- Walk – Unless you’re on a serious time crunch in a city, walk instead of taking public transportation. This allows you to fully experience all the excitement and culture that a city has to offer. Things that I have experienced simply because I chose to walk somewhere instead of bus or metro include stumbling upon street festivals, seeing an extraordinary fireworks display, and spotting Simon Pegg, just to name a few. Cool things happen in cities, simply because they are cities. You have a much higher chance of being a part of them if you maximize the time you spend out and about.
- Walk down – Most historical cities are built around a river or some other body of water because they were founded before indoor plumbing, and therefore needed easy access to water. Liquids flow downhill, therefore in order to find the historical city center your best bet is probably to walk downhill.
- Walk up – Since most cities are built on a hill (see point two), most cities have some sort of natural pinnacle that you can climb up to see the entire city below. Primrose Hill, Schonbrunn Palace, and Sacré-Cœur all provide beautiful views, for example. Find out where this place is and go climb it! Not only is it sure to be beautiful, but it’s also easier to understand a city’s layout from a Birdseye view.
- Go exploring – If you see a street and wonder what’s down it, go find out! You travel for adventure and excitement, not for schedules and maps. Don’t be afraid to feed your curiosity.
- Bring a book – I know what you’re thinking. “A book?! But Melanie! You keep telling me to appreciate the city and world around me!” You 100% should still be looking up and engaging with people, but traveling rarely ever goes as planned. You never know when you’ll have time to kill, say three hours in a bus station for instance. If you have a book with you, you can keep the relaxing vacation vibe going, even in stressful situations. I’ve found that it’s fun to read books that are set in or about the place that you are traveling too. That way it’s even more of an extension of the holiday!
- Bring a Sharpie – There are all sorts of landmarks, usually those that relate to music for some reason, where people sign or leave their mark in some way. Abbey Road and Jim Morrison’s grave both have areas that fans have completely taken over, writing lyrics, signing names, and leaving notes. When you get to a place like this you’ll want to add your own mark to the fray, so bring a permanent marker with you.
- Buy local – Markets are probably my favorite part of traveling. You really get to know the character of a city shopping in them. You have an excuse to interact with locals, it’s a cool place to do food shopping and indulge in all the flavors of a place, and there’s a certain amount of excitement elicited by the temporariness of it all. Plus, it’s great to buy clothes at markets because then when people ask you can be like “Oh this? It’s just from some little market in Vienna.”
- Picnic – After picking up some groceries at that local market, find a nice park and settle down for a picnic, if weather permits. It’s cheap, fun, and it will be nice to be in a green space after so much urban terrain.
- Wear your city face – This rule mainly applies as a safety precaution when walking alone through any city, whether you’re vacationing or living there. Your city face says all sorts of things. It’s anger and toughness, combined with suspicion and street smarts. It says “Don’t mess with me”, “Screw you”, “I could beat you up”, etc. It is just generally intimidating and unpleasant. While wearing your city face don’t make eye contact with other people. Walk in a way that says you have places to go and things to do and, most importantly, people to meet. Hold your head high and say focused. This not only will discourage thieves, pickpockets, etc. but will also keep people from asking for a moment of your time to save the Yangtze Finless Porpoise, or whatever.
- Starbucks sucks, but Starbucks is great – It is astonishing how many Starbuck’s are in the world. 23,187 at last count, in 64 different countries. Odds are, there will be one near where you visit, probably at the big tourist attractions. Right next to the Brandenburg Gate? Starbucks. Across from the Spanish Riding School? Starbucks. By the Charles Bridge, Arc de Triomphe, and Grote Markt? Starbucks. We saw at least one in every single city we went to. It was incredibly disappointing that Europe, a place known for incredible coffee, was still completely infiltrated by this American coffee corporation. Why bother traveling if you’re just going to experience the same thing everywhere you go? Thus, Starbucks sucks. Go find a more unique shop when you’re craving your espresso. However, Starbucks is also great. Because it is a big corporation, you should have little to no qualms about taking the fullest advantage of its existence. Starbucks is the perfect place to collect yourself. You can use the bathroom, refill your water bottle, sit down for a second, and use the Wi-Fi. Those brief moments of comfort and familiarity can make all the difference when setting the tone of a trip.
- Take the road less traveled – Cliché, I know, but there is a certain benefit to going off of the beaten path. First of all, the farther you get away from tourist attractions, the cheaper things will be. Even if you just turn off of a main road and go on a side street, you’re sure to find things at least a bit less expensive and a little more authentic. Less Starbucks, more markets, if you catch my drift.
- The 48-Hour Rule – This is the best and most important rule. The idea behind the 48-hour rule is that when you have only 48 hours left in a city you can do basically whatever you want without worrying about being judged, because you will leave this place and never see these people ever again very very soon. Granted there are limitations. Don’t do anything that puts anyone, including yourself, in danger, and don’t use this as an excuse to be a jerk. The 48-Hour Rule is about just letting go and making sure you really do what you want to do during your traveling experience, because you may never get this chance again. Dance like no one is watching. Sing in the rain. Take as many touristy pictures as you want. YOLO. So much YOLO. YOLO is what traveling is all about.
Tag Archives: city
I LOVE PARIS
After the Grand Bus Extravaganza of April 4th (patent pending) I was exhausted and confused, finding myself in a city where I had no idea where to go and a feeble ability to communicate. (I had taken two years of high school French and figured that this was my only hope at talking to anyone. This was before I figured out that everyone in Paris – and most of Europe – speaks English.) I got off the bus and followed the tracks of my fellow travelers, assuming they knew where to go, until I found myself in the metro station. I spent about ten minutes staring at the ticket machine through dreamy, groggy eyes before purchasing an all day ticket for around six euros. This would be the only time I used that ticket, but I didn’t know it at the time. I wasn’t sure how to buy a one-way ticket and was too stubborn to ask the man working at the ticket desk because I wasn’t sure if he spoke English (he did) and I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t speak French (I was seriously worried about this. I’m not sure what I thought I was going to do on the rest of my journey if I didn’t want to admit that I only speak English. Did I really think I was going to fake my way through Dutch? And Czech? And Austrian-German? What was I thinking?!?) So I got the day pass, hopped on a train, made a transfer, and got off at the Avenue des Gobelins stop (“Goblin Avenue? How silly, yet charming and whimsical!” a slightly delirious Melanie thought.) In the end, it turns out that all of the stress and frustration it took to get there made arriving in Paris that much sweeter. The sun shone down in through the entrance of the metro, a celestial light at the end of the tunnel, illuminating each stair on my jovial assumption to the City of Light. As I emerged birds flew down and placed a crown of flowers on my head, a sparkling rainbow shot across the sky, and I swear to god Walt Disney sat up in his grave and exclaimed “By jove! I ought to make a movie about this!” (Yes, he really talks like this and yes this is a 100% true story. Okay, maybe not 100%. Maybe it’s a 10% true story, but I did have a completely transcendental chocolate éclair when I first got off of the train, which I successfully ordered in French, so it was basically the same thing.) The hostel (Oops! Hostel, a recommendation from a friend. It was a very nice hostel, with free breakfast and computer access, but it was a little pricier than I would have liked. However, we decided to splurge because Paris is a big city and we figured we might as well go with something we knew was good and safe than gamble with a cheaper place. I do wish it had been more centrally located though.) was conveniently only a couple of blocks away from the metro stop. I dropped off my bags, grabbed a map, and went out exploring. While living in London I’ve come to realize that I love walking around cities by myself, so I was ecstatic to have the chance to do this in Paris. I specifically got to France earlier than Sarah because I wanted to get to know the city on my own. It makes me more comfortable. When I’m alone in a city I feel self sufficient and autonomous. It’s empowering to be able to get yourself where you want to be, and it’s fun to be able to move on your own schedule, spontaneously stopping at things that you think look interesting, and skipping over what looks boring, without bothering others. If you want to walk 5 miles to the Eiffel Tower and 5 miles back when you have a perfectly usable metro pass, you can (and I did). If you want to spend an hour and a half exploring and shopping at a historical bookstore you can (and I did). If you want to spend three hours lounging on the lawn in front of the Eiffel Tower writing postcards, instagramming pictures, and eating baguette and cheese, you can (and I did). There’s no one there to say “I’m tired, let’s ride back.” Or “Oh my god, just pick a book already.” Or “Jesus Christ! Stop taking selfies!” Of course, being the extreme extrovert that I am, I simultaneously couldn’t wait to see Sarah and talk her ear off about all of the wonderful, enlightening, soul-searching alone time I was having. All through my “Me Day” in Paris I was keeping a list of things that we absolutely had to talk about once she got here and antagonizing over what we should talk about first. Thus, the struggle of being an independent extrovert. “I want to do my own thing, but I really want you to be with me as I do it!” I’m constantly both needy and independent. These two qualities create quite the conflict and it’s terribly annoying. Luckily, the people I ran into throughout the day were very nice and friendly, completely opposite of the French stereotype. On top of that, getting to know Paris was like getting to know a new person in and of itself. Each city has its own personality, its stereotypes and its secrets, its strengths and its flaws. Before you go there you’ve heard the rumors and maybe even seen pictures, so you have an idea of what to expect, but just like meeting a new person, you really have no idea what it’s like until you actually experience it. Each person’s perception and judgment is different. My personal experience with Paris was wonderful, beautiful, and enchanting. I understand how Paris is known as the most romantic city in the world, because I immediately fell head over heels for it. From the hostel I headed downhill (wonder why? Check out my next post – “Rules: Melanie’s Guide to Traveling in a City”) towards the water. First stop on my list? Notre Dame. However, like with any city, beautiful surprises along the way distracted me. Just as I got to the river I ran across the Museum National D’Histoire Naturelle and the gorgeous gardens outside of it. The museum wasn’t open yet, but the gardens were buzzing with runners, families, photographers, and tourists. In London the leaves were still laden with the heavy sleep of a grey and rainy winter, but here in the French sunshine the vegetation was wide-awake and blooming with color. I wound along the dirt paths lined with rainbows of tulips, daisies, and violets, past the most beautiful pink flowered tree, behind kangaroos and giraffes in the menagerie, and up a twisting, forested labyrinth to a gazebo. Granted, I was experiencing this all through rose-colored glasses (literally, they were two pounds at Primark), but the experience was breathtaking and I was just so so happy to finally be in Paris.
I continued my walk towards my original destination, the Ile de la Cite, a small island in the middle of the Seine River where the cathedral is located, with the Hunchback of Notre Dame soundtrack looping through my head. The building itself is incredible, and easily recognizable from quite far away. It’s tall steeple, distorted gargoyles, and flying buttresses (heh heh, buttress) make it a gothic playground of a building. However, on that first day, flowering trees and soft spring sun offset the foreboding architecture. I wandered around the grounds taking pictures, but the line to go inside was fairly long so I decided to wait until Sarah was here to do the full Notre Dame experience.
After Notre Dame I was determined to find Shakespeare and Company, an English bookstore that has been around since 1919. The original store was run by Sylvia Beach, and served as place for bards and brains of the nineteen twenties to meet, write, and exchange ideas. The authors who visited include Earnest Hemingway, James Joyce, Gertrude Stein, and F. Scott Fitzgerald (think the literary crew from Midnight in Paris). The store also published books and was known to carry banned books. Unfortunately, the original store closed in 1940, during World War II due to German occupation. In 1951 George Whitman opened the store that exists today, named after the original shop. In the 1950s the new store was frequented by many figures of the Beat Generation, such as Allen Ginsburg and William S. Burroughs, and today it still attracts great minds, as well as tourists. The current owner of the store is Sylvia Beach Whitman, George’s daughter, who is named after the founder of the original store. (Thanks to Wikipedia for the run down. For more information check out their website: http://www.shakespeareandcompany.com). 
History aside, the store is a magical place. It is a wonderland of books, pens, and poems. The bottom of the store has items for sale and the upper level is a library of sorts, comprised of nooks and crannies filled with hardbacks, typewriters, couches, and chairs. Hand scrawled notes act as wallpaper. A piano sits in one room, played by a visitor to the pleasure of a small, but captivated audience, while I was there. A snowy cat curled up on a chair in the back room, flirting with the idea of escaping out the window. The space is disorganized in a way that alludes to creative genius. People were relaxing, reading, and talking. This bookstore is what every college town coffee shop aspires to be.
Some patrons expressed their fascination with the store differently than others. There was a loud American boy in the “quiet reading” section, proudly contemplating to a middle-aged woman that this was the place where the bright young minds that changed the world had once gathered and that, before they had changed the world, they didn’t know quite how bright their young minds were. The amazing realization he had come to from pondering this was that we could be the next bright young minds to change the world, even though we don’t know it yet. It was clear that by “we” he really meant “me”, referring to himself, and that he was lying when he said he “didn’t know it yet”. Despite certain pretentions, I absolutely loved this store. I spent over an hour there and ended up buying two books, one that is a gift, and the other. Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto (Now With A New Middle) by Chuck Klosterman, as a souvenir for me. Unfortunately, the prices matched the prestige, but since I was skimping on almost everything else I decided it was worth it. When you buy the books they put a stamp of Shakespeare’s face on the inside cover, with a caption that reads “Shakespeare and Company Kilometer Zero Paris”, which is a nice finishing touch. From the bookstore I set off to my final destination on my solo Paris day – the holy grail of France, the mightiest of mighty landmarks…the Eiffel Tower. As is inherent in the nature of wandering, I got a little bit lost on my way there, but as long as I headed in generally the correct direction I knew I would find it. It’s a pretty big (literally) deal, after all. I caught my first glimpse by accident as I was meandering past the Musee de l’Armee, when suddenly over the rooftops protruded the glistening pinnacle of Parisian pride. Upon seeing it I (unsuccessfully) restrained a squeak and picked up my pace, making a beeline to the landmark. The tower is placed at the end of a green space, reminding me of the positioning of the Washington Monument at the end of the Mall in D.C., standing tall and stately above the city. Being in front of it was surreal, but also somewhat anticlimactic, as with most famous landmarks. I couldn’t believe that I was there, really seeing it, but also, to a certain extent, you wonder “now what?” Landmarks like the Eiffel Tower, and Big Ben, and the Astronomical Clock, are passive experiences, especially if you’re not going inside of them. You go, look at it, and take a picture. The whole experience takes about ten minutes. It’s incredible, and certainly a solidifying moment of “Yes. I am here. This is real,” but in comparison to active exploration of a city, it can be a little disappointing. However, I was anticipating this and had stopped in a bakery along the way and got a fresh baguette and some brie, so I proceeded to have the most wonderfully French afternoon possible, sitting in front of the Eiffel Tower, finishing my book, which was set in Paris, and eating my bread and cheese. That way I could continue to appreciate the tower’s beauty, but still actually have something to do. It was glorious.
About three hours later I went the five miles back to the hostel on the other side of the river, passing the Louvre along the way (eep!). Once I got back to the hostel I was ready to shower (still smelled like overnight bus), relax (no longer be wearing my boots), and kill some time (delve into my new book) while waiting for Sarah. I made friends with the other girl in our room, who was from Argentina, and got settled into the space. As I was going down to use one of the hostel’s computers I ran into Sarah checking in at the counter. Since it was already pretty late by that time we decided to just go out and catch up with each other over wine and dessert, leaving more Parisian stuff for tomorrow. I was so happy to finally be with her! The vocal dam that had existed during the day had broken, and out came a flood of stories, anecdotes, and opinions. We hadn’t seen each other in two months, so we had a surplus of things to talk about. After Sarah and I had finished our desserts and wine most other customers had filtered out, so we waited for the check, figuring that it would be brought to us since we were the only ones that hadn’t paid yet. We waited, and waited, and waited, and waited. Finally everyone else was gone and the staff was stacking up chairs. We had tried to catch our waiter’s eye several times, to no avail. We finally got his attention as he was wiping down a table and we waved him over. Guess what his reaction was? Seriously, guess. You can’t. You’re not going to get it. He waved back, and then continued cleaning. We were the only people, sitting in front of empty plates in a deserted restaurant surrounded by upturned chairs and the stench of disinfectant, and when we waved the waiter over he just waved back. What? What??? The stereotype about terrible French service was 100% true. It took us almost an hour extra to get out of the restaurant after we had finished, simply because we weren’t given the opportunity to pay. We went back to the hostel, exhausted from travel, to a room that was already sleeping. I collapsed onto my bed, having not really slept in about 36 hours, and was immediately out, dreaming of cafés, berets, and Parisian adventures to come.
I MISSED THE BUS
The time was 1:31. The place was Victoria Coach Station.
“Is that the bus to Paris?” I say, trying to catch my breath from my jog here.
“It’s gone. You missed it.”
“No, but I see it – ”
“It’s gone.”
“But it’s right there!” I protest to no one as the bus attendant walks briskly away, completely unaffected.
For those of you how know me well, or know me at all, or really have ever tried to get to know me, but were unable to because you waited at the café where we were suppose to meet for coffee for 15 minutes and then left because you assumed that I wasn’t coming, when in actuality I got there 5 min later, you will know that I am a late person. Or as the leading experts call it “punctually challenged”. It’s part of my identity. It’s who I am. Hi. I am Melanie and I am a late-aholic. (Hi Melanie.) Even right now. This post is about my trip that started over a month ago. The schedule that I wrote up for myself today had me starting to write it an hour ago. Yet, alas, here we are, late as usual.
It’s not that I don’t try to be on time. I do. I really, really do. I’m actually, to the shock of all of my friends at UCL, more on time here than I am at home. There is improvement, however small it may be. However, I am fighting against all odds. It’s an actual thing, being chronically late. Very smart people with fancy degrees have studied people like me. (See this link). It’s an incurable disease that has crippled my social and professional life for decades. (Okay, only two decades, and I didn’t really have a professional life for the first one…and I don’t really have a professional life now…but you know what I mean.) Even still, who thought my downfall would be a single solitary minute?
I guess I ought to start from the beginning – that’s normally how this story telling thing works, after all – and I know that you want to hear every detail of this action-packed adventure of waiting in a smelly bus station, so here it goes.
Three days before I was about to leave on my whirlwind adventure of Europe I had not booked my transport or all of my accommodations. Lesson One: THIS IS STUPID. DON’T DO THIS. DON’T BE THAT KID. Unfortunately, I was that kid, left scrambling last minute to figure things out. Why was I scrambling at the last minute? Well, because I was running late with things of course. (I am suddenly remembering that I use this blog as a way to prove my WordPress and writing skills to potential employers, and realizing that this specific post may perpetuate my lack of professional life, considering the focus is certainly an un-hirable flaw. Hopefully it will come off as endearing?)
In those three days I made 10 bookings for a combination of buses, flights, trains, and hostels. My coach from London to Paris was confirmed at 14:15 on April 3rd for a journey that left at 13:30 on April 4th. I had done zero packing. It was crunch time.
I spent the next 23 hours running errands, packing, unpacking, repacking, making itineraries, researching the cities I was going to, sort of cleaning my room, and getting very little sleep. However, despite all my good intentions and ten-second-tidies I was hardcore hustling to Victoria Coach Station Friday afternoon, power walking to Warren Street station, willing the tube to go faster, and then half walking, half jogging, weighed down by my backpack, duffel bag, and purse, to Victoria Station. I stood at the entrance anxiously waiting for one of the ten different television screens to flash the number for the gate from which my bus was leaving. I saw “PARIS” out of the corner of my eye but by the time I whipped my head around the number was gone. I fiddled with my bags, staring at the space, waiting for the city to come back up.
“Did you cry? I would have cried.” My mom said as I recounted the story to her.
“No. Well, almost. I wanted to.”
As I stood alone in the middle of Gate 18, looking at the back of the bus attendant’s vest, surrounded by suitcases and stiff metal waiting chairs, I kept thinking “Melanie, grown women don’t cry when they miss their bus.” Unfortunately, a little voice inside me responded with “Yeah, well grown women don’t miss their bus, now do they?” The little voice in my head is mean sometimes. (Confirmation: There is a little voice in my head, but there are not voices in my head. That is a necessary difference.) Somehow I pulled myself together and walked to the ticket window, where I had to wait in the queue for 20 minutes. Waiting in a queue is about the worst thing you can do when you’re trying not to be upset about something, because there is literally nothing else to do but be upset. I kept thinking about how everyone would react when I told them I missed the bus. Tomorrow was supposed to my one day in Paris alone, and wandering around cities alone is one of my favorite things to do. My family and friends knew how excited I was about this and I just kept imaging their pity and disappointment when I told them that I, in fact, was not in Paris. Nothing is worse for me than people being nice to me when I’m upset. I don’t know why, but it always just makes me so much more upset. For example, if you hug me while I’m sort of crying I will completely dissolve into full-on waterworks. I don’t know why, but I just can’t handle that type of human contact when I’m already working so hard to keep it together. I considered lying to everyone and pretending that I got there just fine, but the more I thought about it the more I just wanted my mom, and I couldn’t very well expect her to make me feel better if I didn’t tell her something was wrong.
When I finally stepped up to the counter the ticket seller was alarmed and confused. British people don’t show their feelings. The most I’ve ever seen a Brit react is when I was opening the bathroom door to leave as someone else opened the door to enter. They exclaimed “Jesus! You scared me!” Honestly, I think that’s the most genuine reaction I have seen over here. Anyway, so the ticket seller was clearly uncomfortable, though I was trying my very hardest to remain composed.
“I need to get to Paris. I missed my bus.”
All of the buses for that day were booked, but he could put me on a bus tomorrow morning at 11:30. It would get to Paris the next evening and cost five pounds for the replacement ticket.
“Okay, that’s fine.”
My dreams of glamorous solo treks around the Eiffel Tower, and relaxing and reading alone in a café for hours were dashed. He slid the ticket through the window, looking at me with caution and concern, as if I was a bomb about to explode.
“Thanks. Do have a napkin or anything back there? My yogurt exploded in my backpack and it’s leaking everywhere.” This was a causality of my run here.
He found a tissue and slid it through the same slot as the ticket.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Take your time.”
I readjusted my bags and tried not to cover myself in yogurt any more than I already was.
“There is a coach leaving at 9:30 tonight, and if you want you can come and be on standby in case someone doesn’t show up. There’s no guarantee that you’ll make it on, but it’s a possibility. You have to be here an hour early though, at eight thirty. Okay? And tell them that you know there is no space, but that you talked to me.”
The man across the counter was becoming less alarmed and more grandfatherly by the second. Lesson Two: On international coach rides get there an hour early, half and hour at the absolute latest. I nodded and said thank you.
“I can take that.” He reached through the window to throw out my dirty tissue.
I left the station, still feeling dejected, despite the glimmer of hope that was the overnight bus. I passed a Sainsbury’s on the way to the tube station.
“Screw this. I’m getting ice cream.”
6 hours, one nap, and one pint of Ben and Jerry’s later I arrived at the station again. I waited in line for a couple minutes before the teller told me that there were no standby seats for this bus.
“Yes, I know that it’s all sold out, but earlier today I talked to – “
“We’re not taking standbys on this journey. There’s another coach leaving at 10:30. They queue in an hour.”
I dragged my bags to an empty chair and pulled out my book. It was titled Anna and the French Kiss. My best friend, Tess, had given it to me for Christmas because “it is so so good, you will fall absolutely in love with the main character, and I know the title is silly, but it’s so great just read it.” The title was silly, and I felt self-conscious holding the book in public, but by that point I had already made such a fool of myself in that stupid station I figured it didn’t really matter. This began my three-hour cycle of waiting in line, getting rejected from standby, and reading my book until the next line formed. I tried for the 9:30, 10:30, and 11:30 coaches. I explained my situation, was exceptionally nice and conscientious, and even batted my eyelashes, but at 11:30 my chances were still looking pretty slim. A mass of people also trying to get on standby had formed and everyone’s true colors were starting to come out. It seemed like every person was absolutely sure that they were the first person in the queue and that they had been waiting there the longest. At this point I couldn’t remember if any of these people had been here before me. All of the lines and tickets and waiting had blurred into one, and I really just wanted to either get on a bus or go home and go to sleep. I didn’t care which; I just wanted to do something.
“There’s only one extra spot on the coach,” I heard the bus driver tell the woman in the ticket booth. Immediately the two people closest to the desk started arguing about which one of them was there first, pleading their respective cases to the teller. I let them duke it out for a little bit, and when I realized that they weren’t going to stop anytime soon I slid up to the counter.
“Excuse me, but did you say there was only one seat left?”
“Yes. Only one person from standby can get on the coach.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
I turned around and begin walking towards the exit. There was no chance that I was going to get on the bus with the two of them pushing that hard for seats. I was almost out of sight of the ticket counter when I heard…
“That girl. That girl over there was the first one here. Fred said he was talking to her hours ago.”
I whipped around and saw a security guard talking to the woman at the counter and pointing to me. Me! I couldn’t believe my luck. Despite the angry protests of my fellow standby-ers I walked over to the counter, handed the woman my passport and ticket, and in five minutes I was on the bus. The promise of Paris was in the air and it was going to be beautiful.
Lesson Three: It’s worth it to be nice to people and to be patient, even if you don’t think it will get you anywhere. Sometimes people come through for you. I’m not sure which person Fred was out of all the people I talked to at the station that night, but thanks Fred.
***[TRAVELER TIPS: On a coach from England to France you stop at border control, so make sure you have your passport with you. You also stop at one point and get on a ferry to go across the channel. Go straight up to the top and get a seat on one of the benches immediately if you want one at all. The ferry becomes crowded quickly.]
VAGABOND
I WENT TO EDINBURGH. IT WAS GREAT. HERE ARE PICTURES.
14.2.14 – Overnight bus to Edinburgh from London. Cheapest, but easily the most annoying way to travel. I recommend only doing it once in a trip. If you were to go multiple nights on the bus without real sleep it would take away from the enjoyment of actually being in the place you are going to.
15.2.14 – Arrive in Edinburgh!!! It was still dark when we got there at about 7am, but the hostel my friends were staying in (I was staying at a friend’s house) had a really nice common area and they let us store our bags there, even though we couldn’t check in yet. This temporary luggage storage seems to be pretty standard procedure for a hostel. The place was called Castle Rock Hostel and it was right across the street from the Edinburgh castle. There was a lot of room to hang out and a very friendly atmosphere. I definitely recommend it!
After we chilled out for a little bit and let the sun rise we headed up to the castle. It’s pretty expensive to go in but you can walk around it, and even go past the moat, for free. The views are gorgeous from up there. You can see a lot of the city and there are snowcapped mountains in the distance. 
After exploring the castle we headed down the Royal Mile, which is the main stretch of street in Edinburgh. Our plan was to meet my friend at a Starbucks (I know, I know, Starbucks? Really? But that is where our tour was starting. Also I hate that Starbucks is literally everywhere I go here) and then go on a free walking tour. Surprisingly, free walking tours are a pretty common thing in the cities I’ve been to so far. The guides on these tours work for free, so it’s recommended that you tip, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Walking around the city was gorgeous and fun, but our tour guide wasn’t the best, so we peeled off from the group after about half an hour to go get lunch.
We walked by the Writers’ Museum on the way to lunch. It was free and looked interesting, but we didn’t have a chance to stop. However, there were quotes from Edinburgher writers outside on the pavement, so we got to enjoy some of the artistry without entering.
Speaking of authors, J.K. Rowling lived with her sister in Edinburgh while she was writing the Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, so the city is full of cool Harry Potter landmarks. The names in the graveyard below inspired names for characters in the books, specifically McGonagall and Tom Riddle, plus the graveyard itself was pretty and fun to explore. We also checked out “The Elephant House”, a cafe in which Rowling wrote most of the first Harry Potter book. The restaurant is a place of pilgrimage for many Harry Potter fans and the bathrooms are covered with graffiti devoting love to Rowling and the world she created. I added my own mark with my name, the year I was there, and the quote “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” from Albus Dumbledore.
Outside of the Elephant House, on Candlemaker Row, there’s this little dog statue commemorating “Greyfriars Bobby” a dog that supposedly spent 14 years guarding his owners grave. When he died he was buried next to his owner and the statue was erected a year later. According to superstition, rubbing his nose will bring you good luck!
After exploring a little bit we all felt pretty tired since we’d barely slept the night before, so we directed our exploring toward the hostel where I grabbed my stuff and then headed over to my friend’s apartment to chill out for a little bit. By this time the previously gloomy weather had brightened up and the city looked gorgeous! On the walk to the apartment we passed the castle (again), the Scott monument (in honour of the author Sir Walter Scott), the Adam Black statue (he was a politician), Calton Hill (ruins of what was meant to be a sporting arena), and cool looking clock!
That night we met up with a friend of a friend and had dinner at a nearby pub. We weren’t out too late because the next morning we were getting up to climb Arthur’s Seat! (16.2.14) This is a dormant volcano from which you can see everything when you hike to the top – the ocean, the city, the snowcapped mountains. It wasn’t a very hard hike, but it certainly wasn’t simple either. There was a little bit of scrambling over rocks and fair incline the whole way up. The view from the top was overwhelmingly beautiful, so it was worth every second of the hike. This was easily my favourite part of Edinburgh and is certainly a must see when visiting!
At the bottom of the Seat sits the Palace of Holyroodhouse, where the queen stays when she comes to visit. You have to pay to go in, but you can take pictures through the fence and the archway for free. You can also try on crowns in the gift shop for free, which we all know was really what was important.
Post hill and palace we split up for lunch and met back at the Calton ruins to do a bit of exploring. THere’s a pretty view from up there, but it was nothing compared to the view from Arthur’s Seat. The ruins were pretty interesting and there was also a creepy graveyard across the street that we checked out. After that we hung out at the hostel, went to dinner, and finished the day off with a trip to a pub. The next morning? Onward to St. Andrews!!!
LITTLE THINGS
I have been the absolute worst at posting recently, but it’s all for good reasons – I swear! I’ve been doing schoolwork and travelling and been just generally pretty busy. However, here are all of the pictures of the day from the week or so before I left for my travels and all of the little things I was up to then.
8.2.14 – Meet Godfrey. He met a swift death shortly after this picture was taken.
9.2.14 – Me and my friend trying to get a matching shirt picture and failing epically at it by just being incredibly spazzy. 
10.2.14 – A quiet day. I made tea in a jar and wore a sweater that is really just a small blanket. Here’s a picture.
11.2.14 – I won 2 free tickets to go see the semi-finals of Brain of Britain, which is sort of like BBC’s version of jeopardy. The questions are so ridiculously hard, though! There were only about 3 that I knew the answers too. It’s all very obscure knowledge where the question has seemingly nothing to do with the answer, but the contestants were incredibly impressive and all did really well.
12.2.14 – Rainy day at the Camden Market, where we went to get lunch from one the numerous food stands. The food here is incredible and there is the most variety in the smallest space that you will probably find in all of London. So many options, and they all look and smell soooo good. The rain and wind got pretty ridiculous as we were walking through the rest of the market, so we took a bus home. Here’s a pseudo-artsy picture through the rainy window.
13.2.14 – I spent 4 hours in Cafe Nero finishing a paper. Thus, this picture sums up my day.
THE SPORTING LIFE
Football! Yay! Sports! Huzzah! [Insert sporty phrase here] I wanted to go to at least one professional football game while I was here, despite that the sportiest I get is the Spice Girls, because it seems to be such a British thing to do. I decided that Tuesday would be the day because it was only 10 pounds. It was cold and rainy and no one scored until they were almost done with overtime. It was 117 minutes in. This was probably not the best single game to represent the entire sport of football to me, but now that I’ve been to one I feel no need to go to any more.
Apparently that’s what we are!
Oh so sporty. Look at that run. Look at that kick. Go team.
Photo-ception
Final score!
The surrounding area was pretty cute and most houses had gorgeous stained glass on their windows and doors! Also I thought it was funny that I caught this guy picking his nose. I’m not normally this immature, I promise.
Did I mention that it was cold and rainy? Did I mention how cold and rainy? Did I mention that we stood in the cold and rainy for over 2 hours? I could not feel my feet at all when we were leaving the stadium and my toes were literally blue. I actually, genuinely thought that I would never be able to be warm ever again. Then, out of the darkness came the most beautiful shining gleaming light. Could it be? Yes! The safe haven of the warm, dry bus here to save our tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free. This picture is the most important picture.
^^^Photo of the Day 4.2.14
FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH…
…this is what I’ve been up to the past couple weeks when I’ve been incredibly awful at keeping up with my posts. It’s better late than never, though, which is good for me because I’m perpetually late. To sum up, here’s what’s been going on in my life the past week or so.
26.1.14 – Recovering from Cambridge/doing work/all you can eat buffet in Chinatown! It was about 7 pounds most places, and the food wasn’t great, especially concerning vegetarian options, but it was a fun experience!
^^^Photo of the Day 26.1.14
27.1.14 – Study and tea day 🙂
^^^Photo of the Day 27.1.14
28.1.14 – Tuesdays are the day where I have class the entire day, so nothing much exciting happened today. I was given fudge flavoured yogurt at the dining hall, which was an interesting sensory experience…
^^^Photo of the Day 28.1.14
29.1.14 – There’s a very important picture of me making a snowman out of tater tots, peas, and carrots at the dining hall on this day that I am not currently in possession of. Stay tuned for that gem.
30.1.14 – So this week was a pretty rainy and lazy week, if you hadn’t figured out from the lack of exciting things to take pictures of the past three days. Thursday followed this trend when we opted to hang out and watch frozen and do mostly nothing all day. However, Frozen is incredible so I’m not even sorry about it. If you haven’t seen it stop everything and so see it right now. No! Stop reading!!! Start watching it!!!! Go! Now!!!
^^^Photo of the Day 30.1.14 (So, yeah, I didn’t take any pictures this day…)
31.1.14 – Exploring day! After a week of doing basically nothing I decided to go out on a rainy Friday adventure! It twas so joyous of an occasion that it deserves its own post, coming soon to a computer near you!
^^^Photo of the Day 31.1.14
1.2.14 – Evensong at Westminster Abbey. It was incredibly beautiful, and also will have it’s own post in the near future.
^^^Photo of the Day 1.2.14
2.2.14 – The Chinese New Year Parade in Chinatown. You may wonder why I chose such a bad picture for the photo of the day. Well, it’s because this photograph captures the experience. There were no barricades, so the crowd descended on the parade like a swarm of flies armed with iPhones and cameras, making it impossible to see anything. It was ridiculous. We also went to a Super Bowl party (woo,sports) that was hosted by UCL’s American society.
^^^Photo of the Day 2.2.14
3.2.14 – Sleep and studying. Those days are boring, but necessary. Here’s a picture of my bulletin board that is rapidly filling up with programs, business cards, flyers and postcards from things that I’ve done and been too. A bunch have things have been added, even just in the past week. By the time I leave I probably will have taken up then entire board and the surrounding wall.
^^^Photo of the Day 3.2.14
4.2.14 – Football! Yay! Sports! Huzzah! [Insert sporty phrase here] I wanted to go to at least one professional football game while I was here because it seems to be such a British thing to do, despite that the sportiest I get is the Spice Girls, so on Tuesday I went because it was only 10 pounds. It was cold and rainy and no one scored until they were almost done with overtime. It was 117 minutes in. This was probably not the best single game to represent the entire sport of football to me, but now that I’ve been to one I feel no need to go to any more.
^^^Photo of the Day 4.2.14
5.2.14 – Went to see Giselle at the Royal Opera House! It was only 9 pounds and completely gorgeous 🙂 More to come on this event too!
^^^Photo of the Day 5.2.14
6.2.14 – Nothing much really happened today besides rain, silliness, and indecisiveness. We tend to decide to go to places and then decide it’s too expensive after we get there and just end up wandering around trying to find cheaper places only to remember we’re in London, so we just end up walking all over only to go home, but c’est la vie. Here is a lovely snapchat that we took during one of such excursions.
7.2.14 – This day will get it’s own post very soon because I both went to Hyde Park and to see the BBC symphony orchestra! Here’s a picture of Hyde Park to tide you over until then 🙂
ANOTHER TOWN
Here is my Cambridge post! It’s about a week late – sorry! I’ve been really bad at keeping up with the posts, but I have been taking pictures, so I do have things to post once I get around to it! Last Saturday we took the train to Cambridge for a day trip. It was 8 pounds per person for a return ticket when bought in a group of four. To clarify, a return ticket means there and back, or round trip, not just your ticket for coming back.
The city was cute, but there really wasn’t much to do there. It was definitely not as cool as Brighton. It was sort of like the older area of London, but smaller. It was aesthetically pleasing, but not necessarily entertaining.
We left from King’s Cross station.
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?”
Breakfast from a stand at Market Square, in the centre of the city. There was sooo much bread!
Some pretty building that is probably important, but I don’t remember what it is…
An incredibly distasteful board game from a store that was basically entirely devoted to weaponry. Looks like American’s aren’t the only ones stupid about guns and violence.
Pretty streets of Cambridge! The last one of the doors is photo of the day 25.1.14!
LIFE IS LIFE
Helloooooo world! I’m sorry I haven’t written in so long! There’s been a lot going on, but also I was just being sort of lazy. On the bright side that means that I have lots of things to say! I’ll actually probably post several times today because all of my thoughts aren’t cohesive and it would just be silly to put them all together. So get pumped to hear about Oxford, English food, and trip planning later on! However right now I’m just going to do one of my random string of thoughts posts, because I haven’t done one of those in awhile and because I have a lot of thoughts. 🙂
- TRAFFIC. Holy smokes the traffic here is terrifying. There are no rules. None at all. Well, clearly there are some but no one follows them. It’s every person for themselves; try not to die. I have been almost hit by literally everything that moves here: cars, taxis, buses, bikes, mopeds, people, pigeons, scooters. I kid you not. Everyone jaywalks, but everyone almost dies on the daily while jaywalking. I have physically had to be held back from stepping in front of moving vehicles before because I didn’t see them coming. They go really fast and will not stop for you. They won’t. They will hit you. However, if you get hit I’ve heard you get a large sum of money as compensation, so I guess it all depends on how you look at things. There’s even chaos on the pavement (sidewalks). You know how I said before that you go to the left every time? Well, that’s not true. Not at all. You just go to whatever side is closest to you, regardless of where the other people walking in the same direction as you go. I was told that British people are always organising themselves, but my experience is that that is a complete lie. Navigating yourself down the block is anarchy. Plus, if you go too close to the edge of the pavement cars will start beeping at you because there is absolutely no curb. You could easily be standing on the pavement and still get bludgeoned by a bus. Its completely ridiculous. Exist at your own risk.
- On a related, but lighter note, scooters are really big here. Children will just roll with their homies down the street or the grocery aisle on some pretty fly scooters.
- The architecture here is really interesting and sort of weird. There will be a very modern building made entirely of glass right next to one that resembles a mini medieval castle. It’s a smorgasbord, but the smash of the old and the new is one of the things that makes London so interesting.
- You have to pay for things like maps and brochures when you go to tourist attractions here. The only pamphlets that are free are the ones asking for money, but they have pictures on them and the name of the site so I’ve been taking those and putting them on my bulletin board, covering up the part that says “Donate now!” or “Become a member!” I just want to be able to remember all the places I’ve been, and also to make my room look less like an insane asylum. I can’t stand blank walls.
- I’ve started saying silly British words! Like rubbish bin! And no one even looks at me weird! (I partially expect them to look at me and say “Hah! You’re an American! What right do you have to use our words?” but that is yet to happen.)
- There is so much club music all the time. They play nothing else anywhere. On the radio, in coffee shops, in actual clubs (okay, that one makes sense) it’s just constantly mm tx mm tx mm tx. (That’s me trying to type out the sound of beat boxing if you didn’t get it.) It’s very strange. Every song is a remix. The one exception that I have found is a coffee shop nearby that plays classy jazzy music, but that’s also pretty silly because it’s all classic rock songs that have been covered on Glee (not that I would know that…also I think that’s just a coincidence, not an artistic choice) being redone in the style of Billie Holiday.
- BEWARE. CLICHE STUDY ABROAD FEELS AHEAD: Yesterday I was doing some studying in the student union cafe and I suddenly just looked around and thought “Jesus Christ, I’m really privileged.” It’s astonishing how privileged I am to be here in London, going to school, not working, like what am I doing with it? What do I do with this much opportunity? Why did I win the lottery of the right place and the right time? Not that it couldn’t be better or that I don’t have anything more to work toward, but it could be so so much worse. Not that I didn’t always know that, but the other day it just hit me like a train on a track. Just the fact that I had this realisation at all, or not realisation, I’ve always known it, I guess train of thought is a better word, just proves it so much more. This entire experience is unreal.
PORTOBELLO ROAD
Have you ever seen Bedknobs and Broomsticks?! Because it’s the best. They fly on a bed. A bed! They can see the whole world including the bottom of the ocean and they don’t even have to get out of bed. How cool is that?! Well if you have no idea what I’m talking about then you had a very sad childhood and should go watch this movie pronto. It’s glorious. There are dancing fish and an athletic animal monarchy and spontaneous musical numbers and did I mention the flying bed?!?!
There’s this one scene in the movie where they go to Portobello Road and sing and dance about it. It’s great. Thus, I have had an overwhelming urge to go to Portobello Road myself since I was about 6. Yesterday my dream was lived out. We walked 3 miles there through parts of London unseen to us thus far. It’s really interesting because Bloomsbury area (where I live) is really nice and the Hyde Park area (where Portobello Road is) is really nice, but while going through the part of the city gluing those two sections together there is an obvious drop in socioeconomic status. It could have just been because we had never been in that direction before and therefore weren’t as confident as to where we were going – confusion makes everything a bit scarier – but there were definitely a few “we’re not in Kansas anymore” moments. (No worries, Mom, we didn’t feel unsafe. There was just a noticeable difference.) We ended up getting to the market a bit later in the day than we expected, so the entire market wasn’t hustling and bustling to the extent it does during peak hours, however we talked about going back again anyway so we may do that in a few weeks to get the full crazy chaotic experience. It was nice to be there when it was smaller, much less overwhelming. We were just whelmed. We’re in Europe so that’s a thing here.
Anyway…here are some pictures! They are really all just from the walk there because then my memory card was full, but oh well!
Pretty hotel on Marylebone Road near Regent’s Park!
So much Joe Strummer stuff! Surprisingly these weren’t in the same place.
Because no toy store is complete without a life-sized stuffed camel:
And no street is complete without a grass covered smartcar:
And no boot-ique (PUN) is complete without a boot tree:
Here’s the Electric Cinema, which is one of the oldest cinemas in the UK that’s still in use. Tickets are about a billion pounds, but instead of normal seating they have beds, couches, and armchairs, so it might be worth a billion pounds.
Also their Wolf of Wall Street poster is pretty legit:
I really like taking picture of streets….
^^^This was a silhouette picture but then editing happened and this was way cooler. Photo of the Day 22.1.14
For those of you interested (which should be everyone) here’s the Portobello Road clip from the moooovie! Woo wooo! Also, yes I know the stereotypes are pretty bad, but that’s Disney for you.
Study Abroad: London 
