(Due to what I can only assume was some kind of temporal leak over the Prime Meridian, my semester in London is already (mostly) over. I don´t really understand why, after 16 years in the public school system, I am still flabbergasted when finals happen, but I always am. So, I have a couple London posts that fell by the wayside the last month of
utter panic finals and papers that I´m going to put up when I get back to the UK. For now, here´s a travel blog.)
So! The semester and internship taken care of, I put on my travel hat and am jetting around Europe. I found a computer that doesn´t charge a dollar for every 30 minutes so I can put up some stuff about the trip so far.
Drawbacks: I don´t have my laptop´s drawing program (no pun intended). This computer does have MS paint though so here is a pretty jank picture of what a travel hat looks like.
Because I knew you were curious.
Also I cannot find the real apostrophe on this Spanish keyboard so I´m making due with whatever this thing is ´. Other interesting things on this keyboard include Ñ, which I understand, and Ç, which I have no idea what it is or what it´s for. Probably pagan rituals. Whatever.
We hit Amsterdam last Friday, and I know that the Amsterdam stereotype is that it´s full of legal drugs and prostitution (in a strangely poignant twist, the red light district is a street that circles around a giant cathedral), but to say Amsterdam is just for drugs and prostitution is really selling the town short. It also has pedal saloons, which are exactly what they sound like.
Probably Mars.
Actually though, if I had to sum up Amsterdam in two words I don´t think it would be ´´pedal saloons´´, it would be ´´bicycle audobon,´´ because there are more bikes than cars and the operating rule appears to be pick whatever paved surface you want and then go as fast as possible. Cars will stop for you in Amsterdam. Bicycles will not.
Also, it´s not easy to tell the difference between roads, sidewalks and bike lanes because they´re all made out of the same brick. The longest five minutes of my life was on the way to the Van Gough museum when we managed to lose the sidewalk and found ourselves in a two-lane highway flanked by ´´fast lanes´´ for bicycles. Really, at that point, it was just a matter of choosing HOW we wanted to die.
After Amsterdam came Paris, which was intimidating for an entirely different reason--they really prefer it if you speak French rather than English, and the only person who knew French with us was Andie, who stopped taking it in High School. She was a peach overall, but there were definitely some moments of struggle, like when we were trying to find the Catacombs. What we meant to say: ´´We are looking for the place where the people are buried underground in a museum. Can we get tickets here?´´
Me, unhelpfully: ´´You know, they´re dead INSIDE the walls.´´
Unfortunately we have to catch a bus to the airport so I can´t write any more right now, but hopefully I´ll find a computer somewhere in Italy. At that point I´d have to put my bowl of pasta down, though, so we´ll see. Later, folks! Rome awaits!
-E
