Dublin, summed up in one simple photo. Courtesy Olivia Milroy.

At long last, I have returned to finish this blog.  I apologize for the long break from posting, which resulted from a busy schedule and just general neglect.  Now, as I begin my senior year at Wake Forest, it’s been a year since I boarded the plane for Venice.  Since then, I have survived another tough semester at Wake, and embarked on another European adventure to Portugal during the summer of 2010.  Here, I will attempt to recap in as much detail as possible the final month of my European travels in the fall of 2009, beginning with a throwback to the United Kingdom, where after traveling through London and Edinburgh, we ventured into Ireland for a tour of Dublin-town.

Temple Bar, Courtesy Meredith Hearn.

Myself and Oscar Wilde, Courtesy Olivia Milroy

St. Patrick's Cathedral, Courtesy Meredith Hearn

Dublin is the one city we had gone to thus far that I cannot describe as “beautiful.”  The Irish city is a city like any other.  It has crowded, gray buildings, plenty of pubs, many industrial centers, and the occasional city park.  The weather did not help our first impressions, however, as it was a typical cloudy fall day. We arrived from the airport via a double decker bus.  That was my first – and last – experience on the one, as it was rather sickening.  It was lunchtime, so we found a pleasant little tea room owned by a friendly, motherly woman who made all her food fresh upon ordering.  It was a comfortable and pleasant place, and the biscuit and soup I had was quite scrumptious.  We checked into the Temple Bar Hostel, located adjacent to the famous Temple Bar.  For the rest of the day, we walked around the city, exploring Dublin’s sights.  St. Patrick’s Cathedral stands tall and majestic above the city, and we toured the memorials to world famous writers who are buried in Dublin.  From James Joyce to Jonathan Swift, their memorials grace the grounds around St. Patrick’s, a veritable mecca for English majors.  The cathedral’s grounds are quite nice, with green grass and beautiful flowers expertly arranged in a neat layout.  As it started to drizzle, we made our way to the park in the center of Dublin, where we had a good time taking pictures by the statue of Oscar Wilde.  His quotes adorn the nearby marker denoting his memorial statue.  We also toured Dublin’s castle, which is rather unimpressive when compared to Edinburgh’s and London’s castles, is (in)complete with a large parking lot right below it and architecture that looks as though it was made to look ancient.

Dublin Castle, Courtesy Meredith Hearn

To escape the increasingly colder and rainier weather, we stopped inside a small pub and enjoyed a delicious Bailey’s coffee.  The warm, creamy beverage was perfect for the day, and we laughed and chatted with the locals already in for their first pint.  The Irish do start early… Since it was nearing the end of the trip, we were all very tired, and my fellow travelers retreated to the hostel for an afternoon nap before our night out in the city. Tired but unwilling to miss a day in Dublin, I ventured out on my own to do some shopping and hit the other highlights of the city.  I found myself on a large, pedestrian street full of all kinds of shops, and began to see the attraction to Dublin.  Once away from the industrial parts of the city, the downtown area was quite pleasant.  I found the statue of Molly Malone, the unfortunate lass who “rolled her wheelbarrow, through the streets broad and narrow, crying cockles and mussels, alive, alive ho!” Made famous by her starring role in this ballad, she was better known as a slightly less innocent “girl of the night.” In a small shop, I checked out local Irish instruments such as the penny whistle and the blodhran, a small hand drum.  I did some further shopping in a store specializing in Celtic mementos, then returned to the hostel to find my friends.

Pretty fountain symbolizing the pure water used in Guinness, courtesy Meredith Hearn

Flowers in the St. Patrick's Grounds, Courtesy Meredith Hearn

Mary Catherine with some Guinness cartoon characters! Courtesy Olivia Milroy

The Guinness Legacy

Olivia and Mary Catherine love James Joyce! Courtesy Olivia Milroy

We went to dinner at a local pub whose name unfortunately escapes me, and I had a wonderful dinner of cottage pie, chips (french fries, of course), and a pint of cider.  The hostel offered several pub crawls, and we chose the Backpacker’s Pub Crawl on the suggestion of the owners of the hostel.  In Edinburgh and London, we had enjoyed these nights out immensely, and the pub crawls had allowed us to see the city and enjoy the best recommendations for the fun scenes.  In Dublin, our experience was slightly different.  Though our guide was friendly and interesting, the pubs we visited were much less so.  In the end, we opted to go to a nearby store and buy some chocolate, then have a pint and return to the hostel.  If I were to return to Dublin in the future, I think I would choose to take the Sandemann’s New Europe pub crawl, which is the same group who led our tours and pub crawls in London and Edinburgh.

Day Two in Dublin dawned cloudy and gray once more, but we had already planned to tour one of Dublin’s major industrial centers…the Guinness Factory!  Home of the world-renowned brew, the factory is shaped like a giant pint glass.  For the self-guided tour, you start at the bottom and work your way up to the top, which house a large circular room consisting of a bar, which gives you free pints of Guinness. But, back to the beginning.  As we toured each of the factory’s seven levels, each level gave guests a look into the various stages in the history, production, marketing, and advertising of Dublin’s symbol and legend.  As we walked through the first couple of floors, we learned about the production of the brew and the specific steps that give Guinness its unique, dark, creamy taste.  On the fourth floor, we were amused by the advertising campaigns used in the past and present, many of which involve babies or baby animals saying catchy, fun slogans like “It’s Guinness time!” and singing songs whose refrain includes the phrase “Guinness is good for you!”  Many of the earliest campaigns marketed Guinness as a health benefit, and the advertising was complete with doctor’s recommendations for a pint of Guinness a day.  It was interesting to note the difference between the attitude of the Irish (and much of Europe) compared to the United States with regards to alcohol, health, and young people.  Guinness is marketed as a national symbol, a health drink, and a staple of an Irishman’s daily life.  Though young children and cartoon animals are used in their adds, the message is lighthearted and comical.  Guinness is never depicted in the excessive, partying lifestyle commonly exposed in advertisements for many American alcoholic beverages.  Not to say that no Europeans consume alcohol in excess or that all Americans do, but it is interesting to note the differences between advertising campaigns in countries with very different drinking age laws.  As we neared the top of the giant pint glass, we were given an opportunity to taste the beer, which after one sip I decided was, well, not that good.  Very anticlimactic.  I can understand the qualities that make Guinness great to the beer aficionado, but I, having not developed a taste for beer, found Guinness to be strong and bitter.  The foam was rather good, however.  My friends and I, daunted by the prospect of receiving a pint of Guinness once we got to the top, and much more the idea of doing so at 11:00 in the morning, walked around the large round room on top.  It has a great view of the Dublin skyline, and you can see landmarks such as Trinity College and St. Patrick’s Cathedral.  Inscribed on the glass walls are quotes from famous writers like James Joyce, whose writings were often based in or around Dublin.  Surprisingly, many of the quotes were rather dismal, and many of them painted a gray picture of Dublin.  We ended up ordering Cokes on top of the Guinness Factory.  As lame as that may seem, they were quite refreshing, thank you very much.

Group enjoying a pint...er...Coke.

James Joyce loves Dublin...ha.

After our tour of the factory, we went to the airport to fly back to London, then return to Venice to complete an amazing and relaxing ten days in the UK. As for Dublin, I would really like to go back.  I’d like to maybe take a tour, spend more time there, give the city a second chance, etc.  Circumstance and tiredness prevented me from thoroughly appreciating the city, and I would very much like to explore Ireland again sometime.

I would like to thank everyone who has been reading this!  Feel free to post comments and corrections anytime!  I love you all and can’t believe I have only twenty more days in Venice!

A rainy day in the city

I went to Freiburg, in the far southwest of Germany, mainly to visit my friend from Wake and to take a little break from Italy.  I thoroughly enjoyed my foray Germany, once I got there.  The trip there was a bit hectic, as the lovely, helpful people at the Trenitalia desk in Venice (yes, that is sarcasm) could not give me train tickets farther than Milan, where I would have to buy the next one and so on all the way to Germany.  Side note about European train travel:  I have very much enjoyed going everywhere by train.  The Europeans have a great rail system that I really wish could be instigated in the United States, except for Trenitalia.  Trenitalia is Italy’s major rail system, and it definitely does not come up to par with the rest of Europe’s rails.  Their trains are rarely on time, their staff is never friendly, their prices are high, and there are lots of strict rules.  Needless to say, I set off for Germany with no clear idea how I was getting there and also no clear idea as to how much this whole thing was going to cost.  It was not for lack of prior research.  I spent hours on the internet researching trains to Freiburg and surrounding cities, hoping I could get a rough estimate.  No such luck, thanks to Trenitalia’s website, which may be even less helpful than their information desks.  It therefore took me approximately twelve hours to get to Freiburg, where Chelsea met me at the train station and took me back to her flat.  Should I not mention that I also had a paper due…two hours previously?  Or that my computer was dead, so there had been no possible way to actually finish the paper on the train?  I did, in fact, finish the paper, sitting at Chels’ desk and eating Germany’s best invention of cereal:  Nougat Bits.  They are essentially pockets of cereal filled with nutella.  Quite a genius idea, I thought.

In the Black Forest, geared up for rain!

Wine country!

On to Freiburg itself.  The town is adorable, definitely large enough to be a city but with the small-town charm that I have loved about so many European cities thus far.  Every day, there is a large open market in the middle of the city.  It has everthing from delicious food to handcrafted children’s toys and cookware.  We enjoyed wandering among the various booths, investigating the goods for sale and sampling several choice foods.  I tried apple tart, a specialty of Germany and Freiburg, and of course bratwurst.  We also found a small store entirely devoted to gummi candies, which are of course a product of Germany.  After our delicious lunch of bratwurst and a crepe from the family-owned stand (yes, I do realize crepes are French), we rode the streetcar back to Chelsea’s flat.  The streetcar system is Freiburg’s primary public transportation system and is very convenient and effective for getting to places around the city relatively quickly.  It was beginning to look like rain, but in the classic tradition of Bobbie and Chelsea, we decided to go hiking in the Black Forest anyway.  So we set out, and ended up having a beautiful hike through the Black Forest, even though it poured rain for probably forty-five minutes and within ten we were soaked through.  It was so much fun!  The forest was breathtaking, and the views of Freiburg below us as we climbed were absolutely picturesque.  We finished at a vast alpine meadow that reminded me of the Sound of Music and had a photoshoot in the mountains.  After gaping at the landscape for a few more minutes, we headed back down a different trail and finished off our day with a delicious dinner of Schnitzel with noodles at a local restaurant.  On Sunday morning, we got up and went for a run on the most beautiful trail I have been on in Europe.  Outside the city, we follwed a steep trail up for about 15 minutes, then admired the view while running down switchback trails through the vinyards.  Exhausted and a little out of shape, I was a little startled when Chelsea announced at the bottom of the hill that we would now turn around and go back UP, but the beauty and the scenery were 100 percent worth it!  I would definitely count this one in the top ten best runs of my life. After the run, I had to catch a train, so we left via streetcar for the train station, where I got a delicious pretzel sandwich and embarked on another epic train journey back to Venice.  Needless to say, it took me another twelve hours to return…

Enjoying Bratwurst in the market

Chelsea and I enjoying the mountain meadows

Trail in the Black Forest

Above the cloud!

"The hills are alive...with the Sound of Music!"

The Gummi store...with smiley face gummies!

It was such a short weekend for so gorgeous a place to visit!  I hope these pictures can capture the views that surrounded us.  The trip (minus the travel part) was very relaxing, and I definitely found people in Germany much more friendly and less uptight than (northern) Italians.

This was what most of my train ride looked like.

Parc de la Colombiere, Dijon

Vive la France!  I actually did not expect to make it to France this semester, because I had originally planned to meet my friend Lauren in Cinque Terre the weekend of October 23rd, but plans changed a bit and instead, I went to Dijon!  I am incredibly glad that I did.  Dijon was lovely, with pretty, romantic little parks everywhere and some of the most delicious food I have ever had the pleasure of enjoying.  I arrived via overnight train at 5:45 AM on Friday morning, and I am very thankful to Lauren for waking up at such an ungodly early hour in the morning to meet me there.  After a couple hours’ rest at Lauren’s place, we set out to explore.  Lauren is staying with a host family, and in the backyard she has a little apartment-type place with a bedroom, desk, bathroom, and small kitchen.  It’s nice, because she can live with her host family but also has the freedom to spend time by herself or have guests without disturbing her host family at all.  I have visited people in all types of living situations this semester, and I find it interesting to see how different the dynamics of the various programs are affected by the style of living.  I’m living in a house with everyone from the program.  We eat, sleep, study, and take classes right here at Casa Artom.  This of course means that we see a lot of each other every day and naturally that we sometimes drive each other crazy.  In Lauren’s situation, however, everyone lives in different places scattered all over Dijon, and they don’t always see each other even in class.  They meet often at each other’s places to go out, have dinner, or watch movies.  In Chelsea’s situation in Freiburg, she lives by herself in a flat with several suitemates who are not in her program.  She sees the people in her program only in some classes and occasionally for a night out. I have enjoyed the family-style feel of living at Casa Artom and how close we’ve all become, though I have come to appreciate any time I have for myself.  I think I have struck a nice balance with traveling with people outside of the house on the weekends, and then seeing everyone at the house all week long.

So exicted about fresh bread and fruit!

Me at the Temple of Love in Parc de la Colombiere

Another beautiful shot of the park

Being silly in the park

The French love their markets as well!  We walked around the expansive outdoor/indoor marketplace in Dijon, and bought delicious chevre (goat cheese), a loaf of very fresh bread, and some fruit.  After walking around town a bit more and seeing Notre Dame Cathedral, several picturesque little parks, and getting a little taste of French culture with tour guide Lauren (she’s so prepared and had a whole list of things to do, complete with background information). We had a lovely picnic in the Parc de la Colombiere, which is Dijon’s largest public park, and enjoyed the beautiful day before heading back over to climb the Philippe Le Bon tower, the bell tower of the Notre Dame Cathedral, which offers a stunning view of the city below.  After all that, we went to the Musee des Beaux Arts, which contains a wonderful collection of paintings and sculptures.  I saw and learned about Dijon’s varied architectural styles, and we finished the day by hanging out with the other people from Lauren’s program at one of their houses, where we made hamburgers for dinner.  Yum, a break from Italian food!  After dinner, we went to a soccer game!  It was Dijon verus Nantes, and it was quite fun!  I haven’t yet been to a sporting event in Europe, so that was an experience, and also fun to see the intensity of the fans, even for two smallers teams such as these.  Nantes won, 2-1 I believe was the score.  We watched a movie after the game, but Lauren and I left early due to exhaustion brought on by our early morning.  The next morning, we took a beautiful run through the tree-lined streets of Dijon.  The leaves were changing and everything was so crisp and perfectly fall.  After a brief breakfast, we headed over to Parc D’Arcy, which is a romantic little park very close to Lauren’s homestay, and we spent a slightly chilly, though beautiful, morning writing and reading the park.  When we got too cold, we headed over to the main street to do some shopping.  We bought scarves in the department store, where they were having a great sale, and then explored the various shoe stores in search of boots.  After a short coffee break in an adorable little tea room, I helped Lauren find a pair of boots for herself (I had already found some), and then we headed out for dinner.  We ate at a typical French cafe, and I got an excellent quiche and a delicious glass of kir.  Kir is blackcurrant liquor (creme de cassis), and white wine.  Yum!  For dessert, a waffle (gaufre) topped with whipped creme, bananas, and chocolate.

Inside Notre Dame Cathedral

Lauren and I on top of Philippe Le Bon

Beautiful view of Dijon from the tower!

Example of unique Dijon roofs

Gargoyle on top of the tower

The chouette, the symbol of Dijon, at the soccer game.

I left Dijon on Saturday on another night train, which I enjoyed simply because you can get on, fall asleep, and get off.  However, in typical Trenitalia fashion, the train arrived four hours late to Venice, so I did not get in until 2 PM, but I did accomplish much homeowork during the delay!  All in all, a very enjoyable and pleasant stay in France!

The Vaults of Edinburgh were discovered, in classic fashion, by drunken college students.  They lived in a flat next to the vaults, and, in a night of drunken revelry, decided to rearrange their furniture.  As they pushed their couch into the back wall, a hollow sound resonated from behind it.  In an act of intoxicated brilliance, they got sledge hammers and proceeded to beat the wall down.  What they discovered was an ancient city street and several rooms leading from it.  Further excavation unearthed clear signs of human habitation as well as some other disturbing signs.  Interestingly, the vaults are also home to a working pagan temple.  The leader of the cult wished to establish the temple in the vaults in order to help drive away the spirits that inhabit them.  They first placed the temple in a room containing a large stone circle.  However, as time went on, the pagans would return to the temple to find it destroyed or tampered with.  Whether this was the result of pranksters or actual spirits (my guess is the former), the leader decided  that he would spend the night in the stone circle to find out once and for all what was going on.  As he waited, he began to hear scratching from inside the walls.  The sound is said to have traveled up the sides of the walls until it was directly above his head.  At this point, he grew scared, and convinced of supernatural activity, deserted the temple and moved it to a location closer to the entrance to the tunnels.  Today, the stone circle is the most infamous room in the vaults.  Tourists claim to have suffered strange scratches and bruises upon entering the circle, and thus, guides advise their tour groups not to enter it.  Darn, I was going to…

Of course, the tour guides love to tell stories to provoke people’s imaginations and cause them to look and feel things that they are indeed imagining.  When you step on to the main street of the city, the red-light district of red-light districts, you are supposed to feel a small hand pulling at your clothing and holding your hand.  This supposedly belongs to a young boy who came to the vaults with his mother to escape the crime of homelessness.  When his mother died, or was killed, the boy became an orphan and soon starved to death himself.  To this day, he supposedly haunts the street harmlessly seeking the one woman who loved and cared for him.  Naturally, I (and I don’t think anyone else) felt this presence, but it was a rather touching ghost story regardless.  Our guide then proceeded on a medical catalogue of everything that had ever befallen people upon entering the vaults, presumably intended to cause us to feel the same things.  Then, she sprinkled in a few more supernatural sightings and finally gave us some history.  In the 18th century, during Edinburgh’s industrial revolution, the Cowgate area by the South Bridge (under which lie the vaults), became the slums of the city.  To deal with the overcrowded streets, the city made homelessness illegal.  Seeking refuge, the homeless (along with all the other ne’er-do-wells of the city) sought refuge in the vaults, dark, windowless tunnels through which seeped water and sewage and which were unfit for human habitation.  Notorious serial killers were said to have found their victims in these vaults, such as the “body snatchers” Burke and Hare, who sold their victims for medical investigation.  In one room, remains were discovered that led to the story of a man (his name has slipped my memory) who imprisoned, abused, killed, and mutilated young girls.  After killing them, he cut off their hair (he preferred redheads, apparently.  Yikes!) and propped them up in chairs to resemble grotesque dolls.  Other rooms were used as brothels, pubs, and cramped, one-room dwellings that usually housed as many as 10-20 people.  Many of the rooms have not been discovered as of now, and several are not structurally sound enough for excavation.

And now for the corny part:  As a tension breaker, the tour includes a bit at the end where a person wearing a black hood and cape jumps out while we are in a dark room.  I actually did not see this person until later, but of course several people screamed, which was why I jumped.  In the end, we were laughing, but I do not particularly like being jumped out at while in an underground, dark room.  However, the tour would have been much more realistically terrifying if it had ended sans scare.  Afterward, we exited the tunnels to find that one of the rooms had been turned into a bar.  Revived after a free drink, we decided that six Wake Forest girls in sweaters and jeans did not really quite fit in with the bar’s patrons, who for the most part resembled goth-vamp high schoolers.  The bar, however, answered one more question for us.  During the beginning, our guide informed us that often one could hear soft thumpings and bangings from inside the walls.  She did not inform us that we were in very close proximity to a nightclub with a loud bass thumping away.  So the tour, though a bit contrived, did give us some history and confirmed that Edinburgh’s rugged and friendly exterior once hid a much darker secret.

One of our first views of Edinburgh

From bagpipers playing “Scotland the Brave” on street corners to Edinburgh castle’s magnificent walls, everything about this delightful city embodies rugged Scottish charm.  Easy to navigate and see, Edinburgh was definitely my favorite city thus far.  As we pulled into the station after a delightful train ride through the English and Scottish countryside, the city of Edinburgh rose up (literally, it’s quite hilly) to meet us.  Its magnificent castle stands on the top of the hill as a well-known landmark of the historical city.  The entire city of Edinburgh has in fact been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and the vast troves of history the city harbors were astonishing.  It is divided into two main sectors, Old Town and New Town, separated mainly by their architecture and by a large public park known as the Princes Street Gardens.  Both sides are charming and beautiful.  New Town has the shopping, many residences, and the University.  Old Town, where we spent the majority of our time, has the ancient buildings, streets lined with cashmere and tartan sellers, tea rooms, and pubs.  There are almost seven hundred pubs in Edinburgh, so you’d be hard pressed to tire of one in particular!  We visited the Last Drop, which is one of Edinburgh’s oldest pubs, and Biddy Mulligan’s, which is actually Irish and located in the heart of Old Town.  Both were excellent, and the cider was delicious.  Our hostel, The Castle Rock Hostel, was the best I have stayed in yet!  The staff was warm, friendly, and fun (although none of them were Scottish, ironically), and we could see the castle from our window.  Clean and decorated with a medieval castle theme, the hostel provided everything we needed including information about the pub crawl and tour.  Once again, we went with the NewEurope free tour, and once again it was phenomenal.  Our guide was from Canada, but she loved Edinburgh and was excited and interested to provide us with all the historical information about the city.  It was a beautiful Scottish day, cold with a persistent drizzle, but we put on our raincoats and endured the cold for four hours of touring the city.  Halfway through, we stopped and warmed up a bit on Grassmarket Steet, a main street off the Royal Mile with plenty of cafes, fish and chips stands, and pubs.  We then saw the Coventers’ Prison and graveyard, and heard the story of Greyfriar’s Bobby, the little dog of the night watchman of the city who, when his master died, was said to have laid upon the grave for fourteen years.  The statue of Bobby, the most photographed statue in Edinburgh, is adorable.  We heard tales of Deacon Brodie, the locksmith and city government official who used his popularity and craft to concoct a clever series of robberies.  The tour ended in the Princes Street Gardens, a beautiful park with plenty of lush trees and grass, where we heard the story of the Stone of Destiny.  The aforementioned Stone sits in a large glass case, in the company of the Scottish Crown Jewels, in Edinburgh Castle.  It is, in short, a large, square block of stone with no particular markings or distinctiveness.  The story of the stone, however, is long and complicated, but it is essentially the Scottish Coronation stone.  King Edward confiscated it during his 13th century conquest of Scotland, and it remained in British hands until, despite their promise to return it, the middle of the twentieth century.  There were several plots to recover it from Westminster Abbey to bring it back to Scotland, and one finally succeeded though with much trouble.

Me at Edinburgh Castle!

The legends of Scotland could cover much more space than this blog would allow.  One can find them in the story of William Wallace, of the persecution of the Coventers, and most eerily in the Vaults of Edinburgh.  This was our third tour, the second being the pub crawl, which took us to five of Edinburgh’s bars and pubs and included a dance club as well, all with free drinks!  We met some great people and had quite a fun night.  On a gloomier note, we were persuaded by the staff of our hostel to take the Auld Reekies Ghost Tour.  Essentially, it is historical.  The vaults of Edinburgh, deep under the city and not at all meant for human habitation, were nonetheless the refuge for the criminals, the prostitutes, the murders, the ne’er-do-wells, and the homeless.  I’ll actually write a separate entry on this tour, since including it here would make this entry unreadably long.  I’ll stick here to the beautiful, happy parts of the city and leave stories of witches and ghosts for another page.

Greyfriar's Bobby

After the tour, we were cold and wet, so we walked down the Royal Mile to a lovely little tea room called Clarinda’s.  We had our first high tea in the UK here, complete with fresh-baked scones, Devon cream, and blackcurrant tea.  Excellent!  Refreshed and much warmer, we headed back up the Royal Mile and explored the stores full of Scottish mementoes.  Plaids in every style, custom tartans, kilts, hats, scarves, and flags were everywhere, with every seller claiming authentic Scottish products and offering competitive prices.  We browsed for awhile, some of us looking for family tartans while others whose Scottish ancestry is not directly linked to a clan (as in myself) sought a Scottish souvenir.  We tried Edinburgh fudge, another specialty, which was melt-in-the-mouth delicious, and then returned to the hostel to warm up once more.  The second day was spent visiting the Elephant House Cafe, from which J.K. Rowling wrote Harry Potter with a view of the castle from her window, and seeing the castle.  In the castle, we saw the Crown Jewels of Scotland, which though not as impressive as England’s were nonetheless quite beautiful.  Dungeon exhibits featured the cells where prisoners were held during various wars, and each building in the castle had quite an extensive exhibit of guards, battles, and the history of Scotland.  It was very well done and the castle itself was gorgeous and huge.  Quite impressive, all in all.

A rainy day in Scotland

Everything we saw was wonderful, but Edinburgh’s main attraction was its charm and comfortable feel.  The people were relaxed and welcoming, and the whole city just had a sense of ease.  Not only was it easy to navigate, but I felt as though I could live in Edinburgh.  Far more homey than Venice, the city was inviting and definitely my favorite place this semester!

The birthplace of Harry Potter!

Surprisingly, the UK does not seem to have the same widespread obsession with Rowling’s landmark series.  In fact, the British consider the series as meant for children, and they have published two editions of the books.  One, the original, contains the original youthful front covers depicting Harry and friends triumphing over various evils.  The other, much smaller, “adult” paperbacks have much darker front covers:  an image of a blood-red stone set against a backdrop of black, an eerie Dark Mark in the sky.  With these editions, an adult can sit on the tube and not appear to be reading a book about a school for young witches and wizards.  As a fan myself, I find this strange, since I definitely see the attraction of the books to audiences of all ages.

Once in Oxford, we met with the distant cousin of one of my friends, who is not only a knight under the British Crown but also has published several novels and works for the university.  He and his wife provided us with a delightful British lunch out in their garden, and he took us on a tour of the colleges.  We enjoyed taking pictures of the signs that read “closed to the public” and then walking past them.  He gave us a full tour of Christchurch, Corpus Christi, and the grounds of Merton.  Within Christchurch College lies the Great Hall, made famous by its role as the Hogwarts Great Hall as seen in the films.  The hall was closed to the public due to the celebration of King Henry VIII’s birthday, and they had set up long tables which resembled those used in the movies.  We took pictures at the Headmaster’s Table of Hogwarts and on the stairs leading up to the Great Hall!  How exciting!  The grounds of all the colleges were beautiful, and I found myself contemplating Oxford for grad school…definitely a possibility. The town of Oxford itself is cute and college-centered.  The main street is full of shops and bookstores and is great for walking, though they also run a bus system as well.  I felt as though I could live in Oxford much more readily than London.  I preferred walking along the river and strolling through the much quieter streets as opposed to the constant hustle and bustle of the big city.

One final pilgrimage:  The Eagle and Child, the pub where the Inklings met regularly to discuss literature and writing.  The Inklings included Tolkien and C.S. Lewis, and Tolkien wrote much of LotR in Oxford, so this I particularly was quite excited to be standing on such hallowed ground.  The pub itself is relatively unimpressive, but it marks a place where several brilliant minds met with the result of providing the world with truly great literature.

We left Oxford in the early evening, and upon our arrival in London, we made a quick tube stop at King’s Cross Station.  Why?  For no other reason than to visit Platform nine-and-three-quarters, naturally.  We arrived between platforms nine and ten only to find that both were inaccessible from where we stood.  Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.  My friend walked boldly up to a policeman and asked, “Excuse me, can you tell us how to get to Platform 9 and 3/4?”  His response?  “You do know this is fictional, right?”  He did actually provide us with directions, and as it turns out, it does exist.  Just down the station from Platform Ten, a large brick barrier has been built, complete with a sign and a trolley poking out of the wall as though it is disappearing through the barrier.  Of course, there was also a line of tourists waiting to snap their photos in front of this important structure.  We took the classic “pretend you’re running through the barrier” photo, and then we went on back to the hostel.  It was quite a remarkable day, and the photos and memories we carried away will constantly remind me of how much I loved exploring the UK.

The Tower Bridge, from the Tower of London

London!  Before I left for the start of a ten-day-long holiday through the UK, I was told by those who had been to London that I would like it but that it was similar to any other big city.  I found this both true and false.  London appears, on the outside, as just another sprawling metropolis with plenty of shopping, some important buildings, and a park in the center.  As we walked through the city, however, I found myself enjoying the atmosphere more and more.  I am not a “big-city” person; I much prefer quiet towns and open, green spaces.  Yet I loved London.  Perhaps I’m still caught up in the “I’m in Europe, how exciting!” feeling, or maybe because London is my first experience in the city larger than Memphis, but I thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience.  The people were quite friendly and very willing to help, and the walking tour we took the first day was not only free, but also excellent.  Our hostel was accomodating and pleasant, though the bathrooms were definitely not the cleanest, and we enjoyed the breakfast they served complimentary every morning.  Of course, we stayed in Kensington, one of the nicest areas of London, but the hostel was surprisingly very inexpensive and we were in the perfect spot to see the major sights.  Staying in relative walking distance from everything helped, since we only had two days to hit the highlights.  The first day included the free walking tour, which was three full hours, covered the “royal” sights (Buckingham Palace, the Guards, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Westminister Abbey, Parliament, and other palaces and parks), and was led by an energetic Irish guide named Nicola.  Interesting and very informative, the tour introduced us to the major sites of London and allowed us to become comfortable with the layout of the city.  The same company, NewEurope, also hosts nightly pub crawls, which we signed up for.  Who doesn’t want to pub crawl in London?  Absolutely worth the ten euro, the pub crawl was guided, took us to five of London’s best night spots, and included several free drinks.  It was fun to relax, make new friends, and experience the nightlife London has to offer.  The walk back was rather long and slightly chilly, but the night was enjoyable all the same.  The next day included a stop at St. Paul’s Cathedral, where we posed with our tuppence, ready to feed the birds. (Mary Poppins, anyone?)  Lots of great photo moments, some of which I’ve posted here.  We trekked across the city to the Eye, which we wanted to ride but was rather too expensive, and finally to the Tower.  We took the Beefeater Tour and it was phenomenal!  A little short, maybe, but the guide told us all the bloody tales of the tower, and he was very informative.  We found out that the tower guards actually still live – most of them with families – inside the tower today.  Molto interessante!  After wandering around the tower for a little while, climbing up into Bloody Tower and walking along the wall known as “Sir Walter Raleigh’s Walk” (to his death, of course), we waited in a long line to see…what else?  The Crown Jewels.  Fortunately, the Queen didn’t need to wear them that day.  One of my friends had been to the Tower before and the Crown Jewels were not on display because the Queen was wearing them for a ceremony.  Slight disappointment, I would imagine.  They were fabulous!  Quite exquisite, as one might expect from large diamonds, emeralds, and rubies set in beautiful gold crowns.  The exhibit included a history of all the jewels, particularly the India diamond, which is the second-largest cut diamond in the world.  After being bedazzled by such gorgeous jewelry, we moved on to an equally impressive exhibit in White Tower (the largest tower within the Tower) of the weapons and armor of Henry VIII.  It contained much of his original armor, from young Henry the prince’s child armor to the massive suit of King Henry, age fifty-five.  We also saw jousting lances (a lot longer than I thought they were) and I got to feel chain mail and try on a helm!  An interactive exhibit allowed kids and adults to lift weapons, shoot an arrow (I had perfect aim, naturally.  Haha), and see through the eyes of a knight on the battlefield (very narrow field of vision).

Clock on the tower where the Crown Jewels reside.

The Tower of London

Apartments built for Anne Boleyn, completed after her death, that look out to Tower Green, where people were beheaded.

After the excitement of the Tower, we set out to the London Bridge.  Ooops, we actually went to the Tower Bridge, which we thought was the London Bridge.  Though I’m sure no one ever makes this mistake, the Tower Bridge is the bridge with the giant towers.  The London Bridge, which is just down the Thames, is an unimpressive, grey stone bridge that has virtually no aesthetic value.  We took a picture anyway.  Far more exciting was the Milennium Bridge, the modern structure that, as diehard Harry Potter fans must certainly know, Voldemort’s Death Eaters destroyed in the sixth movie.  This happened in the book as well, but Rowling didn’t specify which bridge.  Therefore, this called for an exciting picture in which my friends and I have posed as though we are trapped on a collapsing bridge.  We are very thankful for the kind tourist who was willing to photograph this (slightly awkward) moment of perfection.

Members of the Royal Guard

Next stop:  Shakespeare.  The Globe Theater, although rebuilt only ten years ago, still appears in the original form and shows Shakespeare’s plays nightly.  For just five pounds, us groundlings were able to see Love’s Labour’s Lost, a hilarious comedy that was definitely the best rendition of a Shakespeare play that I have ever seen!  The acting was phenomenal, and entertaining enough to keep us on our feet (literally, we weren’t allowed to sit down) for two and a half hours.  After the Globe, we went to photograph Parliament at night, which is a beautiful sight but unfortunately, none of our cameras had night settings strong enough to get a good picture.  At least we were able to see it.  Hungry and in search of a restaurant that was still open at 10:00 PM (unlike Italians, the British eat much earlier), we took the tube back to Kensington and ended up at a delightful little place called…Burger King!  Yes, we went to a Burger King in London.  It was, alas, the only place open.  Which shows how much the fast food industry still influences people’s lives everyday, even those who would not normally eat at such places.

Shakespeare's Globe. Age: 10 years.

However, it was but a small blight on our overall trip (and those fries were good).  London’s history and present magnificence surrounded us at every turn, and as we focused on looking RIGHT as we crossed streets, we found ourselves quickly fitting in to the English culture.  As As we navigated the tube, “queued up” to enter pubs, and picnicked in St. James’ park, I realized that though I could never live in London, I would certainly enjoy returning for an extended stay.

Beautiful street in Green Park

Hey look, it's me! In front of King Henry VIII's "hunting lodge" aka Palace.

Westminister Abbey on a beautiful day!

This is a picture from the train. My camera really could not capture its beauty.

After getting up early to catch our train at the Venice train station, we proceeded to (a warning must be inserted here:  Train schedules, while generally correct, often post the wrong platform numbers) miss our train by approximately 3 minutes while searching for the correct platform.  So, we walked over to a bench beside the canal and waited while nibbling on a delicious Venetian pastry and reading.  Thanks to the wonderfully helpful lady at the information desk, we got to both practice our Italian skills and get on a train that left two hours before the one posted on the schedule.  Travel to Bled is not direct.  We took a pleasant train ride to Gorizia, a border town between Slovenia and Italy.  We had to take a bus to the border, where there is actually a plaque that says “Italia” on one side and “Slovenia” on the other to make a literal border between the two countries.  We walked across the border and got on another train bound for the Lake Bled area.  This train, which was lovingly decorated with graffiti, apparently doubles as a school transport train for Slovenian high schoolers.  They took pictures of me while I slept soundly during the train ride, so if you ever come across pictures of me on random Slovenian websites, you’ll know why.

View from the castle. I just had to take this picture of a hot-air-balloon over the mountains.

Once we arrived at the Lake Bled station, we realized that although we knew the address of the hostel, we had no idea how to get there.  So, happy because it was beautiful and we had arrived, we walked down to the lake and asked some guys at the rowing center for directions.  This was only difficult because they spoke a small bit of Italian and even less English, and we of course speak no Slovenian.  But we managed to communicate, and they were nice enough to even Google map the address for us, and then to draw a map by hand for us to follow.  So we set off, expecting about a thirty minute walk in a very light drizzle.  In fact, our exact words as we left the lake were. “Well, at least it’s not raining very hard”.  It then proceeeded to downpour for approximately a half an hour, and our short walk turned into an hour and a half-long excursion through the hilly roads of Slovenia.  Lost, we fortunately stumbled upon some American hikers who had a map, informed us that we were very much in the wrong direction, and pointed us the right way.  Eventually, weary and cold but quite honestly having the time of our lives, we arrived at the hostel.  It was delightful!  Situated on a cute little neighborhood street, it had a couple of apple trees out front and the owner, Tom, was very informative and told us exactly where we could rent bikes, whitewater raft, hike, and in general enjoy the beauty of Slovenia.  We had planned to go canyoning on Saturday.  It’s a good thing we didn’t.  Tom informed us that we probably wouldn’t be able to go due to the high water in the gorge, and then he later told us that one of the canyoning guides had died, while canyoning, just two hours previously.  So we opted for whitewater rafting, which was a blast although the rapids probably never got above Class 2.  We went to bed after an appetizer of Slovenian beer (tastes just like any other beer, really, but then again I am not a beer drinker) and chocolate and an absolutely amazing dinner that we did not stop gushing about for the next two days.

A part of Bled Castle, from the courtyard.

A side note on food, since I love food and it’s quite fun to try the good eats in the countries I visit.  Slovenians know how to eat well and cheaply.  We went to a restaurant and ordered three delicious meals that were rich, filling, and delicious.  Without high expectations of its contents, Stephanie ordered a veggie platter, and it turned out to be the most wonderful veggie platter any of us have seen.  Complete with not only assorted vegetables but also mozzarella and a fried cheese wedge, yum!  I had the turkey with gorgonzola cheese sauce, which after the turkey was gone Steph and Caroline helped me finish off the delicious sauce with the bread we received as an appetizer.  Molto, molto buono!

View of the courtyard, Bled Castle.

After some conversation with our dorm-mates (two British girls and a British guy, traveling separately, all were very nice), we turned in early in preparation for the busy day ahead of us, which consisited of…hiking, biking, whitewater rafting, walking around, and swimming!  We got up early and ate a delicious breakfast of inexpensive, fresh food from the local supermarket, and then walked down to the lake to rent bikes.  I was not only incredibly excited to just be on a bicycle because I really miss it, but they were Gary Fisher Marlins, which happens to be the brand of my first good mountain bike.  We then rode to the gorge, which was beautiful beyond description and in which we spent the rest of the morning hiking.  We happened to start hiking just behind a large tour group, however, and they were a bit slow but it also afforded us much time to take pictures of the scenery around us.  It was quite peaceful and we took some side trails as well after reaching the gorge.  We found an abandoned house and a Gollum-like tunnel that I crawled in.  After the hike and some snacking on muesli, which is similar to granola and contained bits of dark chocolate, we rode our bikes back to the lake and immediately boarded a van bound for the Sava River, where we rafted for an hour and a half.  It was a lot of fun, made even more so by singing Disney songs to amuse our guide and fellow rafters.  By now it was around 3 o’ clock or so, but we had not yet finished!  Next stop:  Lake Bled, where Stephanie and I swam the five hundred meters to the island in the middle of the lake, where there is a gorgeous church and a warm, sunny dock that was quite enjoyable.  We swam back too, even though the boats designed in the shape of swans (Lord of the Rings, anyone?) were quite tempting.  Not yet over, our active day finished with a ride back to the hostel, another appetizer of drinks and chocolate, and another delicious dinner from the same restaurant.  Exhausted, we got another great night’s sleep and started the next day with a ride to the castle.  We toured the castle, which was quite interesting and definitely worth the hilly ride up.   It had a terrific view of the entire lake!  We returned the bikes and after a delicious taste of honey brandy at a small market in town and a slice of Bled’s famous cream cake (which I didn’t think was that phenomenal, but they also had several other dessert choices, all quite excllent), we headed via bus to Lake Bohinj.  Our destination:  a Slovenian cow festival!  I’m willing to bet you’ve never been to one, but then again, I’m not sure many Slovenians have either!  We were given rather vague directions, as in “Oh, it’s just over there”, so naturally, we soon discovered that the walk was a lot longer than we expected.  There’s always a first for everything, and this was my first hitchhiking experience.  Europeans have a slightly different view of hitchhiking than Americans, particularly in small towns where the locals are generally quite willing to help out.  The nice man who picked us up spoke not one word of any languge except Slovenian, of which we only knew one word: Hvala, or thank you.  He transported us safely to the cow festival, which resembled a country fair in the Alps.  Locals had set up craft booths, food stands with fresh bread and meats were everywhere, and of course cows.  On stage, people in traditional costume were dancing, and the atmosphere in general was one of relaxation and fun.  We caught a ride back with two very nice Hungarians, who had just finished a backpacking trip and requested that we stop at Lake Bohinj so they could swim in the lake.  Therefore, we got to see Lake Bohinj as well and it was, if possible, even more gorgeous than Lake Bled! 

View of the Alps from the cow festival.

Stormy skies. This was the weather when we arrived.

Our weekend adventures over, we caught a train for home (how easy it is to say that of Venice now!).  It was definitely a successful trip.  Next installment:  Adventures in the UK, Part 1:  London.

Fun at the cow festival!

If I’m going to put geographical location into perspective, perhaps I should describe the idyllic setting in which I found myself:  a quiet, tree-lined path running through a large, green park filled with trees, little bridges, and plenty of benches.  It was on one such bench that I sat, watching the goings-on of the people around me.  In the past few weeks, I have rarely emerged from the cocoon of the Venetian city, where thousands of camera-carrying tourists, informative professors and house staff, and English-speaking shop owners have sheltered us students from the heart of Venetian culture.  Though Venice relies on the economic benefits of tourism, it nevertheless gives the ancient streets and magnificent buildings the feel of a museum, rather than a modern city with a rich history.  As one professor who led us on a tour of “Minor Venice” (the legends of Venice as well as some of the problems Venice faces), remarked regarding the replication of ancient facades in place of modern architecture, “authentically fake and fakely authentic.”

So where do we stand?  As students living in a foreign country, we find ourselves reluctant to associate with the wandering mobs of tourists but just as wary of calling ourselves citizens of Venice.  Since my arrival, I have entered a kind of liminal state, a fuzzy boundary based as much on my surroundings as on my confidence and experience.  Separating me from the tourist populus is the ability to find places without a map, the sense of destination and errand rather than aimless exploration when I set out from the house.  But even that only extends so far.  I could probably not give directions except to the most prominent places, and the shopkeepers still respond in English to my broken, well-rehearsed-beforehand, Italian phrases.  It isn’t a distinct separation.  Sometimes I feel quite at home in quiet, local areas, taking an after dinner stroll or an early morning jog.

Yesterday, I was on the tourist side of the invisible boundary, but yesterday, there was a cut-off:  walking quickly through the streets leading up to San Marco Square, I was above tourism.  My impatience with slow-moving crowds, a sense of direction, my hurried walk through the outskirts of San Marco, not glancing up to stare open-mouthed at the cathedral’s majestic facades.  As I walked along the fondamenta to the Giardini; however, I crossed my boundary.  The crowds thinned, and I soon found myself in the middle of what seemed to be a political rally.  Thousands of people, all wearing green and sporting t-shirts that read “”libero Padania!” and “Padania is NOT Italy” flocked around booths and a large structure from which loud speeches resonated through a powerful sound system.  I walked through the crowds, which extended for a quarter mile and beyond, bordered on the outskirts by Venetian police squads.  I must confess, I had no idea.  The event was clearly of some importance, but I could gain no further understanding (I later learned that it was a Northern Italy liberal movement of some kind) from the various signs and t-shirts.  There, in that mass, I was a visitor once more, an American ignorant of Italian current events and merely a quiet observer to the scene playing out before me.

The Giardini, like most places in Venice, also attracts its fair share of tourists, but it attracts locals – families enjoying quality time in the outdoors, couples strolling the breezy paths, dogs playing in the open grassy areas, spending a Sunday afternoon on a beautiful day.  In a sense, I feel more at home here, in open green spaces and leaves beginning to change and fall, than in the cobbled streets and stone walls of the city.  I savor the absence of glowing computer screens and the break from serious discussion.  Yet I am once again an observer in a state of exile, rather than an actor in this scene of the Venetian drama.  I cannot feel completely at home in my mind in a a place where I am essentially exiled by language barriers (for the time being, I’m sure this will improve), cultural barriers, and my own personal uncertainties.

To clarify for readers not enrolled in my English class:  I do not use “exile” in the sense of banishment.  Instead, it’s more of a state of being, a separation that one must overcome in order to establish a sense of place and home.  Some people spend their entire lives looking for a “home” and never find it, only to realize that what they’re looking for is not a physical place but a feeling within themselves.  To feel at home is to know oneself, to be surrounded by the qualities that invite comfort, confidence, and self-assurance.  To be in exile is to be cut off from those things, which invites in a feeling of loss, a lack of confidence, and a feeling of being “outside the comfort zone”.  Therefore, I see the study abroad experience as an opportunity, through a kind of exile from the familiar, to expand my boundaries of the familiar.  I hope, by the end of these three months, that I will have established Venice as a place I can call a home.  I don’t want to compare Venice to my current home in Memphis, or even look for similar qualities, but instead I seek to develop a new set of comforts and familiarities aside from the ones I already know and enjoy.

I hope for the sake of the wonderful people who take time out of their busy lives to read this random rambling, that it at least makes a little sense.  Not only was I attempting to gather my thoughts for an impending paper, but also to differ from the outside description of Venice’s beauty and move inside the culture and experiences that I’m stumbling upon every day.