An American Girl in Avignon

May 5th

Ah, the start of week six. The work load is piling up, and even though I work, yet can’t seem to accomplish a single thing. All one can do is try their best, but it is a little frustrating to try to get some work done, and then something comes up, and you end up putting it off. I am really looking forward to relaxing weekend on the beach in Barcelona. I cannot wait to soak up some sun, do some browsing and sight-seeing. I just wish I knew more Spanish than my measly one year in high school. I know Hola, Adios, Gracias, De nana, Muy calinete, me llamo Catalina, and ou est el bano? That’s about it. I guess this will have to suffice for the weekend. I finally bought my tickets for the bus today, so it is official, I am going! Can’t wait…

I had my oral exam for the grammar class today, and thankfully, it was much easier than I thought it was going to be. M. Corbin even complimented me on my French. This was exactly what I needed to hear, because like many of the other students, I feel like I have hit a plateau, and instead of improving I am staying the same – or even worse, getting WORSE. You are your toughest critic after all, so his compliment was definitely a confidence booster – which is where I struggle most in my foreign language study: confidence. But I know I am slowly getting more and more comfortable every day. They weren’t kidding when they said learning a second language is a long and frustrating process, but it will be worth it in the end.

Tonight Katy had a special dinner at a Moroccan restaurant for all of the girls, where we ate couscous dishes (also one of my new favorite foods), drank aperitifs, and talked for close to three hours. It was really relaxing and enjoyable. One of the topics of conversation was how horrible everyone’s hair and skin looks here. It seems like all of the people who have never had skin problems, are having them (I am breaking out like crazy), and all the people who normally have poorer skin, are clearing up. Funny what can happen to one’s skin when you switch up the minerals and quality of water. I am convinced that my body just hates France, even though I love it here, because my eyes are always dry and red, and my hair is not cooperating at all. Luckily, I am not the only one having these problems. It seems like everyone else is in agreement with me. I am sure that if we decided to move here, our bodies would eventually adjust to the new air and mineral-dense water. But since we are here for such a short time, and our schedule is constantly “go-go-go,” there probably isn’t time to do this. Oh well, I am having a good time, so how my hair looks should probably be the least of my worries, but it is interesting to note how poorly everyone’s hair and skin is adjusting to the change of scenery.

After our late dinner, Kristina and I went back to our room to attempt to do homework before the next day. Hmm…I think that you can guess how that turned out. Thankfully, class doesn’t start until 2 tomorrow. Oh shoot, I have a project due Thursday…does it ever end? I am just going to keep thinking: Barcelona, Barcelona, Barcelona…that will get me through the week! :)

May 3
Wanting to end on a high note didn’t work out exactly as planned. We woke up late and decided to spend a lazy Sunday in the park and browsing all the stores. Deciding that we wanted to be stingy, since we had already spent so much money in London, we decided to walk everywhere today. Bad idea. We were exhausted and getting short with one another by the end of the day. I wish I would have had a pedometer with me, because we literally walked ALL day. We left out hotel in Russell Square and stopped to take pictures in front of the British museum, which we stupidly didn’t read the guide book to find out that it was free. Funny all of the things one would do differently if they could go back in time. I would have loved to spend our Sunday there. We just assumed that it cost an arm and a leg to get in, like everything else in London. I felt like kicking myself at the end of the day when I found out one of the most famous museums in the world, full of Egyptian artifacts (I am a big Mummy fan), was free. Oh well, it’s something to see when I go back to London – when I have more money.
Instead of viewing sights like Cleopatra’s remains and the Rosetta Stone, we spent our day going in and out of stores such as TopShop , Urban Outfitters (the biggest one of these stores I have ever seen = heaven on earth!), and big department stores like Selfridges . We grabbed lunch at a food hall in one of the large department stores and took it to a bench near Hyde Park to sit and enjoy the weather. Little did we know how big Hyde Park actually was. Sure, it looked huge on the map, but it seemed like the size of Texas when one tries to walk the entire thing to see the famous sights such as: the Princess Diana memorial fountain and walk, the Peter Pan statue, the Round Pond, Kensington Palace, and the Prince Albert Memorial. Fatigued, we forgot about seeing the royal gardens and just decided to make our way back to the hostel (which we knew would take hours) and stop to take breaks along the way. Walking, walking, and then walking some more caused us to become more and grumpier by the moment. I would have gladly paid for a metro ticket at this point, no matter what the cost. Thankfully, we made our walk tolerable by taking short breaks in cafes and browsing around in stores. There was this café on nearly every corner of London called “Prêt-A-Manger,” where we stopped for some authentic Earl Grey tea and some snacks. The day become much more enjoyable after some food and rest, and since we had had less than an ideal last day, we decided to make ourselves feel better with a special last dinner in London at an Italian restaurant for pizza and Tiramisu. One of my favorite things because it has my weakness as one of the main ingredients: good, strong, dark Italian espresso. It was really good, but my stomach hurt for the rest of the night and the next morning from the dessert. Kristina wasn’t feeling well either, so we both assumed that something had been wrong with it. Figures. Oh well, it was worth the stomach ache.

Even though we ran into more troubles than expected in London, all in all, it was a great trip, and I don’t regret going. I had a lot of fun, got to see “my homeland,” and had some interesting experiences (can’t tell all in a blog!). If the opportunity comes your way to go to London, take it. The home of rock legends such as the Beatles and royalty, such as the Queen herself, is full of fun things to do…for a price, of course! Be sure to drink some authentic Earl Grey tea when you are there, it is so good!

For our second day in London, we thought that taking the tube everywhere would be the best decision for transportation. We bought day passes, much like the bus for the day before, to hop on an off whenever we liked. Thankfully Kyle was a pro at metros; he personally guided us through the Paris metro station after all. The London metros are more cramped than the ones in Paris, and the train cars are square shaped. Every time the door opened to let passengers on and off, a voice in a thick cockney accent said, “Mind the Gap Please,” the instructions were also written on the curb. I wondered if the French people could understand what this meant. We ended up having to help some French people figure out where to go when we were on the metro. It was weird being on the other side and understanding all that was spoken to us. In a way, I think London made us feel a little homesick, because it had less of a European feel than the other cities we have visited, and the fact that people were speaking English made me feel like I was back in the United States.

Our first stop was an attempt to go to King’s Cross and see the infamous Platform 9 ¾ to Hogwarts. It wasn’t until we had already arrived at King’s Cross that we figured out you had to pay to access platforms 8-10. Failed attempt, but at least we saw the station. The British seem to be more in a hurry than the Parisians. People were running in every direction to catch their trains on time. It is a stereotype that the British are always on time. I guess they want to keep up their reputation.

The Tower of London was the second major stop on our to-do list for the day. Supposedly the place is haunted, so that made the stop more interesting for Kyle. I personally have always been fascinated with London, the royal family, and England, because it’s my “mothership.” Caldwell is a very British name. My aunt, fascinated with genealogy, traced our family back to Anne Boleyn and, of course, Queen Elizabeth I herself. Of course, this relation is distant and our family is no longer royal (would not be in Ohio, if this were still true). But is cool to say that someone is your family was “on top” at some point in history. For just about every biography I did in middle, grade, and high school, I chose Princess Diana. What can I say, I find royalty fascinating. I have always questioned what makes one “royal.” Who decides if someone is worthy of ruling in the first place? What separated the blue-blooded lines from the peasants? And after viewing the famous (and overly extravagant) Crown Jewels, one wonders if the royal money was spent on the wisest purchases in past generations. There was a luxurious, purple crown dripping in jewels on display that was made for Prince Albert…he only wore it one time. It is ironic to me how a place such as the Tower of London, where people were tortured and executed is also the same location that houses the riches of the royal family, the people doing the executing and taxing the poor. I wonder how much money was spent making these crowns, although beautiful and neat to look at, which could have been spent on things to help the nation of England. The wealth of the royal family is extravagant to the point of nausea. But I am glad that we got to see the jewels. What girl doesn’t like looking at diamonds?

After our long three hours at the tower and quick look at Henry VIII’s massive collection of armor, we stopped for some classic fish and chips on the steps before heading to Saint Paul’s cathedral for some relaxation before making our way to the Globe. The modern model of the Globe was so cool. I am a big Shakespeare fan, as well as Kristina, so we were content just looking in the gift shop, outside, and lobby, since the theatre was closed for a play that evening. I bought a collection of magnets with Shakespeare’s love quotes on them. He had some wise words to say on that subject, that’s for sure. My favorite was, “Love from one side hurts, but love from two sides heals.” I also liked, “If music be the food of love, play on,” “They do not love that do not show their love,” and “When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled, because you knew.” Ah, so good. Another one of my favorite quotes of his, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women are merely players.” Ain’t that the truth. Life can definitely be compared to theatre sometimes.

Our last stop before dinner was the Modern Art museum, which was free!! If you don’t know the meaning behind the art, then pieces in a modern art museum can just seem like a bunch of scribbles, but after I found out that the largest soap on a rope was a memorial to all the Jewish people whose fat had been used to make soap during WWII, the seemingly worthless piece of “art” had much more resonance. Although I am personally not a big fan of modern art, although I am a big fan of art in general, it was neat to see something different – outside your typical Van Gough and Monet – for a change.

Since the corner of my metro ticket had been bent, it no longer worked. So I had to go through the hassle of showing my ticket at each turnstile to the normally busy attendants. Note to all those taking metros: hold on to your tickets because you need them to get out and don’t bend them the slightest bit.

Since Thailand was a British colony, England has a large selection of Thai Food for a cheap price. I had never tried Thai food before coming to London, but after I did, I will place it amongst my ranks of favorite foods with Chinese and Chipotle. I wish that Avignon had a Thai restaurant…

After dinner and hopping off the metro to take pictures at Big Ben, we went in search of a pub near Trafalgar Square near out hotel. (The drinking age in London is 18, I asked before I went in, because there was a sign on the door saying they will card if you look 21 and under). Tired and just wanting to sit down, we picked the first pub we spotted down a dark, side street, which to our luck happened to be the famous Sherlock Holmes restaurant. It was really cool inside. There was Sherlock Holmes memorabilia all along the walls, and the Merlot was excellent. The drinking culture in Britain is quiet different than in France. The French like to go have a glass of wine or two and discuss politics. The Brits are a little wilder. They drink more, laugh more, and are much louder than the French at night. I kind of figured that intoxication was more acceptable here when the drinks were ordered were at least the twice the size what we would have gotten in France for the same price. Interesting how things like that are viewed differently in each culture. For example, the French drinking age is 16, and there is a completely different attitude towards alcohol. I will be interested to see how different the attitude is in Spain next weekend. Isn’t it the land flowing with Sangria?

April 30

Wow. This was probably the longest, most stressful day in my nineteen year lifespan. Today I left for London, and since Kristina, Kyle, and I had waited to the last minute to change our money from Euros to pounds, we were rushing to get to places on time and to get things done today. I felt like I didn’t stop for breath today. I was constantly running from one place to another, quickly throwing together an overnight bag before dashing off to the train station – which happens to be a 20 minute walk from my house. I walked the whole way carrying my bag “baby style” (grasped in my arms and propped on my hip), making sure to take frequent pauses during our brisk walk. I am never doing that again. My first purchase when I go to London is without a doubt going to be a luggage strap. I feel that I am going to have serious back problems when I get home.

Since we decided to go out again last night (yes, the night after Sakinah’s birthday, bad idea), I was exhausted when I woke up for class this morning. Thankfully our writing teacher suggested a walking tour in town with frequent pauses in parks and other nice, peaceful, sunny places to write our postcards and three assigned poems during our four hour long class. Sitting in the sun while writing a few postcards to my friends and family back home was relaxing until I realized how much I needed to use the restroom. We were writing at the park near the Palais de Papes with no restroom in sight. After class, Sakinah and I dashed to find a bathroom, which as I have mentioned before, is difficult to do unless you are going to sit down and eat at a café.

We decided since it was the last day we would see each other all weekend (she was going to Barcelona and I was going to London. Barcelona next week pour moi), we splurged a little on lunch and went to a conjoined movie theatre/restaurant. We both nibbled off of each other’s plates, so our lunch consisted of: pizza, salad, tarte Provencal, bread, and fries. Hey, we were hungry.

I then realized what time it was and feeling like an idiot, ran to meet Kyle and Kristina at the post office to exchange out money. What a rip off. The English pound (called livre in France) is almost worth double the US dollar and of course is more than the Euro. After the commission that the bank took, I was hardly given any pounds for my cinchy thirty euros. Jenny, our student assistant, was right. London was going to be pricier than we had previously thought. The English money system is really quite strange. The two pence piece is huge, the 20 pence piece is tiny, the octagon-shaped fifty pence piece is large and thin, the golden pound is small and thick, and the bills are different colors and sizes, much like the Euro. Of course, the Queen’s face is engraved on every piece except the 1 and two pence pieces.

After doing the fastest and most inefficient packing job of my life, I toted my ridiculously heavy bag across town; I’m sure looking really silly, before arriving at the gare, drenched in sweat and ready to pass out. Kyle, always fifteen minutes early to everything, was there waiting, ready to catch that train. Of course, when we made the reservation, we didn’t realize the distances from the train station, to the bus station, to the airport, then to the hostel. Funny how one can neglect such important details when they try to throw plans together at the last minute. You live, you learn….We were going to have to run.

The board with the train arrivals said “Surprime” in green next to our and several other trains. After almost four years of French for me, seven for Kristina, and five for Kyle, one would think that we would know what this meant. It had been years since any of us had French one vocabulary, so we just assumed that it meant that we had an upgraded train, or it was the company. How stupid and incompetent we felt when we found out it meant our train had been cancelled and we would have to wait another hour for the next one, pressing us more for time.

Thankfully, we boarded the next train to Marseille just in time. Why does it seem that when one has somewhere to be in a short amount of time, those needs like having to go to the bathroom, suddenly become so pressing that you can’t think about anything else? I don’t think I have ever had to go to the bathroom more in my life than when we ran off the train to catch the forty-minute long ride on the Navette to the airport. Of course, there was no restroom on the bus, and I was about to burst by this time.

Arriving at the airport, with minimal time to spare, I made quite possibly a record-breaking fast bathroom stop before boarding the flight to London. While waiting in line, our flight had even more of a delay, about an hour to be exact, so we would be arriving in London even later than out previously thought midnight. While standing in line, it was easy to pick out who was from England and who wasn’t. The British, much like the French, have a certain look about them. Pale skin, and long features. I saw some of the first redheads I had seen in about a month. You sure don’t see any of those in France.
After a long flight on which I was charged a ridiculous three euros for cappuccino, (I didn’t know there was a charge, otherwise I wouldn’t have ordered anything) we arrived at the airport and were met with a long line for customs.

Tired, hungry, and grumpy, we meandered our way through the line. The border lines were split in two: one for the European Union and UK, one for the United States and everywhere else. We stuck out like sore thumbs. I think that Kyle, Kristina, and I were the only white people in our lines. Everyone else was Chinese. Thankfully, this meant that our line was a lot shorter, but oddly enough, we made it through the line at the same time as our fellow EU passengers. Probably because there was a language barrier in our line.

This was just the beginning of our Griswold-vacation-like night. After we waited for what seemed like hours to get our baggage, we ran to the other side of the airport to catch a bus to a station near our hostel in Russell Square. The bus ride cost an arm and a leg and was completely full at 1 something in the morning. Feeling disgusting from a long day full of travel, I made my way to a window seat in the back of the bus and leaned my head against the chilly window in an attempt to sleep. It took us about twenty minutes to even get moving, and I drifted in and out of consciousness throughout the long ride. I was now at the point of exhaustion. I could have slept on that bus or collapsed on the floor if able. I would have liked nothing more than a warm bed.

When we arrived at the station, I stumbled of the bus in my half-awake, half-asleep state, feeling horrible. My head was pounding from inadequate sleep from the night before, and it was looking like I wasn’t going to get to bed anytime soon. We grabbed our luggage and then just stopped and stared at one anther, eyes red and glazed, wondering what on earth to do next. Great planning, right? The tube would be open for another twenty or thirty minutes, but not wanting to mess with that in such a poor metal state, we said screw it, and took a ride with the first cab driver that approached us. Bad decision. We should have waited and asked around, but at this early hour in the morning, the last thing I was thinking about was how much money a cab would cost. I just wanted to go to bed.

Of course, we were ripped off. The very short cab ride cost us 75 USD, and smart us, we had no idea what the address of our hostel was. What a mess we were! We knew two things: the street name and what it looked like from the outside. The Indian driver kept asking us, “What’s the address?” Panicked,I just said, “I think it’s farther down.” He asked, “What? Have you been here before?” Of course I hadn’t, but I wanted to at least act like we knew where we were going. Thankfully, I recognized it from the picture on the internet, and we hopped out, eager to get out before having to pay a centime more.

The line at the front desk was so long – yes, even at 2:30 in the morning. When it was finally our turn, the check-in guy informed us that not only would our hotel be close to twice as much as we had agreed to pay, but we would have to pay in cash. Shady, right? I will not be coming back here. None of us had much cash on us. He told us that there were ATMS around the corner. Pissed and luggage in hand, Kyle got short with the man and stormed off, determined to find somewhere else to stay. An interesting thing to try to do at this ungodly hour in the morning. We walked to the hotel across the street, and of course, it and everywhere else the nice man with the cockney accent behind the front desk called, was out of our price range. Welcome to London. It’s not cheap.

Wandering Russell Square in the dark, we tried three different ATMS, funny enough called cash machines and “holes in the wall,” here, before finally finding one that worked. What a disaster.
Frustrated and very, very angry by this point, we practically threw our money at the front desk before getting the keys to the room we would be sharing with seven people we did not know. I’m sure we made a great first impression stumbling in the dark at three am and waking everyone up.

Not wanting to make anyone angrier than they probably already were, we found our beds in the dark, which resembled hospital or morgue beads with the closing blue curtains before settling in for a restless night. We found out the next day that our room had no outlets, the showers in the basement were frightening, the internet was slower than Christmas, so it wasn’t even worth paying the money to get on. The people in our room were from: Canada, Poland, and France (we go to England, and French follows us). They were thankfully all really cool – at least after I apologized for our grand, noisy, late-night entrance.

This was my first impression of London. But don’t worry, things get better. Once you’ve hit rock bottom, the only place you can go is up!