Richmond, Virginia to Williamsburg, Virginia

Today we woke up and went to the hotel continental breakfast. Allegedly, it was open until 9, but at 5 minutes til the hour, the hotel employee ran around locking things in cabinets and blocking access to the microwave. She even scowled over my shoulder, key in hand, while I refilled my apple juice, and lurked around the rest of the (crowded) breakfast area.

We packed up the car and checked out (semi-full) and headed out for our first destination – the Science Museum of Virginia (Rob’s pick). Outside the entrance way was a 70-ton granite sculpture of the earth, soon to be rolled on its correct orbit by the boys. The museum was exceptionally interactive, and we spent a couple hours wandering around, playing with all the experiments. One of my faves was the special chamber where you could watch unstable atoms exploding. That was pretty cool.

Afterwards, we headed to downtown Richmond for the Edgar Allan Poe museum. I jabbed at the doorbell before I realized the sign said closed on Mondays (oops) but the caretaker happened to be home and gave us a mini-private tour of the gardens and one of the buildings. We got to see several original documents as well as several pairs of Poe’s fashionable stockings.

We next set to wandering downtown, heading past the St. Paul Church, Capitol Square Park, the (old) Governor’s Mansion, and several historical buildings. (The boys pointed out the secret symbol hidden in the FedEx logo and discovered another in the DHL truck… photos attached.) We also snacked at City Hall (Andy got a massive Dr Pepper, Rob got cookies, and I got a Ghirardelli square because I know what’s good) before taking the elevator all the way up to the Observation Deck for a look around the city skyline.

Last but not least, we managed to get ourselves horribly lost (followed by wonderfully un-lost) and randomly in front of the Confederacy Museum (which is what we were looking for in the first place when we got lost.) True to form, when we finally broke down and asked directions for it, we were 30 yards from it.

One of the stranger things about the Civil War (to me) was the black soldiers in the military, fighting for the South. The white soldiers didn’t want to fight next to black soldiers because they were uppity bigots and all, so I get that part, but why would black soldiers want to fight for the side that perpetuated slavery???

After that, we piled into the car and headed for Williamsburg, about an hour or so away. Our hotel (the Historic York Street Inn) is conveniently located within walking distance of the main colonial section, and we headed right over to eat dinner and see the sights.

Colonial Williamsburg is filled with 88 of the original early 1700’s homes and buildings, and many more restored ones. Costumed, in-character people man the apothecaries and foundries, give tours of the estates, and so on. However… we did eat dinner just outside the colonial district in an Italian joint, featuring throughly modern pizza, grinders, and Coca-Cola.

Tags: food, lost, museums

Washington, DC to Richmond, Virginia

So, this morning (being both Sunday and downtown) not much was open in the way of breakfast. We rolled out of bed around 7:30 and decided to eat at Union Station. The hotel did offer breakfast… according to the rooom service menu, we could’ve gotten fruit, coffee and bread for a measly $14.50, plus 10% tax, 18% tip and a $2.50 room surcharge. (And the bread’s not even toasted.)

We checked out of the hotel and bought our last D.C. Metro ticket and took the red line to the Amtrak station. I stood in a long line for my will-call tickets, only to discover that they could only be retrieved through self-service kiosks, not actual persons. (Who’d-a thunk?)

Next, we grabbed a table at Au Bon Pain and ordered breakfast right on time… they switched the menu over to lunch right after we ordered. (In case you’re interested, “lunch” began at 10:13 am)

Nothing much of interest took place until we got on the train, and from that point on, nothing much happened at all. What was supposed to be an hour and a half trip dragged into a 3 and a half hour trip. (A threeeeee hour toooouuuur…)

The deal was, our train was supposed to leave at 10:55 am, and as long as we rolled into Richmond before 2pm when Enterprise closed, they’d come pick us up at the Amtrak station and everything would be hunky-dory.

Nothing was hunky-dory.

The train was late arriving, late leaving, and stopped on the tracks for prolonged periods of time at random intervals. At one point, the train in front of us stalled on the tracks and proclaimed a “state of emergency” (!!!) and we were of course stuck behind them for quite some time.

I kept in contact with Enterprise througout (”We’re moving!” “No… we’re not.” “Yes! We’re inching along again!” “Er… scratch that.”) and although they dispatched a cashier to pick us up (and she waited in good faith in front of the Amtrak station for a full 15 minutes after the whole Enterprise branch shut down) we were still inching past Asheville when she had to give up and call it a day.

So, when we finally detrained (that’s a word Amtrak uses – not sure if it’s real, but hey) in Richmond, we were tired, hungry, crabby, and afflicted by a killer case of cabin fever.

We taxied to the airport ($41), which had the only open Enterprise location, and I was hit on by our cab driver, Pedro, who slipped me his phone number on a pink business card and made sure I knew where he’d be clubbing later. (???)

At the Enterprise station, more excitement ensued once I discovered that they couldn’t open my reservation because only one computer could pull up a record at a time, and the *closed* enterprise station still had it up on *their* screen. Yay. Plus I got to have some fun airport taxes, additional airport fees, and so on and so forth until I’d added another $75 to the fee. Joy.

Finally, we pulled onto the highway in our barely-dented 2006 cherry red Toyota Corolla and headed for the hotel, which turned out to be conveniently located next door to an Olive Garden. We walked over to the O.G. and got some grub (me: eggplant parm w/ gorgonzola fettucine, rob: pepperoni & sausage pizza, andy: cheese ravioli w/ meat sauce) and came back to the room feeling a little less stressed.

I went to the lobby to ask for towels (we only got one) and to ask what kind of fun stuff was going on in Richmond on a Sunday evening. Everyone agreed: you could go to the movies, or you could stay home. Rob, Andy and I conferred and came to a quick group decision: movies it would be.

We were, however, wrong. We went to two movie theaters, one in a shopping plaza and the other in a mall. Although all the stores were closed, every single parking space was filled because every breathing inhabitant of Richmond, Virginia was at the theatre.

We decided to cruise around randomly instead, and as luck would have it, we came across a Dairy Queen. (And an adventure. But you knew that.)

Andy orders first (chocolate fury blizzard) and the cashier (young girl) says, “Is that all?” Fair question, I guess, if a bit odd – after all, there were three of us.

“No,” I answer, and nudge Rob. He orders next (snickers blizzard) and the cashier says, “Well, is *that* all??”

Oookay. “Er, no,” I answer. “I want a blizzard too. Is that okay?”

She tosses her hair and answers, “I guess. But if you would’ve asked me an hour from now, I’d be really pissed off.” (!!!)

Once we (finally) got our blizzards (oh yeah – mine was cookie/brownie/cheesecake) we sat outside on picnic tables and spent a couple hours in heated discussions of world politics, Generations X and Y, the pros and cons of space exploration, higher taxes versus national healthcare and improved education systems, and whether the 80s or the present day is more “me” oriented.

I have to say that I find it really cool that my brothers are the sort of people with whom one can have “real” conversations. I’m very proud of them – especially when they know enough about what they’re talking about to argue with me, and tell me things I didn’t already know. They’re pretty cool guys.

So anyway, now we’re back in the hotel room. Andy is boring Rob to death (near as I can tell, Rob’s desperately trying to suffocate himself by lying face-first into the mattress) with the most recent installment of the History Channel’s “Revolution” series, and I did promise Rob that I’d let him check his email.

Til next time!

Tags: food, trains

Maryland & Washington, D.C.

Today we headed out to Six Flags D.C. 

Well… actually, it took us almost 2 hours to leave the hotel room and another 3+ to show up at the theme park in Maryland, due to various factors, including: 3 people + 1 bathroom = slow morning, trying to find a breakfast cafe, finding the right metro, spending 30+minutes riding said Metro, finding the right bus, waiting nearly an hour for said bus, riding 1+ hour on said bus, walking up the car entranceway to the themepark gates, and so on… as usual, an adventure.

The breakfast cafe was a little bizarre… Andy ordered milk. They asked, “Chocolate milk?” No, he wanted plain milk. Well, there was a 50 cent surcharge for chococlate-less milk. (Did we have “tourist” stamped on our foreheads or what?) Next, they asked us if we wanted to eat outside. “Yes!” we answer emphatically. It took a while for us to realize that just because they *asked* where we planned to eat, didn’t mean *they* planned to bring it out to us. Live and learn.

Six Flags was lots of fun (once we finally showed up) because the park was nearly empty and we got to do everything we wanted, in many cases multiple times. Rob and I rode all the coasters pictured here, both Andy and Rob consumed vast quantities of Dippin’ Dots, and all three of us watched the suprisingly funny wild west show.

We left early and headed back to the hotel, where the boys watched some T.V. (but not the Speaker of the House, as Andy initially wanted) and I turned on my laptop to get some work done.

Tomorrow we’re off again!

Tags: food, lost, theme parks

Washington, D.C.

Our 9 day adventure begins! My younger brothers and I are off…

05:00 Wakey, wakey!

Joy of joys, we got to wake up at 5am this morning. Well, most of us did. Everyone except Andy. He was already up – he had to work the night shift and technically was supposed to be there until 6… but he cut out at breaktime so he could come home and join the fun.

06:00 On the road

We piled into the van – my brothers (Andy & Rob), my parents, and I, and we hit the road for Chicago.

07:00 Chicago Skyway

Because the Dan Ryan Expressway was under construction, we had to use some creative avoidance tactics.

08:00 Midway Airport

We arrived about 4 hours early (yikes!) and discovered that the food court was past the security check-in, so my parents (who, like us, had not yet breakfasted) had to turn around and go home without eating with us.

09:00 Haray Carey’s

Andy, Rob and I grabbed some grub at Haray Carey’s. I opted to drink water instead of coffee, planning to hit Starbucks after we ate.

10:00 Waiting at the Terminal

At Starbucks, Andy and Rob ordered the Chocolate Creme Frappucinos and I ordered a Caramel Latte. They were out of both Chocolate and Caramel, which meant *we* were out of luck. We plopped into some seats at the terminal next to an outlet, so I could plug in my laptop and get some work done. Some guy walked by and gave me a hard time about it, but it was all in hillbonics, so we’re not really sure what he said. <>

11:00 – 14:00 Plane

The plane ride was much less eventful than I had feared, except for the landing, which freaked out not only the passengers but also the flight crew and the pilot himself, who joked, “Well!… *That* was easy.” when we clattered onto the runway.

14:00-19:00 Intro to D.C.

We find our hotel (the Beacon, on 17th street, walking distance from the White House) and wander around the city, checking out the White House, the Washington Monument, and the World War II Memorial. We also ate some pizza at Uno’s (a D.C. staple… hahaha) We ordered the Muchos Nachos appetizer (which, when they say muchos, they’re not kidding) not realizing it came with meat. Even though it was completely our fault (for being illiterate and not reading the menu more closely) they ran right back and whipped up a veggie version. We were stuffed before the pizza even came.

ANDY QUOTE: “Well, so far this vacation is turning out terrible. Too many nachos!!!”

20:00-23:30 D.C. Night Tour

We left Union Station for a 3+ hour night tour and it turned out to be a great time. Our tour guide was animated and knowledgeable and we only got lost once. (”We” meaning Andy, Rob and I, not the tour guide. He was a D.C. native who’d given these tours twice a week for 21 years.)

Tags: airplanes, airports, food, lost

Brussels, Belgium

Today we went about Brussels, sightseeing. We saw the Eglise Notre-Dame du Finistere aka De Onze-Lieve-Vrouw ter Finisterrae Kerk aka “Notre Dame du Finistere” church, then the Theatre Royal de la Monnaie aka Koninklijke Muntschouwburg (yes, both are written in large gold letters between the frieze and the columns) and we ate lunch at the Bamboo Fleur restaurant. (We actually tried to eat in an Indian restaurant, of which there were many, but they were invariably “closed”. Quotes because there were no posted hours, and it was lunchtime. Who knows.)

We tooled around the Grand Place until it was time for Venkat and Anjali to get off work, and then we drove around with them. The car sightseeing was a bit limited since the main streets were closed down due to a hostage situation, (!!!) but hey. Flexibility is a life skill. =)

Tags: cathedrals, food, theatre & shows

Paris, France

I picked Bri up at the airport. He didn’t look nearly as freaked out as I’d feared, which was a good thing. We zipped by the hotel to dump his luggage off, and set out to go sight-seeing.

First, we walked across the Seine River. It was a gorgeous day out, so the pictures turned out really nice. Oh, and that’s the other thing… my camera died during the travels, so Bri bought a new one and brought it with him. Yay! Digital photos rule!

Next we checked out Notre Dame. I had been by several times, but hadn’t been inside yet. There was a hellacious line, but the church was super pretty. There was also some resoration going on, so I’m interested to go back in a year or so and see what they updated.

Next we went by St. Severin, which is old and gothicky and very cool looking. We strolled by the Pantheon and saw a little outdoor cafe, where we sat down for some scrumptious galettes. They’re delish, but a little hard to explain. Imagine a plate-sized Hot Pocket made out of large, square crepes and sealed on all sides. Mine had eggs and cheese. Bri’s had bacon, I think. Something meaty. Dunno.

Afterwards, we hung out in the Luxembourg Gardens, which are really pretty. It’s full of green, green grass, and statues and flowers and fountains and round little bush-trees, and a big palace. There’s also a big fountain with a pool the size of an arena football field, and little kids played with miniature sailboats in the water.

Then we just walked around, taking in the sights and enjoying the general Parisian vibe. Bliss.

Tags: cathedrals, food

Amsterdam, Holland, The Netherlands to Vienna, Austria

I get up and head out. Venkat and I walk to the tram, take the tram to the Metro, and the Metro to the train station. All of this took maybe 10 minutes, so we possibly could have walked, but what’s the fun in that?

Venkat heads to work, and I head to the train station. For some reason, I decided that I’d buy my Amsterdam ticket to save a Eurail slot (I only get 15). So we go to the ticket counter, and the guy asks “26 or under?” “Um, sure,” I respond craftily. He sells me the ticket for $20. I had already purchased a reservation for $10 when I had planned to use the Eurail, but this was still less than the 50 Euro price. Of course, once I got on the train, they checked my passport, and busted me for being over 26, so I had to pay the difference, which was 35 Euros. So I screwed myself out of 10 Euros. And then later that night, as I was leaving Amsterdam, I realized I had to use today as one of my days anyway on my Eurail ticket, so I should have just kept my original Eurail reservation to start out with. So I actually screwed myself out of 50 Euros. All of which leads to the moral of the story: Don’t try to cheat the system. The system is Master. I did not win.

So anyway, I’m on the train to Amsterdam, and I forget what I said to the woman next to me, but I must’ve startled her by speaking, because she jumped about a mile. In doing so, I noticed she was clutching a long strand of dark brown, wooden beads. I wonder if they were religious and I caught her mid-prayer?

Today I’m wearing my “Toro Beso” shirt, featuring a (cartoon) bull kissing a cow. Naturally, I start to overanalyze it. The toro is black (as one might expect) and the cow is black and white spotted (also as one might expect.) However. Kristin, who lives on a milk farm and therefore ought to know about such things, told me that the color represents the type of cow, meaning that there are all-black cows and bulls that are black-and-white spotted, and that generally like sticks with like. In other words, my cow and toro are doin’ the mixed-race thang, which is funny (for me) on many levels.

Sooner or later, the train arrives and I discontinue contemplating the jungle fever of spanish cows. I detrain (or whatever the rail word for “deplane” is) and immediately head off in search of the Monday Morning Market, which I learned about from the lady next to me on the train. (And with whom I did *not* share my cow musings, else she might have strangled me with the prayer beads.)

First, let me give you some background info. Relevant, I swear. If you know nothing about the topography of Amsterdam (much like myself before I showed up on the train) then what you ought to realize is this.

Amsterdam is mostly water.

It is a city lined along the banks of several horseshoe-shaped canals, each nestled inside the other, so that the outermost canal is very long indeed. The train station is in the middle of this Chinese box. The market is on the outermost canal. Luckily, it is possible to weave your way across the canals through a series of (unconnected) bridges.

Amsterdam is also singular because for every person you see, you see at least twenty bikes. There were multi-level parking garages, all of which were packed with bikes. 10-speed type bikes, not motorcycles.

Each traffic light has a car light, a pedestrial light, and a bike light. The bridges are lined with bikes. The lamps and signposts are tethered with bikes. The streets are strewn with bikes. And you’re likely to get taken down when crossing the street if you don’t keep your eye on the bike lane. It’s absolutely crazy, but in a very cool way.

So anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the market. I was directed to the right location by a very nice gentleman sporting dreadlocks and the traditional Amsterdam Scent. He said he was on his way there himself and I would be welcome to follow him. He made it about three blocks before stopping by the canal for a smoke break (yes, a “smoke break”) but by that point, I could see the next bridge and the market across the water, so I went on ahead.

The market was very cool. The first part was ultra flea-market-esque. My mom would’ve really liked it because most of the tents were true flea market material. (In her words, “I want to see other people’s junk, not tables of beanie babies.”)

Toward the other side were tents with food. I don’t know what it was that I ate, but it was a hot, fresh, bread-ish thing, and very tasty. (I didn’t recognize anything in any tent, but as long as it was vegetarian, I was game to try it. Although, with the pastry, they asked me if I preferred hot sauce only, or sweet and sour sauce (???) and they stared at me like I didn’t know good eats when I said, “Um… neither?”

Next, I went to the Anne Frank house. There was a sign posting “No Bags Allowed”, so I couldn’t go in since I was backpacking. I probably wouldn’t have made it in anyway, since the line wrapped down the block, turned the corner, and kept on going. (I’m told this is the usual way of it.)

Next I went by the Westerkirk Church. I am assuming “kirk” means “church”, since I think “kirsche” means chirch in German. But who knows.

Besides lots of signs for Heineken, Amstel, and various herbal cafes (including the “Energy” cafe, which at first seemed to be a bit of an oxymoron, until I learned that in addition to the usual marijuana options, they also served their own brand of energy drink, and for this reason posted a large sign with a can of Red Bull in an red circle with a line through it.)

Anyway, in addition to all this, I noticed that Amsterdam was very gay and lesbian friendly. Many European cities are gay and lesbian friendly, which is nice, but Amsterdam *especially*. There were souvenir kiosks that catered to this demographic, and lots of streets with buildings titled things like “Hotel Rainbow Palace”.

Speaking of palaces, I did see the Palais in Amsterdam as well as the Nieuwe Kirk, and the National Monument, Waag, and Mme Tussauds. I also saw a cop cruise by on a bike. Not a motorcycle, as I mentioned, but your ordinary, pedal-pumping bike. I actually never saw any cops *not* on bikes… none on foot and none in cars.

A public restroom was very difficult to locate, and I ended up banking on KFC on the supposition that all American fast food chains have bathrooms. I was not disappointed. (Where else can teenagers express their angst in magic marker graffiti?) This bathroom cost 50 cents and I had to check my bag before I could go in. Shockingly (although pleasingly) this just might be the nicest and cleanest bathroom of my European experience thus far.

After this little side trip, I wandered around some more, and came across a tall, old church. Only in Amsterdam would the other side of the street contain a coffee shop and a sex shop, side by side, facing the church. (I guess that makes it more convenient. Head into the sex shop, and when you wake up the next morning, stumble next door for some coffee, then across the street to repent your wicked ways.)

Back to the bathrooms. (I apologize for all the toilet talk in this particular post.) Near this church is also where I came across a guy urinating in the street. I couldn’t exactly see him (although I could unfortunately smell him) because he was inside some kind of spiral shaped metal wall. The wall extended from about knee level to shoulder level–covering the necessities, I suppose–and the opening overlapped enough that you wouldn’t accidently glimpse the genitalia of the person inside. From the nonchalant way other people were standing around (and from the smell of the street) I can only assume he really was supposed to be peeing on the sidewalk, and that that is what the metal circle was for.

Another thing I noticed about Amsterdam (I swear this has nothing to do with bodily functions) is that in general, prices are not posted. When cruising past a souvenir stand, if I see a postcard I like, I have to go in and specifically ask. Likewise with the Internet cafe and anything else.

I ducked into a soup kitchen and ordered some soup. They asked if I preferred white or brown bread (brown) and if I wanted butter or pesto (um…pesto?) and then they served up a steamy cup of spinach soup, but not before putting a healthy scoopful of tomato soup in the middle of it. It turned out to be really good, although halfway through the soup I felt my cheeks and forehead heating up (sigh… add pesto to my ever-growing list of food sensitivities.)

So I headed on down the street and decided what I really needed was some coffee. I go into a coffee shop and order a caramel mocha. The guy behind the counter says, “Where are you from?” “Florida,” I answer. He then says, “You don’t look like you’re from the States. Your eyes are like chocolate and your skin is like caramel. I can’t look at you too much or I’ll want to eat you.” I bared my teeth in a smile, said, “We’re all colors there,” and asked, “How much is the coffee?” Two other women came in shortly after, and as soon as his attention was diverted, I escaped.

Amsterdam, I might add, is not as fashion forward as France, for example. I saw many bizarre outfits such as jean miniskirts with moon boots. (Guess they didn’t go out with the 80s here) or knee-high fur boots complete with furball tassels (???) and lots of clunky cowboy boots with otherwise trendy dresses. (Also not having died with the 80s here is the colored mascara. I saw many a woman with bright blue eyelashes. And like in France and Spain, Manic Panic is making a mint–women of all ages sport hair in unnatural shades, especially cherry, magenta, rust, and grape.) I later met someone from Holland who said you can always tell an American because he’s wearing tennis shoes, rather than some flavor of boot.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re asking yourself, “So what do they speak in Holland? Hollandaise?” No, my friend! What they speak is Dutch. And I don’t understand a word of it. The same guy who informed me about the boots also said, “In Amsterdam, we don’t say ‘Cheers’. We say, ‘Cheese’.” Or something like that. I told you I can’t understand Dutch.

I sat on the waist-high stone bank of a sidewalk flower bed for about an hour, trying to will my cell phone to work (no luck, then or ever) and pretending I could feel the sun on my (idiotically) bare legs. Naturally, Florida girl only packed one pair of khakis and loaded the rest of her suitcase with shorts. It’s August! How can people live in a country that’s cold in August???

All that sitting around (and failed mind-control) worked up an appetite. I have no idea what they eat in Amsterdam, so I slipped into an Indian restaurant. (No, I don’t think Amsterdam is in India. I just like the food.)

The waiter came up to me with a huge grin, and I was immediately wary. “Let me guess,” he says, and closes his eyes. “You are from… Florida. And your name… starts with… an E.”

Humph. As if I didn’t know that i’m lugging around a bright blue bag with a name tag the size of Texas. Single women, beware. Amsterdam men live to flirt. And they’re not very clever at it.

Once again, I flash a tolerant smile (which kills him–he’s dying for me to ask how he knows, and I’m not even going to mention it) and I order the vegi biryani.

Every time I bit into a white raisin, it surprised me. It was kind of funny. Mine also had maybe cashews or almonds in it. I’m not sure because I’m not very nutty (no comments please) so I admit I ate around those bits. I know, I know, vegetable biryani clearly indicates that I fell off my “I’ll only eat European food in Europe” high horse. What can I say. It was next door to Tio Pepe’s Mexican Restaurant, but I wasn’t too sure about Mexican food in Holland. This place at least had employees that could conceivably be from India. Plus the meal came with free aloo mater. What more could you ask for?

So that night I take the train to Vienna. The train station bathroom costs 50 cents (here I go again with my bathroom diatribes) and there was a man in it, which confused me. Come to find out, he was manning the station, which at the time I found to be odd. (But, as my travels continued, I realized this was the norm.) This is also where I got yelled at for my shoddy German. “Sprechen sie Englisch?” I asked, wanting to find out what he was doing in the ladies room. “No, I don’t speak English!” he screams at me in rapid-fire German. “If you want to speak English, go to England!” He glares, then adds, “Or America!” as if it’s some horrible insult beyond all imagining. “You are here, and here we speak German! So speak German!” At this point, he stops to catch his breath, red-faced, hands on hips.

“Um, okay,” I answer brilliantly. “Uh… danke.”

Tags: cathedrals, fashion, food, random facts & history, shopping, trains, travel tips

Paris, France to Brussels, Belgium

We checked out of the hotel and made it to the Metro with all our luggage. Some guy helped me get my suitcase on board, which I thought was nice at the time. (FORESHADOWING!!) Danielle’s train station was the stop before mine, so we hugged goodbye and she went on her way.

When my stop came, that guy from before materialized from out of nowhere. I thought he was just carying on with the Good Samaritan bit, but that is because I am slow to catch on.

He had actually decided to turn stalker, and followed me through my subsequent metro connections all the way into the train station. Since my departure was much later than Danielle’s, I had a little over three hours to kill. When he plopped down on the bench next to me and grinned, I was more than a little creeped out. He wrote down his address and phone number and told me to come over (which was both creepy and bizarre, since clearly I was getting ready to leave on a train) but when he asked if he could take my photograph, I had had enough.

I sprang up and went to the ticket counter and exchanged my ticket for the very next train out of there. They were really nice about it and let me exchange free of charge. I knew Venkat and Anjali weren’t expecting me for another 3 hours, but by this time, I decided I’d rather wait for them in Brussels by myself rather than sit here getting photographed by this weirdo.

So, I make the next train (one leaves every hour for Brussels) and as soon as I land, I call Venkat and Anjali, who luckily were not far away. Boy was I ever glad to see them! They had found a great parking spot on the curb, and we threw my luggage inside, then walked over to the market, where I ate a… well, I forgot what it’s called, but it was surprisingly good, considering it was a naan-like bread filled with feta and honey. (Venkat’s also contained olives.)

We went to their apartment next, which is really nice, with big rooms. Anjali said I could leave my shoes in the hall and I must have made a weird face, because she quickly added, “but you don’t have to.”

“It’s not that,” I was forced to admit. “It’s that I’m wearing the same psychedelic socks I used for my Evil Clown costume last Guavaween and I didn’t want you to see them.”

We snacked on some leftovers (they have the best leftovers in the world. I would eat nothing but leftovers if my leftovers were anything like theirs.) and then set out to walk about town. I saw the Palais de Justice and a WWI/WWII monument. We walked by the atomium, the music conservatory, the Parc du Bruxelles in front of the Royal Palace, and the Eglise Notre Dame du Sablon.

I saw the Museum of Musical instruments, whose building looked so cool that I totally want to go back and explore. The Palais des Congress has a clock tower, which plays a different song every 15 minutes. I saw a lot of Tin-Tin memorabilia and comic books, as well as some for Betty Boop, although I’m not sure why she was so popular.

Brussels is known for more than beer and chocolate (and sprouts)–they are also known for eating fries witih mayo, and mussels in a pot, neither of which I sampled.

I *did* gobble up a waffle, of course, and it was topped with strawberries, bananas, and chocolate. Venkat tells me that’s tourist-style, but all the same, it was delicious.

And, in case you’ve always wondered, Brussels actually has three official city names. Brussel (Flemish), Bruxelles (French), and Brussels (English).

I also felt the golden lady from head to toe, which is supposed to bring good luck. There were a ton of people crowded around the statue, so it must work. I forgot to ask Venkat what the story is behind that, sorry.

I also saw the infamous Mannekin Pis, and Venkat took a classic photo for me. Then we stopped for drinks. Brussels has eating tables and drinking tables. (We sat at drinking tables.) You can tell the difference because drinking tables don’t come with menus. Also–at the drinking tables, at least–you are expected to pay for each round as you go.

Tags: cathedrals, food, museums, trains, travel tips

Paris, France

We began the day with a Paris city tour. Paris was founded by a Celtic tribe, and nowadays has a population of two million within the city limits, 11 million when counting the outskirts. Paris alone is 1/5 of France’s entire population.

Paris has 20 districts. The streets are generally wide avenues lined with trees. There are no big parks in the city, but there are two large parks just outside the city. Like Spain, menu prices are less expensive when seated at the bar than at tables.

At stops for loading/unloading passengers, tour buses kill the engine (and therefore the A/C). This isn’t to torture tourists–this is because there are strict anti-pollution laws, and if they don’t turn off the bus, they will get a ticket.

First I saw a Russian cathedral, then Montmartre which is called the Mount of Martyrs because of the legend of a Paris bishop who was beheaded here by Romans.

Next, I got to see Sacre Coeur, and although I didn’t go inside (I plan to do so later) it is beautiful on the outside.

Nearby, there is a square packed with vendors of all types (and, I’m warned, pickpockets) and their in-you-face hustle reminded me of Morocco. (Luckily, this was the only place in Paris that struck me this way.)

Paris is seperated by the river Seine and the people on each side are distinct, with their own different customs. We went down Rue de la Paix, an expensive strip, and Rue Saint Honore, and saw a statue of Napoleon. We also saw the Latin Quarter, and the Roman baths, which have pools of different temperatures (really hot, warm, and ice cold. M. Saint Michel, if you’re interested.)

I learned that the Louvre was a fortress in the 12th century, and that Notre Dame is the center of the city. This is also where Napoleon crowned himself emporer in 1804. I also learned that Notre Dame used to be colorful, with bright blues and reds. It would have been neat to see it in its original condition.

Place de la Concorde is the square where in 1793, Marie Antoinette was beheaded. At the time, it was known as Revolution Square.

We went by a 3000 year old Egyptian tower, then Invalides, then went to the Arc de Triomphe (me, for the second time). This is the biggest arc in the world. This area is also known as Star Square, because the streets intersect like an asterisk, with the Arc de Triomphe on a roundabout in the center. One of the friezes is of Napoleon dressed in Roman gear. In the middle of the arc lies the tomb of the unknown soldier from WWI, with its eternal flame.

Next we got to see the Eiffel tower. It was built out of iron in 1889 and at the time was the biggest monument in the world. People who lived nearby began moving away because they were afraid it would topple over.

The girls and I sat on a bench with a view of the tower and noshed on some crepes. It was the first surreal moment I’ve had since I left the U.S. Just standing in the sunlight, warm chocolate crepe in my hand, Eiffel tower towering in front of me. Sunlight for a moment, anyway–then the sky opened up and the rain came. Apparently, it’s not unusual for Paris to rain every afternoon.

That night, we dressed up and went back on the town for a night tour, to be followed by an evening performance of the Moulin Rouge cabaret.

We saw the statue of Napoleon as Caesar, and the square with the Ritz, next to the Ministry of Justice. We went by Cartier (a place to window shop for jewels) and the Paris Opera House, built in 1860. We went by the Louvre, whose modern art glass pyramid structure is comprised of 85 tons of steel. An interesting fact: the surface area of the Louvre is greater than that of the Vatican.

We went by Le Port Neuf (The New Bridge) which, in fact, is actually the old bridge–the oldest one in Paris. It used to be said that the bridge was so crowded, that on any given crossing, you were bound to run into a monk, a white horse, and a loose woman.

We went by the contemporary arts building, city hall, the Institut de France, the Latin Quarter, and of course Notre Dame. (No, not the one in South Bend, IN. The one from the 12th century, with the rose windows and bell tower.)

Next we hit the Place de la Concorde, which is one of the largest squares in the world. Its fountains were inspired by those in St. Peter’s square in Rome.

Then we rolled down Champs Elysees, which was the product of Louis XIV’s designer, who also created the gardens at Versailles. Here you’ll find the Grande Palais and the Petite Palais, as well as the oldest Metro station. The Paris Metro was begun on October 4, 1898 (two days after my birthday… if I were 107 years old. Which I’m not.) The Paris Metro runs three times the circumference of the Earth, every single day.

Champs Elysees is also the street with Fouquets, the oldest restaurant in Paris, where movie stars are often seen (and the menu prices prove it). We passed the Arc de Triomphe again, and I was amused to find out it exists out of luck–Napoleon had originally wanted to build a giant elephant instead. (And if Parisians could talk Napoleon Bonaparte out of an elephant, why oh why could no one talk George Lucas out of Jar Jar Binks???) The Arc de Triomphe was inaugerated on July 29, 1836–30 years after construction began. Napoleon was buried nearby in Les Invalides, also near the Church of Glory. (Magdalene/Madeleine)

The Eiffel Tower was created much like a giant puzzle, and the last piece clicked into place on February 24, 1889, and not to rave reviews. Besides the fact that everyone was sure it would collapse on their houses at the slightest provocation, it was also higher than Notre Dame, which made it unclerical as well.

Moulin Rouge. How can I describe it? The best I can do is this: The Moulin Rouge is Broadway meets Cirque du Soleil. But topless.

An overabundance of champagne was served at every table, the costumes were amazing, acts included strong-man type acrobatics and awoman diving into a tank with a boa constrictor, and dancing–of course!–included the famous French can-can.

Tags: cathedrals, food, museums, random facts & history, shopping, theatre & shows, travel tips

Madrid, Spain to Paris, France

I woke up, did my last load of laundry for a while, packed my bags, and boarded the bus for the airport. At the airport, my bags were too heavy, so I had to pay a fee, but what do you do when you’ve got all your stuff with you and you’re on your way to Paris.

Our flight took off about 40 minutes late, so we arrived a good half hour after planned. We picked up our luggage and bussed to our hotel: Novotel in La Defense, the very last stop on metro line yellow one, and (we were to learn later) technically not within Paris proper.

The first adventure of the day was discovering that I had someone I didn’t know for a roomate, and that the hotel rooms had a single king size bed, so we would be sharing.

I found Alison, and we were starving since the airline didn’t serve vegetarian meals, so we headed out to find some grub.

We took the Metro, and ended up next to a mother and her daughter. The little girl asked us, “Are you Americans?” and before we could answer, the mother said, “Isn’t it obvious?” (!!!)

Ali and I got off the Metro at the CDG exit (not the airport, but the exit) and when we walked up the stairs to street level, we were instantly rewarded with a view of the Arc de Triomphe. We walked around looking for a cafe, and we ran into Bryan, Paula, and Lindsay. (Weird how I keep running into people I know in such large cities. I *never* randomly run into people I know back in Tampa!)

We found a cafe and ordered some food and some water. We downed the first carafe in no time, and I taught Alison how to say “more water, please” so she could ask for it when the waiter returned. (She cracked me up by repeating it over and over.)

Once we sated our hunger a bit (I got salad and 4 fresh cheeses, none of which I recognized, all of which were good) we explored the Arc de Triomphe and had fun trying to find the perfect spot for a photograph.

All this photography worked up an appetite (yes, *again*) and we realized what we REALLY needed were some crepes. We found outdoor seating at a cafe on Champs Elysees and ordered up the most delicious crepes I’ve ever had. They were topped with ice cream and chocolate syrup! (Probably Nutella–Paris is huge on Nutella.)

Something funny: there are lots of ads in the metro stops for McDonald’s, but here it’s called McDo.

Tags: airplanes, airports, food