Pictures!

So I realized that I´ve been loading the pictures to the site in the order that I wanted them to be viewed, which is the opposite order of how they are viewed. So, to follow the narratives, begin at the end and go on to the beginning. (Then stop. Half of you should be able to name where that sort of comes from.)

Also, I´ve realized that I take lots of pictures of details, doorways, tiled floors, building facades, decorative ceilings, and stone work. And there will be only be more where that comes from.

¡Abrazos!



London

Madrid (all up!)

¡Hola! España 1

¡Hola a todos!

Estoy en Sevilla, España ahora y mañana, iré a Granada para ver la Alhambra. OK, so my Spanish, I have learned, is passable (I can ask questions, order at restaurants, and have broken conversations), but it is not what it should be. ¡Lo siento a mis professores! I really should have brushed up my Spanish before I left, but I do what I can. So I flew from London Gatwick to Madrid and made my way to my hostel, a converted 18th century mansion. Quite nice...again, pictures coming soon. Using my survival skills, I immediately befriended some people in the room and went along for dinner. That´s right, when food is involved, do all you can. Anyway, they were very nice and we had a very nice tapas dinner.

The next day was the art day. Woke up and the girl sleeping in the bunk below me said that she´d like to come along to the art museums (character: Sinead, a nurse from Australia who is travelling for a few months in Europe before settling down in Cork, Ireland). We headed first to the Prado, a huge museum that had a great collection of 15th-18th century paintings with plenty of Goya, El Greco, and all of the Spanish giants. In the middle of it all was a great exhibit on Tintoretto. And Sinead discovered her love of late 15th century Flemish painting. Interesting love to find, but good that she found it all the same. I found that I already tire of Madonna and Child...but I guess I´m in that for the long haul. After using my limited Spanish to buy lunch, we headed back into art at the Thyssen-Bornomesza Museum, a private collection across from the Prado, and in my mind, better. I was suprised that it was so comprehensive with many of the huge names from all eras of art, just not the most famous pieces. Found some amazing Whistlers, Homers, Lautrecs, and others whom I love. It´s always great to the turn the corner and discover a piece right in front of you that you´ve seen only in books. When we looked at the time, we found that we had been trekking through art museums for about nine and a half hours, so we decided to call it quits on the day and head back to the hostel. There, we met a new roommate, Emily (character: Emily, student at University of Washington who just finished a semester studying in Sevilla) whom we convinced to come out with us, even in the cold rain, to the Plaza Mayor. I really wanted to sit outside and people watch, but people don´t tend to go out in the rain, nor do they go out before midnight. So, we ate churros and chocolate alone, but chatted a lot about travel and where we´ve all come from. We called it an "early" night...for Madrid at least...

Having had the inclination of doing all three art museums in one day, I had to go to the last of the three, the Reina Sofia, the next morning. Emily, who successfully did all three in less than a full day, decided to start her art tour with me. We bonded over the fact that we hate bad knock-offs of Picasso and blank canvases; both were quite in abundance at this museum. Back story...I´ve been known to scream at pieces such as "Duct Tape on Floor #2" and "Blue Canvas, the Smaller" and other garbage that masks itself as brilliant art of the 20th and 21st century. Anyways, Blue Canvas is a piece by Ives Klein at the Tate Modern in London. The Tate said in its description of the piece that it was so grateful to be able to obtain such a work since Klein only did 36 objects dipped in his special blue paint. Well, Tate Modern, the Reina Sofia was lucky enough to have not only one Blue Canvas, but 3 pieces from this blue collection! THREE! They have Blue Canvas, probably the Bigger, a curved piece of concrete, and my personal favorite, a fuzzy, velvetly, small Winged Victory which I think used to be one of those penny banks you can buy at the Dollar Store. AND...wait, there´s more...they have a PINK canvas...AND a MUSTARD YELLOW canvas. This is a Klein lover´s mecca! And my hell. Anyway, the museum does have it´s high points such as some important Dalis which I love and Picasso´s "Guernica." I don´t tend to like Picasso, but "Guernica" is very impressive. It´s huge! After ranting about contemporary art for awhile, we parted and I headed to the Palacio Real (the Royal Palace) in the pouring rain. As I walked along the side of the Palace to get to the entrance, a guard inside was laughing at me...there was no one around...I had no umbrella...and the streets were flooding. Regardless, the Palace is a must see if you are in Madrid! It´s gorgeous. The outside looks nice and all, but when touring inside, you go through one jaw-droppingly gorgeous room to a more jaw-droppingly gorgeous room. Every surface is covered in either an opulent tapestry, silk fabric, intricate stucco designs, or Tribaldi fresco masterpieces. You start in a smaller ballroom, go into a stunning throne room, through a breakfast room (which was the nicest room in a mansion I´ve ever seen) to passing rooms that would be gems if by themselves to a huge ballroom that is just to die for...to the cherry on top...the chapel. I´ve never seen a more beautiful place. Everyone gasped. I stayed behind to sketch a bit and take it all in again because it was just so beautiful.

Just one word of advice and warning...don´t be that American tourist. I was on an English tour with 10 other Americans who were angry that the woman didn´t speak perfect English. They made her repeat herself 3 or 4 times, and after every room said to each other, "Can you understand her? I can´t understand a word. Why can´t these people speak English?" Oh, I don´t know...because you are in SPAIN and they speak SPANISH in SPAIN. Sigh. Just don´t be that tourist.

OK, moving on. Ran over in the rain to the Cathedral next door...it was ok...and then took advantage of a lull in the weather to visit the gardens, also ok, and Sol, the city center. It´s just a city center. No big deal. Had a wonderful tapas dinner with Sinead and Emily at a funky and crowded tapas bar.

Sinead was moving on the next morning to Granada, and Emily wanted to go to El Escorial, the palace-monestary about an hour outside of Madrid. I decided to take the day trip, since the weather was finally decent. It was really nice to get out of the city for a bit and see the countryside. El Escorial is huge, and the monarchy doesn´t hold back on anything...even the religious and austere Felipe II. The grounds and the views were a stunning background to a beautiful palace. Came back to Madrid, still in good weather, and strolled through the Buen Retiro, the really big park. I love parks...they are so relaxing. You walk along paths and come to big clearings with huge fountains or monuments every once and awhile. Quite nice. The highlight of the Buen Retiro is the Crystal Palace, a large empty structure made of glass. Absolutely beautiful. (Again, pictures coming.) Got back to the hostel to a new room with new roommates who were great (Jordan, from MN, Kristy and Sarah from New Zealand). Hung out in the cave/common area/internet cafe/bar downstairs in the hostel for a Flamenco show. The dancer was great when she finally started, but before that it was just the guitar players and the singer, who literally sounded like a dying cat. Everyone agreed.

Overall, a great time in Madrid, but I will say that now that I have something to compare it to, I would skip Madrid and come straight to Sevilla...but that will have to wait until a next chapter.

Cheers! London.

Hello to all!



I apologize for all of you readers who have been just dying waiting for my next chapter! And I apologize that pictures do not accompany this part, as I can't plug my camera into the hostel's computer to load pictures...so they will come later.



When I left off, I was going to London to visit my good friend, Sammi (main character of this part of the trip...fellow Gilbert and Sullivan Board member), who was studying this past semester as the University College of London. Turns out, when we walked to her dorm and it was Astor College, where I had stayed only a few summers ago when I was thesis researching! I also lived on the 3rd floor, just a few doors down. Sadly I found out that I was ripped off when I was there, as all the rooms are big singles, except for two rooms on the floor...mine being one of them. Sigh, ah well. Sammi's was very nice and I crashed upon arrival.

The next day we made a list of things we both wanted to do and see, and a big to-do was tea. I love high tea, and Sammi suggested The Orangery, a gorgeous place adjacent to Kensington Palace in Hyde Park. First, a must stop for lunch was Pret. (I miss Pret...and the one in NYC is just not the same.) Then we met up with Katie and Kim, her friends from UCL, and headed to the Park. It was so gorgeous and relaxing, meandering through the trees and such. We acted very touristy at Albert's memorial, but who couldn't resist taking pictures of it! (I know, I'm tempting you all with pictures that do exist.) Tea at The Orangery, if anyone is in London, is a must. It was so good (and fairly cheap for tea)...a huge spread of goodies met us at the door. Tea consisted of a pot of tea, cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, a huge scone with clotted cream, tea cakes, and a huge slice of citrus cake. Way too good. And way British...or tourity British. I toured Kensington Palace to walk it all off, and I will say I was a bit disappointed. After Princess Margaret died, the royal family cleared the mansion, so most of the rooms are empty. However, the trompe loeil painting on the ceilings and walls were amazing! I gazed upward the whole time. It was designed by William Kent, an artist I must research further. Also interesting was how the royal family was portrayed. All the information about them is so...censored, I guess is the term. Go to the royal family's website. You'll get the idea. Later, we went to Covent Garden to meet up with her friend for food and hot chocolate.

Next day we decided to hit up the Globe, since I really wanted to go back and Sammi had never been. If you´ve never been, go! It´s such a unique way to see Shakespeare, and I think the most interesting. And if you go, stand in the Yard. Be a Groundling. Don´t pay the money to sit. The actors interact with the Groundlings and thus, the show is so much more enjoyable. I mean they fight right over you...spit on you...enter through the crowd, fly over you, etc. It´s just amazing. We saw "Othello," and the acting was just spectacular. It was great getting back to the Globe again. (When I studied in London two summers ago, I went a lot to see shows.) And because I have my Groundling routine down, I made Sammi get there an hour early to queue up for the doors to the doors of the Globe to open. At 45 minutes out, they open said doors and you run and queue at the theater doors. At 30 minutes out or so, they open the doors and it´s like the Filene´s Basement wedding dress sale. You run...trip people if you have to...and stampede your way front and center. That´s the way to properly do the Globe. Thank you, Sammi, for putting up with me! But I think it was worth it. All of the intense scenes were played right over us. It was so cool. The best part was when a pigeon flew in between Iago and Othello during a really intense dialogue, started strutting the stage, and cooing. Iago got to the line, "that cuckold lives in bliss," and everyone just started laughing hysterically. He bowed to the pigeon and it flew cooed and flew away. After being in awe of the Globe for awhile, we headed back to Astor to cook for a potluck dinner with some of Sammi´s friends. It was really fun to meet everyone, and I threw together a quick chocolate trifle using Swiss cake rolls, custard, and Cadbury Crunchies...chocolate covered honeycombs...turned out well. It translates to every culture.

The next day, Sammi headed to the Tower while I took a tour of the Tower Bridge (nice views) and the Design Museum. The Design Museum is much smaller than the Cooper Hewitt in New York, but they had some interesting exhibits on Colani and Sottsass. But the highlight was going back to the Globe. I think it´s my favorite place to visit in London...I bought myself a ticket to "In Extremis," a new play about the struggles of love and religion of Peter Abelard and his student, Heloise. Sammi and I saw the exhibition (which is fabulous if you are visiting London) and took a tour. We dined at the oh-so-elegant Pizza Express, and I rushed back to the Globe to get on queue. Usually I arrive an hour before so I can be at least one of the first 15 in line for the Yard...but today, I got there 45 minutes early. The steward pointed me in the direction of the door and said, "You´ll see the cue." I´m thinking, "Oh no. 45 minutes isn´t early enough. I´ll be in the back!" (I kind of have to stand in front or else I can´t see over people...) I get around the corner and I see two stewards talking to a guy who turns and screams, "I´m number one and you´re number two!" Two? Wow. I had my pick of where I wanted to stand for sure! In line, I started talking to said man, a violist, and two students behind me and we sauntered in first, getting the spots front and center! Awesome. And the show was excellent. Definitely extreme, but fantastic acting...I mean, as always at the Globe. You can´t get better entertainment for 5 pounds. Went to dinner with Denise and her friend (the students behind me in line) and headed to Astor to repack my bag for my flight to Madrid the next morning.

Madrid chapter to come later. Technically, I´m leaving Madrid tomorrow morning for Sevilla, but hostel computers can only be occupied for so long. Cheers!

Ireland, a land of smiles, stone walls, and sheep (and Sol LeWitt...)

I've covered a lot of ground in the last few days. Granted, it was only a fraction of the whole country of Ireland, but I made it to both coasts and a small island. Again, posts will partly be for me to remember, part fun stories...so read on and absorb what you will. (There's a lot of pressure to make sure this is interesting.) "The apostles were a motley crew too!" So I arrived in Galway, bright eyed and bushy tailed, at the wrong door. Woke up some random guy who curtly asked, "what are you all about?" As he shut the door, he pointed in a direction, and by following addresses on trash cans, I made it to Aoife and Emma's house. (Characters to know: Aoife, a director who did theater with me in college and is doing a masters and PhD at the university in Galway, and Emma, her house mate and founding partner of their theater company.) Immediately crashed and woke up to meet two other house mates, Conal (a fiddle player from Philly) and Tristan (a fellow traveler from MI). We went into the town and visited the cathedral (where above quote was found on a poster for joining the priesthood), which has beautiful stained glass windows depicting, of all things, water and flames. After following A to a rehearsal, E, C, T, and I went to a comedy show at De Burgos and then to the Crane, an amazing pub that I would never have found if I were only a tourist. (More thoughts on tourism below.) It was definitely a local place, where even if you didn't know anyone, you fit in. Some musicians played away in the corner, a few people danced every few songs, and just it was one of the most comfortable and welcoming atmospheres I've ever been in. We sat next to all the musicians, since C had played with many of them, and it was a very lively and wonderful time. We stayed until closing and headed to the Roisin Dubh, another pub, since it was Conal's last night, and stayed until closing there. Once at the house, the boys wanted a full Irish breakfast...yes it was 3AM...and Emma, after disapproving of their cooking methods, cooked a beautiful breakfast which made the perfect ending to a perfect first day. The next day, I headed off on an early train to Dublin. After trying to find Dublin Castle (which looks nothing like a "castle" in my mind compared with a church I followed from the skyline and got lost thinking it was the castle) for about an hour and a half, I toured around there and Christ Church Cathedral and St. Audoen's Church, which had beautiful stonework! Met A at the train station and headed to Tom and Emma's (more characters: wonderful couple with the cutest baby, Nell) to get ready for...get this...a reception at the U.S. ambassador's residence. The ambassador's residence...how do I describe it...was the most posh place I've ever been to for a reception. It's in the middle of the park, across the street from the President of Ireland's house, down a gorgeous driveway. It is the quintessential mansion from any Victorian novel, and I felt like all the women should have been in huge ball gowns waltzing around. Rather, we were a motley crew of artists (I met Tom Killroy, a famous playwright, and had U2's manager pointed out to me, among other illustrious people) all gathered to see the presentation of a Sol LeWitt wall drawing that was just installed in the ambassador's residence. Sol LeWitt, as the museum lady said, was one of the first "conceptual" artists...which doesn't necessarily bode with me well. If you've never been with me to an modern art museum, you should know that I have been known to scream at Blue Canvas #31.5, Duct Tape on Floor, and other such pieces of "art." However, knowing how this LeWitt piece was done made me appreciate it a little more. He drew out 8 simple lines and curves on squares, and the installers pick out the numbers 1-8 out of a hat to decide which squares go in which parts of the grid. All patterns that are made are unique and random. But the coolest part was meeting the ambassador and seeing his house. He gets to look out his windows and watch deer frolic through the park, drive golf balls at his private driving range, and support local art in his home...pretty good job I'd say. And the best part...he was wearing a chicken tie during the reception. Yeah, I notice these things. But he was the nicest and most welcoming guy, and he was so glad that we were there. I'd go back...Aoife... Anyway, after that wonderful introduction to Dublin, I left on an early morning train back to Galway to get on a ferry to Inis Mor, one of the Aran Islands of the west coast. The island is made up of gorgeous scenery and stone walls. I have never seen SO many stone walls in my life. The bus tour guide said there are 7000 miles of stone walls on the island (which is definitely a tourist number...miles?), but I could believe it. A stone wall enclosed every square of land, so the countryside looked like a leaf under a microscope...green and gridded. And it was beautiful stonework...no mortar, just stacked stone. A fort on the cliffs was the same way. Supposedly people started building the walls only in the nineteenth century...so many walls, so little time. But I'll always associate Ireland with stone walls...which reminded me of Robert Frost's poem, "The Mending Wall."

There where it is we do not need the wall: He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him. He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'.

I wonder if the walls are necessary...but it does seem like Ireland, as a community, is very close. Everyone is a friend. Maybe it's the walls. Maybe it's the Guinness.

Met two girls from Capetown, South Africa on my tour. We went back on different ferries, but ran into each other on Shop St. and hung out some more. Had dinner with Aoife that night and discussed the pros and cons of being a "tourist." Staying with locals, you get to see the city through those eyes and get to go places off the beaten track. Tourist guides and maps tend to frame a city in a very different way than how people living there would describe their city. However, when I go to a touristy place, I feel a sort of safety. I think it's because I'm surrounded by other stupid tourists with the same stupid questions, and all of us have no clue as to what is going on. Being in that boat is sometimes a nice place to float. To fit in or not to fit in...that is the question. Well, I guess the camera gives it away.

Speaking of (click on picture for more pictures):



Sorry if that was boring...I'll get the hang of storytelling by the end of this.

Cheers!
Melissa

Advice from the Chesire Cat and the Red Queen

"'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
'I don't much care where-' said Alice.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
'-so long as I get somewhere,' Alice added as an explanation.
'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.'"

"Speak French when you can't think of the English for a thing-turn out your toes as you walk-and remember who you are."

To all my readers,

This blog will try to keep you updated, as well as help me to remember, my travels in Europe over the next few months. I'll try to keep stories interesting and post pictures if I can figure out how. Comment as you see fit, but remember that many different people will be reading this, so please keep all comments appropriate for all ages. If you see me in a place that you've been before and have suggestions, even down to a restaurant to eat at or a statue to go to, comment and let me know!

Cheers!

Melissa