Homeward Bound

I’m writing this as I wait for my final flight at the Amsterdam airport (well, to be honest, I wrote the last two blog posts here too). I’m utterly exhausted, and I’ve been so stressed for the past few days (and am anticipating so much stress in the next few days) that I’ve been shivering. Despite that, I can’t even tell you how excited I am to finally be going home. And not just home as in the-house-I-grew-up-in-where-my-parents-live-that-I-go-to-on-breaks, I mean home as in the US, home as in my family and my Wellesley friends and my dog, home as in being able to buy Taco Bell and the tray of Oreos, home as in the familiar. 

I’m not even homesick really. Definitely not homesick like I was my first few weeks at Wellesley when I used to call home crying because I packed everything I owned but forgot to pack notebooks and pencils and had nothing to take notes with the first day of class, or because I didn’t know how to use the laundry machines and accidentally shrunk all of my pants. Not even homesick like my first few weeks at Leeds when I was so lonely that I just felt sort of numb and empty and watched “Lost in Translation” all the time, wondering what I was doing, leaving Wellesley. I’m just excited to finally be going home, I’ve so so enjoyed my time abroad, I’ve had such wonderful trips, and made such lovely friends, and yet I am very ready to be back in the US. When they checked me in and asked, “Heading home?”, I almost shed a tear out of happiness (not something I do very often). But for some reason, I really was, am, that happy. 

I’ve heard the warnings about reverse culture shock, and I’m a little nervous about jumping back into Wellesley’s curriculum after my relaxing, and borderline boring, semester in Leeds classes, but none of that seems quite as important, just a low buzzing shoved aside by the mental celebrations. 

On the purely logistical side of things, the blog is all up to date now! If you're behind on my adventures and want some voyeuristic satisfaction, feel free to go through my Instagram, where many pictures of my adventures are posted. (Not gonna lie, I sort of gave up on the Photo Gallery page, it's a lot of coding work to maintain. Coding work I am unwilling to do). Friends and family, I have a fairly extensive photo album posted on Facebook!

The next, and last, post I write will be from the US! And I’m writing that sentence with a huge smile! 

Bonjour Paris!

That's For Me!

My arrival in Paris was not quite as happy-go-lucky as Audrey’s was in "Funny Face" (I got stuck at the airport for nearly an hour while military guys with machine guys cleared out an abandoned piece of luggage). Nevertheless, I was still arriving in Paris, and I was going to be in Paris for a week, and I was going to wake up in Paris for my birthday! It was all lovely and magical in my head! 

We stayed at this sweet hotel, the Hotel D’Orsay, which was, true to its name, just down the street from the Musee D’Orsay. Aunt Joy needed some time to recover from her many hours of travel, so we didn’t actually leave the hotel until after dark. It was strange, how I was suddenly just walking along the banks of the Seine, seeing the Eiffel Tower glow in the distance, just as it always had in pictures and movies. I didn’t have quite the reaction that I did to the Coliseum (see the post My Roman Holiday to read about my utter Classical History/Latin fangirl presented itself), but it was still an almost surreal experience at first. We took a boat tour that night, and then we ducked into the first restaurant we found because by the end of the boat tour it was pouring rain. Ethan, you’ll be proud of me, my very first meal in France was a cheese burger with fries. It was delicious. I have no regrets. 

We did so many things, I don’t even know how to narrow down my stories (I’m not doing a two-parter post like with Rome, that was a bit unmanageable for me). Of course, we hit all the major tourist spots— if you think “Quintessential Paris”, we probably visited it. The first day, we went to Notre Dame (a truly incredible example of Gothic Cathedral Architecture), San Chapelle (which had some stunning stained glass windows), and the Cluny Museum (which was interesting, and exhibited mostly medieval era artifacts, with a few ancient Roman artifacts thrown into the mix). I loved the tapestries at the Cluny, the Lady with the Unicorn series were lovely and enigmatic as promised. It wasn’t an absolutely thrilling day, but Aunt Joy planned the itinerary, so I just sort of shuffled along behind and enjoyed the sights. We actually got to see some of the bouquinistes along the Seine as we walked to Notre Dame in the morning! I would’ve liked to browse a little more, but time has a habit of getting away from you when you’re on vacation. It was kind of strange, after having traveled alone for a week, to have to match up my own expectations with another person’s, and to meld your must-see itineraries. It was still a lovely weekend and I got to see and do not all but many things I’d wanted to!

The Grand Gallery

Of course, we did the major museums. The Louvre was insane, and particularly so because we happened to visit on city free day, so it was insanely busy. There was an incredible exhibition of Islamic art, the likes of which I’d never seen in the US in terms of size and range of the collection. I’m a huge fan of Islamic art, and this exhibit did not disappoint. I lingered so long, Aunt Joy had to remind me how much else there was to see in the museum. We saw some Da Vincis, and even spotted the Mona Lisa from a distance (honestly, the crowd was so insane, they need to put her in her own little room. Or use conveyor belts like they do with the Crown Jewels in England, so that you can get a look but not linger). I was very excited to see some famous works of art I had studied in high school history classes. 

I tried...

Of course, we also did the Musee D’Orsay, though it was the last thing we did in Paris, so we were both exhausted. Still, their collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist works was great! Once again, so many pieces I’d only ever seen in books, came to life! I think one of my favorite museum experiences in Paris, and overall, however, was at the Musee l’Orangerie, which holds the giant Monet waterlilies. Their scope was astounding, and they were just so pretty. If you could fall in love with paintings, I think I might have fallen a little bit for those panels.

Aside from museums, we spent some time wandering. We went to the Marais one day, which is a trendy little area known for its quirky shops. Needless to say, I did some shopping that day. I also did some shopping the day we went to Montmartre. We took the funicular up the hill, and gazed down at the city from Sacre Coeur’s perch (before being hastily and alarmingly evacuated from the area. Oh Paris…). We wandered down the hill, hitting a few funky shops on the way down, and Aunt Joy scored some awesome vintage dead stock haute couture jewellery. I am very jealous! Though I definitely got my fair share of souvenirs! Montmartre was so charming, just as I imagined it after watching “Amelie”, though it seems to be a little touristy now. Parisians seem to view Montmartre the way New Yorkers view Greenwich Village.  

We spent quite a bit of time going out for “culinary experiences” as Aunt Joy once referred to them. For me, it was a week of the craziest, richest, fanciest meals I’d ever had in my life. Each place had a unique selling point. At one place, every dish was made with truffles, including the tiramisu I had for dessert, which was yummy, but weird because you could definitely taste the truffle. At another place, we had a tasting menu which was chosen entirely by the chef and sommelier, and which we, interestingly enough, ate blind. We were given a brief description of each dish, but we weren’t told what wine we were being served. In fact, for some of the courses, they served the wine in black wine glasses, so that we couldn’t see the color of the wine. It was crazy, albeit delicious. We had a really wonderful meal at the Jules Verne restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower. Yes, *inside* the Eiffel Tower. I didn’t even know there was a restaurant there, but there is and we ate there. Again it was delicious and very fancy, but the views were insane. Also, we were *inside* the Eiffel Tower. The restaurant even gave me a chocolate cake-like dessert wishing me a happy birthday, or ‘Joyeux Anniversaire’, since it was France. It was really, quite lovely. 

View from the top of the Eiffel Tower

We took lots of photos from the observation deck, though we didn’t go all the way to the top. Though, as we were taking photos from the ground, Aunt Joy was amused at the fact that I was freaking out more about seeing the nearby bridge featured in ‘Inception’, than the fact that I was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower. 

Me.

We spent a whole day at Versailles, which made Buckingham Palace look like a shack, and where everything was made of gold. The scope of the place was unbelievable. The hallways just seemed to go on and on, the gardens were exponentially larger than palace (which was already immense), and every item inside the palace was luxe and/or covered in gold. I loved the furniture and the carpets and the light fixtures. I loved it all. And that night, when we went home, I watched Sophia Coppola’s “Marie Antoinette” (you know, the one with Kirsten Dunst). It was cool to see them running around the rooms I had just toured, and also, I just like Marie Antoinette. She’s such a sad figure, I think, and I feel for her and her whole situation. But that’s for another time. 

Hall of Mirrors

Overall, it was a wonderful time. I saw so many cool pieces of art, architecture, and history that I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to see. I wandered, I ate, I shopped, I saw, and I turned 21. It was a great finale to my travel adventures! 

And of course, I wouldn't be me if I went on vacation and didn't buy a book (or a few...)

#AmsterdamAesthetic

I had been to the Amsterdam airport numerous times before, since it seems to be a central European hub and thus a prime locale for layovers, but I had never actually left the airport, so that was new for me. Luckily, I was met by my lovely Dutch friend Judith, who helped navigate me back to her student residence in Leiden, a city about 30 minutes outside Amsterdam by train, where I’d be staying with her. Riding the train to Leiden, I got to see a bit of the landscape, and Judith was kind enough to point out old fashioned windmills (they are real and look exactly like the drawings! How fun!). The geography was very flat, and actually reminded me of car rides and Amtrak trips through the Midwest, which surprised me. 

Lovely friend and tour guide, Judith

Judith, clever friend that she is, let me convalesce from my travels that day. She fed me snackums and then showed me around her town of Leiden. Leiden is quaint and absolutely picturesque. We walked around in the evening, so transition from gloaming to darkness was quick, bringing with it all the lights still up from Christmas. The lights reflected on the water of the ever-present canals, which in turn illuminated the row houses. It was all very charming. We walked and chatted and watched ice-skaters at the town center, and I had Dutch hot chocolate, which was so rich that it was like drinking a melted chocolate bar. That evening, I met Judith’s two best friends, Wendy and Stephanie, both of whom were lovely and amusing. The three of them together reminded me of my own best friends (shout out to 320!). I was absolutely exhausted from all the traveling, especially since I had just gotten off the plane a few hours before, so I wasn’t quite as bubbly and personable as I could have been—nevertheless, it was a great evening!

On the tram!

The next day, Judith and I took the train into Amsterdam bright and early! We took one of the trams to one of the outer rings to the Rijksmuseum. (So Amsterdam is full of canals, and many of the main canals are organised into ring shapes. Judith told me that at one point, how closely you lived to the center ring demonstrated how important and wealthy you were. That’s it for Fun Trivia With Austen in this post). The Rijksmuseum was very cool! It was full of exhibits on Dutch history, including several on their colonial and trading history, which was quite fascinating. My favorites, however, were the Dutch masters! I saw some Vermeers and Rembrandts that I had only ever seen in textbooks before! The museum wasn’t huge, so we didn’t spend more than a few hours there. 

Not a "Dutch Master", but he was Dutch and he was Masterful, so...

After that, we wandered a bit, and got lunch at a bagel cafe that was really yummy! We sort of just wandered around the rest of the day, looking at all the idyllic picturesqueness that is Amsterdam. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what about the architecture of Amsterdam I found so aesthetically pleasing, but it had something to do with the color of the houses (which were often either deep or pastel shades of cool colors, like blue or purple), and the way they sort of listed to the side due to how old they all were. Plus, the canals and bridges are so precisely set up, they make it all very nice. 

Later, we went vintage shopping! I got several recommendations from friends and acquaintances to check out the vintage shopping scene in Amsterdam, and boy did it pay off. Those of you who know me, know that I am a big vintage enthusiast, so this was loads of fun for me! We went to several stores, and I found something to buy in each one! There were different items here than I normally find at home (at home I have the most luck with vintage formal wear, but in Amsterdam, I found all sorts of things I can wear in the everyday!). Judith was amazed at my shopping prowess, and I’ll admit, I do treat shopping, particularly vintage shopping, like a sport. A sport I always win. 

In fact, everything about Amsterdam, and even the other parts of the Netherlands I saw (which was not a huge sample size, I’ll admit), was very aesthetically pleasing. The landscaping and architecture and city planning was all so measured and neat, but not in a harsh, sharp way, more in a quietly organized way. All of the shops had lovely displays, the lights were all set up to reflect off the canal waters with a rather magical effect. I don’t know, it all just seemed so aesthetically aware, like *everything* was straight out of tumblr photo post (thus the title of this blog post). 

The next day, we left even earlier in an attempt to make it to the Anne Frank house, however, even though we got there quite soon after opening, the line was insanely long. I didn’t want to waste a whole day waiting in line, so I took a picture next to the sign and moved on. I’m a little sad I missed it, but hey, it gives me a reason to go back and visit!

All the cheese

After that, Judith wanted to show me the red light district. It was the middle of the day by then, so it was a little tamer than Judith said it could be. Nevertheless I didn’t quite know what to expect, so it was a tad startling to see women sitting in windows, watching and gesturing at strangers. It reminded me a little bit of a human vending machine. We did a fairly quick walk through, as there wasn’t really much to see or do, and then we got lunch, and wandered and shopped a little more. We went into a super touristy cheese shop near the train station. We sampled many cheeses and I learned that my family had been atrociously mispronouncing “Gouda” forever. 

We went back early that day since it was the 31st, so we could relax before our New Year’s celebrations. Judith’s boyfriend joined us for a fireworks show in Rotterdam. So, Rotterdam is not like many other cities in the Netherlands (visually at least). It’s very new, and very ‘city’ as I have always thought of cities (steel, concrete, skyscrapers, grid system roads). This is because Rotterdam was obliterated during WWII, and had to be rebuilt from scratch (I lied, *this* is the end of Fun Trivia With Austen). Coincidentally, Rotterdam is also where my grandma’s family originates. Funny. 

Anyway, New Year’s in the Netherlands was terrifying. People can not only purchase their own fireworks, but they also just set them off on city street corners for hours leading up to the New Year. It sounded like gunshots at first. Sometimes, people would lob fireworks or firecrackers into crowds of people, which is actually quite dangerous! I was genuinely worried I might lose a finger or an eye, or at least end up with a singed coat. Luckily, I made it out of the night unscathed, and the legitimate fireworks show was quite lovely! It was kind of strange, though, to hear everybody shouting the final countdown in Dutch! And once the New Year hit, I realized that it was only 5 pm at home! I was separated from my friends and family by a whole year! Strange thoughts. 

It was the first time I’d ever really been *out* out on New Year’s, since even when I’m not spending it with my family, I’m usually vegging out inside somewhere with friends (it’s very cold in Chicago, no one sane wants to be outside in the middle of the night in the dead of winter), so it was nice to get out (even if it was freezing). And I’m glad I got to spend it with Judith! Unfortunately for me, I had to get up quite early the next day to fly out to Paris!

Fog in Venice

“Maybe my song isn’t happy enough, but I

I see it take flight in the foggy mist above me

My coffee gets cold as I’m staring enthralled

At the fog that keeps gathering outside”

Those aren’t the actual lyrics, of course, but the song still felt appropriate. It really seemed to capture how lonely, though still beautiful, Venice felt in the winter. 

("Snow in Venice" by Elizaveta)

Venice was foggy. I mean, *really* foggy (and I’ve been living in Northern England for the past few months). As I flew into Venice, the sun was still shining since it was only 4:30 pm. As the plane descended into what seemed to be another layer of clouds, the world suddenly became night, and the captain said, yes, those weren’t clouds, that is actually fog. Thick, dense, light-swallowing fog. It was kind of insane. 

My entire arrival and first night in Venice was a bit of a blur, actually. Somehow I managed to procure a waterbus ticket from the airport to the island, and after what seemed like an endless walk, I found the dock, waited another hour before actually making it onto the bus, then waited another hour and half (while listening to some exceptionally annoying Texans whine) for the water bus to reach my stop, and then spent a good 40 minutes wandering around in the dark trying to figure out how the hell to get to my hotel. Never before had I realized just how much I had taken airport cabs for granted, particularly when you’re somewhere unfamiliar. Luckily a tourist shop owner took pity on me and pointed me in the right direction, or else I might have had to roost with the pigeons in Piazza San Marco that night. 

My hotel in Venice was teeny tiny and had no internet (*gasp!*), it was called the Hotel Noemi, and though the amenities weren’t spectacular, the decor was fabulous. Also, the little old Italian man who sat at the reception desk was very sweet and called me Signorina and seemed very impressed that I was traveling all by myself. 

View from my hotel room window

The first night, I went out to one of those snack bars and got a little sandwich for dinner, since I didn’t have a reservation for anywhere else, and then I sort of just wandered around Piazza San Marco. It was only 8 pm, but the place was empty (probably because it was so cold). The lack of crowds, with the heavy fog blurring all the lights made for a pretty spooky scene. It was nice to get a good look without being bumped into by hoards of other tourists and harassed by the kiosk vendors. 

Piazza San Marco by night

The next day I didn’t really have a plan, and the lines for any sort of attraction were insanely long, so I just wandered. I actually got quite lost. Twice. I set off fairly early and got breakfast at a little cafe right in Piazza San Marco, and then I sort of just picked a street and walked. On my first walk, I ended up in what seemed to be a fairly residential area, and it took me about an hour and a half to find myself back in an area with signs clearly pointing me back to San Marco. Before getting lost, however, I took some touristy pictures of the canals and gondolas, and I also stumbled upon a little pen and paper shop, where I purchased myself my very own Venetian glass pen! 

It’s really easy to get lost in Venice—all the buildings look the same (old and charming), all the streets are the same (rambling and twisty and cobblestoned), and all the signs are in Italian, and you’re constantly crossing bridges, so it’s pretty easy to get yourself turned around until you bump into a landmark that happens to be marked on your map (and even then, you’d have be able to orient yourself on a map in a medieval city set up, good luck).

Smiling because I'm not utterly lost yet

That afternoon, after finding my way back to Piazza San Marco, I got a quick lunch, dropped off my purchase, and had a cat nap in my hotel before setting off again. This time, I headed in the opposite direction, and once again, became quite lost. This time, I started to get a little nervous, as it was getting darker. But once I found the Ponte di Rialto, I knew where I was. I ended up finding an authentic Venetian mask shop, where I spent quite a bit of time trying on masks to find the perfect one (which I did), much to the amusement of the shop owner and his family. 

Ethan, you’ll be proud of this next part. I then ate an entire pizza for dinner. It was delicious. And I still had room for dessert. It wasn’t a small pizza either, it was like a foot and a half in diameter. 

After dinner I got gelato (even though it was freezing) and went back to Piazza San Marco to hang out in the mist. I don’t know, but for some reason, I really like the empty, foggy piazza. It was so big and open, it was just nice, somehow. 

Lights in Piazza San Marco

Venice in general was lovely (though difficult to navigate). And the fog in Venice made it feel lonely and romantic, hanging over the water, making everything look vague and blurry and sad. It was perfect. 

The Grand Canal

Christmas Czech Point

The adventure is on! 

Excitement (hopefully), romance (uhh…), and mishaps (with a money-back guarantee)—just a few of the many things everyone has anticipated about my solo jaunts across Europe. Instead of going home for 2 weeks for the holidays this year when I’d just have to come back to take my exams before heading to the States for good, I decided to run around the Continent a see the sights. Part of which, I have planned to do alone (*queue shrieks of terror from all my relatives*). This has unsettled many adults in my family who have seen Liam Neeson’s crowning achievement “Taken” a few too many times. Luckily, I, unlike Neeson’s street-naive daughter, do not plan on telling any strange men where my hotel is and what my room number is, and therefore do not anticipated being kidnapped and sold into sex slavery. 

So far, that plan is working. Rest assured guys. 

My first stop on my own was Prague in the Czech Republic, where I spent Christmas. It was the most relaxing Christmas of my life, I’m not gonna lie. 

I stayed at this swanky hotel, the Art Nouveau Palace, which was almost a little too glamorous for me (I said “almost”). It had the most beautiful breakfast buffet I’ve ever seen in my life, with smoked salmon, pate, eggs, bacon, pancakes, and they served some kickass coffee, too. 

I arrived in Prague after a long and arduous journey: I had a layover in London Heathrow (and we all know how I feel about Heathrow: I hate it, and it was an airport designed by an idiot). Then, upon arriving at the Prague airport, I had to go through passport control since I was entering the EU from beyond. Now, in these European countries, they have lines for European passports, where people just zoom right on through, and then a line for everyone else, which is where I ended up waiting for an hour. It was hot, it was late, I was tired, and I had hired a car service to pick me up at the airport that I was praying would wait for me. Eventually, I was next in line to get my passport stamped, but as soon as the family in front of me was finished, the man in the booth put up a sign and shouted to go to another window. I was at my wit’s end by this point, and might have half shouted “No!” in the middle of the airport before running and shoving my way to the shortest line, near tears of frustration. Or, we could all choose to believe that I handled myself with grace, dignity, and poise. 

To their credit, the car company did wait over an hour for me at the airport. And after an ordeal of a day, I spent that evening languishing in the massive bed I had all to myself. 

View of Prague Castle from across the Vltava

I went exploring over the next few days. Prague was the one city for which I had no real expectations going in; honestly I went to Prague purely on the recommendation of others, and boy did it pay off. Overall, there wasn’t a ton “to do” in Prague, but it was an absolutely lovely city for walking and wandering. Apparently it was one of the few major cities that was spared bombing during the 20th century wars, which means that quite a bit of it’s old architecture remains intact to this day. The city was filled with rambling streets and a myriad of Art Nouveau style buildings in Easter egg colors. 

Astronomical Clock in the Old Town Square

I explored various Christmas markets, and did quite a bit of souvenir shopping at the market in the Old Town Square. It was picturesque (though there wasn’t any snow!), especially at night when all the lights were turned on. And it was massive, making the dinky little market in Daley Plaza in Chicago look like a toy version. One day, for breakfast, I had a trdelnik, a traditional Czech pastry that is essentially just dough covered in sugar, so where could you go wrong, really?

Aside from just wandering around and eating things at the Christmas Markets, I did try to do some sightseeing. There were several small niche-interest museums that I visited including the Kafka Museum, the Museum of Communism, and the Mucha Museum. Now, when I say “small” and “niche” I mean in a house or on a side street in an old shop front. The Kafka Museum was cool, though definitely trippy and would not make any sense to someone who was unfamiliar with Kafka. It was fun and I got through the whole space in just over an hour. The exhibits were a strange, and sometimes startling, mix of historical artifacts (mostly letters, a few drafts, some photos, and even an object like a watch now and then) with audio-visual…experiences…I’m honestly not entirely sure how else I would describe them. There were often eerie sound effects in areas where reading letters between Kafka and his father, and a strange video interpreting one of Kafka’s most contentious and mysterious works, “The Castle”, along with many other oddities. But it was interesting and informative, and definitely a fun way to pass the time for an hour or so. 

The Museum of Communism was tucked away near on of the main modern shopping thoroughfares, the sort of place that you wouldn’t be able to find unless you knew exactly where to look, but I think it was well worth it. The museum was bursting with artifacts from its own Communist history, many of which were quite fascinating, though I wish I’d had the foresight to book a guided tour in advance, as I think a tour guide might have helped bring the exhibits to life. There were old uniforms, exhibits about propaganda and political cartoons (the ones they used against the US were particularly amusing, and not altogether irrelevant today actually). My favorite exhibits were the small recreations of Communist era rooms. There was even a rather moving video about the history of resistance against Czech Communism and the events leading up to the Velvet Revolution in 1989. I found myself crying right there in public after watching that video—I sometimes forget that Communism was a very real and very scary and very unironic thing in many parts of the world. However, the museum gift shop did not kowtow to such emotional sentiments. This gift shop was, in fact, the most self-aware and ironic gift shop I have ever been in. Naturally it was the perfect place to get all of Ethan’s souvenirs. 

Me and Lenin 

The Mucha Museum was lovely and very conveniently located just across the street from my hotel. I popped in on Christmas Eve and had a look around. I’ve loved Alphonse Mucha for quite a while (but the aesthetics of Art Nouveau have always appealed to me), so this museum, filled with a range of his works, including many of his most famous posters and subjects, was a dream and the perfect thing for me to do on Christmas Eve. Chances are, you’d probably recognize some of Mucha’s more famous works, actually, as his whole aesthetic is making a comeback. I’ll include some photos of his stuff. 

Mucha's Flower Series

Aside from the niche museums, I found ways to keep myself busy. One night, I happened upon a woman selling tickets to a Christmas Carol Concert that would take place in a Medieval church. How could I say now to that? Plus, with the insanely favorable exchange rate, the ticket was only like $3 (everything in Prague was so cheap it was incredible). I had to wander around a bit to actually find the church, but it was gorgeous. The concert was really fun as well, the choir performed Christmas carols from around the world in their original languages. 

Views of Prague from Petrin Hill Park

On Christmas Day I slept in and then decided to take a walk in the famous Petrin Park on the other side of the river. It was quite warm on Christmas, and the park turned out to be on a rather steep hill, so by the time I got to the top, my coat had come off, I was red-faced, and out of breath. But the views of the city were definitely worth it. Plus I got a little exercise in and saw Prague’s own mini version of the Eiffel Tower (I didn’t go up because it was going to be another 200-some stairs). I took the famous Charles Bridge back across the river, and then had a lovely traditional Czech dinner in the hotel restaurant before a 4 hour Skype session with my family. 

And back down the hill...

Overall, it was a really really lovely holiday. I don’t think I’ve ever really just been out and about on Christmas Day before, so it was nice to just sort of wander at my leisure, it felt very luxurious, though I did miss my insane family a bit (is this better than eccentric guys? *wink wink*). 

London Calling

Gingerbread Castle at the shop!

With classes over, my friend Judith and I decided to take a trip down to jolly old London! We were both busy (me getting things done before the winter break adventure and Judith getting ready to go home for the holidays) and budgeting, so we decided to go for only one night. This trip felt like my most “youth backpacker-y” trip so far, since we literally carried our backpacks around with us for most of the trip. We took an early, early morning coach, a trip that took about 4 hours total, and we arrived to fog and mist (typical, *sigh*). After we left Victoria Coach Station, we found a sweet little shop to get a snack. We got coffee and I got cake (it was truly amazing). After we had warmed up a bit and filled our stomachs, we decided to go sightseeing! 

We decided to take the Underground, or the Tube if we want to get colloquial, with Judith as our fearless navigator! Honestly, the London Underground is great. I’ve ridden on public transport systems all over the place, and the Tube system is one of the easiest to navigate, most efficient, and cleanest I’ve every used. Props to you London for making your mass transit so easy that tourists don’t have to stop and ask locals for directions.  We got off at Westminster and emerged from the Earth to the looming image of Big Ben! I was so tired from the bus ride and a little disappointed by the area around the coach station, that when we bumped into the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, I do believe I exclaimed “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” to Judith, and much to the amusement of many Londoners and tourists around us. 

We took innumerable photos (or at least I did) of Big Ben and Parliament, and Judith took polaroid photos even (so cool!). We got up close and personal with the London Eye, but we didn’t ride it since the tickets were insanely expensive (like 50-60£ or some nonsense like that). We wandered around until we found Westminster Abbey and then further until we got to Buckingham Palace. I’m not gonna lie, Buckingham Palace was a little anti-climactic. I’d seen it so many times on TV and in photos, and in real life, it wasn’t nearly as big and grand as I had imagined it would be. It was there, and reminded me of some of the other stately English homes I had seen, though a little bigger, and most disappointing of all? There were none of those guards in red coats with funny hats! Unforgivable, truly. 

Wondering where the Red Coats are

By this time, it was getting darker, and the mist was turning into a drizzly rain. We took the Tube around a little more, going to St. Paul’s Cathedral before heading over to our hostel. We landed at King’s Cross Station and, of course, had to make a stop at the Platform 9 3/4 photo-op and store. We got several geeky souvenirs, but we had to make up for the fact that tickets to the Harry Potter studios were all booked up! 

Piccadilly Circus

It was full on pouring when we left King’s Cross, and we had quite a bit of trouble navigating in the dark, in the rain, with our little paper map melting in our hands, but eventually we found our hostel. The guy at the check-in counter was very chatty, giving us lots of recommendations when all we wanted to do was get to our room and dry off. After we dropped our stuff in our room, we headed back out to find some dinner. We decided on a Vietnamese place, and I’m not gonna lie, it was really nice to have some quality Asian food again! The food was great, and Judith got some hands-on practice using chopsticks! She also tried deep-fried ice cream for the first time! It was a tasty time. We hopped on the Tube again and got out at Piccadilly Circus, or “our Time Square” as the hostel guy called it. It had a few big screens up, and a couple of theaters, but it definitely didn’t hold a candle to actual Time Square, but I could see where the comparison comes from, I guess. 

Me with the phone booths at Piccadilly Circus

We wandered around there, and went to China Town since Judith had never been to any sort of China Town before. It was cute, but it was small compared to some of the China Towns I’ve been to in other cities. We popped into an Asian market and I made Judith get a Ramunen (Japanese Soda). 

Judith excited about China Town

Then we headed to Oxford Street to check out Selfridge’s. The window displays were cool, but the interior reminded me of the State Street Marshall Field’s store (well, Macy’s now, I guess…) in terms of the interior design. We wandered around in there a bit, but by then we were both so totally exhausted from being on our feet all day long, that we were a little zombified, and headed back to the hostel for an early night. 

The hostel was clean, and we sprung for a private room and bathroom since the prices were so cheap. It was my first time sleeping in a bunk bed, and I slept on the top bunk, which was novel. I don’t think either of us woke very rested, though. The hostel provided a meagre (read: ‘pathetic’) breakfast of your choice of white or wheat toast, jam, and instant cocoa or orange juice. We checked out early and headed out to site see and get some coffee (I desperately needed the energy after the sad little breakfast). We went to the Tower of London, one of my top “must-see” items, and Judith was sweet enough to entertain herself while I paid to go in and take a tour. 

Tower Bridge

I took a tour led by one of the Yeoman, and it was quite informative and entertaining. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I guess not what the Tower turned out to be. The layout reminded me of those Medieval towns you see on TV shows. I saw the place where all those beheaded queens were buried and I saw the Crown Jewels (which, let me tell you, were impressive up close). I hit up the gift shop (who doesn’t love a good gift shop, honestly?) and went out to find Judith. By then it was warmer out and we headed to Trafalgar Square, which was full of people and performers, and generally a cool place. We ate lunch across the street from the square and then headed to the Natural History Museum. 

The museum building itself was really pretty, and we headed inside and Judith took pictures with all the dinosaurs. We went to most of the exhibits, and got to see the dinosaur exhibit, and the taxidermy animals, one of my favorites (I know, that sounds strange, but I both interesting and find it super creepy, which makes me love it). After we had gone to most of the exhibits (we skipped the minerals exhibit, and I skipped the creepy-crawlies), we went and got tea at the museum cafe. We stayed there until the museum closed, and then took the Tube back to the coach station, since there wasn’t much else for us to do at that point. We were exhausted, but we had two hours to go until our coach left, so we ended up just sitting around at the station. 

Judith meets the Dinosaurs

Our coach ride back to Leeds was one of the longest 4 hour stretches of my life. There were several small children on the bus, which spelled disaster from the moment we saw them board, but to top it off, there was a woman sitting in the row in front of us, who spent 3 of the 4 hours talking loudly on the phone. Our trip was from 8-12 pm, and all I wanted to do was doze off, but this lady was yammering away, not making any attempt to converse quietly. If she had been in the middle of a crisis, or was talking to someone out of necessity, that would have been one thing, but I think she was doing it to pass the time. She would hang up with someone, and then scroll through her contact list and call someone else. At one point she was laughing so loud it sounded like cackling. It was so rough, but we made it. 

After spending an exhausting and jam-packed 30 hours in London, I feel like I saw everything I really, really wanted to see, and I got to spend some quality time with Judith, which was nice! It took me a full day to recover, and then I had to hop back in and work on at least one of my two essays before leaving for my adventure (who knows what’s going to happen with the second essay, but at this point, I honestly don’t really care anymore). 

Still had a lovely time with Judith in London!

The Yule Ball

Or As Close As I'm Going to Get

Anyone who knows me knows of my unyielding and exuberant love for Harry Potter (I mean, I sewed myself a Ravenclaw robe, for goodness sake). Growing up, I thought of myself as Hermione (just a little quieter), and I waited with more than a little actual belief for my Hogwarts letter to come. I have always been completely enamored of the series, especially the completely magical Yule Ball from the fourth book. At home, in high school and even at Wellesley we never had any truly black-tie formal events, and certainly no winter formals where everything was festive and frosted, and I think that’s why I loved the idea of the Yule Ball so much (because, let’s be real, aside from the Waltz at the beginning and the whole magic aspect, it’s fairly similar to Prom). Winter itself has always felt sort of magical to me, so the idea of getting dressed up in the winter, and of dancing around in a ballroom covered with snow and silvery ornaments, and frosted ‘ice’ decorations seemed so perfect and wonderful.

Well, of course, coming to study in England, I got my wish! My residence, Devonshire Hall, threw a Christmas Ball on December 2, and it was amazing! 

I’m not entirely sure what to say about it, aside from the fact that it was like English Winter Prom. My friends and I had pre-drinks at the residence, then decided it would be fun and exciting to take the bus into the City Center (ahem, “Centre”) to the hotel. Of course the bus was late. So late, in fact, that we decided to just take a different bus, assuming it would let us off near-ish to where we needed to be. Hahahaha. Never assume, friends. At least, not when it comes to public transport. When we got to the threshold of the city center, we decided to wait just one more stop, thinking we’d get a few blocks closer rather than walk in our heels. Instead of moving a block or two closer to the hotel, the bus turned, and drove numerous blocks in the opposite direction of the hotel. 

Our smiles and hearts sank as we realized what was happening. We hurriedly got off at the next stop, and luckily, one of my friends knew where she was going (I honestly had no idea where we were at that point). With the bus having been so behind, and now being on the other side of the city from where we needed to be, we were running quite late, so we had to start booking it a little bit so that we could make it before the meal started. 

Running through town because we took the wrong bus, whoops

We got to the hotel, breathless, and by the time we got there the arrival drinks were quite watered down from the melted ice, but we were just in time to enter the ballroom and sit down for dinner! It was a yummy though unmemorable dinner, bacon-wrapped chicken that was quite light on the bacon and some veggies (potatoes? maybe carrots? definitely brussels sprouts, but I didn’t eat those, yuck), and a massive brownie and mini minced pies for dessert. It was nice, and there was free wine. Lots of free wine. I think our table of 10 went through like 6 bottles of wine (mostly drunk by my 4 friends and I, to be honest). We were nice and warm and floaty by the end of dinner, when the live jazz music finished up and they put on the club music. 

We waited in line for quite a while to use the photo-booth, and we did lots of dancing. Honestly, I’ve always found it weird to dance to club music while in formal wear, I always have. So, towards the end of the night, I decided to request “Dancing in the Moonlight”, and the DJ was so keen on my request that he played retro disco music for the next 1.5 hours. It was the best. So much more fun to dance to than electronic mishmash of sounds or the “Top 40”. 

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the Brits are born partiers. There were people who got up on the tables to dance, there were people holding entire wine bottles while dancing on the dance floor. It was a wild time. At 1 AM the Ball was over and we all turned back into pumpkins (kidding), and we took a cab back home. It was a Tuesday after all. It seemed that most everyone else went to the “official afterparty” at one of the nearby clubs, which was scheduled to go until 4 AM. The stamina of the Brits for partying astounds and worries me. 

Overall, it was a lovely time, and a great way for me to fulfil my dream of going to the Yule Ball, just sans magic (unfortunately).