An across-the-river view of another one of my favorite free museums: The Tate Modern.
Miss: Free museums
Today was a brother day. Meaning I take my brother out somewhere and we do something. After a summer of too much to do and not enough time to experience everything, I’m used to choosing between activities. Continue reading
Meet Paul. He's a designer for idfx. He wanted his picture taken.
Miss: Colleagues (co-workers in American-speak)
Today is Tuesday – a day I’m normally at work in London. Today I miss my colleagues. There is a commonly held belief that Europeans don’t work as hard as Americans, but I think that statement needs amending. Continue reading
Well, I’m back. Home in Minnesota.
I know the blog post everyone might be expecting. The one where I summarize my summer and explain how I’ve changed, but I’m still not quite ready to write that. Frankly, I have a bit of thinking to do. I have to let myself settle into being back.
Until then, I thought I’d post a few blogs about something I miss. This, unlike the summary post, is simple and readily available. But there are two sides to this story, so each of the next few posts will have not only something I miss about London but also something I’m glad to have back.
I will talk more about this later, but let me just say (generally speaking) I’m home, and I’m content.
There’s a tell for when I truly like a new place. It’s not how I feel when I’m leaving or the moment I return. Instead, I know when I’ve left somewhere special about 3 hours after I get back.
This is when it truly sinks in that I’m no longer where I was. And for a city like Paris, this is when a consuming longing and lethargy kicks in.
But take it from me, Paris deserved every bit of that post-place depression.
For me, Paris was a cité des rêves (city of dreams). From the moment I stepped up and out of the Metro to see two signs reading, “boulangerie” (bread shop) and “patisserie” (pastry shop), I knew it going to be a delicious weekend.
Crazy crowds at the Mona Lisa. Good thing Mona doesn't have a sense of personal space.
Having a good friend in Brussels this summer means two things. 1) I have to visit. 2) I have a place to stay. For many travellers a free place to stay justifies a more expensive ticket, but for a cheap college American living in Europe for the summer, there is always something cheaper – the “I’ll-swim-if-I-have-to” mentality.
Initially I planned on taking a Eurostar under the Chunnel, but when I saw the price tag my penny-pinching brain said keep looking. So I listened. Then I found it, an overnight Eurolines coach bus from London to Brussels. About an eight-hour trek vs. an under two-hour high-speed train. It was also less than half the price – £38 round trip. I drive eight hours between college and home. This wouldn’t be so bad, right?
Signs for the Expo were all over the city. I found this one in the Urban Planning Exhibition Center.
No matter the expressed theme of the 2010 World Expo – Better City, Better Life – the talk was on the pavilions. Look no further than the minimum hour-long queues for each one, or rumored 5 hour-long line for Saudi Arabia’s, to understand the pavilions were the show. And this makes sense. At the Expo, the pavilion is the nation. Each one is a chance to express national ideals, culture or make a statement. Armed with my World Expo passport, I set out to see “the world” in about 10 hours. Here are my thoughts on the highlights. Continue reading
This slight spacing mistake I found in a museum is nothing compared to my attempts at Chinese.
I like adventure. I knew when two of my group members and I said we were going to stick around at the Expo after the arranged bus left with everyone else that it would be just that. You can’t live your life only taking pre-arranged buses. Sometimes you have to take a city bus, take a subway, take a chance on the unknown public transportation system. So we stayed.
After the Expo shut down at 11pm, we walked a little ways to the metro (underground subway). We knew basically which stop we needed. We approached the ticket monitor with slight hesitation. “Oh, thank god,” we thought – there was an “English” button. We selected our stop, feed the machine, grabbed our passes and headed down. We joined the small town that was the subway occupants, and literally squeezed into the car.
