Spring Break, Part III

After London comes Amsterdam! We probably got high just from standing in our hotel lobby to check in. No doubt at all why everyone was there - except one unfortunate soul who had interviews and drug tests to look forward to when he got back. We were sharing our room with 6 strangers. The first night was uneventful - we walked around, got dinner, and watched the soccer game, and went home and went to bed early. I didn't want to, and wished we'd gone out instead. So I was up most of the night bored and unable to sleep, right? Well, actually, I passed out immediately and slept all night. Everyone else was up for hours do to snoring, roommates making noise, and someone smoking. Me? I had a lovely night. And then came morning.

In the morning, I woke up early and thought about getting up, showered, and dressed early. I rolled over, and was confronted with the naked ass of someone I began to think of as "Naked Ass Guy." Not wanting to get any closer to his naked ass, I stayed in my bed, slept more, and periodically turned over, hoping it would be gone. It never was. Finally, I decided I was tired of being held hostage by some guy's naked ass, and I got up. But I think first he may have put his tighty-whities back on. I tried to avoid looking. Some time later, Naked Ass Guy got up (now in underwear), stretched, and turned around, and...wait a minute! This isn't Naked Ass Guy. This is Naked Ass MAN. Naked Ass 40-year-old man. (FYI, while I refer to him as Naked Ass Man, because I saw his Naked Ass, there are even more unfortunate people who refer to him by more graphic names, reflecting their even more unfortunate viewpoints.) Naked Ass Man began trying to be friendly asking us questions about where we were from and finally telling Amanda that "There's history, there's herstory, and then there's ourstory."

We were relieved to discover that Naked Ass Man and his thankfully clothed wife (wife?) were moving to a different room that morning. That day, we got lunch at a very nice little restaurant, and went to the Van Gogh Museum, which I liked much more than I'd expected I would. I don't like having to interpret paintings. I prefer being told what the painter was thinking, and luckily, Van Gogh told his brother, in writing, everything he was thinking.

After Van Gogh, we went to the other end of the culture spectrum and visited the Heineken Exprience. A 10 Euro entrance fee gets you 3 "free" beers and the entire museum - which is actually very cool. There were even games. And a bust of Louis Pasteur:

Here are Andy and Amanda pretending to be Heineken DJs:

We got hamburgers for dinner and then and spent the night - the entire night - hanging out in the bar in our hostel. Each of us, all in our own way, fell in love with the bartender, named Zeppie (we think.) After a night of reggae music, the DJ left and she turned on iTunes and played anything American that she had - and some Dutch hip hop. We met a kid from VA Tech, and several British boys took pictures with us, and were our friends for about 8 minutes, until the British girls they had been talking to got back, at which point they dropped us. Amanda did make one of them "save the Queen," though, when she dropped 2 pence in his beer.

We also saw Naked Ass Man, who was all by himself, dancing with his eyes closed and his arms flailing, in a bar where no one else was dancing. We happened to be talking just then to the boys who had moved into his bed, and told them not to worry; it was good that they brought their own sheets, but they probably didn't want us to tell them what he'd been doing in their bed last night. I think they may have gained some insight, though, from our constant references to him as "Naked Ass Man" and "Ball Sac Man."

We were at the bar until 4 am, and in the end April and I played pool against VA Tech guy and some girl who was really good, which put us at a disadvantage because. . . we don't actually know how to play pool. I managed to sink the 8 ball 3 times in 1 game (that's not good, fyi - it's also actually impossible).

Spring Break, Part II

The day after Oxford, we went to the British Museum, which was seriously incredible. I was fascinated by the Rosetta Stone, which April and Amanda missed entirely because, I believe, they were too busy trying to "walk like an Egyptian."


Other highlights included:

St. Senan's bell (remember when I went to Jonathan's Christmas party after staying up for two days straight? Those two days had been spent writing about St. Senan. I can't remember a damn thing about his bell, though. Surprised?):

a Viking horde from Ireland:

a reliquary (prettier than most) with a thorn from Christ's crown of thorns (which made up for there having been no thorn in the "Church of the Thorn" in Pisa):

and quite a few decorative tiles, with which I was slightly familiar thanks to A History of Decorative Tiles in the upstairs bathroom at Aunt Nina's house in Rhode Island:

After the British Museum, we went to Trafalger Square and climbed some lions, although some people (coughcoughAndycoughAmandacough) were very afraid of the astonishing heights to which we ascended:


We ate at Pret a Manger, the most amazing restaurant that London has to offer poor college students, took pictures with Big Ben in the background:

Then we saw Westminster Abbey but didn't go inside because it was too expensive, walked across the River Thames singing "Don't Dream It's Over" and every Disney song we could think of. We walked back across a very high and narrow bridge, but Andy survived.

That night, we met Lara and Scott for Indian food, where the whiskey sours are strong and the pina coladas are weak. We went out looking for a bar afterwards, but couldn't find one that had dancing and no cover, until we walked past a place called "Element."

Amanda: "Is there a cover?"
Bouncer: "No. Have you ever been here before?"
Random Guy Who Walked Up Just Then: "I have."
Bouncer: "Okay."

So we all go inside, excited that that random guy probably just got us into some sort of member's only club, right? We go inside, and up the stairs, and realize that we are the only girls there. We've wandered into a gay bar. A big deal? Not for us, but it apparently was for them. We were ushered into a separate room, which was subsequently roped off from the rest of the bar. Just in case heterosexuality is contagious. We ordered a round of drinks, which were mostly absolutely incredible, and asked our waiter if he knew where we could find a place to dance. He thought about it, and said that he mostly just knew gay clubs, but there was this one place he had been. . .

Us: "Did you like it?"
Waiter: "No."
Us: "Did you like the music?"
Waiter: "No."
Us: "Oh."
Waiter: "Maybe if I was on drugs, I would like it. It was very 'boom boom boom.' All the people wore sunglasses."

Make sure to read the part of Waiter in a very heavy, very non-British accent. Instead of going to that club, which he didn't like, we went to the club he recommended, a club called G-A-Y. Are you sensing a theme to our evening? At G-A-Y, though, we weren't the only girls there, probably not the only straight people there, and they didn't quarantine us. We spend a small fortune in pounds, which are worth quite a lot, using the jukebox to choose music that we never heard, and some of us drank quite a bit. I was made aware this afternoon (by Amanda) of the fact that we were not the only (presumably) straight girls to grace the dance floor at G-A-Y last week: Hilary Duff At G-A-Y!

Scott carrying April to G-A-Y, because she was wearing Amanda's shoes

That was a fairly late night, and the next day we got up, got dressed (after each shower in London, I towelled off with a bed sheet, because I'd forgotten my towel), got lunch at Pret a Manger (again, in case I didn't mention all the other times we did), and went to Portobello Rd., which looks remarkably unlike it did in Bedknobs and Broomsticks. They say to go on a Saturday. I'd listen to "them," because Tuesday was a little lackluster. Portobello Rd, by the way, is in/near Notting Hill. Again, it didn't really resemble the movie. You can't believe anything you see on VHS.

Next came Harrods, where we got chased out of the wedding dress department because we weren't actually getting married, and then the Tate Museum of Modern Art, remarkable for the art I don't understand, and the giant slides. Slides I understand. I won't name names, but if I did, you'd notice a theme regarding who was too scared to give it a try. Suffice it to say, April and I went on the slides (and Andy went on the little one), and they were incredible.

April and I with the giant slides at the Tate

Following the Tate, we went got fish and chips for dinner (because you have to, at least once, right?) at a restaurant called Ye Olde London. The fish and chips were alright, but nothing to write home (e.g. blog) about (and yet I find myself doing so anyway). I ordered Strongbow (the drink), because I'd learned about Strongbow (the person) in Medieval Irish History.

At Ye Olde London

We walked home singing "Don't Dream it's Over" and all the Disney songs we could come up with (whenever we go from one place to another and I don't mention the in between, assume it's accompanied by "Don't Dream it's Over" and all the Disney songs we can remember), and decided to stay in and play Trivial Pursuit. After a strong start, April and I choked on questions with answers like "a circle." Andy and Amanda had taken the lead, when we got a little hungry and decided to go on a junk food run. Junk food bought, we headed home.

And then I saw Inga walking down the street towards me. For those of you who didn't go to high school with me. . . Inga did. Once again, I'll have to cue that Disney song I've used once before. . .

It's a small, small, world.

What the hell? Well, Inga is studying abroad in London this year. I forgot. She told us about a bar we should try, and said "It's open late, so you guys can go, if. . .[suspicious look at our convenience store bags]. . .you want to put your stuff down and go out." She totally knew that our bags were full of junk food, and that, though on Spring Break, we weren't going out that night but sitting in our hostel and eating junk food. I'm just glad we weren't singing "Part of Your World" when we ran into her.

When we got back to the hostel, though, we'd been inspired by our encounter with Inga, and decided that, in fact, we did want to go out! We went looking for the bar she'd described, but couldn't find it, so we went to another bar, where the dance music consisted of minute-long clips of songs ranging from the Macarena to "Build Me Up Buttercup." Our brief encounter saved us from wasting our last night in London getting a good night's sleep.

At some point, we also saw the London Bridge from afar, and I post this only because I think it's a pretty picture, and could be a postcard if not for that barge in the foreground.

Still to come: Amsterdam!

Spring Break

I've just returned from a self-created Spring Break in London and Amsterdam with Amanda, April, and Andy (i.e. I skipped a week of class to go to London and Amsterdam with Amanda, April, and Andy). To begin at the beginning: 7 am the morning I leave Florence, I realize that I don't know where I'm going. I have no idea where we're staying in London. When I called Amanda and she gave me the address of the Astor Museum Inn Hostel, I got very excited. "Astor Museum Inn"? Sweet! Anyplace with "museum" in its name must be awesome. (That was not sarcasm but a very accurate representation of my thought processes.) And, in fact, it was a pretty cool place. Here I am in our very brightly-colored room:

Getting there was a bit of a mess involving an overweight bag (yes, for 8 days; Ryanair doesn't have a very generous baggage allowance), maps with inaccurate representations of streets, "tube" stations without escalators, and not being able to use my phone to call and say I would be late. When I finally made it, we went to a BBQ restaurant to watch the basketball game against Connecticut, which Georgetown won (and then they won again, and then again, and now they're the Big East Champions!). Here we are at the bar:

That night, we went to a floating bar with Maddie from the Villa, her friend John, and his friend Mark, who's British, and who, in fact, was the one who brought us to the floating bar. On the way, we stopped to take pictures in a phone booth.
Apparently, we don't care about looking like idiots in public, or trying to be cool in front of the local kid. London really is a big city, and as we followed Mark to this bar on a boat on the Thames, we marvelled at how ridiculously crowded it was at night. Then we realized that it was 7:30 at night, and crowds aren't really unusual when they're still being supplemented by 9 year-olds who aren't in bed yet. The floating bar was nice, but very empty, because it was 7:30. Here we are with our new British friend Mark at the floating bar, where they don't make cocktails:
We swore we were going to go see him play "football" the next morning, but it required getting up much earlier than we were capable of, despite having gone to bed by about midnight. Instead, we went to Hyde Park that morning and saw the Speaker's Corner. It's a corner of the park, and I'm sure you can guess what happens there. People speak, about everything from the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and wanting strong children, to Heaven and standardized testing (that one was a 15 year-old in a suit, who was obviously doing a final project for debate class). We also noticed a race through the park in which all the runners were dressed up. This was the sumo wrestler:
We walked to Buckingham Palace, and took some pictures, and even saw the guards step out of their little houses, and then step back inside! Oh, the excitement!

You probably can't tell, but that's Andy and I in front of the gates to Buckingham Palace.

And that's April and Amanda, right across from the gates to the palace.

Oh, good, a picture you can see. That's a guard inside his box.

After that we met up with Maddie again and went to Oxford to visit Peter. Oxford is a lovely but very cold, very, very wet college town about an hour and a half from London:
Peter gave us a tour, and we stopped at a souvenir shop where we bought Oxford clothes, so we could be warm, clean, and relatively dry (I don't think anyone is ever completely dry in England):
That evening, Peter snuck us into the formal dinner at his dining hall. We had to wear robes, which was appropriate, because scenes from Harry Potter were filmed at one of the dining halls at Oxford.
There was a three course meal, served by waiters, that included tomato soup, chicken with potatoes and vegetables, wine (red or white, your choice) and a chocolate souffle to rival any dessert I've ever tasted. With the help of the talented chefs at Oxford, I made the best of having Sunday off from a Lenten chocolate sacrifice.

More to come: The Rosetta Stone, gay bars, an even smaller world than when I last left you, and, of course, Amsterdam!

[All the tiny pictures that you can't see were taken from Amanda's facebook]