We moved back out of the city to Salomans, a type of convention/retreat center in the country. We arrived at the “peak” of fall, the trails through the woods covered in crunchy, fallen leaves and the trees orange and yellow. The days were getting shorter, however, and a November chill was in the air. The first thing we did after dumping our luggage in our rooms (with ensuite bathrooms-yay!) was go out barefoot on the green lawn and toss a frisbee around.
We had a lot of class that week and studied Shakespeare’s “Othello” and “Twelfth Night”. One day, our group did a ropes course (on the property at Salomans), complete with helmets and unflattering harnesses. Unfortunately, the day before I had twisted my ankle and therefore assumed my position as photographer for the day, taking millions of unflattering pictures of my friends climbing up poles and hanging from trapezes. I did get to don a harness and do a zip line over the pond (no climbing involved).
Halloween also took place while at Salomans. We dressed up for dinner with what limited resources we had. I became “Emily Wickinson” for the night, my take on the reclusive poet Emily Dickinson. A bed sheet was involved, as well as a penciled in unibrow. We enjoyed dinner and a little party afterward. My first Halloween where I didn’t eat a single piece of candy.
Monday, November 9, 2009
London Take Two
The second time in London was completely different than the first. It felt like coming home. Not only were we reunited with our whole group, we returned to a place for the first time in two months—the Celtic Hotel. After the stress of being on our own in Europe, we were back in a familiar place where there was no language barrier. Deep sigh of relief.
I spent the week walking. The fall weather had not yet turned too cold and all the trees were at their orange and golden state. The crisp feeling in the air and the calm I felt being back in London inspired me to just walk, be outside, observe the city, and rest after free travel.
I walked in the parks, I walked two and from museums instead of taking the Tube, I walked through Trafalgar Square and along the Thames. Sometimes I listened to my iPod and put a soundtrack to the movement the city. Other times I just walked without it and listened to the voices of people talking to their companions or on their cell phones.
There were other things: I visited the National Gallery and the British Library. I also saw Phantom of the Opera at West End—it was phenomenal. I enjoyed time with my friends and roommates. It was good to be back.
I spent the week walking. The fall weather had not yet turned too cold and all the trees were at their orange and golden state. The crisp feeling in the air and the calm I felt being back in London inspired me to just walk, be outside, observe the city, and rest after free travel.
I walked in the parks, I walked two and from museums instead of taking the Tube, I walked through Trafalgar Square and along the Thames. Sometimes I listened to my iPod and put a soundtrack to the movement the city. Other times I just walked without it and listened to the voices of people talking to their companions or on their cell phones.
There were other things: I visited the National Gallery and the British Library. I also saw Phantom of the Opera at West End—it was phenomenal. I enjoyed time with my friends and roommates. It was good to be back.
Free Travel
Free Travel began in Paris. Me and two other girls stayed in Paris an extra night for a few reasons (long story), and that extra day was quite stressful. We had to move to a new hotel across town, near the train station we’d be taking off from early the next morning. The Lonely Planet guide told us that Hotel Baudin, to which we were heading, had 17 “brightly colored, traditional rooms”. As Nelly said later, “Dear Lonely Planet, Please define traditional.” The rooms were falling apart at the edges and the “shower” was a mini bathtub with a hose. But it worked—a place to rest our heads for the night. I just didn’t look in the sheets before I got in them.
The next morning, we left at 6 am to walk to Gare de Lyon train station to go to Florence. The sidewalks of early morning Paris were eerily empty—we didn’t see a soul as we rolled our suitcases. I guess the drunks had all gone to bed and the shops wouldn’t open for the next few hours. We fumbled through the ticketing process and with the help of a few kind people, managed to make it on the train to Florence. The train ride was beautiful—we cruised smoothly and silently through Southern France, beside blue inland lakes with white sailboats on them, and eventually the Alps rose up on our left, all purple and snowy.
Somehow, all went smoothly as we transferred trains in Milan and got to Florence. We found our hotel and found it much nicer than Hotel Baudin. We had a sunny balcony and tall windows, and it was on a nice quiet road near the train station. That night, our biggest accomplishment was finding a supermercado, getting some dinner, and eating it on our balcony. As we walked to and from, I was surprised that most of the conversations I heard were in English—American English. I knew Florence was a popular tourist destination, but I hadn’t expected the first people I interacted with to be from America.
Nelly, Melissa and I all admitted we needed a day on our own. Nelly went to Rome, Melissa to a Tuscan tour, and I took a slow day getting to know Florence. I walked through the San Lorenzo market, an outdoor mecca for Italian leather jackets, souvenirs, and jewelry. I spent nearly all of my cash on gifts and a dress for myself, and popped back into the hotel to drop it all off. I took off again to see the Duomo—the large cathedral—and wander through the streets and piazzas. It began to rain and even though I had my own umbrella over my head, several men tried to sell me a new one. I had my first Italian gelato standing under a building overhang, soaking wet, but loving it.
The girls all made it back safely, and the next day, we went back to the market so they could do some shopping. We were joined in the early afternoon by our friends Carrie and Erin, who were spending free travel in Rome but came up to Florence for the day. We waited in line at the Uffizi gallery and saw Michelangelo’s David, which was impressive and worth the wait. There wasn’t much else to see in the museum. We wandered around for the rest of the day, enjoying the sun, taking pictures, spending time by the river and watching the sun go down.
The next day we hiked up the Piazzale Michelangelo, an overlook of the city of Florence, and the hilly countryside around it. It was a beautiful day and all of us were captured by the beauty of where we were. We had a random run-in with someone from Bethel, not on our trip. Our other prerogative for the day was to figure out how to get back to London at the end of free travel, and while striding through the train station to figure out our tickets, we had another random run-in with people from our England Term group. You would think we hadn’t seen each other in years, the way we were carrying on and hugging in the busy station. We ended up spending the night hanging out with them and the other people from Bethel we happened to run into. Crazy, small world.
The next morning, we left Florence and boarded the train to Nice, with heavier suitcases due to the many purchases made there. The train ride was again beautiful, this time because the tracks ran parallel to the Mediterranean Sea. It was gorgeous. Nice was sunny and warm upon our arrival, ritzy and resort-like. We were unsure about how our hotel would turn out, since it was about the same price as Hotel Baudin. Hotel Wilson turned out to be a pleasant surprise and a wonderful home for the next 5 nights. Run by a casual, chilled out surfer-ish man, covered with plants and smelling of incense and smoke, it was a comfortable very casual atmosphere compared to the last few places. He also had a pet turtle. That night we ventured down to the Promenade, a path along the shore where the ritzy hotels and casinos are, along with the beaches. The sunset was pink and blue, and the sea warm.
The next day we went to the beach. Katy came from Paris, where she’d been with her family, and joined us.
The day after that we went to the beach.
The day after that we went to the beach.
The next day, we went for a walk in the old town, did some shopping, and then went to the beach.
It was just the thing I needed—relaxation, warmth, sun.
Getting back to London proved to be a little more of a challenge than expected. Katy and I had planned to take the trains up to Paris, then take the Chunnel under the English Channel up to London. It was going to be a long day, but we were ready. But then there was a little thing called a Railroad Worker Strike. Meaning that little to no trains were running that day. Just that day. October 20, the day we needed them. Despite much help from the patient workers at the train station, all our train options were iffy, and we didn’t want to spend any more time in France than we had too. So we bit the bullet, dropped more money than we had to get plane tickets from Nice to London with the other girls. Needless to say, we were stressed. But we made it on the right plane with time to spare, and within three hours we were in London Heathrow airport, relieved and drained, but back in a familiar place and reunited with our England Term people back at the Celtic hotel.
The next morning, we left at 6 am to walk to Gare de Lyon train station to go to Florence. The sidewalks of early morning Paris were eerily empty—we didn’t see a soul as we rolled our suitcases. I guess the drunks had all gone to bed and the shops wouldn’t open for the next few hours. We fumbled through the ticketing process and with the help of a few kind people, managed to make it on the train to Florence. The train ride was beautiful—we cruised smoothly and silently through Southern France, beside blue inland lakes with white sailboats on them, and eventually the Alps rose up on our left, all purple and snowy.
Somehow, all went smoothly as we transferred trains in Milan and got to Florence. We found our hotel and found it much nicer than Hotel Baudin. We had a sunny balcony and tall windows, and it was on a nice quiet road near the train station. That night, our biggest accomplishment was finding a supermercado, getting some dinner, and eating it on our balcony. As we walked to and from, I was surprised that most of the conversations I heard were in English—American English. I knew Florence was a popular tourist destination, but I hadn’t expected the first people I interacted with to be from America.
Nelly, Melissa and I all admitted we needed a day on our own. Nelly went to Rome, Melissa to a Tuscan tour, and I took a slow day getting to know Florence. I walked through the San Lorenzo market, an outdoor mecca for Italian leather jackets, souvenirs, and jewelry. I spent nearly all of my cash on gifts and a dress for myself, and popped back into the hotel to drop it all off. I took off again to see the Duomo—the large cathedral—and wander through the streets and piazzas. It began to rain and even though I had my own umbrella over my head, several men tried to sell me a new one. I had my first Italian gelato standing under a building overhang, soaking wet, but loving it.
The girls all made it back safely, and the next day, we went back to the market so they could do some shopping. We were joined in the early afternoon by our friends Carrie and Erin, who were spending free travel in Rome but came up to Florence for the day. We waited in line at the Uffizi gallery and saw Michelangelo’s David, which was impressive and worth the wait. There wasn’t much else to see in the museum. We wandered around for the rest of the day, enjoying the sun, taking pictures, spending time by the river and watching the sun go down.
The next day we hiked up the Piazzale Michelangelo, an overlook of the city of Florence, and the hilly countryside around it. It was a beautiful day and all of us were captured by the beauty of where we were. We had a random run-in with someone from Bethel, not on our trip. Our other prerogative for the day was to figure out how to get back to London at the end of free travel, and while striding through the train station to figure out our tickets, we had another random run-in with people from our England Term group. You would think we hadn’t seen each other in years, the way we were carrying on and hugging in the busy station. We ended up spending the night hanging out with them and the other people from Bethel we happened to run into. Crazy, small world.
The next morning, we left Florence and boarded the train to Nice, with heavier suitcases due to the many purchases made there. The train ride was again beautiful, this time because the tracks ran parallel to the Mediterranean Sea. It was gorgeous. Nice was sunny and warm upon our arrival, ritzy and resort-like. We were unsure about how our hotel would turn out, since it was about the same price as Hotel Baudin. Hotel Wilson turned out to be a pleasant surprise and a wonderful home for the next 5 nights. Run by a casual, chilled out surfer-ish man, covered with plants and smelling of incense and smoke, it was a comfortable very casual atmosphere compared to the last few places. He also had a pet turtle. That night we ventured down to the Promenade, a path along the shore where the ritzy hotels and casinos are, along with the beaches. The sunset was pink and blue, and the sea warm.
The next day we went to the beach. Katy came from Paris, where she’d been with her family, and joined us.
The day after that we went to the beach.
The day after that we went to the beach.
The next day, we went for a walk in the old town, did some shopping, and then went to the beach.
It was just the thing I needed—relaxation, warmth, sun.
Getting back to London proved to be a little more of a challenge than expected. Katy and I had planned to take the trains up to Paris, then take the Chunnel under the English Channel up to London. It was going to be a long day, but we were ready. But then there was a little thing called a Railroad Worker Strike. Meaning that little to no trains were running that day. Just that day. October 20, the day we needed them. Despite much help from the patient workers at the train station, all our train options were iffy, and we didn’t want to spend any more time in France than we had too. So we bit the bullet, dropped more money than we had to get plane tickets from Nice to London with the other girls. Needless to say, we were stressed. But we made it on the right plane with time to spare, and within three hours we were in London Heathrow airport, relieved and drained, but back in a familiar place and reunited with our England Term people back at the Celtic hotel.
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