So in case you couldn't tell through my incessant complaining in my blogs, but my foot constantly bothered me after Versailles (especially in London) so I finally decided to see a doctor about it. If there was a serious problem and they had to cut off my foot, I don't think this trip would have been worth it. Well maybe...the food has been REALLY good...
I set up an appointment conveniently during French class and go see Dr. Pierre. I forgot his last name, but Pierre was definitely his first name. French doctor's offices aren't the sterile white rooms like in the USA but it's more of a comfy office with his desk, library etc right next to the patients table. When it was my turn and he came to call me he asked for "Mademoiselle Burnay" as if the double LL was an "ay sound". I don't know if there was a typo and he thought they were i's? but it was cute. J'adore.
Anyway, he sits me down and starts feeling around my feet. Mind you my feet post a month and a half of Paris...not pretty. AND since I'm in constant paint they are always swollen, hot, and sweaty (per usual) so I felt real bad for Dr. Pierre at this point. He stops groping my foot and tells me I have two options 1.) my foot is broken 2.) I have a bone disease. Cool...? Thanks Dr. Pierre...I don't really know how either of these would have happened, but he's the doctor right? He sent me on my merry way to get x-rays with instructions on taking painkillers. Apparently French ibprofen is much stronger than American drugs soo I didn't need vicodin...their over the counter stuff would do the trick. Sweet.
I then proceed to the X-Ray office and get lost for basically the first time in Paris. And I wander 15 minutes out of my way on the way there. Really fun when your foot is potentially broken or diseased.
Anyway, I finally make it there and get x-rayed. The technician was asking me some questions in French. I stood there mouth opened drooling and she could tell I had no idea what was going on. She then said slowly and with hand motions "avec bébe??" with baby? Oh helll nah woman, I haven't eaten THAT many crepes for her to think that. Maybe she saw my swollen and sweaty ass feet and just assumed. My reaction of "Non, non, non, NON MERCI" almost scared her.
The main doctor calles me back "Mademoiselle Burnay? I have your results" WOO English. But she can't tell me my results in English. But she keeps saying inconclusive from what I gathered. Phew, at least the break isn't big enough to show clearly on the x-ray and bone disease doesn't show up on x-ray but I REALLY don't think that's possible.
Since my only options with a fractured food are to 1.) not walk and 2.) use these weird crutches. I opt for option 3). take lots of painkillers and suck it up. I'll deal with it in the States where they say my last name right and tell me what's wrong in a language I understand.
Unfortunately, this makes daily tasks difficult but I am woman, I am strong. With the help of Bettie, I can do anything.
Best part of this whole thing: socialized medicine. I was in and out of both the doctor's office and x-ray technicians office within 2 hours (Even less if i hadn't gotten lost) when I had no appointments until the day OF. Plus it cost me 60 euros total (yes, even for the x-rays) and I can get reimbursed by my insurance company in the States. Way to go France, you're on to something!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Apple pie among the Fish & Chips, Part III (well IV)
Sorry for the terrible delay on finishing my London adventures, I know you've all been on the edge of your seat waiting for the conclusion of this exciting adventure...
We started our day with Starbucks (hey, at least I didn't get McDo or SBucks in France) and wandering aimlessly through London searching for Abbey Road. Everyone we asked told us different directions so after an hour or so we threw in the towel and headed to lunch...
Most people would consider the Globe Theatre or the British Museum MUSTS in Paris, buuut we wanted to pretend we were rich socialites with all the time in the world for tea and shopping so we headed to the world's largest department store (that I know of), Harrod's. This place is Disneyland in a building. I'm not kidding either. There is a grocery store, a bucher, a seafood market, a fine spices market, a tea room, a chocolate room, bakeries, cafés, Planet Harrods, and a fine tea room...just to name the restaurants. It also has FULL menswear, womenswear, home and garden and sportswear departments, a toy kingdom, even a pet shop with dogs, cats, camels, penguins - you name it. Okay so I'm exaggerating about the penguins and camels, but I wouldn't be surprised. It's impossible to describe this other than OVERWHELMING and HUGE.
We decided to have high tea in the hoighty toighty tea room. Of course we are sweaty with huge bags and smelly clothes we've been wearing for 2 months so we blend right in. The waitress promptly addresses us to take our water bottles off the table. she wasn't offended but others (she pointed upwards) might be. I thought "sheesh guys, how could you be so rude to put those bottles on the table? Ugh, the lower classes". OH wait, that was MY waterbottle. Oops.
We had a lovely little lunch with the finest tea served in china (Joan Kasper would be proud) then we decided to tackle some of the food halls Harrod's had to offer. I was overwhelmed with the chocolate/ sweets sections and ended up getting overpriced, nasty fudge. I had over 20,000 options and I chose probably the ONE semi- gross thing. Just my luck. We then got lost in the houseware sections playing with the gadgets, gawked at the designer purses, and played with some toys (including really cool fake snow I wanted to buy).
Thoroughly tickled by the Harrod's adventure, we headed back to King's Cross for our train home. We had an accidental adventure on a double decker bus, which resulted in a fun photo shoot. Here are some of the glamor shots:
The fun didn't end there! Our train arrived in Paris at midnight and we got back to our dorms about 12:40am...Christy went to her room and there was a rose outside her door. She read the note attached and it said "there's a second rose waiting for you in the courtyard...P.S. run!". When we arrived in the courtyard, her darling boyfriend was standing there fresh off a plane from CA. Now that's amor. Little did Christy know I was helping Kyle execute this grand scheme. I was so nervous I was going to give away the surprise I started sweating balls. So while these two lovers were embracing...I was sweatily snapping pictures from the side. Now I know why I didn't have any lovers surprising me....
Anyway, a grand conclusion to a bon week-end. Back in Paris for two more weeks of trouble....
We started our day with Starbucks (hey, at least I didn't get McDo or SBucks in France) and wandering aimlessly through London searching for Abbey Road. Everyone we asked told us different directions so after an hour or so we threw in the towel and headed to lunch...
Some pretty London buildings we DID see:
Most people would consider the Globe Theatre or the British Museum MUSTS in Paris, buuut we wanted to pretend we were rich socialites with all the time in the world for tea and shopping so we headed to the world's largest department store (that I know of), Harrod's. This place is Disneyland in a building. I'm not kidding either. There is a grocery store, a bucher, a seafood market, a fine spices market, a tea room, a chocolate room, bakeries, cafés, Planet Harrods, and a fine tea room...just to name the restaurants. It also has FULL menswear, womenswear, home and garden and sportswear departments, a toy kingdom, even a pet shop with dogs, cats, camels, penguins - you name it. Okay so I'm exaggerating about the penguins and camels, but I wouldn't be surprised. It's impossible to describe this other than OVERWHELMING and HUGE.
Mmm freshly caught lobster...
We decided to have high tea in the hoighty toighty tea room. Of course we are sweaty with huge bags and smelly clothes we've been wearing for 2 months so we blend right in. The waitress promptly addresses us to take our water bottles off the table. she wasn't offended but others (she pointed upwards) might be. I thought "sheesh guys, how could you be so rude to put those bottles on the table? Ugh, the lower classes". OH wait, that was MY waterbottle. Oops.
Our fancy lunch...looks like grandma's house, right?
We had a lovely little lunch with the finest tea served in china (Joan Kasper would be proud) then we decided to tackle some of the food halls Harrod's had to offer. I was overwhelmed with the chocolate/ sweets sections and ended up getting overpriced, nasty fudge. I had over 20,000 options and I chose probably the ONE semi- gross thing. Just my luck. We then got lost in the houseware sections playing with the gadgets, gawked at the designer purses, and played with some toys (including really cool fake snow I wanted to buy).
Harry joined us for tea!
Thoroughly tickled by the Harrod's adventure, we headed back to King's Cross for our train home. We had an accidental adventure on a double decker bus, which resulted in a fun photo shoot. Here are some of the glamor shots:
Kyndal and I,
we thought this one was too zoomed in...
we thought this one was too zoomed in...
From the window:
Can you imagine the horse doing that with its body intact?
I made the coolest purchase at the train station, an Elle magazine with Emma Watson and a FREE SHIRT! What a great deal right? Emma was so entertaining on the 3 hour train ride...but that could have also been because of the complimentary champagne, wine, pork chops and cake (Eurostair train company knows the way to my heart)...ooooor the cracked out guy behind us who reminded me of a Dave Chapelle sketch. no joke.Can you imagine the horse doing that with its body intact?
Oh so Dave Chapelle wanna be wasn't he only one cracked out at this point...
The fun didn't end there! Our train arrived in Paris at midnight and we got back to our dorms about 12:40am...Christy went to her room and there was a rose outside her door. She read the note attached and it said "there's a second rose waiting for you in the courtyard...P.S. run!". When we arrived in the courtyard, her darling boyfriend was standing there fresh off a plane from CA. Now that's amor. Little did Christy know I was helping Kyle execute this grand scheme. I was so nervous I was going to give away the surprise I started sweating balls. So while these two lovers were embracing...I was sweatily snapping pictures from the side. Now I know why I didn't have any lovers surprising me....
Is it weird that I'm blogging this?
Nahhh.
Nahhh.
Anyway, a grand conclusion to a bon week-end. Back in Paris for two more weeks of trouble....
Friday, July 31, 2009
Apple pie among the VEGEMITE...read on...
We started the evening with McDonalds (hey it’s cheap) and free Stella’s from the hostel (My kind of establishment). Moving on...
Remember the Australians I told you about before? Here's where they come into the story again...Well one of them, dubbed Uncle Tony, was our tour guide for the night. The other one didn't make it to the bars because he was too drunk from watching a rugby game earlier that day. Oh and Uncle Tony didn’t actually go by Uncle Tony, but the name suited him and his many tattoo’s well. We also made friend with Beth, a crazy girl from Michigan who had just finished 3 weeks of organic farming and is trolling Europe alone aaand Macarena from Argentina. We later found out it was Macarena's 6 year anniversary with her 40 year old b/f in Argentina. She's 22. You do the math.
We started at the Walkabout Bar where the floor was so sticky we could hardly move. About two minutes after we got there I found a 20 pence piece on the ground and some drunk bloke licked my face. We're talking his tongue, my face, chin to forehead. I already knew it was gonna be a great night.
We enjoyed some BOMB English cider and rocked out to the live band playing everything from Oasis to B*Witched (C'est la vie!! wheeee) SEE BELOW:
The British people sound oh so charming with their accents and polite demeanor, but don’t let it fool you they are dirty chaps. One Brit in particular, a short nerdy looking guy came up to me and said in a very proper British accent “Good evening, lovely to meet you. Did you know you happen to have very big boobies?” Umm, no really? I hadn’t noticed. And he could at least have said "nice" instead of "big". Sheesh. I brushed him off and turned back to my friends. 5 minutes later I feel a tap on my shoulder “Could I fancy a grab of one of your boobies?” Umm, NO. I have not nearly had enough to drink at this point (kiddinggggg). That's just weird. Another 5 minutes later he comes into my peripheral vision and I see him ACTUALLY try and grab my chest. WTF. I already said you couldn’t fancy a grab! Luckily my Jedi quick reaction time managed to swat him away and refill my cider from the very drunk rugby player sharing his pitcher on my other side. Qui-gon Kim doesn’t miss a thing…
We then met an Australian and some guy from Bermuda (We called him Bermuda. Clever eh?) and moved from the “Walkabout bar”(without grabby mcgee) to the “The Red Back Bar" another Australian haunt. We hardly knew these fellows but Beth seemed to be getting to know one of them REALLY well, so our motley crew followed. We definitely didn't expect the bus ride to be the best part.
We all get in the double decker and Kyndal and I snag seats. About 2 stops later a charming little black man in a suit with a blue bag ascends the stairs, making friends with everyone. He sits down innocently...then the fun begins. Our Aussie friend starts singing and the new charming friend starts singing along and telling us his stories. He was taking requests for songs and naturally we request Michael JAckson. "No, i can't sing Michael. It'll make me cry...it'll make me cry" The Aussie starts the first few lines of Billie Jean and he beings to sing along..then gets weepy "You know, I used to work with Michael. We used to WORK together. I can't sing michael or I'll cry". He then opens the blue bag and begins to drink a suspicious substance. I think it's gasoline...he swore it was apple juice. He was starting to get rowdy again and luckily it was our stop. I've never seen eyes so glazed over like his.
We finally get to to Redback bar (which is apparently in the boonies). Their specialty is a snake bite (different kinds of ciders, beer and booze mixed together) and oodles of attractive Australians. This was a pretty BAR scene, with a band. But for some reason this group of people decided to roll E and wear Monsters Inc and other costumes made for toddlers. They were jumping around the dance floor awkwardly..but I'm pretty sure I saw all of them cosutmed people making out with plain clothed people by the end of the night. Maybe they were wizards who didn't understand how to dress like muggles? Maybe?
Please disregard my skanky ass expression and look at christy in the background.
The girl is LOVING the song.
The night ended with SCHWARMA right by our hostel. Uncle Tony led us RIGHT to it. What a dollface. Now it all makes sense why we booked it there. I even let the AIDS infested blanket at the foot of my bed touch my feet I was in such a good mood.
Good nights always end with the schwarms, Australians and Uncle TONY!
Remember the Australians I told you about before? Here's where they come into the story again...Well one of them, dubbed Uncle Tony, was our tour guide for the night. The other one didn't make it to the bars because he was too drunk from watching a rugby game earlier that day. Oh and Uncle Tony didn’t actually go by Uncle Tony, but the name suited him and his many tattoo’s well. We also made friend with Beth, a crazy girl from Michigan who had just finished 3 weeks of organic farming and is trolling Europe alone aaand Macarena from Argentina. We later found out it was Macarena's 6 year anniversary with her 40 year old b/f in Argentina. She's 22. You do the math.
We started at the Walkabout Bar where the floor was so sticky we could hardly move. About two minutes after we got there I found a 20 pence piece on the ground and some drunk bloke licked my face. We're talking his tongue, my face, chin to forehead. I already knew it was gonna be a great night.
We enjoyed some BOMB English cider and rocked out to the live band playing everything from Oasis to B*Witched (C'est la vie!! wheeee) SEE BELOW:
UNCLE TONY,
the strapping albeit leathery gentleman in the pic. you can't see his tats sadly.
the strapping albeit leathery gentleman in the pic. you can't see his tats sadly.
You know you want us.
The British people sound oh so charming with their accents and polite demeanor, but don’t let it fool you they are dirty chaps. One Brit in particular, a short nerdy looking guy came up to me and said in a very proper British accent “Good evening, lovely to meet you. Did you know you happen to have very big boobies?” Umm, no really? I hadn’t noticed. And he could at least have said "nice" instead of "big". Sheesh. I brushed him off and turned back to my friends. 5 minutes later I feel a tap on my shoulder “Could I fancy a grab of one of your boobies?” Umm, NO. I have not nearly had enough to drink at this point (kiddinggggg). That's just weird. Another 5 minutes later he comes into my peripheral vision and I see him ACTUALLY try and grab my chest. WTF. I already said you couldn’t fancy a grab! Luckily my Jedi quick reaction time managed to swat him away and refill my cider from the very drunk rugby player sharing his pitcher on my other side. Qui-gon Kim doesn’t miss a thing…
The Walkabout!
(Boobie bandit in the blue striped shirt looking down)
(Boobie bandit in the blue striped shirt looking down)
We then met an Australian and some guy from Bermuda (We called him Bermuda. Clever eh?) and moved from the “Walkabout bar”(without grabby mcgee) to the “The Red Back Bar" another Australian haunt. We hardly knew these fellows but Beth seemed to be getting to know one of them REALLY well, so our motley crew followed. We definitely didn't expect the bus ride to be the best part.
We all get in the double decker and Kyndal and I snag seats. About 2 stops later a charming little black man in a suit with a blue bag ascends the stairs, making friends with everyone. He sits down innocently...then the fun begins. Our Aussie friend starts singing and the new charming friend starts singing along and telling us his stories. He was taking requests for songs and naturally we request Michael JAckson. "No, i can't sing Michael. It'll make me cry...it'll make me cry" The Aussie starts the first few lines of Billie Jean and he beings to sing along..then gets weepy "You know, I used to work with Michael. We used to WORK together. I can't sing michael or I'll cry". He then opens the blue bag and begins to drink a suspicious substance. I think it's gasoline...he swore it was apple juice. He was starting to get rowdy again and luckily it was our stop. I've never seen eyes so glazed over like his.
His outfit made it. he looked so put together:
We finally get to to Redback bar (which is apparently in the boonies). Their specialty is a snake bite (different kinds of ciders, beer and booze mixed together) and oodles of attractive Australians. This was a pretty BAR scene, with a band. But for some reason this group of people decided to roll E and wear Monsters Inc and other costumes made for toddlers. They were jumping around the dance floor awkwardly..but I'm pretty sure I saw all of them cosutmed people making out with plain clothed people by the end of the night. Maybe they were wizards who didn't understand how to dress like muggles? Maybe?
Schwarma and Sully
Please disregard my skanky ass expression and look at christy in the background.
The girl is LOVING the song.
The night ended with SCHWARMA right by our hostel. Uncle Tony led us RIGHT to it. What a dollface. Now it all makes sense why we booked it there. I even let the AIDS infested blanket at the foot of my bed touch my feet I was in such a good mood.
Good nights always end with the schwarms, Australians and Uncle TONY!
Apple pie among the FISH & CHIPS, Part II
London, Day 2:
Wake up bright and early...mostly to get in on the free breakfast our hostel provided. Cereal and a croissant….hmm I NEVER have that in Paris. Urgh. Anyway, next up our FREE TOUR OF LONDON. Europeans are doing this crazy thing where every major city gives a FREE WALKING TOUR and our guide was actually legit. George was the most adorable British tour guide who made history fun! (Well, I ALWAYS think it’s fun).
First stop: Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guards (well sort of, we couldn't actually see anything)
FUN FACTS from GEORGE:
The B-Palace has been broken into quite a bit, most recently under Elizabeth II (the current queen). A drunk Irish man somehow stumbled over the palace walls (I have super human strength when I drink too)...and he set off SO MANY alarms they assumed the system was malfunctioning. He wandered through the palace, ate the corgi’s breakfast (meat sliced on the counter), drank some wine, then went to chat it up with Queen Mum. She calmly woke up to this stranger in her bed and talked to him until she was able to casually call her footman. Her security button didn’t work because they’d shut off the security system when the guy broke in! Since then, security has been figured out and it’s now illegal to break into Buckingham palace. Before it technically illegal so they couldn’t charge him for anything! Eventually they settled on stealing palace property (the dog’s breakfast and the wine) but he did two weeks in jail and was sent back to Ireland
Next, William and Harry’s abode and some pretty parks.
Nell Gwyne’s house: one of the many famous whores of King Charles II.
FF from GEORGE:
She was LOVED by the British people because she was British and protestant, unlike his other whores who were Catholic and French. Her carriage was mobbed and the people thought she was a Catholic wench, she stuck her head out the window, revealing her identity and saved her life by putting her head out of the coach window, "Good people", she said, smiling, "you are mistaken; I am the Protestant whore”
Wandered down to statues of Florence Nightingale, lovely woman to thank for sanitation measures (she should woulda been disgusted by out hostel), and the modern day Gentleman’s Clubs. No not strip bars, but actual places people pay THOUSANDS of pounds to every month to keep their membership. Talk about VIP.
Next, Trafalgar Square again
FF FROM GEORGE:
There are a series of monuments with kings on them, but one king was left off because he was the king who commissioned the statues and put the England in debt because of this project. So now it’s just a big base of a stone with nothing on top. Britain decided to make it a modern art type dealio, so every day until October for one hour a different person does something on that block. ANYONE can apply and do ANYTHING they want as long as it’s legal. Sounds cool right? Apparently most people only have material for 20 minutes and the most exciting part is watching them squirm for another 40. Still time slots available if you’re interested!
George then fearlessly led us to Winston Churchill’s memorial. Abraham Lincoln’s memorial (Ya, you heard me right), Westminster Abbey, Big Ben – the tower is actually called St. James, the BELL is Big Ben named after the large bell shaped man named Ben who designed it, and finally Parliament.
FF from GEORGE: it’s ILLEGAL to die in Parliament. If you do die there you have to be given a state’s funeral (expensive and time consuming) so nobody is pronounced dead unless outside of the Parliament walls, even today! Apparently there are some really old people in there so this happens more than you think.
Concluding FUN FACT FROM GEORGE:
The thrilling tale of the Catholics who plotted to blow up Parliament on the ONE day of the year everyone was packed inside. It was a long twisted tale that ALMOST happened, but the perpetrators were caught…and tortured publicly for their crimes. They were hanged ALMOST to the point of death, then sliced in their abdomens until their guts fell out, their genitals were cut off and burned in front of them (and while by now most were dead) the final move was cutting out the heart and displaying it to the crowd. Their bodies were dismembered and displayed on the bridge over the entrance to London as a sign to everyone who entered “Go ahead, try and overthrow the government….”
He even taught us the ryhme little British school children learn when they are in 1st grade. Like our Yankee Doodle...but morbid. and I forgot it. Sorry.
Obviously now, we’re starving. FISH AND CHIPS courtesy of George!
We finished the afternoon with a jaunt to King's Cross Station and the epic PLATFORM 9 3/4!!! As much as I pushed, shoved, and tried flicking my wand I couldn't get through. I think I made one of the little kids who was waiting cry, but eff him. I wanted to get to Hogwarts. I decided there were too many muggles around for it to be safe for me to get through the barrier. Next time though...
Our tour was exhausting, so we decided to rest, shower and take a London PUB CRAWL with our hostel. GET EXCITED.
Wake up bright and early...mostly to get in on the free breakfast our hostel provided. Cereal and a croissant….hmm I NEVER have that in Paris. Urgh. Anyway, next up our FREE TOUR OF LONDON. Europeans are doing this crazy thing where every major city gives a FREE WALKING TOUR and our guide was actually legit. George was the most adorable British tour guide who made history fun! (Well, I ALWAYS think it’s fun).
There's George, telling one of his many amazing stories on our tour.
First stop: Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guards (well sort of, we couldn't actually see anything)
FUN FACTS from GEORGE:
The B-Palace has been broken into quite a bit, most recently under Elizabeth II (the current queen). A drunk Irish man somehow stumbled over the palace walls (I have super human strength when I drink too)...and he set off SO MANY alarms they assumed the system was malfunctioning. He wandered through the palace, ate the corgi’s breakfast (meat sliced on the counter), drank some wine, then went to chat it up with Queen Mum. She calmly woke up to this stranger in her bed and talked to him until she was able to casually call her footman. Her security button didn’t work because they’d shut off the security system when the guy broke in! Since then, security has been figured out and it’s now illegal to break into Buckingham palace. Before it technically illegal so they couldn’t charge him for anything! Eventually they settled on stealing palace property (the dog’s breakfast and the wine) but he did two weeks in jail and was sent back to Ireland
Next, William and Harry’s abode and some pretty parks.
Fearless guards of the Prince's Palace:
FF from George: You used to be able to get up close and mess with the guards, but some cheeky tourist decided to make a run for it aaand got rugby tackled. Now there's a rope dividing the gawkers from the guarders.Nell Gwyne’s house: one of the many famous whores of King Charles II.
FF from GEORGE:
She was LOVED by the British people because she was British and protestant, unlike his other whores who were Catholic and French. Her carriage was mobbed and the people thought she was a Catholic wench, she stuck her head out the window, revealing her identity and saved her life by putting her head out of the coach window, "Good people", she said, smiling, "you are mistaken; I am the Protestant whore”
Wandered down to statues of Florence Nightingale, lovely woman to thank for sanitation measures (she should woulda been disgusted by out hostel), and the modern day Gentleman’s Clubs. No not strip bars, but actual places people pay THOUSANDS of pounds to every month to keep their membership. Talk about VIP.
Next, Trafalgar Square again
FF FROM GEORGE:
There are a series of monuments with kings on them, but one king was left off because he was the king who commissioned the statues and put the England in debt because of this project. So now it’s just a big base of a stone with nothing on top. Britain decided to make it a modern art type dealio, so every day until October for one hour a different person does something on that block. ANYONE can apply and do ANYTHING they want as long as it’s legal. Sounds cool right? Apparently most people only have material for 20 minutes and the most exciting part is watching them squirm for another 40. Still time slots available if you’re interested!
George then fearlessly led us to Winston Churchill’s memorial. Abraham Lincoln’s memorial (Ya, you heard me right), Westminster Abbey, Big Ben – the tower is actually called St. James, the BELL is Big Ben named after the large bell shaped man named Ben who designed it, and finally Parliament.
Westminster Abbey:
FF from GEORGE: it’s ILLEGAL to die in Parliament. If you do die there you have to be given a state’s funeral (expensive and time consuming) so nobody is pronounced dead unless outside of the Parliament walls, even today! Apparently there are some really old people in there so this happens more than you think.
Pretty view along the way...
Concluding FUN FACT FROM GEORGE:
The thrilling tale of the Catholics who plotted to blow up Parliament on the ONE day of the year everyone was packed inside. It was a long twisted tale that ALMOST happened, but the perpetrators were caught…and tortured publicly for their crimes. They were hanged ALMOST to the point of death, then sliced in their abdomens until their guts fell out, their genitals were cut off and burned in front of them (and while by now most were dead) the final move was cutting out the heart and displaying it to the crowd. Their bodies were dismembered and displayed on the bridge over the entrance to London as a sign to everyone who entered “Go ahead, try and overthrow the government….”
He even taught us the ryhme little British school children learn when they are in 1st grade. Like our Yankee Doodle...but morbid. and I forgot it. Sorry.
Obviously now, we’re starving. FISH AND CHIPS courtesy of George!
We finished the afternoon with a jaunt to King's Cross Station and the epic PLATFORM 9 3/4!!! As much as I pushed, shoved, and tried flicking my wand I couldn't get through. I think I made one of the little kids who was waiting cry, but eff him. I wanted to get to Hogwarts. I decided there were too many muggles around for it to be safe for me to get through the barrier. Next time though...
Our tour was exhausting, so we decided to rest, shower and take a London PUB CRAWL with our hostel. GET EXCITED.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Apple pie among the FISH & CHIPS, Part I
LONDON 09 DAY 1:
Just touched down in London town!
As much as we love gay Parieee, we needed some English in our vocabulary. On Friday July 23 Christy, Kyndal Chrissy took the Chunnel to London. I only wanted to go for two reasons 1) see Harry Potter in London, 2) see the Kings Cross Station and go to Platform 9 3/4 so I could go to Hogwarts for C Session summer school. Gotta graduate on time!
Unfortunately for 2 of the 4 London-goers, their passports didn't QUITE make it in their purses. Apparently going to London from France isn't like a day trip to Mexico in 2007 (before the passport requirement). LUCKILY they were both able to jet home, grab their passports, and finagle their way onto later trains and met us just a bit later.
First things first, we ate breakfast. Everything I heard warned me British food was AWFUL, but au contraire. It was perfect. A HOT steamy breakfast of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, orange juice AND coffee. None of this one croissant until lunch shit. Full and jolly, we checked in to our dirty dirty hostel, O'Callaghans . Once we got over the AIDS infested blankets the place actually wasn't THAT bad. Plus the management were all Australian mates who came in handy later in the trip (get excited, this story has nightlife!)
Our jolly tube stop...
Next up, HARRY POTTER! I don't want anyone to think I'm not an avid fan because I waited two weeks to see it. First of all, I nearly had a nervous break down because this was the first one I wasn't going to at midnight or dressing up for. I decided to wait and build up even MORE anticipation for the grand event, but it took more self control than when I go to Yogurtland with a big cup.
Where the magic happens...
Moving on, IT WAS AMAZING. I definitely had my issues with the movie and it's accuracy to the book, but all in all very entertaining plus having it stray from the book made it a surprise as to what was going to happen next! The British Theatre experience is WAYYY cooler than American ones. Our seats were assigned, huge and plush. The trailers and ads before were half the fun, super silly but entertaining!
Next up, we took their ridiculously easy Tube (Underground) to go see Big Ben, the London Eye, and wander around. We ended up in Trafaglar Square and Picadilly Circus (London's Times Square). SO FUN. We concluded the evening with a charming Italian dinner where I ACTUALLY ordered what I want in English!!
The London Eye. Apparently, it's a ferris wheel.
Anti-climatic.
Anti-climatic.
As we were walking around it started POURING. we're talking buckets. Luckily we were prepared with adorable umbrellas.
View from the bridge, I swear there was a cloud over us even though everywhere else was beautiful.
Rockin the phone booths
Rockin the phone booths
Who knew speaking English could be so good?! We did end up using our French by accident, we always said "merci" and "sil vous plait". oops. probably because we're fluent in french now. HAHAHA.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Givernizzle
I apologize for being retard (late) on my posts, it's been a busy week. Funny story about using retard...if we're ever late to French class, we have to say "Je suis retard"...sounds like "I am retard". Aren't you glad I'm learning French?!
Anyway, on to the story...
So the Sunday after the Erotic Museum experience, Christy and I decided to try something a little tamer so traveled to Giverny to see Claude Monet's house and gardens!
It's about an hour train ride from Paris then a 4km bike ride from the train station to Giverny. The bikes should have been fun but mine wouldn't change out of first gear and Christy's had two flat tires. Wah, wahhhh. Not to mention the seat felt like I was sitting on some contraption from the Erotic Museum that I would never want to try..ouch... Oh and when we returned the bikes, the man said checked my gears, saw they did NOT work and replied "There's no problem here" Uhhh...you just saw there was a problem....good luck homie.
Anyway, we rode (slowly) down to Claude's crib. We stopped for lunch and the menu had a mouthwatering array of options and we just couldn't choose. I managed to pick out a beer for myself but couldn't get any futher. We decided to ask the waiter for his recommendation, he asks "do you like steak?" Oui! I had a funny feeling I should have ordered the salad...
I should have trusted my gut...instead I ate guts...well that's what it looks like at least. Raw beef complete with a raw egg on top. If we'd used our brains we'd have known beef tartar is not cooked buuuut no. we were stuck with an expensive plate of salmonila ridden beef. Bon appetit!
We both managed to eat it fairly quickly. Mostly because if we looked at it too long we would have vomited. The veggies on the side were good at least.
We then went to Monet's house. I really wanted some retail therapy after eating raw meat, but the only thing to buy was a gardners hat. I wanted that hat so bad.
Anyway, I didn't really know what to expect I just knew I LOVED the water lily paintings and grew up pretending I lived in his gardens. I thought it would be some nicely renovated flowers around a pond. WRONG.
It was hands down the most beautiful place I've ever been (well top 10 up there with Laguna Beach, Hogwarts, Theta, Chipotle, and Yogurtland). The gardens were endless, starting with rows upon rows of bright flowers, trellises, arches etc. Monet was definitely in to his plants, even his house was covered in ivy. The guy had a huge family (his second wife had kids from a previous marriage too). In fact, his step son and daughter ended up falling in love. Weird? yea a little. but they were artists too. You kinda have to expect them to be weird.
Christy throwin up her gang signs...
Anyway, on to the story...
So the Sunday after the Erotic Museum experience, Christy and I decided to try something a little tamer so traveled to Giverny to see Claude Monet's house and gardens!
It's about an hour train ride from Paris then a 4km bike ride from the train station to Giverny. The bikes should have been fun but mine wouldn't change out of first gear and Christy's had two flat tires. Wah, wahhhh. Not to mention the seat felt like I was sitting on some contraption from the Erotic Museum that I would never want to try..ouch... Oh and when we returned the bikes, the man said checked my gears, saw they did NOT work and replied "There's no problem here" Uhhh...you just saw there was a problem....good luck homie.
Anyway, we rode (slowly) down to Claude's crib. We stopped for lunch and the menu had a mouthwatering array of options and we just couldn't choose. I managed to pick out a beer for myself but couldn't get any futher. We decided to ask the waiter for his recommendation, he asks "do you like steak?" Oui! I had a funny feeling I should have ordered the salad...
I should have trusted my gut...instead I ate guts...well that's what it looks like at least. Raw beef complete with a raw egg on top. If we'd used our brains we'd have known beef tartar is not cooked buuuut no. we were stuck with an expensive plate of salmonila ridden beef. Bon appetit!
We both managed to eat it fairly quickly. Mostly because if we looked at it too long we would have vomited. The veggies on the side were good at least.
Before:
After:
Moral of the story:
Order your own food and get it bien cuit (well done)
The French like their food bloody, something about seeming fresh. Bleh
Order your own food and get it bien cuit (well done)
The French like their food bloody, something about seeming fresh. Bleh
We then went to Monet's house. I really wanted some retail therapy after eating raw meat, but the only thing to buy was a gardners hat. I wanted that hat so bad.
Anyway, I didn't really know what to expect I just knew I LOVED the water lily paintings and grew up pretending I lived in his gardens. I thought it would be some nicely renovated flowers around a pond. WRONG.
It was hands down the most beautiful place I've ever been (well top 10 up there with Laguna Beach, Hogwarts, Theta, Chipotle, and Yogurtland). The gardens were endless, starting with rows upon rows of bright flowers, trellises, arches etc. Monet was definitely in to his plants, even his house was covered in ivy. The guy had a huge family (his second wife had kids from a previous marriage too). In fact, his step son and daughter ended up falling in love. Weird? yea a little. but they were artists too. You kinda have to expect them to be weird.
Check it out:
La Maison de Claude Monet (Monet's Pad!)
La Maison de Claude Monet (Monet's Pad!)
Initial set of gardens:
Les Nympheas!
After wandering the first set of gardens you think it can't get much better, then you go underground to an come up to Les Nympheas..or the Japanese inspired water lily garden. Ohhh mahhh gahhhh. It was a surreal experience. Words don't do justice, I know I say that all the time, but this stuff looked fake. Like plants on steroids or something. So green. I kept touching it all to make sure it was real. I hope the Monet Foundation didn't mind...
Les Nympheas!
Next up: the gift shop! I wanted to buy a poster or something so I could see the beautiful gardens daily, but no posters did the gardens justice. I ended up getting a tea pot for my mom. Really great idea when you're BIKE riding back. I had to zip the tea pot in my jacket = awkward stares from everyone. NO I'M NOT PREGNANT and NO I DONT HAVE A TUMOR. sheesh.
Bike riding montage:Christy throwin up her gang signs...
Chya, we can take pictures while riding bikes.
Wez got skillz.
And I'm not trying to flip off the camera, my middle fingers were the only ones to reach the brakes.
And I'm not trying to flip off the camera, my middle fingers were the only ones to reach the brakes.
See I'm wearing a yellow shirt and everything. I just can't take both hands off the handles yet.
Now, the glamor shot of the day:
My first attempt at taking a picture of myself while bike riding....
Now, the glamor shot of the day:
My first attempt at taking a picture of myself while bike riding....
Teapot and forehead in full glory.
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