SNOWPOCALYPSE: The Epic Saga, Part 1

So as you all, I'm sure, know by now-- I am not home, though I should have been on Saturday night.  This is due to the fact that the English are incapable of dealing with FOUR INCHES of snow.  That's right-- four inches of snow completely shut down Europe's largest and most important airport for three days, and resulted in over a week's worth (probably way more) of canceled, delayed, and generally screwed-up flights.  Way to go, Heathrow, way to go.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.  My epic disaster of a journey began in Bath.  Get comfy, make yourself a cup of tea-- this is a rather long story.

I woke up at 7:30 am to the sound of my housemate yelling that the taxi that she and a few of my other housemates were taking was not going to show up, and that they would have to walk to the train station.  I was initially quite displeased to be woken up so early, but then it hit me-- something is wrong with transportation.  Transportation which I need to get to my flight and then get home.  I bolted out of bed and looked out of the window-- yep, four inches of lovely snow blanketing everything.  I grabbed my computer and checked on my flight-- all flights out of Heathrow between 10 am and 5 pm were canceled, but my flight was at 5:30, which meant that it would either make it out, or just get canceled-- but in any case, I still had to make it to the airport, because on the off chance that my flight took off, I had to be there (in retrospect-- I really wish it had just been canceled right away).

My initial plan for getting to the airport was to take a taxi from Bath to Bristol, where I had booked a 12 pm coach traveling to Heathrow airport.  But after spending an hour and a half trying to get in touch with every taxi service in Bath, no companies were willing to send drivers out of the city, and only one was even operating within Bath, and with no advanced bookings.  This made me start to panic.  I tried to get a coach from Bath to Bristol-- no luck.  I finally booked a train ticket to Bristol, which was the last thing that I had wanted to do, since I had no idea how I was going to get my 150 lbs of luggage (in three suitcases) up the stairs, onto the train, off the train, down the stairs, and into a cab.  But I had no choice.  10:00 rolls around, and I called the cab company to get a taxi to the train station.  No good.  They have no drivers available.  I realize that I have to start walking.

Thank goodness, one housemate, Alex, was left in the house.  He didn't have to leave the city until later in the afternoon, and when he heard my panicking, offered to help me get my stuff to the train.  I honestly don't know what I would have done without him-- he literally carried 100 lbs of luggage for twenty minutes through snow-covered streets, up the train station stairs, and put me onto the train.  He was a life saver.  And during my short journey from the train, through the Bristol train station to the taxi queue, I had to rely on the kindness of another five strangers who offered to help me with a bag or two for a short distance.  One of the things that I love about this country-- people are actually willing to help a girl who is clearly struggling, as opposed to simply laughing at her. 

So I finally got into a cab and got to the Bristol coach station, with 15 minutes to spare.... except that my coach to Heathrow was canceled.  Thankfully, before I even had time to register how terrible this news was for me, they got us onto another coach, and we left only 15 minutes late.  The roads were alright up until we started getting close to London, and then suddenly, we were crawling along in bumper to bumper traffic on snow-covered roads.  Great.  The 2 hr 20 min coach trip took nearly 4 hours.  By this point, it's 3:30-- the likelihood of me making my 5:10 boarding time is slim.  And the flight's still on the board, so I have to get there.

The central bus station, where we pulled in, was an absolute nightmare-- people everywhere, insanely long queues for everything, and I didn't even know where on earth to go.  I dragged my stupid luggage all the way through this underground thing whilst following signs to the train which would take me to Terminal 5, only to encounter a three-hour-long queue.  Well that was not happening.  So I turned around and headed back to the bus station.  I tried to find a bus that would go to the terminal-- no luck.  Then I waited in line at the information desk to see if there was a taxi stand somewhere.  The man in front of me asked the same thing, so I asked him if he was going to Terminal 5, and he was, so I asked if he wanted to share a taxi, and he did, so we set off in search of one together.

This search took us from the street outside of the bus station (no luck) to Terminal 1's taxi queue (three hours long), to several random bus stops (no luck), to the Tube station (Picadilly line closed), and finally back to the original queue for the Heathrow express train, which was now down to a 30 min queue.  Long story short-- it took THREE HOURS to get from the bus station to terminal 5.  It is supposed to take ten minutes.  And oh, by the way-- the man that I was with (I later found out that his name was Maurizio-- he's Italian) was basically dealing with most of my luggage in addition to his own the whole time.  Seriously-- if it weren't for the kindness of random strangers, I would have been toast.  I probably would have just had a breakdown after about half an hour and just cried in a corner.  It was a disaster.  And oh, another thing-- I found out, halfway through this saga, that my flight had been canceled.

So we finally made it to Terminal 5, only to discover that all of the British Airways employees had disappeared.  They literally all abandoned their posts (or were told to do so), probably out of fear for their safety, because there were mobs of very angry people in that terminal with canceled flights who couldn't get through to the BA help line (because it was so busy that it actually wouldn't even put you on hold, it simply hung up on you), and had to deal with the BA website, which kept shutting down from the amount of traffic that it was experiencing.  So here I was, in the terminal with no way to book a new flight, and no way to leave (because the trains stopped running, I would have to wait six hours for a cab, and the hotels were all booked).

There was only one option open to me, really-- sleep on the airport floor for the night.  Maurizio and I got ourselves some dinner at the Marks & Spencer's To Go, chatted with some other stranded people, put my luggage into temporary storage (what a relief!), had a drink, killed time with idle conversation, found a blanket, pushed some chairs together, and attempted to sleep.  This plan was going fairly well until the heat was shut off.  Then the downstairs was simply too cold.  So we relocated to the floor in the upstairs section, which was incredibly uncomfortable, but at least somewhat warmer.  I have to admit, this is one of the strangest situations that I have ever been in-- sharing a blanket on the floor of an airport with a stranger whose native language isn't even English.

I managed to get a few hours of sleep, and in the morning, we reassessed the situation.  No flights were leaving (it was below freezing, and they couldn't remove snow under such conditions.  SERIOUSLY?!?!).  Great.  So then I decided to head to my aunt and uncle's flat in East London (thank goodness they live there now!).  Of course, the Heathrow Express was shut down, because of "weather" (IT HADN'T EVEN SNOWED THAT NIGHT), and the Tube lines were all a mess.  Maurizio and I had some breakfast, booked him a hotel reservation for the night, and waited to see if the train situation would clear up, which of course it didn't.  So we decided to just get on the Tube and hope for the best.  Thankfully, the train was not terribly delayed, and after parting ways with Maurizio, I made it to Liverpool Station, met my uncle on the walk to his flat, went back, showered, and slept for four hours.

We went out to dinner that night with a friend of my aunt's (who is also stuck in London) who is the CEO of something important, as well as his CFO.  We had a lovely dinner in a Belgian restaurant, during which these business people called up their travel agent and got me booked on a flight home on Thursday.  There are some serious advantages to being rich and powerful (and being introduced to the rich and powerful).  When we got back after dinner, I found another Thursday flight to Newark (this one in the afternoon), and booked that too-- just in case.

I slept for another 10 hours that night, and spent the next day sort of lolling around the flat, being unproductive, sleeping a bit more, blogging, playing britishairways.com roulette trying to get an earlier flight, checking to see which of my ASE friends were still stranded (nearly all of them), etc.  Nice quiet day.

Today was a bit more exciting-- I navigated public transportation all by myself to meet Tom (from ASE) at the British Museum, where we spent several hours (it's a pretty cool museum--I mean, it's kind of "The Museum of Stuff that Britain Stole From Other Countries in the Name of Preservation and Education", but it has some great stuff, including the vast majority of the PARTHENON FREIZES.  Serioulsy-- wow).  Then we went to a pub for a late lunch, had an epic disaster of a trip back to the flat (the five minute walk from the tube stop to the flat took at least half an hour because the streets here are absurdly confusing), where we hung out for a little while before Daniel got home and we had Vietnamese for dinner, which was lovely.  Hey, if I'm going to be stuck in London, might as well make the most of it, right?

And that, my friends, is part one of the epic saga of the Snowpocalipse.  Stay tuned for part two-- the last of my time in London (hopefully that only includes tomorrow), and the final journey home, which I'm sure will prove to be similarly absurd and annoying as the initial part of the journey, but will at least hopefully actually occur.  Goodnight, my friends, from London-- keep your fingers crossed for me that I'll be home by Thursday!

Finals, Final Tea, Final Goodbyes... Is this a hint that they want us to leave?

Hello, my dear readers.

Before backtracking to tell you about my final week at ASE, I should preface this post by informing you that even though I was supposed to be home on Saturday, I am currently stuck in London until Thursday at the earliest due to the snowpocalipse that has hit Heathrow Airport.  You'll hear about the travel saga in the next post.  Actually, this is all very lucky for you, because it means that you get bonus posts.  Also, I have nothing to do today, so expect absurdly long stories (sorry).

Ok.  Where was I?  Right-- finals week (good grief-- it feels like ages ago!).  Tuesday, I had my tutorial final, which went fine.  After finals that day, Rachel, Sasha, Kate C, Cullen and I went to Afternoon Tea at the Pump Rooms (the super posh restaurant attached to the Roman Baths, which used to be where people in the 18th and 19th centuries milled around during the day to see and be seen).  We were originally going to wear our Regency dresses, but it was cold and rainy, and decided to simply look nice instead.  The tea was delicious-- there were little sandwiches with the crusts cut off, fabulous scones, and some marvelous little pastries, including the best cream puff that I've ever had. 

Om nom nom... finished all of our food.  

The Pump Room fountain, where you can "take the waters" (ie, drink the icky mineraly water that supposedly has healing powers).

I went home after that, though I honestly don't remember what on earth I did that night.  I definitely 'studied' for philosophy, probably ate some random things from the fridge, and tried to figure out how on earth to get all of my stuff home.  Terribly exciting.

Wednesday morning, I had my philosophy final-- again, no sweat.  Then I got my dissertation back-- and... (drumroll please)... I GOT AN A, with the comment that "if ASE allowed for the giving of A+'s, I would have given you one."  HUZZAH!!!  Yay for me.  Not to brag, but I was pretty pleased with myself.

Then I went out for a final pasty lunch with the crew, after which I headed back up to my house.  On the way there, I stopped at the Jane Austen Center for a few more gifts, and I passed Martin at the door.  He didn't recognize me when I went in (as usual), but on my way out, he stopped me and said, "Wait a moment, aren't you the girl who goes to Jane Austen Dancers?" to which I excitedly replied affirmatively, and he said, "I thought I recognized you from somewhere!", which then started an awkward conversation about the Christmas party that night, which ended even more awkwardly (because Martin is a pretty awkward guy).  Anyway, I walked back the rest of the way on a path that I knew existed, but hadn't actually found until then-- a little walkway behind the circus which leads to the Royal Crescent--which is the path featured at the end of Persuasion, when Capt. Wentworth and Anne finally confess their continued love for each other.

The picture is actually from Thursday, when it snowed, but you get the idea.

I got all sentimental and stuff and took some pictures of the iconic phone booth and Royal Crescent.

I spent the afternoon baking a cake for the Jane Austen Dancers Christmas party that night-- an apple and cranberry cake which wound up being unbelievably good.  I hung around the common room with Ali for a while (we ate string cheese, which turns out to be even more fun when you're older than when you're a kid), ate a piece of cake for dinner, and then headed to Flat 4 to get dressed.  We buttoned each other into our Regency dresses, and took some pictures...

Cute picture.

 Silly picture.

...before marching out into downtown Bath to get to the church where the dancers meet.  We got some odd looks-- not sure why... it's not like full-length white cotton dresses aren't in fashion this season or anything.  Anyway, we got there and everyone was so excited about our dresses-- we got lots of compliments, and were generally not short on partner offers that night.  We did some excellent dances that night-- mostly Christmas-themed, but they were fairly easy and lots of fun.  We even did my favorite waltz, which made me very happy.  Then we took a break for tea and food-- everyone brought things to eat, and they were sooo tasty.... and my cake was a total hit-- people were telling me to stay in Bath and open a bakery there (which was a rather tempting suggestion, and something that I had definitely already thought of!).  We finished the evening with a few more dances, and people gave out Christmas cards-- we even got a few!  Martin gave us postcards of himself that were signed with "best wishes," which was excellent (and hilarious)-- I had thought about asking him to sign the one that I bought before. 

So then I went back to Flat 4 to change, and since it was pretty late, thought about staying over, but since I had nothing with me, decided to just head home instead.  I called Clay, who happened to be nearby, and he walked me part of the way, until we ran into the other boys from my house, by total chance.  Clay then headed off to the bar that he was originally going to, and I went back with the boys; however, they decided that they wanted a pint at our local pub first, and all but dragged me with them.  This one pint of course turned into three, and Clay actually met us there, strangely... long story short, we were there until closing.  I spent most of the time complaining about how much I had to do at home, nursing a half pint of cider, and trying to keep Clay from doing anything embarrassing (he had had a bit much that night).  

Eventually, we went home, and I tried to get a bit of studying done (to no avail) before going to bed.  I got up earlier the next day and actually sort of studied for my last exam (I had really lost all motivation to do work by that point) before going to take it.  That one was of course harder than the others, and totally wiped me out (three essays in two hours?  not so easy).  Anyway, I was finally done!!  I headed home, by way of the suitcase store (I needed another suitcase-- I bought too much stuff!), and did a bit of packing before Ali and I headed out to meet Flat 4 plus Kates C and Six for a last dinner together.  We went to a nice Italian restaurant, had some wine, some good food, some dessert... 'twas lovely.  Then I headed back to Flat 4 for a last sleepover *sniff*.  We watched "Love, Actually" (one of my favorite movies, and very appropriate for Christmastime in England), chatted for a little while, and made breakfast in the morning-- which was really nice.  I then headed to Nelson to sell back a few of my books (I got practically nothing for them, but oh well) before heading home.  On my way there, however, I passed the shoe store that I have walked by every day and saw the pair of shoes that I had been coveting since day one, and decided to finally walk in and try them on.  There was one pair left.  And it was my size.  So I took this as a sign that I was supposed to buy them, which I did.  This improved my depressed mood slightly.  

The programme's Final Tea was that afternoon at three, so I spent an hour chatting with Clay and Ali before I started getting ready.  This process took longer than usual, as my roommate was doing my hair in a Regency style and I had to get my dress on again.  In the end though, it was pretty fantastic-- she did an amazing job with my hair. 

We all walked down to the hotel where the Tea was being held-- me in my rather unusual dress, and everyone else in more normal "posh frocks".  Once we arrived, everyone was commenting on our dresses (Rachel and Sasha wore theirs too-- it wasn't just me!), and taking pictures of us, which was kind of funny.  We had a great picture with Jonathan, the programme director, who was pretending to be our Mr. Darcy (and as he is a rather good-looking Englishman, this was pretty fitting).  He also got himself into trouble by saying that we looked rather "feminine" in those dresses... which, when we asked him to clarify, simply said, "I should probably walk away now".  Oh, Regency dresses and their rather, um, deep, necklines...

Johnathan as Mr. Darcy.

 

 Andrew Butterworth as Mr. Darcy.

I sat at a table with all of my Nunes friends and Ali, and we convinced Claire, my tutorial tutor, to sit with us, which was great.  The tea itself was wonderful-- there were endless pots of tea, piles of delicious sandwiches (cucumber and cream cheese, egg salad, and lox and cream cheese), fantastic scones, and plates of little pieces of cake at the end (but our table got a 'meh' selection of cakes, so we stole from other tables). 

Tea and scone prepared the proper way-- tea with milk poured into the cup first, and scone with clotted cream spread first, then spread with jam.

Once we finished eating, Jonathan gave a really nice speech about how wonderful the semester was, and thanked all of the staff, as well as us, for making it possible.  He then finished with a slideshow of pictures that we had taken over the course of the semester, which was really cute.  And once that was over, we spent at least half an hour milling about taking pictures in all sorts of combinations with various people (once they go up on facebook, I'll steal them and put them on here).  No one wanted to leave, and everyone wanted to put off saying goodbye... we were all just barely keeping it together (though some started to cry).  Jonathan announced that some of the staff would be going to the Huntsman for a pint afterwards, if we wanted to join, so we made that our plan.  

Claire and her (self-proclaimed) favorite students-- Sasha, Ali, and I.

Ali and Sarah and I went back to Northampton-- me to change, and Ali and Sarah to carry Ali's luggage down to Nunes, as they were leaving that night.  We all walked down to Nunes together, and then over to the Huntsman, were we hung out with a small group of students plus Jonathan and Claire for a little while before we had to say goodbye to them for the last time (so sad!).  I refused to say goodbye to my Flat 4 friends yet, so I went back with them to have some dinner before we saw Ali and Sarah off (and when I had to say goodbye to Ali, I started crying uncontrollably.... I had been doing so well before that).  I stayed for a little while longer before saying more tearful goodbyes to Rachel, Sasha, Cullen, and Kate C, and then I began to walk home through Bath for the last time.  I was still sniffling a bit when I left the flat, but once I reached the Abbey Square, one of my favorite places, I started sobbing again, and spent the rest of the walk crying, which was really awkward whenever I passed a group of pub crawlers.  Anyway, I got home, grabbed the last of my wine and dessert from the fridge, and proceeded to finish it off whilst finishing my packing, before having to say goodbye to my housemates (which again, we put off for as long as possible-- Clay and I waited until 2 am just to avoid having to acknowledge that it was really time to say goodbye). It was a rather depressing evening.  

It was difficult and upsetting to say goodbye, but I realized that it was only because I had had such an incredible time and gotten so close to these wonderful people and beautiful city that I was so sad, which helped me to curb the depression a bit.  And I know that I'll get to see my friends again somehow-- we will make it happen.  And of course we'll keep in touch (hurray for the marvels of modern technology).  And someday, I'll get back to Bath (maybe for the next Regency ball?).  So I know that this isn't goodbye forever-- only for now.

I was going to launch into a very long final reflection on my semester, but the story isn't over yet.  This post is way too long already, so I'll tell you tomorrow about the epic travel saga of Saturday (and Sunday....and through, well, I'm not sure yet).  And hopefully I'll also have a few more fun posts about my doings in London whilst trying to make the most of being stranded here!  So stay tuned. 

"And... always look on the bright side of life (do doo, do do do do do doo)." (Monty Python)

Dissertations, Dresses, and Dinners, oh my!

...But I still had 2,000 words left of my dissertation due at 2:00 that day....

Sorry for the cliffhanger.  Back to the story.

So, due to the fact that I had been traveling for quite some time, as well as the fact that I was ridiculously sick, I decided that I simply didn't have the energy to stay up all night and finish my dissertation.  I emailed my tutor (who is the nicest person in the world) and told her what happened, and begged for an extension through Wednesday morning, and collapsed into bed.  I woke up early the next morning and went to the final meeting for the CCE (Certificate of Cultural Enrichment) which was all about how to deal with reverse transition shock, and it was kind of depressing because it was a painful reminder of how soon we have to go home and how much I'm going to miss Bath and England in general.  Sadness.  Afterwards, I started working on my paper again, but got an email from Claire saying that I could have until Thursday (which was actually extended until Friday in class that afternoon, because my tutorial partner was given an extension until then).  So anyway-- went to class, went home, collapsed, was unproductive.  Next day-- class, went home, collapsed, woke up again to work on my dissertation, went to Jane Austen Dancers, worked on the dissertation, went to bed.  Next morning...

FINISHED MY DISSERTATION.  ALL OF IT.  WOOLF, JOYCE, ELIOT, BRILLIANCE... IT'S ALL THERE.  BAZINGA.

So that was satisfying.  I walked down to Nelson and handed the pile of 28 pages to Claire, and then walked home by way of the Christmas market, and bought some gifts for people.  That night, I headed back out to this little artsy cafe/performance space thing that I didn't know existed for our programme's Write Night-- basically planned open-mic for people who had done stuff for creative writing classes over the semester and a few singers as well.  I wore my new beret.  Felt very bohemian.  Anyway, it was really fun-- almost everyone was incredibly talented, both as writers and singers.  Highlights: Ali's story (for which I was her muse, actually... and she announced this to everyone before she started reading, which was adorable), entitled "Possible Motives for Stealing a Pink Kitchen-Aid" (now do you see why I was the inspiration?), which was absolutely amazing; Sasha's story, much more serious, but incredibly good, Tom's singing (really good and also hilarious), and my philosophy tutor's guitar playing/singing of the songs he wrote himself (he's in a band!! who knew?!), including a protest song for WWI.  He is a philosopher after all-- never said he was normal.

Friday morning, I had my very last class-- review for Patterns of Power (boring...).  But I got my last paper back-- on an epic streak for the last papers... perfect A's on all of them, so hopefully this carries over to my dissertation.... yeah.  After class, I just kind of killed time (I don't remember what I did) until 5pm, when we (Claire's students) took Claire out to dinner.  I had been frustrated that none of my tutors took my classes out for drinks or anything, which many other tutors did, so I wanted to take Claire to dinner, since she is my tutorial tutor.  So I told Ali about this (Ali has Claire for short fiction writing), and we decided to invite all of her students (she just teaches our two small classes) to do this dinner thing.  So anyway, we took her out to dinner, and it was lovely.  I even got to do my Marcel the Shell impression.  Much fun was had by all.

Then I hung around in Flat 4 for an hour before going to the train station to pick up my Aunt Suzanne, who came to see me for the evening and most of Saturday.  From the station we went to dinner... so yeah, I had two very big dinners in one evening.  Kind of ridiculous.  And also very wonderful.  We basically closed the restaurant down (which is what happens when you don't sit down to eat until 9:30), and I took a cab home (because it was 11:30 on a Friday night), which took one minute, and was embarrassing, but whatever. 

The next morning, Suzanne took a cab to my house, I showed her around, and then we walked through the park to the Jane Austen Center, which we then went through.  Then we went into Mr. B's Bookshop (the greatest bookstore ever), then my kitchen store (the one with the pink kitchen-aid that I covet) and bought some cookbooks, then lunch at a French/English bistro, then a walk through the Christmas market, then tea (complete with a Bath Bun) before I took her back to the train.  We had a lovely day, and she plans to come back to Bath for a few days and do the actual touristy things, so I consider this a great success.  Bath seriously wins everybody over.

Sadly, my original plans for that evening, the Longbourn Ball, were canceled-- the little old lady who owns the manor didn't want to light the fires in the house in this cold weather because she thought the pipes would burst.  Seriously.  Ridiculous.  Then the alternate plan-- having dinner, tea, dancing, and watching Persuasion--was canceled due to lack of interest.  Gahhhhh.

So Rachel and Sasha and Kate and I were really sad.  But we decided to do something together that night anyway, so I headed to Flat 4 for a sleepover.  We had Indian food, I made beer bread, Sasha and Rachel and I tried on our Regency dresses, and we watched "The Holiday"-- which was lovely.  The plan is to wear our dresses to the Pump Room for tea tomorrow afternoon, and to the Jane Austen Dancers' Christmas party on Wednesday, and to the programme's Final Tea on Friday.  So the dresses will get some use, at least.  Oh well.

Sunday, we got up late, made breakfast, and I headed home in the afternoon, where I sat around and thought about how much stuff I had to pack later.  Ew.  That evening, the commune (Ali and Clay and I) went out for our final Sunday dinner, as we simply didn't feel like cooking.  We had a lovely dinner, and talked about all of the things we would miss about Bath, and the things we are looking forward to seeing at home, and such.... this is all getting very sad.  I really don't want to leave.  Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to see everyone at home again, and I would love to be able to drive and use my iPhone and have normal heating in the house and faucets that have a middle ground between freezing and scalding, but I am going to miss it here so very much.  Sigh.

Sorry.  Moving on.  Today was the first of my finals-- Jane Austen.  Not bad.  And really low stress, which is nice.  I have one final a day through Thursday, interspersed with the last of my gift shopping and going to the Pump Rooms, and Jane Austen Dancers, and trying to use up the food in the pantry, and packing.... it's going to be a busy week.  But I'll try to tell you about things as they occur.  I don't have much more to blog about!!!  Ahhh!  But this blog has had nearly 1,000 views, which is simultaneously fantastic, terrifying, and super gratifying, so thank you all!  I've heard rumblings that I should keep blogging after I get home, but I'm not sure that my life is interesting enough to be worth blogging about or reading about... but if you feel differently, please speak up and let me know-- I'll consider the idea of starting a new blog, but only if enough of you tell me that I ought to.  So yeah.  Comment away.

Alrighty-- well, I'm going to go, uh, 'study'.  I'll catch up with you again soon!  In the meantime, please enjoy the greatest youtube video ever, which I quote incessantly and do a pretty darn good impression of, if I do say so myself.  If you ask me the next time I see you, I just might do it for you.  Cheers!

Au Revoir, Paris!

Hi again.

On to Day 2 of Paris-- Sunday.  The plan for the morning was to go to Mass at Notre Dame (Tom wanted to go to Mass, and I wanted to hear the singing and stuff).  The reality?  Tom went to Mass, and Vanessa did not, as she woke up feeling like she had gotten hit by a truck.  Turns out, running around in the snow and hail and rain and cold all day is not so conducive to one's health, and I wound up waking up the next day with a horrible cold.  Just my luck.  But I was in Paris, so I dragged myself out of bed about an hour after Tom and took the metro ALL BY MYSELF WITHOUT GETTING LOST (really!) to meet him at Notre Dame.

Oh hello, Notre Dame.

I wanted to go in and see the inside, but there was a queue about eighty years long, so I decided that it was something I could do when I return to Paris (note the use of "when" instead of "if").  So instead, we walked around the outside for a while:

And then, one of my favorite things ever-- Shakespeare and Co.! 

So this is a teeny little bookshop which is simply crammed full of books in every cranny of this twisting little house, which also contains a few cots and a piano and typewriter upstairs--relics from when this was a refuge and hangout for writers of the Lost Generation, some unknown writers like Hemingway, Eliot, Joyce, etc.  Best of all, this little shop was also responsible for the publication of Ulysses, when no one else would publish it, which alone makes it very near and dear to my heart.

After tearing myself away from Shakespeare and Co., we took a (very) long walk to the Louvre.  

Here it is again!  And this time you can see more of it.

On the first Sunday of the month, all museums in Paris are free, so we decided to take advantage.  The lines, of course, were absolutely ridiculously insane, but we found a somewhat hidden entrance, so it was a bit quicker for us to get through.  We didn't have an incredible amount of time, so we did the highlights:

Venus de Milo.  You may have heard of her.

 Nike of Samothrace.  An Art History 101 favorite.

 Napoleon III's Apartments in the wing of the Louvre that he had built.

 My favorite sculpture, Canova's Cupid and Psyche.

We also saw, of course, the Mona Lisa, but it is rather difficult to get close to her, so no picture.  Sorry.

So after breezing through the Louvre (again, need to go back to Paris-- I could have spent my entire trip there), we took a walk all the way from Napoleon's first arch:

To the second-- the Arc de Triomphe:

It was a nice walk, sure... but do you know how long the Champs d'Elysses (that's the street that runs between them-- you know, the one that used to have all of the classy shops and now is home to McDonalds and H&M) is?  It's long.  And once we got to the Arc de Triomphe, we turned around and walked to the Tour d'Eiffel.  Another very, very long walk.  Oy.

And just as the Eiffel Tower came into sight across the river from us, it lit up.  It was beautiful.  And then it started to sparkle.  And then it was magical.

Yep.  Pretty much speaks for itself.

We walked all the way up to it then:

But we didn't go up.  One, because the queue was absurdly long, and two, because I'm terribly afraid of elevators. And heights.  Maybe next time.

So with the Eiffel Tower accomplished (mostly), we headed to the Paris Opera House to try to get rush tickets for a performance.  Sadly, there was no show that evening.  (Next time?)  But we at least got to see the Opera at night, which is really rather fantastic:

We had dinner at a cafe near the Opera, which turned out to be fantastic (the nice thing about eating in Paris is that even when you are eating cheaply, it is still possible to find amazing food.  And I seem to have a knack for finding the amazing cheap places), and then we headed back to our neighborhood and went to see a movie!  Now, this posed a few problems-- the movies were all in French, so we could either see: a movie that we had already seen so that we would know what was going on, or a movie that we hadn't seen and wouldn't get all of it.  Or much at all, really.  We decided to see a new movie, but chose "Unstoppable" (the one with Chris Pine and Denzel Washington and an out-of-control train) because I wanted to see Chris Pine and there really couldn't be much need for the dialogue in this sort of movie.  Luckily, this turned out to be totally true.  We didn't understand a word, but we knew exactly what was going on.  However, I was a bit disappointed-- while I got to enjoy looking at Chris Pine, I did not get to enjoy hearing his voice, as he was dubbed by a French voice actor.  Oh well.

After the movie, we had a quick drink in the bar that Tom liked again, and then headed back to the hotel to go to sleep.  As I still felt like I had been hit by a train because I had something resembling the flu, I was rather grateful for this.

We slept late the next day, because we weren't in much hurry and I still felt awful.  Once we got up, we headed back to the Opera to take a look around the inside.  It was incredibly beautiful-- unbelievably opulent (almost gaudy), but fantastic, and nearly overwhelming.  

The Grand Staircase.

 Um, hello giant reception hall thingy.  Good lord.

  This may not be the famous chandelier (that one's in the main auditorium, which was technically closed, but we saw it in the dark by sneaking into an unlocked Box), but I still couldn't help getting nervous whilst walking underneath it... I kept expecting the Phantom of the Opera to jump out from somewhere or drop a chandelier on me unexpectedly.  Also couldn't get "Masquerade" out of my head.

So yes.  Opera House= fantastic.  

After that, we took another meandering walk to the Musee d'Orsay, which of course was closed.  But we got some lunch (quiche, baguette, orangina... mmm), and walked around some more-- Paris is such a beautiful city that even walking aimlessly is fantastic.

The National Assembly building.

At this point, we were fairly close to the Louvre again, and I wanted to shop, so we went back to the Carousel shops beneath the Louvre.  My purchases: a purple beret and a few macaroons from Maison du Chocolat.  Fabulous.

We hopped on the metro and headed out to our last destination: the Pantheon.  This is kind of like a memorial/church thing for the French Revolutionaries, and serves as the burial place for national heroes, writers, thinkers, etc.

 The outside, which looks suspiciously like the Pantheon of, you know, the Romans.  Hmmm...

And the inside.  Similarly suspiciously similar.  (whoa. that's a lot of similarity)

It had wonderful frescoes of scenes important to French history, as well as a lot to do with St. Genevieve, Paris's patron saint.

Then we headed down into the crypt, where we saw the tombs of Rosseau and Voltaire, who hated each other, right across from each other, as well as Alexander Dumas, Victor Hugo, Marie and Pierre Currie, lots of famous French people that I've never heard of, etc.  But the air was so dry, and I was so sick, that I couldn't stop coughing, so Tom took me out of there out of fear that I would need a box of my own.  

Afterwards, we headed back to our hotel to pick up our bags, then had an early dinner of crepes before taking the long metro + bus journey to the airport.  The trip took so long that I was petrified that we would miss our plane, which we might have, had it not been delayed for two hours.

I'll spare you the stories of angry dealings with airline people, and the actually hilarious account of Tom and I running through the airport with our shoes and coats in those security scanning boxes when we found out that we were in the wrong security line for our plane.  Suffice it to say, it was annoying.  On the positive side, I had enough spare time to check out the tax-free designer store, and finally bought the purple Longchamp bag that I have been coveting for months at about 2/3rds of the price that I would pay in the US, so in the long run, not so bad.

Once we finally got on the plane and landed in Bristol an hour later, we discovered that all of the fuss was because there was an inch of snow on the ground.  I'm telling you-- the Brits simply don't know how to deal with snow.  Simultaneously hilarious and frustrating.  Unfortunately, we got in just too late to catch the last train out of Bristol, and had to take a long taxi ride home.  But in the end, it was fine-- we got home at about 12:30 am.  

Trouble was... I had a dissertation due at 2:00 pm that day.  And I had about 2,000 words left to write.  Uh oh.

To be continued....

(I know, I'm mean-- sorry.  I need to go to bed!  I'll tell you tomorrow, I promise.)

Bonjour, Paris!

Hello, my dear, dear readers.  I am so very sorry to have kept you waiting for over a week to hear about Paris.  I have a good excuse, I promise.  You'll hear it latter.  But first, without further delay, PARIS!  Allons-y!

Okey dokey.  So Friday afternoon, Tom and I packed up, and headed for the train station.  (I left my laptop, which is why I didn't post things for you over the weekend.  I'm sorry.  The laptop is heavy.  And I didn't have a French outlet converter.)  Train-->Bus-->Bristol airport-->....delayed flight.  No problem.  We had some dinner and a drink at the airport bar....-->Paris airport-->Zut!  Je ne remember le francais pas!-->tourist information booth-->bus into the city-->Paris metro adventure-->hotel.  Whew. That was exhausting!  At this point, it's 11:00 pm, Paris time, so we headed to a restaurant on the corner for a drink (hot chocolate for me, because I was freezing, a and a beer for Tom, who was not), and then headed back and went to bed.  Exciting first day, huh?

Saturday was considerably more exciting.  We got up and headed for a crepe place down the block, and I had a delicious nutella-and-pear crepe for breakfast.  Mmmm.  We decided that we would start off our trip by taking a free walking tour (offered in English, thank goodness), which started at 11, so we took another metro adventure and found our way to the city center.  We emerged from the metro at St. Michael's Fountain, and lo and behold, it was SNOWING!  Beautiful, huge snowflakes falling all around the gorgeous city-- it was enough to make a romantic out of anyone, I'm convinced.

Saint Michelle Fountain, with tour groups assembling under it, and big flakes of snow.  This fountain was built to celebrate Napoleon's victory over somebody... and today, whenever an international football (soccer) team wins a game in Paris, they put their flag around 

the angel's shoulders as a cape.

 

Il fait neige! (It's snowing!)  And piling up quickly.

Right.  So we went on this tour.  Now, our tour guide, Bryan, was possibly one of the coolest people that I've encountered, ever.  He was hilarious, brilliant, energetic, and gorgeous, with, I'm pretty sure, an affection for Star Wars and Casablanca.  To give you an idea, if I hadn't been fairly convinced that he was gay, I would have possibly proposed to him on the spot.  Yeah.  Oh, and the best part?  He's from Holland, PA-- ten minutes from where I live.  A match made in heaven.  But alas... 

Ahem. Sorry.  You wanted to hear about the tour.  Not the tour guide.  I'll try to remember what he was actually talking about while I was watching him talk...

Ok.  So we started to walk around in the snow.  And it was glorious.  First, we stopped by the Police Headquarters (which he told us to avoid visiting the inside, as this would require being arrested).  Historical relevance: this is where the Germans holed up during WWII when they took Paris, and so the facade is covered in bullet holes from resistance fighters.  Amazingly, this is one of very few buildings in Paris that shows evidence of the occupation during the war, even though the city was actually supposed to be leveled when the Germans retreated.  Otherwise, the building is not especially impressive.

Meh.  Not interesting.  The view from their windows, however--gorgeous.

Next stop: walking along the river, under a bridge.  It was pretty.  We learned historical things about Paris.  I don't remember them specifically...sorry.  But there was a very cool story about the sculptures adorning the bridge!  Some King at some point decided that it would be an awesome idea to have a huge party.  And as he really liked sketches, he ordered a sketch artist for his party to draw all of his friends.  Now, most of these friends had had a little too much to drink, so they were not exactly at their best when they were sketched.  But then after the party, the King decided to have the sketches made into sculptures to adorn the bridge that he was building-- the first stone bridge in Paris.  And now the poor decisions of those nobles that night are immortalized, literally, in stone.  And the punchline?...

It's the original facebook! (Ba dum, chhh!)

Moving on.  We then walked past a spot that no Parisian will step on, because it was cursed by some dude who was burned at the stake there, and then we saw a statue of Henry IV (of France, not England... I had to continually remind myself of this), who was very well-liked, despite the fact that he was a Protestant (*gasp*).  Yes, Paris had the same Catholic-Protestant issues as the rest of Europe.  Paris was Catholic, and had a nasty tendency to massacre lots of Protestants at a time.  Which is what happened right before Henry IV ascended the throne (as the chosen King of the Catholic Queen).  Thankfully though, Henry IV escaped, and came back into town to claim the throne.  The first thing he did though?  Walked into Notre Dame Cathedral, and to the shock and awe of all, pronounced "Paris is worth a Mass".  He was then beloved by the people of France from then on.

King Henry IV.  Fun Fact: the statue's sword used to light up at night.  I.e., he carried a lightsaber.  Win.

 Then we walked around and saw other things....which I can't remember.... and then we wound up in front of the Academie du Francais-- where official things about the French language are decided, like naming new things with non-Anglicized names (which are only sometimes accepted by the public), and deciding whether or not they are masculine or feminine.  

The best story about the Academie involved the iPod; they couldn't really change the name of the iPod--because, let's face it, what else are you going to call it?--but they could still decide whether it would be masculine or feminine.  So they're looking at it, playing with it, listing its attributes: constantly changing, lots of games to play on it, turns on easily at the slightest touch..... yep, definitely masculine.  Hahaha.  Oh Bryan, how I love you.

Then we crossed another bridge-- the Pont des Arts-- also known as "the lover's bridge".  This is where newlywed couples traditionally go and attach a lock to the bridge and throw the key into the river, thus immortalizing their bond.

You really have to wonder though about the people who put combination locks on the fence...

When we crossed the bridge, we arrived at the Louvre!!!  We came in through a sort of back entrance, so we didn't really get the full overwhelming effect right away, but we certainly began to appreciate just how ridiculously huge the Louvre is.  It was originally built as a palace, then the Revolution happened, and all of the art stolen from the nobility was stored in there, then Napoleon came along and added some more wings, and then it was an even bigger palace, and then eventually, it was opened to the public as an art museum (and oh, need I mention that it is basically the largest and most incredible art museum in the world?  And that there are two more Louvres in France, plus one opening in Abu Dabbi, and there is still art in their collection that isn't on display.  Insane), and then at the turn of the millennium the president of France added the big ugly glass pyramid thing to the front, and then it was immortalized in The DaVinci Code.  And that, dear readers, is a brief history of the Louvre.  The end.

 This is like, 1/6th of the back section of the old wings, which is maybe 1/4th of the whole structure.  

The Louvre in the snow!

The Parisians hate new architecture.  Every time something new goes up, they say "Ugh!  It iz 'orrible!  Tear it down!".  The pyramid in front of the Louvre is no exception.  And for once, I agree with the Parisians-- it just doesn't work.

Napoleon's first triumphal arch-- not the Arc de Triomphe (that was built after his death), but the one that he had built so that he could march his armies through it.  

So, by this point, we've been outside in the snow for like two and a half hours, and I can't feel any of my extremities.  Thankfully, we had a scheduled cafe break at this point.  So we flocked into Starbucks and thawed out with the assistance of hazelnut mochas and lattes.  So necessary.  I also took this opportunity to chat with Bryan for a while about what it's like to be in grad school in France, as well as some other things...yeah.  Very enjoyable. 

Once we got outside again, the snow had finally stopped, and it was a wee bit warmer, which was very welcome.  We carried on around the back end of the Louvre, to the Tuilleries Gardens, which were covered in snow, but still very pretty (though the snow might have actually contributed to the prettiness).

And then we got to this big plaza thing with an incredible view.  We could see:

Napoleon's Egyptian Obelisk that he got as a 'gift' from the Egyptians.

 A pretty fountain and the Grand Palais in the background.

Oh yeah, and this little thing called the Eiffel Tower.

So, uh, yeah-- that was pretty cool.  And then we walked through the Paris Christmas Market (which is not nearly as classy as the Bath Christmas Markets, I must say), and on to the Grand and Petit Palaises, which are now museums.  

Here the tour officially ended, but we could stay with Bryan for an extended tour and late lunch at a cafe.  As I would have followed Bryan to the end of the earth, I of course chose to do this.  So we continued on to Invalides (Louis XIV's veteran's hospital) via a pretty bridge:

As well as the monument that Napoleon had built for his tomb:

Pretty pretentious.  But also kind of cool.

Oh, by the way, by this point it was hailing and very cold again.  This was icky.  However, we finally made it to the cafe (at like 4pm), where we had hot wine and french onion soup and chatted with the other students who were on the tour-- a nice end to the whole 5 hour epic grand tour.

We headed back to the hotel after that, because I was cold and wet and miserable, in order to warm up for an hour or so.  Then we headed out again to explore our neighborhood and find some dinner.  We were staying in Montmarte, right by....

The Moulin Rouge.  Self-explanatory.

So our neighborhood was... funky... and well, also a tad creepy.  But you know, it was a cultural experience.  No worries.

We found dinner in a local artist-y cafe thing, and then headed up to Sacre-Coeur, a Cathedral on top of a hill.

It was beautiful-- outside and in.  The inside was full of gorgeous colorful frescoes and mosaics.

And the view-- like you wouldn't believe.  The pictures just don't do it justice.

Oy.  Blurry.  But quite stunning in real life.

Then we climbed back down the hill and wandered through some more streets for a while, before getting a drink before going back to the hotel.  I fell asleep immediately for the first time in, oh, three weeks?  So yep-- long day.  Exhausting, but wonderful.

Ok.  Since I'm obviously inept at getting things posted on time, I'll put this up now so that you have something to read, and I'll try to get the next few days up as soon as humanely possible.  So keep an eye out!  Au revoir!