Lodger

Posted 2:19 PM by Lodger
The task of blogging about my Easter holiday adventures in Europe has been weighing on my mind. I've been feeling guilty about putting it off, but weekdays do not afford much opportunity to blog and weekends seem to be recently taken up by doing stuff. Anyway... the trip was 13 days long and started in Brussels on Sunday, April 13.

Day One: Brussels

Weather was sunny, approx. 18 degrees. Decided to take a taxi from the airport to our hostel and ended up getting completely ripped off by the driver. 50 euros after he quoted us only thirty. Apparently our hostel was further away than he initially thought, but later we realised it was walking distance and we could have taken a subway. Welcome to Europe!! Stayed at the Vincent Van Gogh hostel, a quaint little place with a lounge that sold cheap beer (oh yeah, and comfortable beds). After settling in we made our way to the city's central square, 'The Grande Place,' where we found ourselves surrounded by Renaissance and Baroque architecture and, more importantly, a nice selection of cafes. We found seats on the patio of the largest one, which was very busy. Sheilagh and Lindsay saw many of the women around us drinking a reddish coloured beer which turned out to be, if I remember correctly, raspberry flavoured beer. They each enjoyed one of those, while I ordered something on the menu called grog. Grog, as far as I know, is a warm sweet ale type of beverage that they used to drink in the middle ages. (Think 'Hagar the Horrible'). I awaited the arrival of my grog with great anticipation, happy in the knowledge I would soon be experiencing a culinary time warp. Unfortunately, the waiter misheard me, or more likely, I misordered using my limited French language skills. I ended up with 'Kwok,' a Belgian lager. It was fine. But I had really wanted to try grog. We only had the one evening in Brussels, and it was getting dark, so we headed back to the hostel and had a few beers in the lounge before retiring for the evening. Quick impressions of Brussels? They're really into chocolate and beer, and they apparently make the best lace in the world. If you need a nice doily, Brussels is the place to go. The next morning, we got on a train to Paris...

Day two: Paris

We arrived at noon. Weather was gorgeous. We found a hotel in the Northeast part of the city on the Avenue Jean Jaure. It was slightly outside the main centre, but the Paris metro is very good and quite similar to London's. As long as you are not outside the Metro system, you can get to most places within a half hour. I've been to Paris twice now and I absolutely love it. When I consider it logically, I realise that Amsterdam is more quaint, friendly, and unintimidating, and in many ways more hip; that Venice is more peaceful and magical; that Rome, London, and Vancouver are more green; yet, in many ways, Paris is the city that has made the greatest impression on me. Maybe it's the bohemian history, that Ernest Hemingway and Henry Miller, among countless other ex-patriot writers, made it their home. Maybe it's the Seine, or the cafes and markets, or the many quiet corners, squares or sidestreets that make one feel they've suddenly been transported miles away from the noise and traffic that still persists only blocks away. Maybe. But I suspect it's mostly that the city, and the mythology that accompanies it, appeal to my love of romance. There is no question that I'm a romantic at heart, and romantics must love Paris. It's the rules.

After settling in, the girls asked me to recommend a suitable afternoon outing. I recommended Montmartre. Of all the quiet little places in Paris, it is my favourite, a small village of curving sidestreets, shops, cafes and winebars set on the top of a hill that overlooks the rest of the city. We took in the obligatory sites and then got to doing what I enjoy most of all... wandering about without any real direction, just taking in the vibe. Found a great CD of beat poetry set to jazz (Kerouac, Ginsberg, Ferlinghetti, Langston Hughes... a great find!). Upon Lindsay's request, we found a wine bar and had red wine and cheese at a table outside in the sunshine. For her, it was the quintessential Parisian experience, and now she could say she had done it. Lovely, as the British would say. That evening we had dinner in the Latin Quarter at a restaurant just off of St. Germaine, a place that had a set menu for tourists. The food was good, but if I remember correctly, the choice of restaurant broke two of Sheilagh's rules for dining in a foriegn country: there must be no neon and no English menu. She's a stickler for authenticity. But we lucked out. The service was satisfactory, the food was good, and the prices were reasonable. After dinner, we decided to take in the Eiffel Tower. I had never seen it at night and when we got there I was impressed. The tower is prettier at night than during the day, although on a nice day the park is lovely. We decided to take the elevator to the very top. There's an outdoor viewing area up there, which was very windy and cold, but not so windy and cold to deter us from taking endless photos of the various cityscapes and monuments. After getting our fill we headed to the Metro to catch the last train to Ave. Jean Jaure. We missed it by less than a minute and had to take a taxi home. Our goal for day three would be to not spend any money on taxis, which were beginning to take their toles on our wallets (actually the Paris taxi ride was quite reasonable). On to day three...

Day Three: Paris

Woke in time to take in the free breakfast served at our hotel. Bread. Cereal. Coffee, tea and juice. Nothing fancy, but it was sufficiently filling. Spent the morning and early afternoon taking in sites: Notre Dame Cathedral, the Champs Elysees, Arc de Triumph (which for some reason seemed more impressive the second time... took more pictures, knowing I already had a few from before, idiotically disregarding the fact that at some point I would have to shell out a substantial amount of British sterling pounds to get them developed). After a fast food type cafe lunch on the Champs Elysees, Lindsay decided to head back for a siesta to refuel for the evening. Sheilagh and I decided to go to the Jardin des Tuileries, the park in front of the Louvre museum. As it was hot, we each had an ice cream cone and then wandered through the gardens checking out sculptures by Lichtenstein and Gioncometi, which were often weird, but mostly interesting. Found a nice bench in the shade to sit on, the only one free in site. We soon found out why. In mid-sentence I felt a heavy 'plop' on my lap and realised, as I looked down, I had been shat on by what I would have guessed, from the quantity of fecal matter, was a medium sized rodent. More likely it was just a large bird with intestinal problems, but the result was the same. A mess on my light cotton pants. A waiter at a cafe in the park kindly allowed me to use the washroom to get cleaned up. After this incident, we took our cue from the heavens (they could have been a little more subtle) and decided to call it an afternoon.

After returning to the hotel to pick up Lindsay and get cleaned up, we decided to head to Montparnasse for the evening, an area I had not visited during my previous weekend in Paris. The plan was to get dinner and then find a jazz club. We found a fantastic restaurant on a quiet side street (where else)... Le Bistro Des Campagnes. No neon. No English menu. In fact, many of the items on the menu were so authentic that Sheilagh, someone with twelve years of French immersion behind her, could not make out many of the dishes. Thankfully, the waiter was wonderful. He actually took the time to translate the whole menu for us, item by item... appetizers to desserts. The food was amazing, the wine was plentiful and inexpensive, and the atmosphere was relaxed. After stuffing ourselves and drinking two bottles of wine, we all felt absolutely contented. All thoughts of British school children, marking, planning and curriculum were far from our minds. We tried to find a jazz club, failed, walked past a bar where Lenin worked as a waiter, considered having a drink, but agreed the prices were outrageous. Montparnasse seems to be a hip happening area, but it is quite expensive. Decided to call it a night. Took the Metro back to the hotel where a deep, wine induced sleep awaited us.

Day four: Paris and Versailles

That morning we checked out of the hotel and stored our bags in a locker at the Gare de Lyon (train station). The sun was hot and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Our plan for day four was to take in the palace at Versailles and then return to Paris for a quick tour of the Louvre before catching the night train to Venice. We took the RER train to Versailles and decided to opt for a guided tour, a good choice I think. The palace is opulent and overwhelming at times, and having a guide helped provide focus. The tour included the King's private apartments, the state apartments and the opera house. All were impressive, but the opera house was most interesting. The architect comissioned to design it planned to have it finished in a year (if my memory serves me correctly) and actually finished ahead of schedule. The room appears to be made from vast amounts of pink marble with huge columns and impressive galleries and balconies. In fact, it's all an illusion. The entire opera house is almost exclusively built from wood, which considerably cut the cost and building time. The columns serve no architectural purpose, are soley ornamental, and are, in fact, hollow. The architect decided to make illusion the motif of his creation. The balconies appear to front an open common area where, assumably, the rich, important guests would mingle before, during and after performances. This common area does not, in fact, exist. It's the result of an optical illusion created by the use of mirrors. Maybe most impressively, the whole room can be transformed into a vast ballroom in twenty four hours. The floor from the stage extends out over the orchestra pit, allowing the king to host a performance one night and then invite his guests back the following night for an extravagant ball. They definitely knew how to live, generally at the expense of the common people. Probably why the people soon revolted and had the king and many of his aristocratic buddies beheaded. Thankfully, 'the people' decided to leave the palace mostly intact allowing the public to view it as a museum, resulting ultimately in me being able to wander the place a few hundred years later going oooh... aaahhhh. Anyway... we again took many pictures, mostly of the beautiful gardens on the property, and then we zipped back to Paris where we would have an hour and a half to take in as much of the Louvre as humanly possible.

All three of us took in 'The Mona Lisa,' and other Italian paintings from the period. 'The Mona Lisa' was anti-climactic for me. The crowds were silly (although probably not as bad as usual) and I wish I would have read up on the painting or something before having my minute or so to stare at it. It just didn't move me. Oh yeah. And I guess I'm obliged to say what most everyone says about it... gee, it was sure small. After taking in De Vinci's masterpiece, we split up. I decided to take in Italian Renaissance sculpture and Roman, Greek and Egyptian antiquities. I figured I could see paintings in many other museums (London, Italy), and sculpture is something I have very little familiarity with. Again, I took lots of pictures and was glad with my decision. The sculptures were both beautiful and interesting. I like the sensuality of classical sculpture, the nudes and various gods doing the stuff that gods do (mostly hunting, smiting, and just hanging out looking majestic from what I could tell). One observation: why naked soldiers? This does not seem at all like a good idea to me. Dangling penises and swords do not make a good combination. It makes me cringe to think about it. Anyhoo... only other noteworthy thing was that a pretty American girl took my picture (with my camera, not hers) in front of the Venus de Milo. After the quick hour and a half blitz of the Louvre (one could spend days) we zipped to the station, got our bags, and went to the Gare de Bercy to catch our night train to Venice. On the way, I lost my Metro ticket for the second time in two days. Felt like a dork.

* My entry ends here as I must go shower and get ready for a Saturday afternoon in Central London. A few notes about how things are going: not bad. Work is becoming easier in many ways, although I'm dreading writing year seven and year eight year end reports. Half term break is next week and I have decided to go nowhere. I need time to relax and mark and plan for next half term. Fingers crossed... it looks like I will be staying on at my school next year, which is great. I run two clubs and have started going to Friday afternoon tennis club and thus have been lately feeling more like a part of the fabric of the institution. The government is screwing over schools here... funding is woefully short this year. Programs and staff are being cut everywhere. Thank god I teach English, an 'essential' subject. Hmmmm. What else can I add? Looking forward to seeing the new Matrix movie next week. I guess I should comment on the Canucks. I'm, of course, horribly disappointed. It's even more sickening after seeing how easily the Ducks disposed of Minnesota. Basically, we self-destructed. Oh well. Maybe next year (said the disappointed Canucks fan for the hundredth time). But seriously, they had a successful season and brought their fans a lot of exciting moments. We should be proud of them. I think I will end it there.


Lodger	Adventures of Canada's newest highschool teacher in the UK