tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59926756190232473652024-03-05T14:01:38.910-08:00...and those who do not travel read only a page.juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-21404048792346073612012-02-04T19:51:00.001-08:002012-02-04T19:51:29.070-08:00Chapter Fourteen: Back in Seattle, back to reality<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now that I've been back home for almost three weeks, it's time to wrap up the blog. I am a list person, so here's a list of what I love about Paris and what I missed about home. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What I loved about Paris/being in Paris:</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the shopping </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the architecture</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">walking everywhere and exploring places I have never had the time to see</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">having the time to walk everywhere, and being able to looking forward to an hour long walk</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">wandering aimlessly around the city, without a schedule or agenda</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not driving and not dealing with traffic</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">people watching, especially looking at what the girls were wearing. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the street food</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">cafe creme at the end of almost every meal</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Berthillon ice cream</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not having to do the mental math of calculating tip and tax when eating out, since it's all included in the menu price. Tax being built into the sticker price of items is nice too. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">really fun window displays</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the Seine</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the Pont des Arts </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the street lamps</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Orangina</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">all of the fun French beauty products they sell at pharmacies</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Salespeople leaving you alone while you look around the store</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Comptoir des Cotonniers, ba & sh, Agnes B, Uniqlo, Berenice</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">BHV (I love it so much, it gets its own line on the list.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the street markets with the insanely good and cheap roast chickens, fruit/vegetables, cheese and bread</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">using a paper street map and metro map to figure out how I would get somewhere. It was like a puzzle. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the cafe culture</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">expanding my French vocab. A few examples: soldes = sale. Ouverture exceptionelle = exceptional opening (open on a day that it's usually closed). Emporter = food to go. I still get "left" and "right" mixed up though - it's only in the context of the Left Bank (Rive Gauche) that I remember which is which. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the day when I realized that I knew which metro line would take me where I needed to go, without having to look at the map </span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What I missed about the States/Seattle:</span></div>
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<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not having to do mental math at every turn - converting euros into dollars, kilometers into miles, kilograms into pounds, subtracting "12" from the time between noon-11:59pm</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">people clean up after their dogs here, so I don't have to always be on the watch for dog poo on the street</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">not having to hug my purse against my body all the time everywhere, and not assuming that anyone who bumps into me is a thief</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">everyone understands what I'm saying and I understand what everyone is saying to me. No need for hand gestures, pointing and/or having to repeat myself five times. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the convenience of everything. Everything is geared towards consumer convenience in the States - 24 hour supermarkets, drive-thru fast food, almost everything is open on Sundays, etc. It's impossible/almost impossible to find that in Paris. Except for on the Champs Elysses.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All of the Kardashian shows! (I still can't believe Kim and Kris are separated. I mean, I can, but I can't.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Netflix streaming and Hulu</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">toilet seat covers in public restrooms</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">free public restrooms</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ice water at restaurants. I hate tepid water, which is basically all you get in Paris/Europe. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Seattle isn't the cheapest city to live in, but it's nice that eating dinner at a non-fancy place won't cost me $40. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Freely using my debit card, instead of a stupid credit card, without dealing with a 3% international transaction fee. </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Whole Foods</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Asian food</span></li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Lastly, I'd like to introduce you all to what I like to all to what I call my magic boots. I searched high and low throughout Rome, Venice, Florence, Milan, Paris, London and Munich for flat black boots and came back with nothing. I finally went back to what I know best, online shopping, and ordered a pair of Jeffrey Campbell boots on Solestruck.com (no tax, free shipping!), had them shipped to my parents, and had my parents bring them with them to Paris. From day 1, there were no blisters and no sore feet. No breaking in period at all, which is a miracle for women's shoes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm more glad to be back home than I thought I would be, but I'm pretty sure I'll be "homesick" for Paris for at least another month. Or six. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-41270580554658152612012-01-19T20:30:00.001-08:002012-01-21T19:12:04.351-08:00Chapter Thirteen: Last Day in ParisI flew into Paris from Dublin on Saturday night, and I was scheduled to fly home on Monday afternoon. That gave me exactly one full day in Paris. I was planning to extend my trip a few days, to give me time to visit my favorite places one last time and to try to squeeze in a trip to Nice to see the Chagall Museum. But I decided it was time to come home. <br /><br />Paris has two sale seasons in the year - one in January and one in the summer. The dates are decreed by the French government, and it's the only time that merchandise is on sale. All of the shopping stars aligned for me, because my last day in Paris coincided with the start of the winter sales season, so obviously, shopping would play a big part on my last day. Unfortunately, even during the sales season, all of the department stores and most boutiques are closed on Sunday. Fortunately, I still found some stores that were conducting an "ouverture exceptionelle." <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3333.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3333.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />"Soldes" means sale. These signs brought me happiness in my heart. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3334.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3334.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />My cozy hotel room near Opera<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3335.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3335.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Place Vendome. This was my favorite holiday decoration in Paris. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3336.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3336.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3337.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3337.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3339.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3339.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3340.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3340.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Polly and I tried to go to Angelina on Rue de Rivoli, but we didn't have time, so I went by myself for lunch on my last day. They are famous for their hot chocolate, which is what's in the little pitcher. I'm still trying to decide whether I like Angelina's or Les Deux Magots' better. But both are delicious - it's essentially a brick of chocolate in liquid form. The shrimp ravioli was good too. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3341.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3341.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />I took a walk through the Tuileries Garden..<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3342.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3342.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />And by Hotel de Ville (sadly, BHV was closed). <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3343.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3343.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />I walked back through the Tulieries at dusk, after a long day of shopping, to drop off bags at the hotel. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3344.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3344.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The Grand Palais extended its Gertrude Stein exhibition of Picasso and Matisse, and it was open until 10pm on Sunday, so the timing worked out perfectly. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3345.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3345.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />I really don't care for the Champs Elysses. It's a noisy, bright and commercial mess. BUT, the stores are open every day until late, including Monoprix, so I went in and bought out their entire inventory of pear cookies. This picture is actually H&M - which is open from 10am-MIDNIGHT every day, including Sunday. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3346.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3346.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Wool coat from Agnes B, which was 40% off. This brought my total coat/jacket purchase from my trip to 4.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3347.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3347.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Pink oxfords from Repetto, which were 0% off. These brought my total shoe purchase from my trip to 5. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3348.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3348.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />One last Orangina to commemorate my last night in Paris. <br /><br />C'est fini, and now I'm home. Between snowstorms, ice storms, unpacking, catching up on 3 months' worth of shows on Hulu and starting and finishing Downton Abbey, I haven't really been able to process my trip yet. That will be my next and final post. <br /><br /><br /><br />juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-44624772499298913252012-01-19T17:46:00.001-08:002012-01-19T18:58:07.241-08:00Chapter Twelve: "P.S. I Love You" brought to lifeTo wrap up my adventure in Europe, Polly and I decided to spend 10 days in Ireland - 2 nights in Belfast, 3 nights in Dublin and then 5 days/nights puttering around the Irish countryside in a rented Ford Focus. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2953.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2953.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />On the advice of Frommer's as well as our cab driver, we went to the Crown for dinner. It's a famous pub in Ireland, built in the 1800s and is now owned by the UK's government conservation program. It was also great to be in an English speaking country for the first time in two months. Although, most people's Irish accents were so thick, I usually just stared blankly at them or looked to Polly for a translation. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2954.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2954.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />My steak and Guinness pie, along with two different potato sides. (Potatoes, beef and gravy were really all we ate in Ireland.) It was really good and really filling. It was also cheap, or at least cheap for someone coming from Paris. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2955.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2955.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />We stumbled across this gem of a restaurant while walking home from the pub. It's not even the name of the restaurant that stunned me, even though it is a pretty weird name. It's the question mark. It's not called Hungry, but Hungry? I'm curious about what it says in Chinese. <br /><br />I wish I had taken a picture of the hostel we stayed in in Belfast, but I think I was too shell-shocked to even think about taking a picture. The pros: it was dirt cheap, clean, we had our own bathroom, and the tour bus we were catching to go up to the coast stopped at the hostel. The cons: no soap, no towels and the shower head was just in the middle of the wall without any enclosure. Polly and I were not prepared for this. The first night, we used her face wash as soap and we used my bathrobe as a hand towel. The next day, we bought some shower gel (we couldn't find bar soap to save our lives) at a convenience store and a bath towel at T.K. Maxx (instead of T.J. Maxx, it's T.K. Maxx in the UK). <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2956.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2956.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />We took a black cab tour around Belfast, with the cabbie giving us the history of The Troubles - the violence in the 1960s-1990s between the nationalists, who viewed themselves as Irish and Catholic, and the unionists, who viewed themselves as British and Protestant. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2957.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2957.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />The hooded guy with the gun is called the Belfast Mona Lisa, because wherever you are, he's always looking at you. It was eerie. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2958.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2958.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />There is still a wall in the city that divides the Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods, and it's locked every night. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2959.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2959.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Bobby Sands went on a 66 day hunger strike during The Troubles, and died. I know this may be irreverent, but doesn't he look like Shaun White?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2960.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2960.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Belfast City Hall. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2961.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2961.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />City Hall lit up at night. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2962.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2962.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />On day 2 in Belfast, we took an all-day bus tour to the coast. It was amazing. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2963.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2963.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2964.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2964.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2965.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2965.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Me in my Ireland uniform: navy coat, gray leggings, wellies and a purple scarf. This is what I wore every single day in Ireland, besides Dublin. I don't want to even look at this navy coat for at least 6 months. There are three sweaters that I feel the same way about as well, and I'm retiring my pink purse for a while. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2966.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2966.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />The Carrick-a-rede rope bridge. It was pretty slick from the rain and sea spray and much more bouncier than I would have thought it would be. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/2967.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_2967.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Bushmills - the oldest whiskey distillery in the world. We only had 40 minutes to eat lunch and go to the gift shop, so I scarfed down my Irish stew (more meat, more potatoes) and was promptly sick within the next 15 minutes. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3131.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3131.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The Giant's Causeway, which some call the 8th wonder of the world. I have better pictures on my real camera, but who knows when I will get around to those pictures. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3132.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3132.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />It was actually scarier for me to climb up and down these slick rocks, especially because it was starting to drizzle, than it was for me to walk across the rope bridge.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3133.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3133.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Dunluce Castle.<br /><br />We then took a train down to Dublin, to spend two days there. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3134.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3134.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />River Liffey, which cuts through the city. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3135.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3135.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The view from our hotel room, which our cab driver couldn't find, so he dumped us on the street corner and advised us to call the hotel for directions. The most stunning part of this story was that he had a working GPS unit in the cab. C'MON! <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3136.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3136.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The Guinness Brewery, aka Mecca to some. The self-guided tour was supposed to take about an hour. Polly and I zipped through it in about 15 minutes, because we were going to be late for service at St. Patrick's Cathedral. We crammed two of the most Ireland-ish things into one afternoon. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3137.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3137.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3138.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3138.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3139.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3139.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />No beverage should be so thick and barley flavored. It's like a barley milkshake. I choked down about 1/6 and then just had to leave it. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3141.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3141.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />St. Patrick's Cathedral. We went to Evensong, which is basically a boys'/mens' choir concert mixed into a service. It was lovely. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3142.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3142.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Tea at the Shelbourne Hotel. Delicious.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3143.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3143.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Glendalough, which is pronounced Glen-da-lock. How does "ough" = lock?! Just one of the many puzzling things about the Irish language. It was only an hour drive from Dublin, but it felt like ten hours, a) because I was so stressed about driving and b) I was driving in 3rd, going about 20 km below the speed limit the whole time. <br /><br />Let me take a minute to talk about driving in Ireland. I had been preparing myself to drive on the left side of the road, to drive from the right side of the car, and to use the gear shift with my left hand. I wasn't excited about it, but besides a few mishaps on the first day, I got used to it. What I never got used to was a) how almost all of the major highways in the country are one lane for each direction, b) they are all very narrow and very curvy, c) the speed limit on these death traps are usually 100 kilometer/hour, which is about 60 mph. Every time a truck or bus came barreling towards us, I was convinced that we were going to collide head-on. Either that, or we were going to hurdle over the side of the road and into the sea. Poor Polly - on my driving days, I was basically catatonic. I couldn't make any kind of conversation, all I could do was focus on not getting us killed. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3144.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3144.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />It was a really pretty walk.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3145.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3145.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Even the barrenness was pretty in its own way.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3146.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3146.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />This is where we stumbled upon some goats. Polly was convinced that we were going to get butted from the back. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3147.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3147.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The ruins of a miners' village.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3148.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3148.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Kilkenny Castle. We were planning to do the tour, but the timing didn't work out for us, so we just walked around the grounds.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3149.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3149.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3150.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3150.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Next up, Kinsale in County Cork. It is a lovely harbor village - it reminded me of the small seaside towns in Massachusetts. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3151.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3151.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3152.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3152.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Blarney Castle, where Polly and I kissed the Blarney Stone. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3153.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3153.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />First of all, how are these daffodils alive in January?! Second of all, my camera couldn't capture just how green Ireland is. It is like Irish Spring soap green. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3154.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3154.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />View from the castle<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3155.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3155.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Really narrow and winding staircase to get to the top of the castle.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3156.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3156.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3157.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3157.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3158.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3158.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The Poison Garden. Seriously, that's what it was called. All of the plants and shrubs in this garden are either poisonous or very, very bad for you, like tobacco. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3159.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3159.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />I can't remember where this was. We may have just pulled over on the side of the road to take the picture because it was so pretty. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3160.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3160.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Our condo in Kenmare. It was the nicest place I had stayed during my entire three month trip. There were two floors, two bedrooms, a bathroom and TV in each room, and (the best part) a washing machine WITH a dryer. By this time in the trip, it had been almost two weeks since I had washed my clothes, so I was super excited to use the washer/dryer. It was actually the very first thing I did when we got to the condo. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3161.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3161.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />My room. I can't sleep in a bed where all of the sheets and comforters are tucked in because I feel like a trapped animal. So I always go around untucking everything in a hotel room, but I forgot to take the picture before I did that, which is why the bed looks like it was attacked by an animal. You can't tell from the picture, but even though this bed looks like a full/queen, it's actually one large bed frame around two twin bed frames. Even though I always sleep on the very edge of a bed, I didn't like the crack in the middle, so I pushed the mattresses together. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3162.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3162.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />We slept until noon, and then drove the Ring of Kerry, which is a big loop through County Kerry. It is the prettiest drive I have ever done. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3163.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3163.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3164.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3164.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3165.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3165.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Even the rocks are bright green in Ireland!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3166.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3166.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />On our way up to Galway, we stopped by the Cliffs of Moher. I know that it's not the moors of England, but it felt very Jane Eyre-esque. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3168.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3168.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3169.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3169.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3180.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3180.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/19/3182.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/19/s_3182.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The ten days flew by, and just like that, I was dropping Polly off at her hotel in Dublin, and I was off to Paris for my last 36 hours of my trip. *tear<br />juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-4468867372527477492012-01-14T17:52:00.001-08:002012-01-15T09:40:22.122-08:00Chapter Eleven: Adventures with Polly and Jessica in FrancePolly, Jessica and I had a reunion in Paris, 1.5 years after our first adventure in Paris. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2668.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2668.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Shakespeare and Company. One of my favorite bookshops, and I can never walk out without purchasing something. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2669.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2669.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The Paris Catacombs, which is an underground ossuary. According to Wikipedia, in the 1700s, the bodies buried in the cemeteries were beginning to contaminate Paris' water supply, so they exhumed and transferred all of the dead to this underground cave. And now it's a tourist attraction. Super duper creepy. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2670.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2670.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Real human skulls and real human bones! And they weren't enclosed at all - you could reach out and touch them if you wanted to. (But there were signs telling you everywhere not to.)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2671.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2671.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Seriously?!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2672.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2672.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />After spending an hour underground with dead bodies, Polly and I decided that shopping was in order. This is inside the big glass dome at Printemps. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2673.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2673.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Inside the Palais Garnier, where we watched a ballet called "Oneguine." It was impossible for me to understand the story just by watching the ballet, so I had to go home and Wikipedia it. The Palais Garnier is the opera house that "Phantom of the Opera" is based on. It is one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever seen. This shot reminded me of "Amadeus." <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2674.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2674.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The ceiling of the Palais Garnier, painted by Chagall, who is my favorite artist of all time. I died a little when I saw this. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2675.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2675.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The foyer of the Palais Garnier. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2676.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2676.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Jessica found a great jazz club near Notre Dame. There was a live band, and in between sets, there was big band music playing, and people were swing dancing on the dance floor all night long. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2677.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2677.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />What made it really fun was that the crowd was a mix of young and old, and it was the older folks who were really good at dancing. Polly and I had nicknames for almost all of them: (L to R) - Helen Mirren, guy from the Sopranos, Woody Allen, muffintopping Nike track pants guy with the fancy shoes. Helen Mirren and Woody Allen were the best dancers. The really tall guy in the background with the ponytail was Christopher Walken. Not shown: Timothy McVeigh. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2678.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2678.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Handblown glass decorating the Palais Royal/Louvre metro entrance.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2679.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2679.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Appetizers on New Year's Eve, with delicious champagne. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1736.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1736.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Home-cooked New Year's Eve dinner, courtesy of Polly: lamb chops, green beans and cheese covered brussel sprouts. Delicious. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1737.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1737.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Dessert: pound cake from the neighborhood bakery, vanilla ice cream and raspberry coulee. Even the supermarket brand food is better in France. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1738.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1738.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />On New Year's Day, went to the Marais for some falafel. This place had a line going down the block, and got the seal of approval not only from Lenny Kravitz but also some random Korean guidebook on Paris. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1739.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1739.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Random but lovely garden in the Marais. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1740.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1740.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Mozart and Vivaldi concert at the Eglise de Saint Germain, the oldest church in Paris - founded in 542. (Not 1542, but 542.)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1741.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1741.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Overnight trip to Mont Saint Michel and the Normandy beaches. The village of Mont Saint Michel spirals around and around the hill, and the abbey is at the top. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1742.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1742.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1743.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1743.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Views from the abbey.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1744.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1744.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />The abbey's garden.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1745.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1745.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Mont St. Michel's shadow on the beach.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1746.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1746.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Touristy but adorable town.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1747.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1747.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />That speck is either Polly or Jessica.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1748.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1748.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1749.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1749.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1750.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1750.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Backside of the village.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1751.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1751.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Au revoir Mont Saint Michel. You are quite lovely, but if I may make a suggestion - the blue holiday lights at your base are unnecessary and distracting. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1752.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1752.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Ship from the Normandy invasion on the Arromanches beach. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1803.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1803.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Inside the ship. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1804.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1804.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Arromanches, which is a few miles south of Utah and Omaha Beach.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1805.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1805.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />A picture of Polly taking a picture of a really big gun.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1806.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1806.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1807.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1807.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Drove a few miles north to some leftover bunkers from the invasion. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1808.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1808.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1809.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1809.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />The view from behind another really big gun inside of a bunker. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1810.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1810.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />The guestbook at the American Cemetery's visitor center. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1811.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1811.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />American soldiers' food rations.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1812.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1812.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1813.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1813.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Information on the Niland brothers - the story on which "Saving Private Ryan" was based on. Two of the four brothers died, one was presumed dead but was actually a POW and the surviving brother was sent back to the US to complete his service. Interesting factoid: the surviving brother, Fritz, was in the 101st Airborne and was close friends with Muck and Malarkey, from "Band of Brothers'" fame. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1814.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1814.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />View of Omaha Beach from the American Cemetery. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1815.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1815.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Illustration of the D-Day invasion. This is also where my credit card fell out of my pocket, but on the way back to the car park, I found it in a puddle. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1816.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1816.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1817.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1817.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1818.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1818.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1819.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1819.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1820.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1820.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Polly shoveling some of Omaha Beach's sand into a water bottle. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1821.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1821.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Omaha Beach<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1823.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1823.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The German Cemetery. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1828.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1828.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/15/1829.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/15/s_1829.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />This was my last night at the flat that I had been living in for two months, so I took a picture of the metro sign for nostalgia's sake. Good ol' Parmentier.<br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Rue%20de%20Constantinople,Paris,France%4048.880308%2C2.319668&z=10'>Rue de Constantinople,Paris,France</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-76994945384526258042012-01-14T15:17:00.001-08:002012-01-14T17:23:51.211-08:00Chapter Ten: Parents in ParisI tried to come up with an alliteration for the title, but I couldn't think of one. Pretty Parents in Paris? Pale Parents in Paris? <br /><br />My parents came to Paris for about a week for Christmas. It wasn't sure what to expect, since it was my parents' first time in Europe, plus our first vacation together in over five years, plus we would be trapped together in a studio apartment for a week together, but it was a lot more fun than I was expecting it to be. <br /><br />Day One: Arc de Triomphe and Champs Elysses. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2409.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2409.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2410.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2410.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />View from the top of the Arc. This was my third time (or fourth?) to the top, but my first time going up during the day. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2411.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2411.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My mom's very sad attempt to take a picture of me and my dad with my phone. The whole touch screen thing really threw her for a loop. <br /><br />Day Two: the dreaded Louvre. However, the pain was dulled by the fact that my parents paid for my ticket. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2412.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2412.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Parents in front of the Louvre. I really hate my dad's fleece. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2413.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2413.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I can't remember who sculpted this or even what it is, but her hair fascinated me. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2414.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2414.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />In front of two Michelangelo sculptures: the Rebellious Slave and the Dying Slave. Please note everything wrapped around my dad's neck: camera, camera bag and audio guide. He kept getting tangled up in all of the straps. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2415.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2415.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Freaking 28E salad at the Louvre cafe. As we were leaving, we saw a sandwich shop on the first floor, with sandwiches that cost about 1/4 of the price of this ridiculous salad. Why wasn't the sandwich shop marked on the Louvre map?!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2416.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2416.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Gorgeous chandelier in Napoleon's apartments. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2417.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2417.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Painted ceiling. I thought it was by Matisse, one of my favorite artists, but I was mistaken. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2418.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2418.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Mona Lisa. The Louvre was fairly empty on this day, but there were about 100 people milling around this enigmatic lady. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2419.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2419.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Inside the pyramid at dusk.<br /><br />Day Three: Versailles<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2510.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2510.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2511.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2511.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />It's hard to see from this picture, but this lady is using her iPad to take pictures. I wouldn't have judged her, since I was forced to do the same thing the month before, but I saw her take out a regular camera after she took pictures with her iPad. C'mon!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2512.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2512.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Versailles was a bit disappointing this time around because the gardens, which is almost more pretty than the palace, was so bare and brown. We spent about 15 minutes outside, took some pictures and then left. <br /><br />Day Three: Seine cruise, Trocadero, Christmas concert at Sainte Chapelle. The Eiffel Tower was also on the agenda, but the line was out of control, so we pushed it to another day.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2420.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2420.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Waiting for the boat to arrive.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2421.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2421.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Halfway through the trip, I realized that my parents were swapping scarves with each other. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2422.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2422.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Sainte Chapelle - such an amazing church and concert venue. My dad was fascinated with the quality of the acoustics, and couldn't stop muttering to himself about it. <br /><br /><br />Day Four: Luxembourg Garden, Notre Dame, Eiffel Tower. These were the only things that I knew would be open on Christmas Day, so that's what we did. But as we were walking around the city, I was surprised to see so many cafes, restaurants and shops open. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2513.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2513.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2514.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2514.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />My dad was fascinated by how uniformly these plants were planted.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2515.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2515.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Luxembourg Palace, which is France's equivalent of the U.S. Capitol Building in DC.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2516.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2516.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2517.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2517.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />Every day, my dad would beg me to stop somewhere so that he could get a cup of coffee. But he didn't want to do it like the French do it, sitting at a cafe. He just wanted a cup to-go. So we stopped by the McDonald's by my metro stop every day for a "grand cafe." Since it was Christmas Day, we decided to splurge and each spent $6 (!!!) on a coffee drink at Starbucks. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2518.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2518.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />The organs at Notre Dame. There was an organ concert that night for Christmas, which was lovely.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2519.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2519.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />The bedazzled and sparkly Eiffel Tower on Christmas Day.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2520.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2520.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />The really old gears that are used to operate the Eiffel Tower's elevator. <br /><br />Day 6: Tuileries Garden, Musee de Orangerie, shopping<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2573.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2573.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />One of the many things I love about Paris: beautiful public spaces and parks scattered throughout the city, like the Tuileries Garden. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2574.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2574.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Some Rodin sculptures on the Orangerie's lawn. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2575.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2575.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />My parents were as puzzled as I am about this ferris wheel that sticks out like a sore thumb. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2576.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2576.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2577.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2577.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Sunset at the Place de la Concorde.<br /><br />And then, it was off to BHV for some shopping. My mom bought a purse, my dad bought a sweater, and as part of my Christmas present from my parents, I got a ceramic sugar/flour/coffee set that I have been coveting since I first saw it in March 2010, but didn't buy because I didn't want to cart 5 pounds worth of kitchenware home. Fortunately, my parents brought 1.5 extra bags with them, per my instruction, and they took it back with them, as well as 20 pounds of extra clothes and gifts of mine. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/14/2578.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/14/s_2578.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />My mom brought masks from home, so we did them on their last night in town, while watching "The Help" on my iPad. She would kill me if she knew I had posted this picture, but since she doesn't know about this blog, it's fine. It was super goopy because it was an aloe vera mask, and when it dried, it felt like papier mache plastered on my face, and I couldn't move my lips. <br /><br />All in all, it was a great time with my parents, and it was fun showing them the city that I love. I have known this subconsciously for years, but it was made crystal clear on this trip that both of my parents' love language towards me is acts of service. My dad was the de facto package/bag carrier of the trip, and would literally turn his body away from me any time I said that I could carry something. He asked about taking out the trash and recycling at least twice every day. He also believes that being cold = road to death. He asked me at least four times a day if I was cold, and he gave me stink eye any time I wore my flats or oxfords, since it exposed the skin on my feet to the cold. My mom was the de facto cook and seamstress of the trip. (Thank you baby cheeses for Korean markets in Paris. After two months of almost nonstop white food, it was glorious to have Korean food for dinner almost every night for a week.) My hole-y sweater is now patched up, and some buttons that were coming loose on a jacket have been reinforced. <br /><br />Quote of the trip from my dad, towards the end of the week, after another long day of wandering the city on foot: "I didn't even walk this much during the Korean War." (My pregnant grandma, dad and his younger brother had to flee the North to the South during the war on foot, after my grandfather had been kidnapped and presumably killed by the Communists. Totally inappropriate comment, yet so hilarious.) <br /><br />Runner-up quote of the trip, again from my dad: "We were too busy making sure we didn't get on a plane to Russia by mistake, we didn't have time to call you." (I went to the airport to pick up my parents when they arrived, but I figured that I could send my parents to the airport by a door-to-door shuttle van. I gave them coins and told them to find a pay phone and call me after they had checked in, but I didn't get a call. After an anxious 12 hours and tracking their flight all day long, I called my mom's cell phone the minute that they landed. No answer. I called every 5 minutes for 30 minutes and finally got through to my parents. When I asked my dad why they didn't call me from CDG like I asked them to, the runner-up quote was his response.)<br /><br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Rue%20de%20Constantinople,Paris,France%4048.880319%2C2.319684&z=10'>Rue de Constantinople,Paris,France</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-6209164689301211032011-12-20T16:30:00.001-08:002011-12-22T11:56:58.405-08:00Chapter Nine: Adventures in Barcelona and ParisAnita and Michelle came to visit me, and I'm still amazed at how much we were able to jam pack into those 8 days!<br /><br />Sunday: I emailed Michelle and Anita step-by-step instructions on how to get from CDG to my metro stop and I even emailed them a PDF of the Paris metro system, but I was still anxious about whether they would be able to find their way around without any problems. Fortunately, everything worked out, and we had a joyful reunion in front of the McDonald's at the Parmentier metro stop. I was so glad that they had made it in one piece, I even gave them each a hug. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2688.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2688.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The streets lit up for Christmas.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2689.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2689.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Good ol' Arc de Triomphe.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2690.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2690.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Bedazzled Eiffel Tower.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2691.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2691.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2692.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2692.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The view from Trocadero.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2693.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2693.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2694.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2694.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />These are the goodies that Anita picked up for me/Amy sent to me from home. Some are things that are impossible to find here, or are very expensive, such as dental floss and contact lens solution. Others are things that I was whining to Amy about having left at home because of luggage weight issues, such as zit cream and face wipes. And some things are things that Amy sent to me because she is a mother - gummy Disney vitamins and Emergen-C. <br /><br />Monday: I've noticed that the weather is amazing, or at least decent, in the morning and afternoon here, and then starts to rain in the evening. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2841.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2841.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Notre Dame and its ginormous Christmas tree in all of its glory. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2842.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2842.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The stained glass windows inside. <br /><br />And then it was onto BHV, where I managed to spend over $200 on dishtowels, cloth napkins, napkin rings, a huge clothbound journal, tea, soaps and I'm not even sure what else. Now, you may be asking yourself, how does Julie plan to take all of this back home without having to pay $500 in overweight baggage fees? Answer: Anita, Michelle and my parents, aka my mules. I sent Anita and Michelle home with all of my paper goods and household items, including 5 different travel books and Moleskine city books. When my parents travel, they have a tendency to share one bag between them. When I called my mom the other day to finalize logistics, I specifically told her that she and my dad have to bring two separate bags, because I need them to take back all of the lightweight clothes I brought for Italy, as well as the three new coats/jackets I have purchased here. <br /><br />Our plan was to go to Printemps after BHV, but we didn't wake up until 12:30 and didn't get out the door until around 1:30, so we had to shift our plans a bit. <br /><br />Tuesday:<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2843.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2843.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Eglise de la Madeleine (Madeleine church), where we went for a classical music concert. Pachelbel's Canon in D has never sounded more amazing to me! The concert was great and the inside of the church was beautiful, but I would have enjoyed it a bit more if I wasn't so tired from a) only having slept for 3 hours in the past 2 days and b) the marathon day we had had, that took us from the Musee d'Orsay at 10am, over to St-Germain for shopping, and then up to Printemps for more shopping. <br /><br />Wednesday: Onto Barcelona!<br /><br />Our flight was at 10:30am, but at a small airport about 90 minutes outside of Paris called Beauvais. Our options were either to take the metro across town to catch a shuttle bus to the airport, or call a shuttle. We went with option #2. Our pick-up time was 6:15am, which was bad enough, but the combination of stick shift van lurching through the streets, exhaustion plus not having been inside a motor vehicle for over a month made me so carsick that I had to sit in the front with the driver, and even though it was 30 degrees outside, I had to crack the window for some fresh air. Later on, I found out that Anita and Michelle were literally freezing in the back. They thought that it was a drafty van, but I had to tell them that it was because I had opened the window. (Sorry guys!)<br /><br />After some minor hiccups in the airport, related to not realizing that there were multiple terminals, we were on our way to Barcelona. <br /><br />There are no photos for Wednesday, because when we got to the flat, I was so exhausted even after having slept on the shuttle and the entire plane ride, that I had to send Anita and Michelle off on their own while I slept more. And let the yelling commence...<br /><br />Thursday:<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2893.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2893.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Pinotxo (Pinocchio) for tapas and coffee for lunch.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2894.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2894.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Sardines and mushrooms. We didn't get the sardines, but we did get the mushrooms, as well as fried cod, steak and chickpeas. Delicious!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2895.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2895.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />La Sagrada Familia, designed by Gaudi. From the outside, it looks like a castle from Mordor. But the inside..<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2896.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2896.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2897.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2897.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2898.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2898.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2900.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2900.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2901.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2901.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2902.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2902.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />These pictures do not do justice to the sheer amazing-ness of the church. I have been to quite a few beautiful churches and buildings in Europe, but the inside of this one blew them all away. <br /><br />We walked about 30 minutes to another Gaudi building, Casa Mila. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2903.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2903.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Then we spent some time at the Mercat de la Boqueria, where we found the most amazing candied almonds. They were so good, we finished the bag in one night, and then went back the next day and bought two more bags. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2904.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2904.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2905.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2905.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Las Ramblas at night<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2906.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2906.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We hadn't researched dinner options, so we figured we would just wander around until we found a place that looked good. But as we were browsing in a bookstore, Michelle had the genius idea to look up dinner options in a travel book! Thanks to Lonely Planet, we found this place that is known for their seafood. This is their version of risotto, aka "juicy rice." Right after I took this picture, I gave all of my shrimp to Anita to de-head for me. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2907.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2907.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Friday: Last day in Barcelona. We meant to wake up early, but failed miserably in the attempt, so instead of the 4 hours we meant to spent at Park Guell, a huge park in the city with more Gaudi buildings, we only were able to spend about 2 hours there. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2909.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2909.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2910.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2910.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Mosaics on the benches.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2911.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2911.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />View of Barcelona from the park.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2912.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2912.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Another Gaudi creation.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2913.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2913.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Michelle tucked herself into a hole on the side of the cave.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2914.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2914.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/2915.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_2915.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The front door to our flat. I think wringing a wet towel would have more water pressure than the shower in this place, there was no soap to be found anywhere so we used face soap or dish soap to wash our hands, the wind howled through the walls so hard that it threw a window open in the middle of the night, the walls were so thin that we could hear our neighbor blowing his nose every night, and the kitchen smelled like eggs. EGGS! However, the location was great, it was a big space and we each only paid $70 for two nights. <br /><br />Saturday: <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3011.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3011.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Sacre Coeur on a beautiful day. I half expected to see Amelie running down the steps. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3012.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3012.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />View of the city from the steps of Sacre Coeur.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3013.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3013.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Huge salad from Le Relais Gascon. Underneath the mound of potatoes were smoked salmon, lettuce, tomatoes and creme fraiche. Delicious. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3015.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3015.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3016.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3016.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Flea market time!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3017.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3017.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3018.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3018.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Afternoon pick-me-up from Laduree. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3019.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3019.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />In case you're wondering what a 1.50 euro public bathroom stall looks like. I tried to hold it in so that I wouldn't have to pay to use the toilet, but I had had too much water and coffee that day. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3020.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3020.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Paris during Christmas is lovely.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3021.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3021.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Even though it was FREEZING that night, we decided to brave the elements so that we could do a mini night tour of Paris. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3022.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3022.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Pont des Arts, my favorite bridge in Paris, which links the Institut de France with the Louvre over the Seine. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/20/3023.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/20/s_3023.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The DaVinci code. <br /><br /><br />Sunday: While Anita and Michelle went to Versailles, I ran some errands and stopped by the Bastille market to buy food for dinner. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/22/1332.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/22/s_1332.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />This is the Chicken Lady. I found out about the Chicken Lady through David Lebovitz's blog, when I googled "best roast chicken Paris." He raved about her chicken, and if's good enough for him, it's good enough for me. But he didn't say how to find the Chicken Lady at the Bastille Market, since there are about 6 different roast chicken stalls at the market. So then, I googled "David Lebovitz chicken lady" and some dear soul wrote step-by-step instructions on how to find the Chicken Lady from the metro stop. Last week when I went to the market, I thought I had found the Chicken Lady and bought a roast chicken (or poulet roti), but then realized that I had gotten too excited and didn't follow the instructions like I should have. So this week, I went straight to the Chicken Lady and bought a whole chicken, stuffed with stuffing and olives. The Chicken Lady's helper guy asked me if I wanted chicken juice poured over the chicken. How is that even a question? Of course I wanted chicken juice poured over the chicken. This was probably the best chicken I've had in my life, and I've had a lot of chicken. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/22/1333.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/22/s_1333.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Our feast - the Chicken Lady's chicken (I like typing "Chicken Lady"), tomatoes on the vine drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with salt and pepper, blanched green beans, brie and fresh bread, all from the Bastille Market. This was essentially the exact same dinner that I served Anita and Michelle on their first day, so it was nice symmetry that their last meal was the same thing. <br /><br />Most shops are either closed or close early on Sundays in Paris. But for the month of December, many of the shops are doing "ouverture exceptionelle" (exceptional opening) for Sundays. Since it was the girls' last day in Paris, we decided to wander down to the Marais for some last minute shopping. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/22/1499.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/22/s_1499.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />On the way to the Marais, we stopped by Merci, one of my favorite stores in Paris. Why wouldn't it make sense to sell books, paper goods, clothes and accessories, beauty products, household goods and knickknacks all in one store? It's like a grown-up Parisian version of Urban Outfitters. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/22/1500.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/22/s_1500.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />On the way home, we stopped by Berthillon for ice cream. Berthillon is huge in Paris, and is known for homemade ice cream with zero preservatives or artificial sweeteners. According to the night bike tour guy from a few weeks ago and verified by Wikipedia, Berthillon ice cream is ade fresh every day. We had our own two scoops in a cone (peach and vanilla for me) and then brought home a 1/2 liter of hazelnut. It's like Nutella-y goodness without the chocolate in frozen form. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/12/22/1501.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/12/22/s_1501.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The ladies in the middle of their packing frenzy. See the "Bobo" bag on the left side? That's a chocolate shop in Barcelona. Anita and Michelle went crazy in that store and brought back, I'm not even exaggerating, at least 30 tins between the two of them to take back home as gifts. Most of the pile under the Bobo bag is my stuff - travel book, about 5 different Moleskine city guides, mounds of dish towels and cloth napkins, boxes of tea and I'm not even sure what else that the girls were gracious enough to take back for me. The pink plastic bag is a jacket that I bought online and had shipped to Joy in Philly, who brought it with her to Paris. It was not what I thought it would be, so I had to send it back with Michelle to have her send it back to the vendor. Thanks mules/couriers, I mean friends! <br /><br />I am currently ending day 2 with my parents in Paris. It's been an equal mix of suffocating + fun. A post about that experience will be forthcoming soon. <br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Rue%20Saint-Maur,Paris,France%4048.866893%2C2.375955&z=10'>Rue Saint-Maur,Paris,France</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-38439978889665965162011-11-27T15:41:00.001-08:002011-12-06T15:25:58.917-08:00Chapter Eight: Halfway point (or close enough)I have been in Paris for a little over a month now, and my trip is just about at its halfway point, so I thought I'd take some time to reflect on what I miss about home, what I love about Paris (and Europe), and what things about Paris I could live without:<br /><br />Things I miss about home/Seattle/USA (family and friends are a given):<br /><br />-Cable TV/Netflix streaming/HBO GO: The only English language channels I've been able to find on the TV in my flat are CNN International and I think some random sports channel. I have been watching "Amadeus", "The Queen" and "Saving Private Ryan" on DVD all day long every day for the past three weeks and I'm pretty sure I've memorized all of the music and dialogue for all three movies now. I also can't believe I'm missing all of the Kardashian drama! (But thanks to Catherine for faithfully forwarding me all US Weekly/People/MSN Entertainment links related to the debacle!)<br /><br />-Communicating without having to point and/or constantly repeat myself. I also miss understanding 100% what's written on menus and signs. <br /><br />-The comforts of home, such as a clothes dryer. And elevators in buildings. And faucets that spew out water at normal temperatures instead of water that gives me second degree burns every time I wash the dishes. <br /><br />-Amazon Fresh<br /><br />-Whole Foods<br /><br />-Meals that have some kind of vegetable component<br /><br />-Knowing exactly where to go to find what I need. In the past month, I have discovered that Tylenol is prescription-only in France, that dental floss is absolutely nowhere to be found, that it's pharmacies and not supermarkets that carry bandaids or blister protectants, that some pharmacies carry shampoo but some don't, and contact solution is only sold in eyeglass stores.<br /><br />But what I love about Paris and Europe > the superficial things I miss about home:<br /><br />-The shopping. OMG. French brands plus global brands that aren't in Seattle, such as Uniqlo and Muji. <br /><br />-Orangina (and the lemon soda I discovered in Italy)<br /><br />-About 10 different countries are about a 2 hour and $150 plane ride away. (Yay for Barcelona next week with Michelle and Anita!)<br /><br />-French etiquette which dictates that one should always say bonjour/au revoir whenever you enter/exit a store or restaurant, and always say bonjour/bonsoir to people you run into in your apartment building. I think it's charming. <br /><br />-Paris' very efficient and dense subway system<br /><br />-Having the time to walk everywhere, aimlessly wandering around neighborhoods and discovering new places in the city<br /><br />Stuff I could live without in Paris:<br /><br />-The smokers. I'm pretty sure that at least 75% of the population must be smokers. It's not unusual to see people shoving an unlit cigarette in their mouth in the metro station, so that they can light up the second they step outside. Gross. <br /><br />-The kissing on the cheek method of greeting. I can't remember the last time I kissed a member of my family, but since I've been in Europe, I've been kissed by more strangers than I can even count. Stresses me out. <br /><br />-People not picking up after their dogs. It's a land mine of poo on the sidewalks. To quote Robert, "It's so disrespectful!", both to people and to the beautiful city. <br /><br />-The smell of urine in places where it should never smell like urine. Like on the street. And in metro stations. C'mon people! <br /><br />But again, what I love > what I don't care for. <br /><br />People have been asking me what I've been doing when I'm by myself here. It's surprising how I've been able to fully occupy my time. <br /><br />-I've been reading a lot. I re-read the entire Game of Thrones series plus started and finished the last book, (those Lannisters, Freys and Tullys are CRAZY), re-read David Lebovitz's "The Sweet Life in Paris" and Ken Follett's "Fall of Giants", and finished "A Moveable Feast", and "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society." I started "The Happiness Project" since it's a book club book, but I couldn't get into it and gave up after about 1/3 of the way. Now I'm on the hunt for "Bossypants" and "The Great Gatsby." <br /><br />-I've also been exploring neighborhoods that I hadn't spent much time in before, such as Saint Germain and Canal St. Martin. (I wanted to skip stones like Amelie over the bridge on Canal St. Martin, but I've never been able to skip stones, so that dream is gone.) <br /><br />-On Sunday, I took an hour long train ride to go to the outlet mall. It's set up like a village, and it's a nice mix of high-end (Valentino, Burberry) and French brands (ba&sh, Maje). I was tempted to buy a carry-on suitcase from Samsonite, because I'm skeptical about my ability to cram 10 days' worth of stuff into my duffle bag for Ireland in January, but I didn't, which may have been a major mistake. Since I've already purchased 3 pieces of wool outerwear, a pair of flats, wool shorts, a dress and a shirt, and my trip is only halfway over, I'm also skeptical about my ability to fit all of my stuff into my enormous suitcase + duffle bag for my trip home. <br /><br />-Gertrude Stein's collection of Picassos and Cezannes is currently at the Grand Palais, which I will be checking out this week.<br /><br />-I am determined to rent a bike while I'm here. It is really cheap and everyone does it. Even though I can't get rid of the mental images of people riding bikes on the street getting crushed by large vehicles, a la Meg Ryan in "City of Angels" (but what do you expect, when you decide to close your eyes and not hold onto the handlebars while biking on a highway?!) and Anne Hathaway in "One Day", I'm going to do it anyway. If I can survive running multiple red lights on a bike at night, like we did on the bike tour a few weeks ago, I'm sure I'll be fine during the day, biking 5 MPH. <br /><br />The next few days will be a flurry of laundry, grocery shopping and cleaning (well, I'm paying someone 16 euros to clean the flat), to prepare for the arrival of group 3 out of 5 - Michelle and Anita! I'm excited to see them, and I'm also excited for the items they are couriering over for me: my iphone 4s #2, dental floss (seriously cannot find it ANYWHERE. I've searched two different supermarkets, plus multiple pharmacies), contact lens solution (couldn't find my brand for a while, and when I finally did find it, I discovered that it's $20/bottle!) and Burt's Bees lip balm! <br /><br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Rue%20Saint-Maur,Paris,France%4048.866890%2C2.376081&z=10'>Rue Saint-Maur,Paris,France</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-88031333197635608152011-11-27T14:43:00.001-08:002011-11-27T15:42:12.526-08:00Chapter Seven: Munich, London, Paris and The Love of ArtThe past two weeks have been a whirlwind of travel and activity, which included a 3-night trip to Munich to meet up with Soyon and Tim, and 8 days of taking London and Paris by storm with Joy, Robert and Joe. <br /><br />Munich in a nutshell: 25 degrees every day. Very clean. Very quiet. Beer is served by the gallon at every meal. Every meal also seemed to include some type of sausage meat. Home of the 1976 Olympics and the BMW headquarters and museum. We went to the Olympic Park, but passed on the museum. I slept a total of 10 hours in 3 days, because Soyon and I stayed up each night talking in bed. The last night, we didn't even bother going to sleep because we had to get to the airport so early. Unfortunately, we forgot that we aren't 24 years old anymore, and the lack of sleep completely wrecked us both. We also kept torturing each other with talk of Korean food and ramen every night. <br /><br />London in a nutshell: Crowded. Jam-packed schedule. Not enough time spent at Liberty. Finally found a black blazer, at Uniqlo! A flat in an amazing location with an equally amazing mold situation on the bathroom ceiling above the shower. The wifi in the flat wouldn't allow the four of us to be online at the same time, so we all had to take turns. Really awful food, even at St. John's. (The bone marrow phenomenon perplexes me.) King's Cross moved Platform 9 3/4 to outside of the station, which was just really sad. Apparently, when I say "Panton Street", it sounds like "Penton Street" to British cab drivers, so one time, the cab driver almost took me to the wrong street, and the second time, the cab driver really did take us to the wrong street. Kept hoping to see a glimpse of Kate, as in Kate Middleton, but sadly did not. <br /><br />Paris with the Lees: shopping in St. Germain, the Marais, and Galeries Lafayette. Convinced Joy to buy her first Louis bag. Went to seven different Comptoir des Cotonniers, looking for a coat for Joy. The Musee d'Orsay's remodel is finally done, so we were able to see the museum in all of its glory. Strolls along the Seine, through the Tulieries garden and along the Champs Elysses to look at the Christmas stalls set up. The Musee d'Orangerie was just as lovely as I had remembered it to be. Notre Dame, where Joe almost shed a tear. Eiffel Tower - 30 minutes to get our tickets and take the elevator to the top, almost 60 minutes waiting in line for the elevator to go down. Robert, Joe, Joy and I all had our own private panic attacks, relating to heights and claustrophobia. Great eating, thanks to Joy's friend's recommendations. Bike tour at night through the streets of Paris, which was so fun. The bike tour included a cruise down the length of the Seine, which was beautiful, but so incredibly cold. Watched a girl run into a pedestrian on her bike, which caused a domino effect of other people falling off of their bikes. Berthillon ice cream twice in five days, which beats Molly Moon hands down. Friendly cab driver who likes Miami and gave us all chocolates, which Joy and I didn't eat because we were afraid they were poisoned, but the boys scarfed down happily. Many hours spent in the flat eating France-only flavored chips, like roasted chicken with thyme, drinking good 5 euro bottles of wine, playing Battle Nations on our iPads. <br /><br />I bought tickets for a Mozart/Pachebel/Schubert/Bach concert at Sainte-Chapelle tonight, and I was tempted to skip it because I was so exhausted from the past two weeks' worth of revelries, but I forced myself to go, and I'm so glad I did. I'm one of the ten Koreans in the entire world who did not grow up playing the piano or violin, so my classical music repertoire is quite limited, but Mozart, Pachebel, Schubert and Bach are all composers that I'm moderately familiar with. Especially Mozart, because I have been watching Amadeus every other day since I've been in Paris, because it's one of five English DVDs in the flat. When the soprano started singing "Ave Maria," I literally got goosebumps. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/27/3462.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/27/s_3462.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />I had to take my iPad with me to the concert because I had an e-ticket and I don't have my phone yet. While everyone else was taking a picture of the chapel with their smartphones or cameras, I had to bring out my iPad. So embarrassing. <br /><br />Part of the reason for my recent tiredness is that I have been staying up late for the past two nights reading our book club book that I was two months behind on: "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society." I borrowed the Kindle version from the library and the rental period expires today, so I finished it in two nights. It's a novel set right after WWII, about how the residents of Guernsey lived through the Nazi occupation of their island. I cried about once per chapter. Art, especially the literary arts, is a major part of the story, and in the acknowledgment section at the end, the author says, "...the love of art - be it poetry, storytelling, painting, sculpture, music - enables people to transcend any barrier man has self devised." This quote and this book perfectly captured how I felt at the concert today and during the bike tour last night. I am the least artistically inclined person I know, but in the past six weeks, I have been able to slow my life down enough to appreciate the artistic accomplishments of others - Monet's mural-sized water lilies, the Colosseum, the Duomo, how incredible the bridges over the Seine look at twilight, the Louvre Pyramid lit up at night, sitting at Sainte Chapelle, listening to an opera singer sing "Ave Maria" with a four-piece string orchestra accompanying her. <br /><br />I was surrounded by 2-3 people every day all day for the past two weeks, and it's eerily quiet in the flat now (besides Amadeus playing in the background). I have no idea what I'm doing these next two weeks before Michelle and Anita arrive, besides continuing the ongoing flat black boot hunt and buying some long underwear, and it's kind of a nice feeling. An overnight trip to Nice to see the Chagall museum may be on the schedule. <br /><br />Happy belated Thanksgiving to everyone! <br /><br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Rue%20Saint-Maur,Paris,France%4048.866948%2C2.375944&z=10'>Rue Saint-Maur,Paris,France</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-1953312547562338152011-11-11T11:30:00.001-08:002011-11-11T11:30:01.192-08:00Chapter Six: Mind-reading garbagemen and Korean marketsAfter almost four weeks in Europe, I have been craving Asian food. Preferably Korean, but Japanese, Chinese, Thai or Vietnamese will do. After another fruitless day of searching for black boots, I decided to search for a Korean restaurant in the Opera area. I was on R. Quatre-Septembre, looking over my map, searching for R. Sainte Anne, when I hear someone shouting. I look up, and a man in a garbage truck is yelling at me. The following is our brief conversation:<br /><br />Mind-reading garbageman (MRG): RUE SAINTE ANNE??<br />Me: <staring blankly, and then hesitantly nod><br />MRG: THE SECOND RIGHT<br />Me: <staring blankly, and then hesitantly nod><br /><br />It actually turned out to be the third right, but I won't quibble over details. More importantly, how did he know I was looking for R. Sainte Anne?! As I was trying to puzzle this out, I realized that I had stumbled across a mini International District, complete with dimly-lit alleys and shady Asian massage parlors. <br /><br />I found the Korean restaurant I was looking for, but it was closed for the holiday. They obviously didn't get the memo that Koreans never close their businesses for any holiday, not even Christmas. But what did I spy with my little eye across the street? A KOREAN GROCERY STORE! I ran inside and this odd feeling of comfort and familiarity washed over me, as I hunted for snacks, banchan and ramen while listening to K-pop blaring over the speakers. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/11/1628.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/11/s_1628.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />I bought two ramen bowls and two Neoguris (I couldn't find black Shin Ramen Amy!), honey twist snacks and sauteed dried spicy squid. I really wanted to buy kimchi, but it didn't seem right to stink up a Parisian's fridge with the smell. I found instant rice as well (the legitimate kind, not the awful Minute Rice stuff I bought over the summer), but I don't have a microwave in the flat. I'm going to try to save the ramen for when Joy, Robert and Joe visit in a few weeks, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to hold out that long. <br /><br />For dinner, even though I was denied Korean food, I was determined to have some kind of Asian food, so I went to the "restaurant Japonese" on my street. I had the best chicken karrage I've ever had and pretty good tempura udon. They even gave me seaweed salad to start, and a fruit cup for dessert, which helped to stem the feeling of fruit and vegetable starvation I've been feeling for the past few weeks. <br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Rue%20Saint-Maur,Paris,France%4048.866938%2C2.375922&z=10'>Rue Saint-Maur,Paris,France</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-89097359863581050402011-11-10T11:23:00.001-08:002011-11-10T12:36:25.374-08:00Chapter Five: Everyday life in ParisAfter spending the past three weeks in Italy and Paris pounding the pavement all day long every day, I've settled into a less scheduled and less active way of living in Paris. For the past few days, I haven't done much except wander around the city agenda-less, started up Final Fantasy III again on my iPad, and am reading "A Moveable Feast" and re-reading the entire "Game of Thrones" series. Some other things on my radar are a three-week photography seminar, a photo exhibit in the St-Germain neighborhood and maybe a classical concert at Notre-Dame. <br /><br />(Due to the unfortunate theft of my phone, and the fact that iPads don't come with USB ports to plug my real camera into, and the fact that I'm not going to walk around taking pictures with my iPad, the next month of posts will be mostly photo-less, until Michelle arrives with my replacement phone strapped to her body.)<br /><br />A few observations so far about Paris:<br /><br />1. Everyone seems to be able to use their phones underground on the metro without any problems at all, which is a far cry from back home, where AT&T drops every other call of mine. <br /><br />2. I love BHV. I've been there three times in the past 9 days. For those who have never been - it's Target + Nordstrom + Home Depot + Crate and Barrel + Best Buy + Macy's Home Store all rolled up into one gigantic store that's 7 stories and takes up an entire city block. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/10/1804.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/10/s_1804.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='211' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />3. I went to BHV to run some errands: return the curling iron I bought last week, buy some hangers, replacement light bulb for a lamp in the flat and insoles. It took me about 90 minutes to get those four things done - partly because I had to wander around the store looking for hangers and light bulbs because I didn't know what they're called in French (I still don't know what hangers are, but light bulbs are "luminere." But what took the longest amount of time was returning the curling iron. First, I thought I'd try customer service. Fail. They direct me to go to the cashier in the department where I purchased the curling iron. Make my way to the cashier, only to be told that I need to go to the special returns cashier across the floor. Fail again. Find the special returns cashier, only to be told that I need to go back to the department I bought the curling iron at and get paperwork from them. Fail a third time. Go back to the original cashier, who asks a colleague about my situation. I'm then told that I need to find a clerk who works in the department and have them fill out the paperwork for me. Fail a fourth time. I find a clerk and ask him if he speaks English. He says no. I immediately begin to think about how I'm going to pantomime my situation to him. Fortunately, a very nice guy who had been looking at electric razors overhears my very broken French and asks if he can help. While I clutch my purse against my body, I explain what I need, and he translates for me. Success! The clerk takes my curling iron and walks away, so I follow him since I don't know what else I'm supposed to do, while saying thank you to the electric razor guy. I then proceed to take the paperwork to the returns cashier, who processes my return without any problem. This kind of stuff drives me insane at home. Like, blood rushing to my head rage kind of insane. But for some reason, it doesn't really faze me here. Maybe it's because I have absolutely nowhere to be and nothing to do, so I'm not in any kind of rush. Or maybe it's because I read David Lebovitz's "The Sweet Life in Paris", who talks a lot about having to adjust to this kind of stuff as an American. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/10/1805.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/10/s_1805.jpg' border='0' width='191' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />4. Even the most mundane type of errand is fraught with anxiety when you aren't familiar with the language. I stopped by the supermarket today to buy some Coke (don't worry Lynda, only before 12:30pm!) and thought I'd buy some more laundry detergent. I stood there, staring at the rows and rows of cleaning products, but I don't know what's detergent and what's liquid fabric softener and what's for hand washing, etc. I zeroed in on a bottle that I thought looked detergent-esque, but then I noticed the cat on the label, plus it said "chat", which is cat in French. I was scared that maybe it was pet shampoo, so I put it back and decided that I'll come back for detergent some other day. <br /><br />5. Line drying clothes is like a giant game of Twister. You have to hang the clothes just right, so that it's not touching itself or other clothes, which is simple enough for things like socks and pillowcases, but becomes more creative when dealing with hoodies. And I don't know if the air is more damp in the flat or just in Paris in general, but it takes a full two days for even cotton clothes to dry completely.<br /><br />6. Tomorrow is France's equivalent of Veteran's Day, so most things are closed. Except for BHV. And Printemps, which is a huge department store that gives foreigners a 10% discount on everything. So, my plans for tomorrow will include stopping by Printemps to find a pair of over-the-knee black boots with a 1-2" heel that are semi-slouchy, which I have been searching for ever since Italy. Lynda thinks I'm being too specific, but I really don't think it should be this hard to find!<br /><br />7. The weather in Paris in the winter is similar to the weather in Seattle in the winter: gray and drizzly and pretty gross. But the forecast for the next few days is glorious: sunny and cold. So, I'll be spending a lot of time in Paris' many gardens and parks reading and journaling, or wandering around the city, taking pictures with my dusty Canon G11. <br /><br />Even with the pickpocketing incident, I'm happy to be in Paris. It's lovely to have no real itinerary besides stopping into every single shoe store I see to search for my black boots, or trying to guess which cafe would have the best coffee. <br /><br />"If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast." -Ernest Hemingway<br /><br /><br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Rue%20Saint-Maur,Paris,France%4048.866898%2C2.375961&z=10'>Rue Saint-Maur,Paris,France</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-71493971492787330242011-11-01T14:50:00.001-07:002011-11-01T16:05:54.314-07:00Chapter Four: Arrivederci Italy, Bonjour Paris!Lynda and I were planning to spend a day in Cinque Terre, which are a (used to be) group of five villages along the western coast of Italy. Unfortunately, torrential rains struck a few days before we were scheduled to arrive in Cinque Terre, creating mudslides and all around calamity in the area.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2801.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2801.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='158' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />One village has actually been wiped off the map, so Cinque Terre is now technically Quattro Terre. Super sad. Without Polly's red alert email, Lynda and I would have shown up in La Spezia, confused about why the trains weren't running to Cinque Terre, and would have been stranded overnight. <br /><br />A few highlights from Florence, my favorite town in Italy:<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2802.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2802.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Santa Maria Novella church and piazza.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2803.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2803.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Bruschetta from Trattoria ZaZa<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2804.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2804.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Seafood risotto from Trattoria ZaZa. This was one of my top meals in Italy.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2805.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2805.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />My happy shoes from the outlet. They're one size too big, but I don't care.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2806.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2806.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Rigatoni with meat sauce and black truffles at Ristorante Boccadama in the Piazza Santa Croce. It was great. Lynda also requested that I mention her lasagna, which "melted in her mouth, it was flippin' amazing!" (It was pretty dang good.)<br /><br />Sidenote: almost all of the restaurants we tried in Florence were on the DesignSponge blog, and every one we went to was great.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2928.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2928.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Santa Croce church. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2929.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2929.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Galileo's tomb<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2930.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2930.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Our Statue of Liberty was based off of this sculpture<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2931.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2931.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Michelangelo's tomb<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2932.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2932.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />This is the first painting of David (of David and Goliath fame) ever. I know this because I was eavesdropping on the guided tour that was happening next to me. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2933.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2933.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The fake David outside of the Uffizi, home of "The Birth of Venus", and the closest that Lynda and I got to the Uffizi. Once we saw the 15 euro entrance fee, we said thanks, but no thanks. (Sorry Michelle!)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2934.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2934.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Tourist mayhem in the Uffizi's piazza<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2935.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2935.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The Arno River, as seen near the Ponte Vecchio<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2936.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2936.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />And again.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2937.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2937.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The Ponte Vecchio<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2938.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2938.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Florence at night<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2940.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2940.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Oh Duomo, I heart you so.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2941.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2941.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Sandwich and pasta from the Mercato Centrale market. Similar to Granville Market in Vancouver.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2942.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2942.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Flower stand at the Mercato<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2943.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2943.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />San Lorenzo street market, where Lynda and I both scored amazing leather bags, and I got a new lavender scarf to replace my ratty and faded 10-year old one. Lynda and I make a great shopping team. I spy the items, and she haggles the price down, while I stand there feeling really awkward and uncomfortable. And then when the haggling is done, I silently pull out my money and hand it over to the vendor. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2944.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2944.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />We stumbled across some kind of Mini Cooper gathering, complete with uniformed guards with trumpets and horns. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2945.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2945.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />We saw doner kabab restaurants everywhere, so we finally had one for lunch. Yum!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2946.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2946.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The doors of the Baptistry. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2947.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2947.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Perche No gelateria, near the Piazza della Republicca. It was so nice, we went twice. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2948.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2948.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Florentine steak for our last dinner in Florence. So fatty, but so good. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2949.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2949.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The aftermath.<br /><br />Some of the lowlights of Florence:<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2950.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2950.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />These trusty flats have gone with me to Europe, Boston, LA and all around Seattle, but the past two weeks in Italy did the poor things in. Not only is there negative shock absorption in the shoes, but they have stretched out so much, I keep stepping out of them, and now I have bruises on my ankles from where I hit the cobblestones. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2951.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2951.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />These are the new flats I bought, to replace the silver ones. They are lovely and are perfectly my size. However, the backs have created blisters on my heels, which have yet to heal. I was very excited to throw out the silver flats and start wearing the black ones, but I had to dig the silver flats out of the trash, and I've been wearing them for the past week. Sad face. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2952.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2952.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />On our last night, we ran out of toilet paper in the flat, and didn't want to buy more, so I borrowed some from the restaurant's bathroom and brought it back home. (Thanks ZaZa!)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2953.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2953.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Clearly, my body is not a fan of Florence's mosquitos. <br /><br />We had a 8 hour layover in Milan before we caught the night train to Paris (more on that adventure in a bit), so we followed Rick's advice and walked around the city center. It may have been because we didn't have a plan for Milan, but we weren't super impressed with Milan, especially after coming from Florence.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2954.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2954.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Milan's Duomo. (But where's the dome?)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2955.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2955.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />The inside of a shopping gallery next to the Duomo.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2956.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2956.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Charming pedestrian only shopping street. We found multiple Pradas, Ferragamos, D&Gs and Valentinos in a two block radius. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2957.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2957.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Waiting at the train station with my fuzzy traveling socks with grips on the sole. These are the greatest socks ever, and I am forever indebted to Michelle for buying me a pair. My feet were so sore, I had to take my shoes off and put these socks on while waiting for the train.<br /><br />And speaking of the train..<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/2958.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_2958.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Lynda in her bunk on the train. We had planned to take a two-person private compartment for the 9 hour train ride to Paris, but it was sold out, so we were in a six-person carriage that was the size of Claustrophobic does not begin to describe the feeling that washed over me as I climbed into the bunk. However, it was very clean, plus the journey was cheap, and I slept really well, considering the fact that a) the carriage was maybe 6x6 and I felt like the walls were pressing in on me and b) I was concerned about the oxygen to carbon dioxide ratio, due to the number of people crammed into the small space. But we made it to Paris, albeit sore and feeling dirty from having slept in our clothes and contacts. <br /><br />Yay for Paris! It's nice being in a city that feels somewhat familiar, and when I talk with people, I can understand about 50% of what they're saying, whereas in Italy, it was more like 20%. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/3023.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_3023.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The bedroom/living room area of the flat. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/11/01/3024.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/11/01/s_3024.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The dining room/kitchen. (I was too lazy to get up from the couch and take a better picture.) If you look closely, you can see the huge drying rack with a week's worth of dirty laundry for two people. <br /><br />The flat is really cute and very clean, and I think I'll enjoy living here for the next few months, and there's plenty of space for the guests I'm expecting (Hi Robert, Joy, Joe, Anita, Michelle, Polly, Jessica!). It's a fourth floor walk-up, which is a bit of a killer, and it's a few metro stops from the center of the city, but Paris is the one city where I like walking around, and there are plenty of cafes, supermarkets and pharmacies on my street, which is fun. <br /><br />Bonne nuit mes amis! <br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Rue%20Saint-Maur,Paris,France%4048.867027%2C2.375884&z=10'>Rue Saint-Maur,Paris,France</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-14594617170948458222011-10-26T10:07:00.001-07:002011-10-26T11:19:55.028-07:00Chapter Three: Rome, Venice, Day 1 of FlorenceSunday, 10/23: Last day in Rome<br /><br />The Forum, Palatine Hill and the Colosseum were finally open! <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1870.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1870.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Entrance to the Forum/Palatine Hill. I followed Rick's (as in my good travel buddy, Rick Steves) advice, and went to the Forum/Palatine Hill before the Colosseum, because the lines would be shorter, and I could use my Forum pass at the Colosseum and bypass the line. As usual, Rick was so right, but the line to get in was still one hour. A group of girls tried to cut in front of me right when I got to the front. All I could do was give them the "Asian girl staredown", but they were completely oblivious to it. Fortunately, a man behind me asked them if they were with me. They said they were looking for the back of the line, and he said "it's wayyyy back there." Thank you Mr. European Man. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1871.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1871.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1872.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1872.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1874.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1874.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />This tree reminded me of the baobab tree from "The Little Prince."<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1911.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1911.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Where Julius Caesar's funeral pyre was.<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1912.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1912.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Inside the Colosseum. The cross marks where the emperor used to sit and watch the games.<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1913.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1913.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Maximus!!<br /><br />On to the Trevi Fountain. So amazing and worth the hype and the crowds.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1914.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1914.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1915.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1915.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Gazillions of people, milling around the fountain.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1916.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1916.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />I went to a nearby cafe and bided my time for about two hours, waiting for it to get dark, so that I could take a picture of the fountain with the streetlights lit. It was lovely to sit around and do nothing but read and people watch for two hours.<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/1917.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_1917.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Arrivederci Rome. You aren't my favorite city in Europe, but you are beautiful and I'm glad I visited you. <br /><br />Monday, 10/24: Venice<br /><br />Met up with Lynda. Yay! No dramatic embrace at the bridge - it was more like, hey, we actually found each other!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2019.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2019.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />View of Orvieto from the train, on the way to Venice. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2020.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2020.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The Grand Canal, from the Rialto Bridge<br /><br />Tuesday, 10/25<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2021.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2021.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />All of the bridges and waterways in Venice were charming.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2022.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2022.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Per Rick's advice, instead of spending 90E on a gondola ride down the Grand Canal, we spent 6.50E to take a 45 minute water taxi ride. Again, great idea Rick!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2023.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2023.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />View of the Rialto Bridge from the water taxi<br /><br />I didn't take any pictures of the B&B we stayed at, but I really should have. Lynda described it this way - "It looks like my eemo's house!" And it really did look like an older Asian woman's home, even down to the random Asian knickknacks scattered around the place. It was small, pretty far from the center of town, and a little bit creepy, but it was clean and cheap and we were only there for a night. <br /><br />Thoughts on Venice: beautiful, cold, damp, really confusing to navigate through the streets because there are 5000 alleyways and hardly any signage. But Jin - Lynda and I both agree that we're glad we came!<br /><br />The most miserable part of the entire trip so far was lugging my 65-pound suitcase to the train station, through the cobblestoned streets of Venice, over 4 bridges in the pouring rain. Thankfully, a stranger took pity on me and carried my suitcase over one of the bridges for me. I've decided that if strangers offer to carry my suitcase for me while I'm here, I'm going to gladly take them up on the offer. If they try to steal it, they aren't going to get very far with it, so I'm safe. <br /><br />On the two-hour train ride from Venice to Florence, I learned how to play Monopoly Deal. Really fun, but super frustrating. The ladies next to us kept staring at us while we were playing. Weirdos. <br /><br />Wednesday, 10/26: Florence<br /><br />Airbnb came through again - the flat in Florence is beautiful, clean and huge. It's also in a great area - 5 minutes to walk to the Accademia, 10 minutes to the Duomo and Mercato Market. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2024.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2024.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Lynda's room<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2025.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2025.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />My room<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2026.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2026.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Living room<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2027.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2027.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Kitchen<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2028.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2028.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Bathroom<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2029.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2029.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Living room ceiling<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2030.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2030.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Lunch at Trattoria Mario. We had the spaghetti with meat sauce and a steak, but we both forgot to take a picture of it. It was excellent, and the restaurant has been written up about in a lot of blogs and sites for the quality and cheap prices. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2032.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2032.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The Duomo. These pictures do not do justice to the sheer amazingness of the building. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2036.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2036.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2037.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2037.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Interior of the dome<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2171.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2171.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The floor of the Duomo<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2043.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2043.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Piazza della Repubblica. We ate gelato while listening to a woman singing arias while a man was playing the accordion. It was like something out of a movie. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2045.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2045.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />A 3D map of Florence that we stumbled across in the Piazza della Repubblica.<br /><br />Next up, the Accademia to see...<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2046.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2046.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />David! No pictures are allowed in the Accademia, but I snuck one anyway, and this was the result. Obviously, I'm not meant to take illicit photos. Lynda and I were wandering around, and then we turned the corner, and we looked down a long hallway, and under the arch, there was David. I literally got goosebumps when I saw it. Lynda and I were both amazed at how David's expression looks one way when you look at him from the front, and then it looks completely different when you look at him from the side. That Michelangelo - what a genius. <br /><br />For dinner, we tried to find a specific trattoria, but even though we were on the right street, the numbers just stopped! We were too tired to search for it, so instead, we got...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/26/2146.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/26/s_2146.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The fries weren't great because they weren't hot, but the filet o' fish was even more delicious than they are in America, because the Italians use a different tartar sauce. <br /><br />And that wraps up day 1 of Florence. As everyone predicted, I love it here. It's urban, but not as frenetic and crazy as Rome. There are groups of tourists here as well, but not in the overwhelming doses that I ran across in Rome. <br /><br />Our plans for the rest of our time here is the Uffizi, the outlet mall outside of the city, more eating, more shopping, more gelato and more sitting around in piazzas. <br /> <br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Via%20Gino%20Capponi,Florence,Italy%4043.777048%2C11.261683&z=10'>Via Gino Capponi,Florence,Italy</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-12974381115135338702011-10-22T08:30:00.001-07:002011-10-22T11:35:45.078-07:00Chapter Two: Rome Is ChaosWhen my apartment lady picked me up from the train station on Tuesday, she said to me, "Rome is chaos. Once you understand that, everything is fine." Truer words were never spoken. <br /><br />My general itinerary for my 5 days in Rome was as follows: the Forum and Colosseum, Vatican Museum, St. Peter's Basilica, Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Spanish Steps, window shop around Via Condotti/Via Frattina, wander around Trastevere. As of today, I have one full day left and I have accomplished less than half of the itinerary, due to no fault of my own (mostly). <br /><br />Wednesday: I woke up at 9am, feeling pretty good after a 10 hour sleep. Wednesday was going to be my Forum/Colosseum day. I went online and looked up a few last minute things, and then somehow, managed to pass out for 12-13 hours, and woke up at around 9:30pm. Obviously, my very jet-lagged and sick body had different plans for my day. <br /><br />Thursday: I got woken up at around 7am to what I thought was a garbage truck dropping trash cans over and over and over again, but was actually thunder. I look out the window, and it's a rainstorm of Biblical proportions. Due to luggage weight restrictions, I left my raincoat, umbrella and rainboots in Seattle. The only indoor thing that I had on my itinerary was the Vatican, but I had a ticket for Friday night pre-purchased. The idea of wandering around Rome in a Noah's Ark type of storm in my flats and jacket was completely unappealing, so I went right back to sleep and woke up some time in the afternoon. It was still pouring rain when I woke up, so I puttered around the apartment, did some reading, rented "The King's Speech" on iTunes, and ate some chocolate bread that my apartment lady left for me. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/2018.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_2018.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Clearly, I am not short on reading material. I also have the entire "Game of Thrones" series on my Kindle.<br /><br />Friday: The sky looked ominous, but I was going stir crazy, so off I went to the Colosseum. As I was standing outside of it, I felt like an extra from "Gladiator." <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/2020.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_2020.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1431.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1431.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br />I walked all around, looking for the line for the entrance, but all I saw were people milling around, but no line. Upon further inspection, I realized that there are gates set up everywhere - the Colosseum is closed! <br /><br />So I walked to the Pantheon, and listened to Rick Steves' audioguide on it on my phone. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1432.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1432.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />According to Rick, the U.S. Capitol Building's rotunda is based on the Pantheon. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1433.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1433.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Raphael's tomb. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1434.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1434.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Outside of the Pantheon. It looked burnt out and reminded me of the last scene of "Troy", after Troy had been sacked and they had build a funeral pyre for Achilles/Brad Pitt. (sad face)<br /><br />I then proceeded to a restaurant around the corner that a foodie friend had recommended to me. It opened at 12:30, I got there at 12:45 and it was already full for lunch. (sad face again)<br /><br />By this time, I hadn't had anything to eat besides chocolate bread and goldfish crackers from home in 60 hours (not a typo. 60 hours. Kimbahp on Tuesday night was my last meal) so I'm pretty hungry. I walked across the street and had my first meal in Rome.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1435.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1435.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Spaghetti carbonara. I am an anti-egg person. I decided to take baby steps towards being more egg-friendly by ordering this dish. It was really good. But my body completely rejected it a few hours later, so now I'm back to being anti-egg. <br /><br />I had purchased my ticket online for the Vatican for Friday evening, but I noticed signage in the metro station about the metro shutting down at 9:30pm every night except for Saturdays, due to the construction of the third metro line. The Vatican is clear across town from my flat, and the idea of walking the entire length of the city at night was not appealing at all. So, I went home, Googled the Colosseum to see why it was closed, (flood damage from the torrential rainfall from the day before, and the Colosseum metro stop is closed indefinitely!) watched "The King's Speech" again and went to sleep early.<br /><br />Saturday: Woke up at 4:30am and couldn't get back to sleep. It's Vatican day. I get to the museum and the line to get in is out of control. The very aggressive tour guide operators who are barking at us from the side keep saying that the wait will be an hour from where we're standing. The main reason I bought my ticket online was to bypass this line, but since my ticket was for Friday, I wasn't sure if I still got that perk, so I just waited in line. It was only a 30 minute wait anyway. Those Pinocchios. I manage to convince the customer service agent to let me into the museum with my Friday ticket, saving me from a $25 re-purchase. (Actually, there wasn't much convincing needed. I asked and he said okay.)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1760.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1760.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Courtyard inside the museum. Absolutely beautiful day today. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/2090.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_2090.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1762.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1762.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1763.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1763.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1715.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1715.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Ancient painted map. I love maps!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/2026.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_2026.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1718.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1718.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1719.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1719.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1721.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1721.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Hello Matisse and Chagall. You were a pleasant surprise to find in the museum.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1730.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1730.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />The staircase at the end of the museum. It reminds me of the cover of my pre-calc textbook from high school.<br /><br />The Sistine Chapel alone was worth the price of admission. I'm not a big fan of Renaissance art, but the Sistine Chapel was absolutely amazing. If it wasn't for the hundreds of people milling around that small space, I would have stayed for an hour, looking at everything. This was the only area where you weren't allowed to take pictures, and I didn't have Polly, my illegal photo-taker with me, so no pictures of the incredible ceiling. <br /><br />I think the Vatican Museum is the most crowded place I've ever been to - even worse than the first time I went to the Musee d'Orsay in Paris, which I thought was unbeatable. I had to listen to music the entire time I was in the Vatican, to drown out the chatter from the crowds and keep my claustrophobia at bay. (Thanks Hillsong United!)<br /><br />On to St. Peter's Basilica.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1806.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1806.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Chairs set up for Mass tomorrow. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1807.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1807.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />The front third of the line. The line to get into the Basilica wrapped around the entire length of the Square. It looked like two hours at the very least, so I took a few pictures and then left. I would have loved to have seen Peter's tomb, his crucification site, Raphael's "Transfiguration" and Michelangelo's Pieta, but I couldn't wait in that line. <br /><br />So, on to shopping at Via Condotti and the Spanish Steps.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1895.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1895.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Joe, if your Nano watch doesn't end up working out..<br /><br />There were quite a few shops that I wanted to go into, but I refuse to add even one more ounce into my already back-breakingly heavy suitcase. At least, not until I get to Venice, where I can make Lynda help me with it. With every squeeze of toothpaste, every dollop of moisturizer I put on my face, every cotton pad I use, I think to myself, I'm making my suitcase lighter! <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1896.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1896.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Michelle was right - the Spanish Steps were underwhelming. Very crowded and underwhelming. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1897.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1897.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />View from the very crowded and underwhelming Spanish Steps. I sat there for 30 minutes people-watching, until I saw a bird drop a bomb 2 feet from me. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1898.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1898.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />The house where John Keats lived and died. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/22/1899.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/22/s_1899.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br /><br />Last picture for this post: my hand drawn map of the area around my flat. This map is the fourth most important thing I have on me at all times, right behind my passport, phone and a real map. My flat is outside of the center of Rome, in the northeastern part of the city. When I first arrived, I thought that I should have rented a place closer to the action. But today after I stepped out from the metro station coming back home, the first thing I realized was how quiet and calm it was. No honking horns, no scooters whizzing by, and most importantly, no crowds. But the only bad part about this flat is that it's just outside of the boundaries of my real map, so I had to draw one. (The X is the metro stop, and I'm on Via dei Foscari.) I'm in a residential neighborhood, without any distinguishing buildings or landmarks, and all the streets look the same, so without this map, I would be hopelessly lost. I dropped the map today on the sidewalk and it almost blew away, which created a mild panic attack. If it came down to it, I could use my phone, but I'm determined to go phone data-less for the entirety of my trip. So instead of GPS and Google Maps, it's paper maps, hand drawn maps, and using the compass on my phone to check that I'm going in the right direction. <br /><br />A few personal observations of Rome:<br />-it's really dirty<br />-it's really noisy<br />-there is an astonishing amount of human poo on the sidewalks throughout the city. Like, crazy amounts. <br /><br />Although I was disappointed that I didn't see St. Peter's Basilica or the inside of the Colosseum, the disappointment was outweighed by the sense of freedom I felt with all of the extra unplanned time I had. It was lovely aimlessly wandering around the streets, spending an hour eating lunch while reading a book, and sitting in a random square and do nothing but people-watch. It's a far cry from my over-scheduled, guilt-ridden-if-I'm-not-being-productive, life back home. <br /><br />Plan for tomorrow: Colosseum, if it's open. If not, St. Peter's Basilica. And then at night, a walk from Campo de Fiori to the Trevi Fountain, per Rick Steves' recommendation. And then do laundry, pack up my 65 pounds worth of stuff, and then Monday, I'm off to Venice to meet Lynda, on the north end of the Scalzi Bridge at 1pm. She wants me to run up to her screaming with my arms wide open, but that's obviously not happening. <br /><br />I hope this very long post will appease those who have been hounding me about a) not keeping in touch enough and b) not posting often enough!<br /><br /><br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Rome,%20Italy%4041.912784%2C12.525880&z=10'>Rome, Italy</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-10158587410403412042011-10-18T14:07:00.001-07:002011-10-18T14:07:36.296-07:00Chapter One: Rome (and British Airlines)When I booked my ticket for this trip, I was outraged to discover that British Airlines charges a fee if you want to reserve your seat early. However, I'm not as upset about it anymore for the following reasons:<br /><br />1. Customer service: After I got to the airport and realized that my suitcase was 5 pounds over the weight limit, I put some stuff into my carry-on tote to lighten the load, and it worked. Unfortunately, one item was my toiletry bag, full of liquids that are over 3 ounces (I freaking hate this TSA rule), and I didn't realize this mishap until my bag had already gone through the carousel behind the ticket counter. Fortunately, the ticket agent was really nice about it, and got a baggage handler to bring my suitcase back up, in order for me to put my toiletry bag back into my suitcase, saving me from having to spend $60 to check another bag. <br /><br />2. Pretty roomy seats on BA!<br /><br />3. Pretty good in-flight entertainment selections. I watched "Thor" for the second time and finally saw the last scene at the end of the credits, the latest X-Men, "The Conspirator" and 1/4 of "The Young Victoria" (for the 10th time) on the 8 hour flight to London. <br /><br />4. Free wine! It was pretty terrible, and I wasn't even thirsty, but I got some anyway because it was free. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2568.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2568.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='210' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br /><br />Here are some pictures of my home in Rome:<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2569.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2569.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The living room. The apartment owner said that I could use the bike if I want to. The weather is supposed to be great while I'm here, so I may take her up on her offer.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2570.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2570.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The kitchen and dining area.<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2571.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2571.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The den.<br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2572.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2572.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Bathroom #1. The hot water heater is broken, but a plumber is coming tomorrow. Because of the inconvenience, the apartment owner said that she would refund me 50% of the daily rental price for two days. The gadgety thing under the sink is the washing machine. After the Paris fiasco, where we didn't know that the washing machine was a washing machine + dryer all in the same machine, and we ran the clothes again and again because the clothes kept coming out mildly damp, I always ask now, about whether it's a single or combo unit. <br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2573.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2573.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />My room. The entire apartment is furnished in Ikea, but for some reason, it doesn't look college ghetto like it usually does at home. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2575.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2575.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Bathroom #2, in my room. The thing on the right is a urinal, not a sink. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2576.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2576.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />The owner was nice enough to stock the kitchen with juice, fruit, bread, jam, cereal, milk, etc. This is my first meal in Rome: untoasted hamburger buns with marmalade. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2578.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2578.jpg' border='0' width='400' height='400' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Light switch situation for just the kitchen/dining area, which is similar to the light switch situation for every room in the flat. It took me ten minutes to turn all the lights off. <br /><br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/10/18/2581.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/10/18/s_2581.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />In case you're curious what 65 pounds worth of stuff looks like, here you go. (Not an exaggeration. The bag was a flat 50 and the duffel had to have been at least 10, pushing 15.) I'm fairly certain that I can fit inside of my suitcase, if I curl up into the fetal position. I'm also fairly certain that dragging around half of my body weight throughout Europe is going to be problematic for me on a number of different fronts. I was so, so, so, so happy to discover that the train station I got off, and this flat has escalators/elevators, because I've discovered that those are hard to find in Europe. <br /><br />The adventure begins tomorrow, but I have absolutely nothing planned for Rome yet except for the Vatican Museum on Friday night. I'm setting my alarm for 10am but maybe I'll snooze until 2? (Michelle, don't die at the thought.)<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Via%20dei%20Foscari,Rome,Italy%4041.912604%2C12.525767&z=10'>Via dei Foscari,Rome,Italy</a></p>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5992675619023247365.post-24945319727512129082011-10-17T01:42:00.000-07:002011-10-17T01:47:49.929-07:00Prologue<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">T-Minus 17 hours until I take off for my three month adventure in Europe. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As the picture below shows, I'm obviously not even close to being ready for this trip. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>juliehonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06525736867711763381noreply@blogger.com4