London Blog IV

This weekend marked the halfway point of my time here in Europe. It’s strange to think that in only a matter of three weeks I can feel like I’ve been here for ages. This place has gotten so familiar that when I was in Paris this weekend, I found myself saying things like “When we get back home…I mean to London…” It’s nice, if nothing else, to feel settled and not quite so out of place anymore, though I have to say people still have a surprisingly easy time picking me out as an American. Nothing short of mysterious, that.

            As I have already given away, this past weekend was spent outside the borders of the UK, but before I get to that, I feel obligated to at least mention the pile of rocks I saw in Salisbury. Stonehenge, as we are all aware, is a prime hang out spot for aliens, but unless they had cleverly disguised themselves as sheep, I was sorely disappointed that I didn’t see any. The way the wind was blowing, however, I wouldn’t have been surprised if the mothership had come in for a landing. In all seriousness, though, it was pretty amazing to stand in the presence of that place that has both fascinated and confounded people for thousands of years. It’s still hard to conceptualize how an ancient civilization could manage to stack 50 ton stones on top of one another with none of the hydraulics or cranes we have today in such an evident design, but however they did it, they knew how to leave an impression. The only other thing of note that I saw that day was the cathedral at Salisbury which I will not try to describe but rather let you look at the pictures if you so desire. As I am discovering with each new cathedral I see, written descriptions can do little in comparison with the experience of walking through and feeling the magnitude of the architecture and seeing the intricacy of stonework and stained glass in person. For anyone who is experienced in cathedral-viewing, maybe you will understand what I’m talking about.

            In a little less than 5 hours after this, I was on a bus headed for the City of Love; a journey, I might add, that was unexpectedly delayed for 4 hours at the port of Dover due to a certain bus driver that proved less than competent and was the object of no small hate group by the trip’s end, but why dwell on the unpleasant part of an otherwise amazing trip? Upon arriving in Paris, we were unable to check into our hotel, so we decided to hit the ground running and visit the nearest site of interest: the Sacre Coeur. Sitting on top of a sizable hill, this church was nothing short of massive in every way. Even compared to the many cathedrals I had seen up to that point, the Sacre Coeur had a certain immensity about it that was breathtaking. This was also the first good view I got of the city as a whole, but it would pale in comparison to where I went next, just a few Metro stops away. The Arc de Triomphe stands in the middle of a huge roundabout (with absolutely crazy drivers) and affords an amazing view of Paris from the top. Conceptually, it might be difficult to understand how an arc is meant to inspire awe and flaunt strength in the wake of conquest, but seeing it in person left no question in my mind. It was here that I also caught my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower, but it was later that night that I would really enjoy the full effect of France’s most iconic structure.

            Timing it so we arrived at sunset, our group took pictures and ate crepes in the green space just adjacent to the tower and waited for the top of the hour when a light show of sorts takes place for about 6 minutes. Being there, standing beside and walking under the object of so much art, culture, and history was nothing sort of surreal. I mean, this wasn’t a model or replica you find in Las Vegas; this was THE Eiffel Tower right in front of me, cutting through the oranges and blues of a beautiful sunset over Paris and leaving me no choice but to gawk in my sad little romantic fascination. I could go on and on about that night, about the lights, the people, and even the air that seemed to be completely permeated by an overwhelming sense that this place was sacred in some way, not perhaps in the way one typically thinks of the word, but in the sense that we all knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that this was the only place on earth that this experience we were all having together was possible, resting in a place and on a history that is momentously, entrancingly, and entirely unique, but I will spare you the pages that that effusion would entail. Suffice it to say that that night, my first night spent in the presence of the Eiffel Tower, was undoubtedly one of the most unforgettable experiences of my trip thus far.

            Next on the itinerary was to visit the Louvre, which I must say blew me away if for no other reason than its sheer size. This place was enormous to the point of being obnoxious. If I were to really try and see everything there was to see there, I would need nothing less than an entire week devoted to nothing else. Seeing as I only had a few hours, however, I contented myself to see some of the more prominent points of interest including the Mona Lisa, Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, and of course the inverted pyramid where Mary Magdalene is buried (shout out to all my DaVinci Code fans out there). I was humbled to be able to see some of the most influential and respected works of art we have today, but I know my own limited knowledge of things artistic did the pieces I saw egregious injustice, though I hope having the decency to admit this at least counts for something.

            Moving right along, I got to see the Inception bridge (the one Juno makes with the mirrors…you know what I’m talking about) as I made my way to the next destination, a little place called Notre Dame. Here, again, I will concede to let my pictures try to convey what my words would only flounder at, but I will say the stained glass there was probably the most impressive I have seen thus far. Something most people probably do not know about Notre Dame unless they have been there is that there is a clump of bushes just outside the cathedral that serves as a home for hundreds of little birds that will eat bread out of your hand if you offer it to them. I am sorry to report that the birds didn’t find me very inviting when I tried to do this, but several other people had flocks going for them. Just across the way from there was one of the “bridges of love” which are easily recognizable by the thousands of locks that are attached to their railings and sides. Basically, you and your boo get a lock and write your names on it, attach it to the bridge and then throw the keys in the river below. Only in Paris, right?

            The other famous places I visited I only got to see from the outside, but they included the Paris Opera House and the Moulin Rouge. I would have loved the chance to go in and hang with the Phantom or chill with Nicole Kidman, but unfortunately it was not so. Maybe if I ever make it back to France I’ll pay the 175 euro cover charge and see what a night in the Moulin Rouge is really like. My time in Paris concluded with a meal of legendary proportions, marking the end of two very full, but very rewarding days.

            Ok, I’m almost done, I promise; this is what I get for procrastinating. Last night, I can sum up my experience in three words: The Globe Theatre. Just so everyone’s on the same page, the Globe is the theater in which Shakespeare used to perform his plays back in the day. The stage is like a small arena with seats encircling the actors in three levels and a space in front of the stage for standing audience members. There is no ceiling, so you keep your fingers crossed that the weather stays favorable throughout the performance, which it did in our case apart from being quite chilly. The performance we saw was Henry V, which is perhaps most famous for the St. Crispin’s Day speech from which the phrase “Band of Brothers” came. Following intermission, I joined the standing crowd on the floor and got to watch the remainder of the play only feet from the actors which was well worth standing for. The play concluded with a full-on jig performed by the entire cast, and I have to say it was pretty ballin’. I didn’t bring my camera, however, so I don’t have any pictures as of yet, but I plan to go back and snap a few for posterity’s sake. I’ll sum up my last experience in a series of words or phrases that may or may not have syntax or coherency, but hopefully will convey what I got to see without drawing out this blog any longer than it already is. Ok, here we go. Westminster Abbey, tombs of Chaucer, Dickens, Wordsworth, Longfellow, Keats, Shelly, and so many more significant literary figures in Poet’s Corner, hundreds of shrines to buried monarchs and nobility, Britain’s oldest door, tomb of Sir Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin. Also, illegal pictures of some of the above mentioned artifacts, but don’t tell anyone. All right, that’s it for now, but seeing as I am headed to Scotland and Ireland tomorrow, I feel that I will have more to tell you about in the near future.