I fell in love...

...with Venice. No, no, the dapper young man in the photograph is not, as a passing priest mistook him, my new husband. No, no, I did not go to Europe and get married. But I did discover one of the most beautiful and, perhaps, the most unique city in the world. (And, of course, Rowan, the dapper young man in the photograph, made the trip all the better!)

Rowan, I will be finishing this post for you, m'dear. Do not fear...I will finish it!

Last Day!

Sorry this has taken way too long to post, but life has been crazier than I could have ever imagined. Now that it is a good 7 or so months since the trip, I feel like I should bring it to a close. Granted, a Venice post is to come as well as a trip round up and posted pictures. But it will happen. I promise.



So where was I...ah, yes, I left David and Amsterdam for a quick day in Brussels after I realized I had missed all the good Art Nouveau architecture and could not leave Europe without making a pilgrimage to the Victor Horta house. I took an early train to Brussels and made my first attempt at trying to communicate with the locals. At first, I thought the confusion of finding my way to the bus was due to lack of signage or rude train station workers. However after the next series of events, I realized it is due to French language being...well...snotty and inherently rude.

I first ask a bus driver which bus will take me to the stop I want. Without answering verbally, he points in a direction that if followed would have led me up a wall to a beam on the ceiling. After kindly asking again if he was pointing to a bus in a different direction, he nodded and walked away. OK. I get on said bus and check with the driver if it goes to the stop I want, and abruptly he gives me the look of death and grunts, "Yes." OK. So I silently sit towards the back where an older woman is scolding a angsty teenager in French about his manners and his dress. He starts screaming at her, flips her off, and gets off the bus. Nice. She turns to me and starts asking me for what I think is my approval of her actions, but in French. When I kindly tell her that I do not speak French, she gives me the look of death, gets up in a huff, and moves to the front of the bus. OK. Finally my stop comes and I figure that instead of wandering to find the museum, I would call them for directions. The conversation goes something like this:

"Bonjour. Where exactly is your museum?"
"Well, I can't really explain it."
"Well, I'm at the intersection where your website told me to take the bus to. How do I walk from there?"
"I don't know."
"OK. Can you tell me what street your museum is on?"
"No. "
"You are the Victor Horta museum, yes?"
Sounding like she is pained by my very existence, "Yes we are! Just ask anyone around you on the street. They'll know." Click.

OK. So I stop a few passerbyers and ask, in the best/worst French I can conjure up, where the Victor Horta museum is. One of them says to me, "You clearly don't speak French. So no, I don't know where it is. Why would I know that?" OK. The next guy smiles and points me in a direction. I thank him and start walking towards an area that, well, doesn't look all that great. After some long blocks, I decide to turn around and walk into a bookstore to ask for directions. Again, in my best/worst French, I ask if they speak English, to which they say yes, and ask where the museum is. The point in the direction I had come from in the first place, told me the street name, and then looked at each other and laughed. "You really don't speak French, do you?" Um, no. Clearly, my French is horrendous...but honestly, I'm not even trying to speak all that much French. And you speak English. Help me out. I'm trying to be nice. That's all. I'm bringing your country money in tourism. I have a smile on my face. Problem? Conclusion: countries that aren't France who say that their first language is French should be avoided unless you want to be humilated and degraded. I mean, you aren't France. You aren't nearly as cool as France. Get over yourselves. Yes, that means you, too, Luxembourg! Anyway....just before getting to the museum, I see the guy who pointed me in the wrong direction sitting at a cafe. He nudges his friend and tells him, in English, that he pointed the stupid tourist in the wrong direction. They both laughed at me. If I had known where to find amnesty at the US Embassy, I would have pummeled the guy right there. But since he probably could have outrun me, I gave him a huge grin, waved, and moved on.

The museum, despite the journey to find it, is fabulous. Each nook, cranny, piece of furniture, and light fixture had the signature Horta style. The staircase is a photographic gem. It was really neat to see how every detail came together into a whole artistic composition. Two thumbs up. I bought a map of walking routes around the area to see Art Noveau facades and headed to see as much I could before having to get on the last train out to my hotel. The first stop was the Hotel Hannon, designed by Jules Brunfaut, known for its beautiful frescoed staircase by Paul Albert Boudouin. Gorgeous. Then I just wanted the streets for hours. There would be five or six art nouveau facades on a street amidst generic rowhouses. As amazing as I could have thought. Definitely worth the day trip.

Of course, I couldn't leave without seeing the famous square named the "Grand-Place." Anything that names itself "The Grand Place" has to to be worth checking out in my book, so, after more frustrating bus and walking attempts, I arrive in a hidden gem of an area which, very true to its name, was grand in every way. Pretty amazing, actually, to take it all in. Another two thumbs up approval. While I'm there, I indulge in a last Belgian waffle (oh, how I miss thee!) and stock up on some Belgian chocolate for the plane ride.

Finally, after a train, a bus, and a taxi, I arrive at my hotel near the Charleroi airport...thanks Ryanair for flying into the most random of places...and try to ruminate on my last three months in the European continent. Wow. Talk about an amazing trip. Well...full review to come later...but I am pretty overjoyed and pleased with how this all came out. Definitely would suggest this trip to anyone. Hey, they didn't call it the Grand Tour in centuries past for nothing, right?

Flew from Charleroi to Dublin, Dublin to Boston without a hitch. Well, I suppose when I told customs that I wasn't bringing in any dairy products, I "forgot" the wheel of cheese I had in my backpack. Hey...who wouldn't for good gouda.

Adios, Europa!

Canals, Concerts, and the Concertgebouw

Oh, I apologize for not finishing my travels, as it is long overdue. I'll try to finish up the posts from Europe in the next few days and then illustrate them with pictures. (In about a week, be sure to go back to the beginning posts to get the link for pictures from that city!)

OK, where I left off...I was sleeping in late, eating lots of cheese, and playing with the cat, Mrs. Morris...right. Ah, and my journal tells me that I have hit the first of August! (Just for some temporal context.) David had tickets for us for the next two nights at the Concertgebow, one of the top three music halls in the world for acoustics. (Boston Symphony Hall being one of the others! We are so spoiled.) So included in my usual travels to churches and museums in the two days, much time will be spent on the glorious concerts we saw and the glorious music that we heard.

I started off my lesiurely day with the Theater Museum, another beautiful canal house whose gem, I thought, was a giant 18th century toy theater that one man insisted on having built in his home so he could display his love for theaters and his knowledge of technical mechanisms. He employed two scenic artists to build thousands of pieces for his theater, and the museum displays them all beautifully. I believe everyone should have a toy theater to play with. From there I tried to see the Nieuwe Kerk, but it was under construction, so instead I watched the warm up for some international high jumping challenge. Thinking I would try my luck at the Oude Kerk, which is smack dab in the middle of the red light district, I walked through the distinctive, and to me, very sad haze of neon glow (which is all I will say about the red light district) to the nice and spacious Oude Kerk, and then quickly out again. My next church stop was a true gem, the Amstelkring Museum, or Our Lord in the Attic Chapel When the Protestants were in the majority, they prevented the Catholics from having churches that were well pronounced out in the open. To get around this law, Catholic congregations started meeting in large rooms of canal houses (which are never very big) in secret. But this one congregation raised the money to buy two side by side canal houses and converted the top few floors into a proper Catholic church. While one winds up the narrow staircases, one expects a simple room with pews and maybe an elaborate pulpit. But one would be terribly wrong. I mean, when have the Catholics done anything "simple" when it comes the display of their churches? (I point you back to Chartres and the Vatican.) After climbing the stairs, one enters a huge long room with a gorgeously decorated interior, large gleaming chandeliers, and an intricately carved altar complete with retracting pulpit nesting in the wall. One looks up beyond the lights to a second floor (!) complete with benches and a gorgeous organ. Then one remembers that one is in the top floor of a tiny canal house. Amazing. Practicing in secret, I think not.

On David's suggestions, I walked down to the Damraacht for a canal boat tour. I love boats and canals, and it was a gorgeous day. The landscape is so different from the water. We drove through most of the canal network to all the different neighborhoods. On my way back, I couldn't resist stopping at the Kaas Kamer, the cheese shop David always went to. I was in Heaven. Of course, the local stuff is Dutch Gouda (which I love), so I asked one of the guys what he would suggest, and we picked out a good cheese for a preconcert snack. I then...and I had to do it...bought a wheel of cheese. Granted, it is small. I couldn't figure out how to get one of those massive wheels home...but if I could have, you know I would have. So a small wheel of gouda from Amsterdam will have to do. Hopefully I can keep it long enough for it to make it to a special cheese party later in the year. Mmm...cheese.

OK, concert time! The concertgebow is a GORGEOUS concert hall. Absolutely gorgeous. And we had prime seats on the balcony on house left overlooking the celli. Perfect. Tonight's program was brought to us by the Scottish Chamber Orchestra who performed as a chamber orchestra, I think, should...standing (save the celli!) and sans conductor. It was amazing how they interacted and moved together. Mozart, Haydn, and Beethoven. Just amazing! And they had a piano soloist who was good that he had to an encore. Luckily we get to come back tomorrow!

Before the second concert, I decided to take a day trip outside the city to Haarlem. Had I come earlier in the year, the town would be overrun by visitors for the tulip season, but luckily for me, it was quite quiet and charming, much like Brugge. I started off at the Frans Hall Museum (I am still in love with Dutch painting) and rushed over to the Cathedral for an organ concert. The organ might be beautiful, but the playing was atrocious. Maybe it was the pieces he chose...maybe the thing is out of tune...but oh my gosh, what terrible music. There was an imbalance of his hands, so it sounded like a CLOMP, stomp, CLOMP, stomp on the keys that gave everyone a dissonant sea sickness. After perusing the grave stones underfoot and admiring the cathedral, I shopped around the town for some more good cheese and a gift for David. (Remember Chevre d'Or for aforementioned cheese party.) Made my train connections back and munched on cheese before heading out to the Concertgebeow.

This time, the program was the Australian Youth Orchestra. At first, David and I were a little skeptical, but after they started playing, we were, along with everyone else in the hall, totally blown away! They were absolutely amazing! It was a such a huge sound that filled the hall; I really could get a sense of the fantastic acoustics. They started off with a Ravel and ended with a Bartok, both of which completely entranced the audience. They also had a pianist, only this time, he was 21, had played all over the world, and was really one of the best musicians I have ever been in the presence of. After the Rachmoninov, he had to do two encores to appease the applause, one with the orchestra, and the other solo. My jaw dropped to the ground. I never really like piano pieces, but this was stunning. After the incredible momentum build of the Bartok, the orchestra was cheered onto doing two full piece encores, and kept up the energy beautifully. I couldn't believe it. I wish I had done an orchestra like that in high school. Wow.

Of coures, when you are all hyped up from a concert or play, you can't just go home. So David and I went across the street to a wonderful restaurant and got the chef's special series of small entrees that you see on TV, but never actually find a restaurant that does it. It was great! (And suprisingly filling!) I leave tomorrow for Brussels, as David has gotten me really excited to see it before I leave. So here I will say a huge thank you to David! You are one of the most hospitable, fun, and amazing people I've ever met! Thank you for taking me in, cooking for me, and showing me around your beautiful city! I can't wait to come back! And if you are ever in my part of the world, please let me know!

And with that, goodnight Amsterdam!

More museums...and definitely some more cheese, please!

After waking up from a leisurely night's sleep (a bad habit to get into when you are on vacation, believe it or not), I decided to hit a handful of the city's greatest museums. When going to Amsterdam, or anywhere in the Netherlands, it is worth it to get their Museum Kaart. It's a card that gives you great discounts at most of the museums in the country, and it's good for a whole year! To get older cards, you needed a separate passport photo, which I was stupid enough not to bring on the trip. (Bring passport photos with you!) So I first backtracked to the train station to the photo booth (very Amelie-esque) and sat for my photo, only I didn't read the directions and forgot about a second flash...so I got two terrible black and white photographs of me and two blurry pictures of my shoulder exiting the booth. How mysterious if I should have left those behind...

Boarded a tram to the gorgeous Rijksmuseum. They are rennovating most of the building, so they've condensed the best of the best into one section, which is truly an amazing way to see a museum. What is best of the best? I'm sure some of the neglected portraits are screaming in storage and sunny landscapes have clouded over, but it was a good way to see the collection without closing the entire museum. And honestly, it was the perfect size for a person's attention span for a day. I found out that I love Flemish portrait painting, especially when the artist shows an entire guild and each person has a meticulous portrait done doing something interesting. It's a whole narrative that I feel other portrait painting just doesn't have. Thumbs up for the museum. Will have to come back when the whole thing opens (also because it's a gorgeous building).

From there I walked down to the Van Gogh Museum. (Note...you do not actually need a photograph to get the Museum Kaart anymore. But still...worth every penny!) I never considered myself a huge Van Gogh fan, but this was pretty spectacular. Weaving through high college students commenting on how beautiful the blurs were, I was stunned at how beautiful his technique is and how his work developed over time. That's the great thing about bringing a collection of one artist's work together. You really get a sense of time in the works and how moments in the artist's life changed the eye. (Another short example is Monet's series of the Cathedral at Rouen showing the artist going blind.) I never knew that Van Gogh was so inspired by Japanese culture, nor that he was so close to his brother Theo, or that he was so obsessed with Gaugin who, in turn, treated Van Gogh like an abused puppy. It's a great museum. They also had an exhibit on Max Beckman. I'm not a fan of Beckman, but it was a nice exhibit. Ran over to the Concertobouw to pick up our tickets to the concerts for the next two nights (thanks, David!) and decided to walk through Vondelpark before dinner. Lovely spot, but it got gold, so I trammed it back. David made great cod and veggies. And to top it all off, cheese. Yum.

Decided to hit some smaller museums today which David mentioned were in beautiful canal row houses. Got caught up in a beautiful flower market by a canal (I will have to come back for tulip season sometime!) on my way to the Willet-Holthusen, which I still can't pronounce, which has a nice collection of paintings and silver. The museum is set up as the house was supposedly kept a century ago with a lovely garden out back. Rushed over for a tour of the Tuschinki Movie Theater, the first one of it's kind in the Netherlands and a stunning example of the combination of art deco, jugenstil, and the Amsterdam school styles. Was one of two English speakers, so the guide had to give the tour in two languages, which irked the Dutchmen, especially since the other English speaker was one of the "those tourists" who video tapes everything and lags behind to take pictures. The Dutch weren't even taking pictures, so I think I snapped a few, but I tried to be as subtle as possible. If you go to Amsterdam, take this tour! The building is absolutely beautiful, and the story behind Tuschinki and the movie house is a good one! I always love hearing about the stories behind details, like the fabric caterpillar lamps that climb up the ceiling to cocoon sconces and inside to butterfly fixtures inside the big theater. What a great place to see a movie! The movie going experience is just not the same as it used to be. Ran over to the Portuguese Synagogue before it closed. Reminded me of a Georgian church. Not much to see there, but it is an interesting story behind a section of Amsterdam's population. Ran over to the Rembrant house before it closed to see a wonderful collection of paintings and Rembrant etchings. Durer might still be my favorite, but Rembrant's stuff is quite nice.

Got in line for one of the most popular tourist attractions potentially in all of Europe, the Anne Frank House. I wil say that they've done a really nice job with organizing the museum, explaining the history, and tracking the publication of the book. It was very interesting to go behind the bookcase, up the stairs, and see where the families hid...because, it's not one room, but a huge complex of rooms up there. Granted, with as many people as that cramped in for so long under such fear, it must have been just horrible. But I remember, when reading the book, it as almost a one room crawl space, but it's a whole house up there. Quite amazing how they organized it so they could all live. Of course, coming down from the rooms to the rest of the museum is quite sad, but the museum has done a nice job to educate the visitors beyond what the book tells.

Walked around a bit more before heading back to David's for great chicken teriyaki. And of course, more cheese.

Arriving in Amsterdam!

Arriving in Amsterdam meant finally meeting my cousin David. He's actually my grandmother's first cousin, but I'm not quite sure what that makes us, so "cousin" will have to do. I had been hearing about this David for years, but we had never met. Relatives are always going to visit him (he moved to Amsterdam many years ago), and they told me that he loves to travel, especially to see art, architecture, and culture. Sounds up my alley! I went to visit this cousin David and indeed he is probably one of the coolest people I have ever met! He and I got along from our first conversation, and he was so nice to take me around his city, bring me to concerts, direct me to places of interest, and cook me many amazing home cooked meals.


One such meal led to our first late night conversation. After my train ride and about my 2 months of eating out, David assumed, and quite rightly, that I would want a home cooked meal. But this was no baked chicken or burger. We started with stuffed zucchini and moved onto duck breast. He cooked me duck! And of course, we ended with a cheese plate. I think I have met my match when it comes to cheese. He knows way more about cheeses than I, which was very beneficial to my palate. I mean, I am in the land of gouda, but we tried all sorts of regional and French cheeses from De Kaaskamar, or the cheeseshop. And I met Mrs. Mavis Morris, the very cute, very intelligent, and very elusive cat who decided that she liked me one minute and then couldn't give a care less the next. But I enjoyed her company even if she didn't enjoy mine.

David has this amazing work schedule for which he doesn't actually have to wake up until 11AM every morning...so, having travelled for as long as I had, I took advantage of such luxury and slept late, almost every day. I think I needed it as much as it was luxurious. After a bunch that lasted well into the afternoon, David took me around his gorgeous city, pointing out all the architectural gems and the details of Amsterdam's rowhouses. First of all, they have a great system of moving furniture to upper floors. There's a hook at the top of every house. Using pulleys, they lift furniture up and down and bring it in through the windows. Probably they were first used for moving goods, but I approve of the invention. Second of all, there are so many kinds of gables. I love them all. Third of all, they all slant in towards the street. It's definitely intentional and not accidently sinkage of the city. David liked the theory that it's to keep rain off the lower floors and bring shade. I'll buy it for now. Saw the green copper NEMO boat hull which is interesting, and then David pointed to an amazing building, now rennovated into a hotel. It was the headquarters of the steamboat companies and it's done in an amazing combination of Jugenstil style and the Amsterdam school style. Acing cool and avoiding noisy check in staff, we made our way to the upper floors and through the gorgeous atrium which has glass maps of the world and the original ticket counter windows. Everything was a nautical theme, down to the door handles, and it's definitely worth a trip in if you are in Amsterdam! Unfortunately, I can't remember the name of the church he took me to, but we walked into a gorgeously colorful church and a cellist was playing. We went into trances for awhile enjoying the beauty of it all, and headed to a different neighborhood to look at quaint courtyards. Ate at a great Italian restaurant, but had to head back for, of course, cheese. We decided that I must go for a day to Brussels and maybe to Haarlem, but not to Alkmaar, where the famous cheese auction happens every Friday. I thought it would be hilarious, but David said that Brussels would be a better choice. Oh the cheese auction, you will have to wait.

"Make an old woman happy!" Irma and Beautiful Brugge

On the enthusiastic recommendations of my friends Lily and Nikki, I chose to spend two days in Brugge, Belgium, a gorgeous town of gabled rooftops, meandering canals, chocolate pralines, and lace. Also home of one of the nicest populations of people I met on the trip...or maybe it was just in comparison to Paris. Anyway, I was dropped off by a medieval gate by a bus driver and a bus load of people giving me recommendations on where to go, what to see, and how to get to my hostel, which was right down the street. As soon as the bus pulled away, I saw 4 windmills lined up along the river bank! Windmills! How quaint and amazing! Was a bit tired, so I walked around only a bit, ate overlooking the Markt, and planned my walking extravaganza the next day. (And where I was going to get waffles!) Got into a long conversation with people from Chile, Quebec, and PEI in the room.

Walking day! I took all the walking tour routes printed in the tourist guide and pasted them all together. Headed first to a windmill! I don't know why I was so excited about windmills, but I was! The gears were turning, but the miller wasn't milling. Needed two millers to be safe, and the other one was still sleeping. Ah. Had a good time, regardless. Strolled my way through the city looking at every church and facade until I got to the boat rides at the canal and decided, why not! Lovely boat ride with a trilingual tour as the world floated by. Got off and saw a man making WAFFLES in the window and had to get one, right away! Mmmm, Belgian waffles...so good. Not like the stuff they sell in the frozen grocery section, mind you. Real Belgian waffles with chunks of sugar in them, glazed, with ice cream and chocolate on top. Definitely worth the trip to Belgium in itself! Walked to the Burg, or the city center, and into the Church of the Holy Blood. Clearly, the relic is a vile of Christ's blood from the crucifixion, and it is on display every Friday from 10-12, unbeknownst to be when I walked in. Then I saw the line of people going up to kiss something on the altar...decided to keep my distance and look, instead, at the beautiful wall paintings and stained glass telling the story of the king who brought back the vile and donated it to this church. How nice of him. He probably could have sold it on ebay for pile of gold. Then they prosessed with it all over the place and through a little door at the back. Theatrical? I think so. Went into the gorgeous rooms of the City Museum where the councils would meet. One was a Gothic room with a beautifully carved fireplace. The other was a large hall with paintings of scenes of life in Brugge along with major political, historical, and legendary figures of the city. It used to be a huge trading post, though I believe most of the trade has gone elsewhere and now tourism rakes in the dough. Headed down to the ugly modern concert hall and odd fountain statue over to the Church of Our Lady which houses a famous Mother and Child by Michelangelo. The details are very similar to the Vatican Pieta, and it draws quite a crowd. Walked through the grounds of an old hospital to the Lake of Love with swans abound and over to the nuns' complex where all the trees oddly lean towards the church.

Made my way back to the Markt to buy some lace. Here is where I met Irma, or at least I think she's Irma. The store is named Irma and I would like to think that this little old woman was her. She must have been in her nineties, and she sits outside in a rocking chair making lace...which looks so difficult to do! As I'm watching her, she turns to me and says, "Buy lace here! Make an old woman happy!" Yes, Irma! Amused, I walk into the store where her family, or just other workers, tell me that they are proud of their lace because it is made here, by them, in Brugge. "Not like that garbage from overseas!" Apparently, 90% of the lace in Brugge is from China because of cheap labor. Thus tourists buy the cheap lace from the touristy shops rather than the Belgian lace from the original stores. Well, to make an old woman happy, I bought some lace from Irma's. It's always nice to support the local artisans.

The next morning, I had a bit of time to waste before my train, so I joined up with the group from PEI in search for some cheap Belgian chocolate. You can't leave Belgium without buying Belgian chocolate. I had stocked up on some cheaper bars of chocolate from the grocery store, which was indeed amazing chocolate, but wanted to find some of the boxed pralines. We were all very picky, but we found what we were looking for. Decided to go into the belltower (but not up it!) to see a Dali exhibit, which was very interesting. Finally time for the train! But I give a two thumbs up to Brugge. Beautiful and relaxing, it does sweep you off your feet.

The Versailles Let Down and the St. Chapelle Gem

One of the biggest let down of Paris sight seeing is Versailles, the megamansion of the Louis XIV-XVI and their Maries: Marie-Therese, Marie Leszczyska, and Marie-Antoinette. I understand that the purpose of Versailles was to house and entertain the entire French court and then some, BUT the number of tourists packed into Versailles was ridiculous. You couldn't even get a sense of what it was really like because of all the shabbily dressed, camera weilding people who don't resemble anyone, even a pauper, from the French court. After 3.5 hours in line, I was able to pack my way into the royal apartments in which I moved with the other sardines through the nice rooms, and was glad to be spat out the exit. Met up with Courtney and her classmates who covered about one room of the palace in their class. We meandered through the garden a bit, which is very flat. The whole thing is flat. I'll post a picture to explain. 1/2 of the picture is sky. 1/4 is ground. The last 1/4 is the mansion and all the greenery. Not very beautiful to look at. So I walked to Marie-Antoinette's estate which she built as a retreat (I don't blame her!) with two gigantic "small" triaons, or day houses, expansive fields with creeks, bridges, and grottoes, and a play village. This quaint village was used by MA and her ladies when they wanted to "play peasant." It's a lovely lake with swans and a mill, a farm with horses, a lookout tower, and peasant houses. It all looked very fantastical to me. I would gladly live in any of those buildings. It was really nice to be out there because not many of the tourists make the trek, or pay to make the trek, out there. Made my way back through the crowds to, where else, the St. Severin area to meet Courtney for a great dinner.



I couldn't get train tickets to Belgium for today, so I needed a place to stay for a night. I got into a pointless fight with the witch down at the desk who told me that there weren't, all of a sudden, any beds when every room I had been in had at least one empty bed in it, and that their other branch in the Latin Quarter, didn't have any either. Walking away to get my bag, I decided to call the number of the hostel. The witch picked up the phone, and very nicely told me that this branch didn't have any beds, but that the other one did and that she would transfer me to that number. How nice. Merci. Moved my stuff over to the Latin Quarter where I met Crystal in the bag room. (Character: Crystal, a music teacher who had just come from singing in an international choral festival at Canterbury Cathedral.) Crystal and I teamed up for the day and headed first to the St. Chappelle, a small chapel across from Notre Dame known for its expanse of stained glass windows and light. Wow, what a gem! My mouth literally dropped to the floor. I had seen pictures, but nothing compares to experiencing the space. First of all, there is so much glass. When you hear about Gothic cathedrals being light and airy, St. Chappelle is the best example. The light was streaming in an array of colors, as if one is walking through a kaleidoscope. Second of all, every inch of the stonework is painted, like Gothic cathedrals used to be. It's one thing to walk through the gray and looming cathedrals of stone, but it's a completely different thing to walk through one that is brightly colored with painted tapestries and designs on the walls. They're not frescoes, but more trompe l'oeil gemstones and marbles decorating the interior walls. Originally also, I believe, many of them were painted on the exterior as well, just like the Parthenon in Athens, believe it or not. The pictures just do not do this building justice...so go there and see it for yourself!

Crystal and I decided to go see what Montmartre is all about. Climb to the top of the hill to the Sacre Coeur, a huge, out of place looking church with gorgeous mosaics inside. Ambled down the winding streets in search of our truth, beauty, freedom, and love and instead found a few churches, some steep streets, and some amazing boulangeries! Ate to our heart's content and walked over to the Moulin Rouge to see what that was all about. Took a picture and one look at the surrounding area and decided to make our way out of that district and into one a little safer looking. Walked down to the Tuilleries to finish our stashes of olive bread and pan au chocolat (Paris does it better than anywhere else!).

Courtney met us at the Orangerie, a very small, but wonderful museum in the Tuilleries that is most famous for Claude Monet's Water Lilies painted on gigantic curved canvases for two oval rooms. One depicts the lake at daylight and the other at dusk and night. Beautiful. Courtney drooled over them and decided that she would, one day, paint them in her dining room and living room respectively. Good idea. I think I have a strange appreciate for Monet in that when you get up close to his painting, the paint looks like huge haphazard brush strokes, but when stand back, it's a perfect picture. I have a similar appreciate for Seurat, but more for Monet.

While Courtney was at class at the Louvre, Crystal and I walked down to the Pont Alexandre Trois (what a great name to say!) and admired all the gold pasted onto the bridge (if it wasn't grandiose enough...). Walked around the P and G Palais and the Champs Elysees before meeting up with Courtney and Renee for dinner. (Character: Renee, a friend of my from Harvard who is an actress and aspiring director, perhaps in film, as that was her program for the summer. She had been going crazy editing her first film and couldn't come out of the studio until now.) Went back to our favorite place, yet again, for another wonderful dinner! Went to a great gelatto place where they make you a huge flower out of all the flavors you want in your cone! It's really neat! Said my goodbyes to my wonderful guide and headed back to the hostel, only to stay up for many more hours laughing with my boisterous Austrian roommates.

Au revoir, Paris!