Except that since there are no gods actually talking to us, that void is filled in by people with their own corruptions and limitations and agendas."

"The only appropriate attitude for man to have about the big questions, is not the arrogant certitude that is the hallmark of religion, but doubt. Doubt is humble and that is what man needs to be, considering that human history is just a litany of getting shit dead wrong."

I'm going to stop before I get into emotionally (and politically, unfortunately) charged territory, but let's just say that there's a lot to think about tonight...

au bord de la mer

I have returned from a fabulous weekend in the south of France. NYU treated us (well, I suppose our tuition dollars paid for it) to a trip to Montpellier, Carcassonne, and Sète. About fifty of us left Gare de Lyon early Friday morning on a high-speed train, and spent the weekend in the sun.

Montpellier is a cute little city. We had lunch when we first got there, and then took a guided tour of the main interest points in town. Compared to other big cities in France, Montpellier is relatively new. But it has a sort of old-world vibe (because it really is old, compared to most American cities) that I really liked. Cobblestones and palm trees everywhere. We got to climb Montpellier's version of the Arc du Triomphe (those things are everywhere in Europe!) and see the views of the city..and the Mediterranean. But more on that later.

After our three brief hours in Montpellier, we got on a bus and drove about two hours to Carcassonne, which is a walled-in, medieval city. This is where we slept that night. Our hotel was super nice, all sorts of swirly ironwork and high ceilings and crown moldings and rich colors. The only thing that wasn't quite up to par was the fact that the room I shared with Joleen smelled like rotten eggs, so we slept with the windows to our mini-balcony open.

Dinner that night was on NYU's tab, and they really went all-out. We had an entire restaurant to ourselves, and ate a nice three-course meal. For the entrée (here in France, the entrée is really the appetizer) we had a goat cheese salad. Our plat principal (the main dish) was a specialty of southern France: cassoulet. It's delicious. Finally, we had some sort of really creamy ice cream for dessert, with a little lemony-sugary wafer and some strawberry coulis. Oh, and wine and baguette, of course. We were, after all, still in France, even if the experience of eating by an ancient castle and palm trees made us feel like we were in another world.

Saturday morning we went on a tour of Carcassonne, walked around the perimeter of the barricades and took lots of photos. Then we got on the bus again and drove back towards Montpellier--but not all the way. No. We stopped in Sète.

Most everyone on the bus was sleeping, but those of us who weren't certainly woke the others up with our collective gasps and shrieks of admiration when the bus drove right up to the Mediterranean. We had lunch here, and about two hours of free time. How did we choose to spend this time? Why, by climbing down boulders to sit au bord de la mer, of course. It was so nice to let my body soak up the sun and to take in the immense expanse that is the ocean. I dipped my feet in, but the water was too chilly. Joleen, of course, free (crazy) spirit that she is, went swimming in it for a good hour. Ridiculous.

And then it was time to go. We got back on the TGV and zoomed through the French countryside back to la belle Paris. Rough life, right?

I love trains and long bus rides, for two main reasons, the first being that they make me fall asleep so well. Despite that, I do some of my best thinking while traveling on trains and buses, which is the other reason I love them. Sitting on the bus and discussing the concept of happiness with Joleen while a flock of bright pink flamingos took flight was one of my favorite parts of the trip. Watching the French countryside go by and thinking of all the history that happened there was also very inspiring, and I wrote down a lot of little pensées in the notebook that I always have with me. My little notebook of random thoughts and inspirations.

I have also decided that at some point in my life, I would like to live in the south of France, mostly so I can lay in a field of Queen Anne's Lace when things go wrong. Ideally, I will have a nice little stone cottage, with bright blue shutters and a terracotta scalloped roof. There will be plenty of lavender bushes and basil in my kitchen garden. I will also have sheep and cows (all white, of course) grazing in the pasture in my backyard. Oh, and this future home of mine is situated ten minutes away from the beach, by bicycle. This is going to happen.

Happiness...