All adventures must come to an end. And at this time tomorrow I will be taking off from Heathrow bound for Sea-Tac. This past week has been rather uneventful and bittersweet as everybody is gearing up to go back home. Last week I wanted to stay, but now I am very anxious to get back to Tacoma and Seattle. I was going to try and reflect on my trip as a whole, but to be honest I don't have the energy for it. This past week I had three exhausting finals and a few trips around London with Tim and Danielle, or just by myself. I even found myself mumbling "goodbye" to buildings and statues. Coming home is going to be wonderful, but leaving London is going to be difficult. That's all for this post, hopefully it's not my last for this travel journal. I will try to write a proper last post when I have the benefit of hindsight, and when I'm not in the process of packing saying goodbye to so many wonderful friends.

Norge!

Wednesday, November 28th Tate Modern

I came to London with an open mind. I did not blindly buy into the image of the rude Parisian or the sleazy Italian male, but soon found out that those were two stereotypes that were very accurate. Today was another test of this open-mindedness - particularly the idea and generalization that modern art is rubbish. Today was the last "field trip" for my Museums and Galleries class, and our museum this week was the Tate Modern. Situated in a converted power plant across the Thames from St. Paul's, its rather ugly modern architecture serves as a preview of those exhibits and installations contained within its walls.

Like I said before, I was going into this with an open mind, figuring that not all "modern" artwork was in the same vein as Duchamp's urinal or simply being as provocative as possible. But after two and a half hours of being dragged through exhibits by our professor, obviously an overzealous fan of modern art, I emerged from the museum rather cranky and frustrated. For example, we stood in front of a plain and unpainted canvas for fifteen minutes, the only catch being that across the middle of the canvas the artist had cut a slash. Our professor droned on about how this represented the shift of art's focus from the exterior to the interior, or something along those ridiculous lines. We sat in the "Rothko Room" for twenty minutes, which was a room with panels that had large rectangles painted on them - that was all there was, and somehow my more pretentious classmates were able to discuss their interpretations for another ten minutes. It was frustrating because in this class we have gone to wonderful museums with fantastic artwork (e.g. The National Gallery and its da Vincis, van Eycks, and Raphaels) but the professor has never devoted more than five minutes to those works of art that are actually works of art. But I did figure something out today, I realized that I despise modern art. Now let me try to explain, and bear with me while I rant, it will only take a minute or so.

When I look at art and its progression throughout history, it has been a story of innovation and technique. From the introduction of contrapossto into Greek sculpture to the mastery of chiaroscuro by Botticelli and Caravaggio, artists have been seeking to hone their skills and produce artwork that has withstood the shifting tides of different movements and tastes. On the other hand modern art is simply an exercise in laziness. Jackson Pollock can literally throw some paint on a canvas and be elevated to celebrity status, Duchamp can sign a urinal and place it in a gallery, a painter with the right name can paint one stripe on a canvas and actually make a hefty sum of money for less than an hour's work. So much of modern art is based on being provocative and "different" without an ounce of artistic merit involved. Let's just say that I walked in with a receptive attitude, but left with an almost fanatical distaste for anything "modern" or "post-modern", or "post-post-modern" for that matter.

Thursday, November 29th London to Haugesund to Bergen

Twelve hours of traveling. I spent that much time sitting in either a bus, airplane, ferry, bus station, or airport. And somehow I was in the best of spirits throughout the whole of it. And by "somehow" I mean that I was the best of spirits because I was on my way to Norway. My excitement meant that I slept a total of two hours the night prior, it was as though I was six years old and going to Disneyland. After a twenty-minute Tube ride and an hour and a half of fighting carsickness in an easyBus, I arrived at Stansted Airport. Once more I had a proper beard when walking through security, and once more I was searched - no surprise there.

While waiting for my flight at the gate I realized that I was the only one lacking a Norwegian passport, and I'm pretty sure I was the only one whose first language was English. And while this may sound a bit intimidating, it couldn't have made me happier. On the airplane I sat next to a thirty something Norwegian woman who spoke impeccable English with a British accent. She told me that Norwegians love it when you speak English, because it gives them a chance to practice theirs - quite a contrast to the Parisians and Italians. We arrived at Haugesund Airport to pouring rain, but I am pretty sure that for the duration of the bus ride to Haugesund itself I had a little smile on my face. The houses, the ocean, the mountains, I was just so excited to be there.

At the bus station a beautiful Norwegian girl struck up a conversation with me, and I figure that was a very nice welcome to Norway. On a relatively superficial note, out of everywhere I've gone, I will say that the Norwegian young women were by far the best looking. When buying a sandwich (for my only meal of the day) at a Haugesund store, the clerk asked me a question in Norwegian, and this is how the conversation went from there.

- "Beklager, jeg snakker ikke norsk. Snakker du engelsk?" (With a horrible American accent)
- "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were Norwegian." (With a spot-on British accent)
- "Thanks for the compliment."

I then ate my mediocre, 12 dollar prepackaged sandwich and hopped on the bus for Bergen. Oh by the way, I thought London was expensive until I went to Norway. Although Coca-Cola was rather inexpensive, and appeared to be the national drink because every other person I saw had one in their hand. Good job Ole Radar. The bus ride to Bergen was wonderful, because while it was rather cramped, the scenery was beautiful. It was at this time that I formed my thesis: When God created Norway he created a land unforgiving, bleak, and desolate - but to make up for this he made the Norwegians, who were some of the warmest people I've met anywhere along my travels. The bus ride was about 4 hours to Bergen, which included an hour-long ferry ride that was unfortunately in the dark. Why the bus ride you ask? Well, because my flight only cost $20 to Haugesund, whereas a flight directly to Bergen would have cost somewhere around $100. And it was also quite nice to see a bit of the Norwegian countryside along the way, well at least what I did get to see before the sun went down at 3pm.

I arrived at the Bergen bus station around 7, got lost for an hour trying to find my hostel, and then found my hostel - which was three blocks from the bus station. I stayed in Marken Gjesthaus, which was the only hostel in Bergen city center and was quite nice really. I stayed in a 12-bed dorm room with one other person (it was the off-season after all) and it cost me about 80$ for three nights. After throwing my backpack into a locker I took off to explore the city (which is more enjoyable when you're not lost). Originally I made plans to go to Oslo the second weekend of October, but because of finances and midterms I had to back out. I will admit that I was a bit disappointed at having missed that opportunity, but it actually turned out to be a bit of a blessing incognito. From what I have heard and read, Oslo is more of an international city, and to be honest I have had the best experiences in Europe outside of international cities (London excluded), which usually lack authentic culture because of the number of cultures being represented. Bergen turned out to be the best travel decision I've made during my time abroad. It's a city roughly the size of Tacoma (pop. 200,000), but a city that still maintains a distinct and vibrant Norwegian culture. Just roaming the streets for a few hours before bed was a delight.

Friday, November 30th A day in Bergen and Mount Fløyen

I woke up late, because the sun did as well. That was one of the nice features about traveling to Norway in late Autumn, you could wake up at 9:30 and still see the sunrise. I traversed the main part of the city north to south and east to west, just trying to get a feel for the city itself and the people that called it home. Just hearing Norwegian made me happy. As I walked around this beautiful Norwegian city I couldn't help but reminded of my wonderful late Norwegian grandpa, and I will admit that at a few points I found myself teary-eyed and wishing that I could be experiencing his beloved country with him. This was my first visit to Norway, but the whole of the trip seemed like a rather nostalgic homecoming.

Around noon I took the Fløibanen to the top of Mount Fløyen. The views of Bergen were spectacular, but once there I felt rather adventuresome and explored the trails, waterfalls and lakes until sundown. It was one of the highlights of my nearly four months here, just being able to breathe the mountain air and wander the deserted trails (I only saw one other person in my three hours there). The views of the snow-capped peaks that surrounded Fløyen were fantastic. While crossing a bridge I slipped and fell about six or seven feet into the shallow creek below, and it was then that I realized that if I wouldn't have landed on my feet and perhaps broken a bone, absolutely nobody would know where to find me and that I should probably be a little more cautious. That meant that I had to return to the designated trails and walk back to the Fløibanen, because while I did love my time on Mount Fløyen, I didn't want to spend the cold night in one of its survival shelters. If I could properly express the joy that I felt on that mountain in words, it would take up about three paragraphs, but I've found that some experiences can not and should not be over-explained.

On my return to Bergen I went searching for a proper Norwegian meal. I was thinking ludafisk with lefsa for dessert, but the cheapest ludafisk I could find was roughly 80 American dollars, so I settled for a cheap hot dog and a Coke for dinner. That was one of my minor regrets about my trip, not once did I eat a Norwegian meal, I just sustained myself on those cheap hot dogs and cheap store-bought rolls. But that is actually how I like to travel, I would rather spend my money on an experience that doesn't consist of forks and knives. So that is why, on a whim, I decided to go to the tourist office and inquire about a fjord tour.

Since it was the off-season, nine out of ten of the tours were suspended until next summer, there was a coastal tour that seemed affordable but rather mundane which I thought about going on. But then I decided that I would fast for the next two days and opt for the proper tour of southwestern Norway that would wipe out my budget for the trip and my next week in London. After booking the trip I went back to my hostel, where I decided that I had spent too much money and ran back to the tourist office before it closed. But on the steps of the building I realized something, when would I get another chance to come to Norway? After all, these four months alone will put me in debt until I'm 40. I decided to go through with it, because after all, next time I make it back to this wonderful country I may be on the receiving end of Social Security checks and a rapidly receding hairline. I was going to do it right. So I spent the rest of the night in my comfortable hostel bed finishing yet another book and falling asleep before 11.

Saturday, December 1st The Norway-in-a-Nutshell Tour

December already!? I woke up two hours before sunrise, which would be early anywhere, unless it's Norway, and that means that it is half seven. I grabbed some rolls from the grocery store and boarded the train for Voss at around 8:30. By the time I got to Voss it was light out, and from there I took a bus to Gudvangen. The bus ride was actually quite enjoyable. We picked up a load of Norwegian teenagers that were all outfitted in winter garb and ski boots and drove up the mountain pass to the ski resort. It was essentially a blizzard, there were about five or six inches of snow on the road and the visibility was probably about twenty feet, but the bus driver still maintained a speed of 40-50mph around the snow-clogged hairpin curves - I am now a firm believer in the Norwegians' ability to drive in snow. After dropping off the teenagers we headed back down the mountain and towards Gudvangen, and after a ten-minute drive in a tunnel we emerged at the dock of the small village.

On the bus I noticed that there were only four other people on the same tour as me, and thought that it would be quite nice to not have to be herded as tourist cattle. But once getting on our boat, the Vetlefjord, I soon found that on this leg of the tour I would be accompanied by around fifty drunk Japanese tourists. So while they stayed in the cabin and drank their vodka, I was on deck in the cold with the crew. The scenery was breathtaking, and that is an understatement. Those two and a half hours on the Sognefjord, Næroyfjord and the Aurlandsfjorden were some of the best hours of all of my travels. The snow level was about 300 feet above us, so the bottom halves of the mountains were bare while the top halves were frosted with snow, it was truly beautiful. The Næroyfjord is listed as the most beautiful UN heritage site in the world, and I believe it. There were beautiful cascading waterfalls and quaint isolated Norwegian villages all alongside the banks of the fjord. There was a thick layer of low clouds, but I didn't mind one bit, those hills didn't need the sun in order to shine.

We stopped at a waterfall where some of the crew fetched some drinking water for the passengers. One of the villages along the fjord retrieves their drinking water from one of these waterfalls, and supposedly the inhabitants live to 95 or 100. So according to folklore and superstition the water has life-prolonging effects, I drank some because I was thirsty, but if I find myself living to a miserable age of 110, I know who and what is to blame.

We arrived in Flåm at around 2pm and were essentially forced into souvenir shops and cafes for the next hour while we waited for our train to leave. I got on the Flåmsbana train ("Flåm railway") with shoes and pants that were soaked from essentially wading through the streets as the daylight began to fade. The Flåmsbana is listed as the third steepest railway in the world, in 10 miles it climbs nearly 2500 vertical feet. The views of the valleys below were amazing, and for some reason my fear of heights were temporarily put on hold while we skirted around mountains with 1000 foot cliffs to our right or left.

We made a quick stop at a waterfall, the partially frozen Kjosfoss, which was truly the most magnificent waterfall I have ever seen. It was snowing rather hard, but luckily the train had a snowplow on the front of it. But I'm still trying to figure out, with the laws of physics being what they are, how we actually managed to get to Myrdal station. From Myrdal I took a train back to Bergen, and while slightly disappointed by the darkness outside, it was actually the most comfortable train ride I've ever taken. I am now realizing that these last three paragraphs have been littered with superlatives, and if I were exaggerating I would apologize, but I am not.

Upon my return to Bergen I soon realized that I had missed the annual Festival of Lights celebration by about an hour. But taking into account what an amazing day I just had, that was quite alright with me.

Sunday, December 2nd

Today was my last day in Norway, and to be honest I was not ready to leave. On every trip to the continent that I've taken thus far, I've always looked forward to returning to London - but I would have been fine staying in Norway for the next month or so. I took one last walk around the city, grabbed one last cheap hot dog, checked out of my hostel and boarded the bus for the Bergen airport. My flight took me to Newcastle, which lived up to its reputation for having English-speaking people that spoke a language that more resembled gibberish. After a two-hour layover and again being "randomly" frisked I was on the plane for London Stansted. I took the Stansted Express one last time back to London, and 10 hours after boarding the Flybussen in Bergen I was finally back in my London flat.

Norway is now on the top of my list for places I must visit again. My short time there made me very proud to be Norwegian. When I woke up the next morning I was hoping that I was still in Bergen.

Monday, December 3rd

Went to class from 1:30-8pm. Had my last session in Parliament for my British Politics class, which was actually quite sad for me. That class has been one of the best classes I have ever taken, and John Hayes MP is one of my new heroes. I have been so spoiled/blessed as to have had the opportunity to have class in Parliament once a week for the last fourteen weeks, not many people can say that they've done that. It was truly one of my favorite London experiences, and I am rather disappointed that it has come to a close.

Tuesday, December 4th

Finally, I caught up to today. I have been writing this thing for a good part of the day, trying to figure out how to type Norske characters such as å, æ, and ø, and I went to my Museums and Galleries class one last time. I am supposed to go to the Imperial War Museum for my History of London class tomorrow, which shouldn't be too new and interesting as I've already been there four or five times. But it is my one last field trip with some good friends, so I should probably go.

It is very odd to think that I will technically be coming home next week. I am looking forward to seeing my family, that is for sure. But to be honest I don't think I'm ready to leave. I think it's the realization that this may be the experience that I look back on in twenty years and say "those were some of the best months of my life". So it only seems natural to want to stretch it out as long as possible. My life here has been surreal, there's something about returning to the "real world" that doesn't sound to appealing. But I suppose you can't live off of student loans and maxed-out credit cards forever. I really am going to miss giving Brits directions around London. All I know is that if someone would have told me four months ago that I have x amount of dollars to spend in four months time, I would have retraced every step that I've taken and relived every experience, and isn't that the best that one can hope for?

London Reunion Tour

Friday, November 16th

Perhaps I shouldn't wait so long to update, especially if I'm just in London, because I seriously have no recollection of this day. I'm pretty sure I went to the cafeteria for lunch, perhaps I hung out with the girls, and I am quite sure that I went to bed too late. But then again, all of those things are just a part of the routine I've constructed for myself out here.

Saturday, November 17th Jet lag

Nick and Taylor arrived today. I met both of them at the Gloucester Road Underground Station (well, Taylor arrived three hours later than Nick), and it really was nice to see them. I haven't been keeping in touch with them (or any of my other good friends for that matter) as much as I should have been over the past three months, but they're the type of high-quality old friends that you greet with a "hey man" after three months and all of the sudden you're on the same page again. Not to mention it was just really nice to have a taste of my life back home, a life that I am starting to miss more and more as the day of my departure from Heathrow moves ever closer. So for the rest of the day we just took it easy and caught up on our lives. We went to the pub (Gloucester Arms) for dinner and a pint, and jet-lagged Taylor nearly fell asleep in his fish and chips. We came back to my dorm room, which was quite cramped for the next week, I introduced them to a few of my friends, I told a story or two about my travels and I finally let them get their much-deserved sleep.

Monday, November 18th A quick tourist introduction to London

I woke up rather late and went to one class, I turned in my poorly written, ten-page History of London paper (on "The Politics of Power: London Politics in the 19th and 20th Centuries"), and then met up with Nick and Taylor. We took the Tube to Parliament and walked around the outside of the building, a building that I should have been entering for my British Politics class, but I told myself that good friends trump MPs. Oh, and I finally got my picture taken with the Churchill statue in Parliament Square - very exciting I know. After admiring Big Ben and the Eye in the crisp London twilight for a few minutes, we took a stroll past 10 Downing Street and on up to Trafalgar Square and the National Gallery. I made sure to again see the paintings by da Vinci, Titian, Botticelli, and Van Eyck, and in a whirlwind fashion we saw half of the enormous gallery in about 15 minutes. I forgot to mention that Nick and Taylor have been to London before with their families, so luckily I didn't have to play the role of tour guide too much. After the National Gallery we walked over to Piccadilly Circus, Soho and Leicester Square, once there we proceeded to wander the pseudo-seedy streets until we stumbled upon the premiere of Fred Claus in Leicester Square. I'm not much into the culture of celebrity, but it was pretty "cool" to be a few feet from Vince Vaughn and Paul Giamatti. Standing in the cold rain was worsened by the herd of umbrellas and the halfwits attached to them that were angled precisely to dump all of their runoff onto my shoulders and/or pants. After getting our fill of flashing lights and frantic entertainment reporters we went to Lloyd's on Charing Cross Road for dinner and a pint. We then headed back to South Ken where we then went to the Imperial and had a pint and a laugh.

Tuesday, November 19th Abbey Road and Harrod's

We woke up far too late, but then again it was pouring and frigid outside, and I think that that is a good excuse. We walked to Gloucester Road and took the Tube to St. John's Wood where we did the Abbey Road "thing", which of course consisted of several botched attempts to replicate the Beatles' street crossing. We spent about the same amount of time on the Tube getting there as we did walking around the neighborhood. We too the Tube back to Knightsbridge and walked through Harrod's for awhile. It's within walking distance of my flat, but I've never been inside before - and it was almost as ridiculous as I expected. Does your twelve-year-old really want a petrol-powered miniature Hummer? Do you have 100,000 pounds? Well, you've come to the right place. I'm a fan of capitalism, but no one needs a solid-gold eagle worth 80,000 pounds, or a teddy bear with diamonds for eyes and gold for fur. I will say my ranting is a bit misleading, I had a good time there, especially because it was brimming with Christmas decorations and Nat King Cole was playing in Housewares - why I was in Housewares, I don't know.

After going to one of the largest department stores in the world and not buying anything we went to the Natural History Museum. I think when I walk into that building I become ten years younger, because for some reason I discover and rediscover this "new" fascination with Dinosaurs and Blue Whales. After looking at the exhibits and playing a few games designed for eight-year-olds we walked back to my flat. We went to the Queen's Arms for dinner and then went back over the Imperial for a pint before calling it a night.

Wednesday, November 20th Tower of London and Thanksgiving

Had fish and chips for brunch/lunch near the Tower of London and then the three of us joined up with my History of London class and went on a tour of the Tower. My ticket cost 10 pounds, and it honestly should have only been 3 or 4. For me, the Tower of London was one of the more disappointing things I've seen in London (let alone paid to see). The history was downplayed in favor of nearly meaningless collections of guns and swords. And what history there was, it seemed to be geared towards elementary school students. Let's just say that I was not impressed, but then again I didn't go on a Beefeater tour - which I am sure is quite more enjoyable. After the Tower of London we went back to South Ken and waited until 7:30 to go downstairs for the Thanksgiving party my friends were having. It was 7 pounds for a plate, and I got more than my money's worth. The night consisted of mashed potatoes, good friends, stuffing, and a turkey-induced coma. It was wonderful.

Thursday, November 21st North-central London

I took Nick and Taylor to Sir John Soane's Museum, my favorite museum in London. I'm pretty sure they enjoyed its eccentricity, and I found it more interesting walking through there at night - interesting in a eerie kind of way. After wandering through the museum we walked over to the British Museum and did a quick walkthrough the main exhibits, although it closed before we were able to see the mummies. I was finally able to see the Enlightenment Room, and being that it was an entire wing of the museum, I'm still trying to figure out how I've overlooked it on my previous four visits. From the British Museum we walked to Little Italy and went to a pizzeria for dinner, the pizza was enormous, tasty, and reminded me of Italy. Properly fat and happy, we headed to Filthy McNasty's, which is a pub in North London that I've been to once before, but Nick and Taylor wanted to go there for the sole purpose of saying they had been to a pub called Filthy McNasty's - and I was happy to oblige. We grabbed a pint and then headed back to South Ken. On the way back to my flat, we stopped at the corner store and noticed six paparazzi standing outside the restaurant around the corner from my flat. Turns out Prince William was inside, but successfully escaped out the back door.

Friday, November 22nd IWM and Cabaret

We woke up late, again. I think their jet lag rubbed off on me a little bit. We went to the Imperial War Museum in the afternoon, and I was immediately reminded how enormous that museum really is. One could easily spend three hours on the first floor alone - and there are six floors. We went to the Crimes Against Humanity exhibit, which was a 30-minute film that was very interesting and thought-provoking. It was a bit hard to carry on conversation for a couple hours after watching it. From the museum we took the Tube to Piccadilly Circus, we were planning on seeing Macbeth starring Patrick Stewart, but it was sold out. As was Les Miserables, so after a fifteen minute conversation with an interesting homeless Londoner we went to see Cabaret. I will admit that I was a bit worried for the first fifteen minutes, but it turned out to be a wonderful musical/play with quite a depressing ending. Afterwards we hopped on the cramped train back to Gloucester Road and came back to the dorm where we watched a movie with Kaila and Danielle, and then went to bed.

Saturday, November 23rd Bon Voyage

Woke up early and walked Nick down to the Tube station. It turned out that the Piccadilly Line (which is the only line that goes to Heathrow) was down, so supposedly Nick went to Paddington and took the Heathrow Express - I hope he made it. Taylor left a couple hours later, and here I am. Their time here made me wish I had more friends coming out here, but it also made me look forward to my homecoming all the more. Three weeks from now I will be flying over the Atlantic, and while I am anxious to get home I feel like my time here was not long enough. Oh, by the way, I leave for Bergen, Norway in five days (hello credit card debt). It will be my last Continental adventure, and it has been the one that I have most been looking forward to. I'm flying into Haugesund on Thursday morning, then I'll take a four hour coach to Bergen where I'm staying at "one of the nicest hostels in Europe" in "one of the most beautiful cities in Europe", which is nice.

Another Week in Beautiful London

Tuesday, November 13th
Spent the better part of the day studying and reading, over the past few weeks Tuesdays have essentially been my recovery days - which have been necessary and very enjoyable. I went to Museums and Galleries later in the afternoon and had a great time talking about Sir John Soane's Museum. After class I felt a bit restless so I skipped dinner and wandered around Kensington, and found myself at Hyde Park Corner at about 8pm. The weather has finally taken the dive for the late Autumnal cold, and I can't get enough of the crisp air or London, so it was a very nice few hours. After returning to my room I first attempted to get my body temperature back to normal and then did nothing until my late bed time.

Wednesday, November 14th
Woke up early and went to Apsley House for Museums and Galleries. It was really interesting, we got to tour the museum (which was the house of the Duke of Wellington) with one of the education officers so it was a bit of a treat (and it was free as well!). The house was absolutely amazing, it was given as a gift to Wellington after his victory over Napoleon at Waterloo, and was filled with hundreds of priceless paintings and ornate trinkets given to him by nearly all the nations of Europe. The paintings were fantastic, the artists included Goya, Rubens, and Brueghal, and those were just the ones that I recognized. After Apsley House we walked up to the top of the Wellington Arch, which had some decent views, and only 100 stairs, which after the 450 stairs at St. Paul's were a breeze. After "class" I went with my friends Rebecca and Keila to a Greenwich pub for lunch, where we waited to meet up with our History of London class. I had a Ploughman's Lunch, which is a proper English lunch, and quite interesting as well. It consisted of two cheeses, one of which smelled like feet, half of a baguette, chutney, an apple, and rocket with dressing. After meeting up with our History of London class we toured the Royal Navy College and then went to the Royal Observatory and the Prime Meridian. Greenwich was very interesting, it's only about an hour away on the Docklands Light Railway, so I might have to fit in one more day there before I leave. The sun now goes down at about 4pm here, so it had been long dark by the time our "class" was over, and I will admit that I got slightly lost trying to find a DLR station. But getting lost is what travel is all about, so it was fine. I came back to campus, grabbed some dinner, and then hung out with good friends for about five hours until going to bed. I am really going to miss the nightly routine of spending hours with a proper group of good friends.

Thursday, November 15th
Today was my procrastinating-college-student day. I woke up rather late, grabbed some lunch, and then proceeded to research for, and write my major essay for my Museums and Galleries class that is due on Tuesday. It is supposed to be ten pages, which is usually no big deal for me, but I also have another ten page paper due on Monday for another class. My best friends Nick and Taylor from back home are coming to visit on Sunday, so I'm trying to finish those papers before they get here. They're here until next Saturday, and I am really looking forward to it. It is definitely going to be very nice to have a taste of home for a week, and luckily they've been to London before so we don't have to do the tourist regimen.

I'm coming home in less than a month now, and I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about that. When I was in Prague, alone for the third night I made a list of everything I looked forward to coming home to, which probably wasn't the best list to compile when feeling homesick. It consisted of things like "snow at the cabin", "five hour movie nights with Hoc in the theatre", "the dollar" and "driving over to UW to hang out with old friends". But I could easily make a list of things that I will miss about living here. Living on a street that tourists take pictures of, amazing friends, having a class in Parliament, free museums twenty minutes away, fish and chips, the Imperial Student Union, and the list goes on. I still get to go to Norway, and that fact alone keeps me going. It probably doesn't help that right now London for me consists of writing two 10-page research papers before Sunday. But I am certainly looking forward to seeing my family at the Sea-Tac baggage claim and Christmas at home, and "looking forward to" is a bit of an understatement.

Praha/Prague

Wednesday, November 7th

Went to the John Soane Museum, which was one of my favorite museum experiences I've had here. The museum itself is simply the house of the eccentric architect John Soane, he basically built it as a monument so he would be remembered - and it worked. The house is still in its original 19th century layout with "nothing added nor taken away", which made it feel a bit like stepping back in time. One of the nice features was that I could just download the audioguide to my mp3 player for free, and it made the museum all the more interesting. I wandered around the relatively small space for about two hours and thoroughly enjoyed the entire experience. After leaving the museum I took the Tube back to campus and tended to items on my "to do" list until late evening. Then a group of 6 of us went to the Imperial Student Union, where I was delighted to see my friends from Boston University - whom I hadn't seen in about a month. So after about an hour or so of catching up over a pint Tim and I headed back to our room to prepare for Prague. But that was when Tim realized that he couldn't go because of financial reasons, so I was traveling to Eastern Europe by myself.

Thursday, November 8th

Got up too early. I say that because when I'm going to be flying anywhere, I leave an extra hour just in case something happens. I think it's quite interesting that I have come to the point where I expect the District Line to go down, my shuttle to arrive half an hour late, and have some problem at check-in. I used to be excited about the whole flying experience, but now its just morphed into a necessary evil. There's nothing like standing in queue after queue, being interrogated at passport control, and for some reason feeling as guilty as a criminal at the security screening, even though I have nothing to hide. I was never taken aside and searched before I grew the beard that I have now, and since it passed the stubble stage I have been searched every time. It has become so commonplace that on the way back to Stansted I didn't even bother taking off my watch or belt. I understand the need for such strict security measures, but I wish there were an alternative approach in which you are treated like a dignified human being. So after running the air travel gauntlet I was finally seated on a Boeing 737 bound for Prague. Half of the people on the plane were from my study abroad program, which would have been nice if they weren't such an embarrassment. Here are some verbal gems that I heard from 15 rows away. "Do they still speak Communist?" "Why are you guys reading books? What are you, intellectuals or something?" So needless to say, once we got to baggage claim I escaped the mass of American students just looking for a party, and who all packed large suitcases for a three-day jaunt. Luckily I ran into my friend Michelle and some of her friends, and I took the bus and Metro into the city with them. I was staying at a different hostel so we agreed to meet later for dinner. My first impression of Prague was walking out of the Mustek metro station into Wenceslas Square, and I immediately fell in love with the city. So I dropped off my things at my hostel and went exploring. I was just taken aback by how unique Prague was in comparison to the other European cities I've been to. It all felt so rich, how the burnt-yellow street lamps cast the streets in sepia tones, how every street or storefront seemed to possess Western optimism and Eastern European bleakness simultaneously. If I could pick two words to sum up Prague by night, it would be hauntingly beautiful. I found my way to the meeting point an hour early and simply explored Wenceslas Square for the remaining time. There was a touching exhibit at the foot of the Wenceslas Monument that memorialized the Czech victims of Communism that I was captivated with for about half an hour. I spent the rest of the time wandering and snapping photographs, but I was mainly just trying to let it soak in that I was actually in the Czech Republic.

I found Michelle and her group of friends and we went to find a restaurant to eat at. They chose the first restaurant we walked by, which is something I hate doing, especially when it turns out to be a swanky dress-to-impress restaurant. I ordered a steak, I was excited because I haven't had proper meat since my dad cooked some up on the grill in August. The waiter brought me a plate that supposedly contained my steak, but I couldn't see it. It was rather hard to find, it turned out that what I thought was a speck of black pepper was my $30 steak. It was officially the most expensive three bites of my life.

After dinner, Michelle and her friends decided to go back to their hostel and go to bed. It was only 10pm, so instead of retiring for the evening, I roamed the night streets of Prague until 1am. The highlight was walking down Narodni street towards the river, and when I turned the corner, there was the looming Prague Castle illuminated on the hill and the Charles Bridge shining across the Vltava. If I would have had someone to talk to, I would say that the scene left me speechless. After attempting to get lost and take a few decent night pictures I finally headed back to my hostel and went to sleep. Well kind of, between my coughing fits and the drunk Americans stumbling in and out of the room, I fell asleep at about 4am.

Friday, November 9th

I set out to tackle the city rather late, at about 9:30. I walked across Charles Bridge to Prague Castle, and realized that they were much more impressive with darkness as their backdrop. I made it a point to visit the Winston Churchill statue that was marked prominently on my map, but laughed out loud when I found the "statue" hidden away on a steep side street, which was a bust roughly the size of my head. I'm just glad that it was on my way. I met up with Michelle at the Castle and then we proceeded to spend too much on tickets that were a waste of money because St. Vitus' Cathedral - the highlight of the Castle - was free. After the Castle we walked back to the Old Town Square and ate lunch, which for me consisted of a 25ck/$1 hot dog. I had heard that Prague was so cheap, and it was compared to London, but it just felt like I was back home without an atrocious exchange rate. I managed to stretch $100 over four days, which I assure you is an achievement. We went our separate ways after lunch, and that was the last time I had travel buddies on the trip - which was fine. I then walked to the Jewish Quarter, and then retraced my steps back to the Communist Museum, which was located next to McDonald's and above a Casino - viva la capitalism! It was very interesting to see how they dealt with such a dark part of their history, and while they did seem to oversimplify the politics into good and evil, it was a very informative and poignant experience. By now it was nightfall, so I did the same thing that I did on Thursday night - I just wandered, got lost, and somehow found my way back - which is essentially this four month adventure boiled down into one phrase.


Saturday, November 10th

I accidentally saw everything that I wanted to the day before, so it was a rather laid back day. I took the Metro to the outskirts of Prague and went to a run-down and probably long-forgotten Catholic cemetery, it was eerie to say the least, walking alone through an enormous, dilapidated and empty cemetery. I spent about an hour walking up and down the rain-soaked paths, and then caught the Metro to the other side of Prague and walked about two miles in the cold rain back to my hostel - and had a blast doing it. I had a $2 hamburger with cabbage for dinner and did one last walk around Prague.

Sunday, November 11th

Okay, so here's the backstory. I usually use my phone as my alarm clock, but the battery died and I had forgotten my power adapter. So I searched Prague for three hours on Friday night and finally bought one for too much money. I figured I was now set, I set my alarm for 6:30 on Saturday night because I had to be at the airport by 8:30. So you can understand why I was a bit stressed and frantic when I awoke to look at my watch which read 8:45. I dressed, packed, and checked out in three minutes flat. Hailed a taxi in the snow, and luckily made it to the airport by 9:15. Where I again waited in four queues, was interrogated by passport control, searched by security, but was rewarded for my tough morning with a seat in the emergency exit row. Two hours later I was getting my passport stamped at Stansted, hopped on the Stansted Express and was back in my dorm room by 2pm. The rest of the day was devoted to doing nothing more than going to Pizza Hut (it's our Sunday night routine), watching movies, and spending time with my good friends Tim and Danielle.

Monday, November 12th

Woke up far too early because I was on my travel sleep schedule. Went to class where I broke out into a wonderful coughing fit for the duration of the class, went to my next class and did the same. I skipped my Parliament session because I didn't want to be the fool you can hear coughing off-camera on C-SPAN. I've been sick for the past three weeks, maybe I should test out socialized medicine.

The City of Light: Paris

Friday, November 2nd

Woke up, finished packing, and headed down the street to our meeting place where the coaches were going to pick us up. Tim and I had just been having a conversation on Thursday about how Italy could have been better if we weren't traveling in a group of people with different travel philosophies, quirks, and idiosyncrasies. So let's just say that I wasn't in the best of moods standing on a sidewalk with 150 American college students with enormous suitcases packed for two days. Oh by the way, this trip was the only one included in my study abroad program. We took a coach across London to Waterloo station, a ride that would have taken 20 minutes on the Tube, but took an hour on a bus with no leg room or air circulation. Once we arrived to Waterloo we were shuffled through security and passport control, and after waiting an hour in the lounge we boarded the Eurostar train bound for Paris. I enjoyed the ride quite a bit, the English and French countrysides flying by at nearly 200mph were beautiful sights. We arrived at 5pm, I wish we would have left London earlier because it was already dark when we finally got to our hotel. Tim and I threw our bags in our room, grabbed a cheap and delicious baguette for dinner and then met back up with the group. We all walked in an enormous mass that just screamed American tour group to the metro station, and then took a train to the Eiffel Tower. The Eiffel Tower was impressive to say the least, to be honest I didn't think much of it before, but I found its architecture very captivating. We took the lift up to the second floor, which was as high as I wanted to go. The majority of the group stood in line to take the lift to the top, but I just stood at the railing and tried to comprehend the fact that yes, this is Paris, and yes, I am here. So after doing that for about an hour I jumped onto a packed lift and took it back down to solid ground. Somehow I met back up with my friends and we then went down to the River Seine to take an hour-long river cruise. It was nice and relaxing, as well as interesting because we basically saw half of the sights of Paris from a seat on a riverboat. After an hour of blurry pictures and good conversation we docked and then luckily caught the last train back to our hotel. I was exhausted and was looking forward to a good night's sleep, but instead talked with friends until 4am.

Saturday, November 3rd

Woke up at 7, so I got less than three hours of sleep. I went on a coach tour of Paris with a large part of our group, and we were lucky enough to have a very good guide so that made it a little more interesting. We stopped at Notre Dame Cathedral and it was absolutely beautiful, but I do feel bad because I am slowly becoming immune to being awed by churches. After nearly being killed by low-flying birds we got back on the coach and continued the tour. Unfortunately we didn't get off of the coach after Notre Dame, but we did see all of the sights: the Arc de Triomphe, Place de la Concorde, Luxembourg Garden, etc. The tour ended at the Louvre, where we waited for our tickets for an hour and then were finally allowed to go inside. Overall the trip was quite unorganized and there was a lot of hurry-up-and-wait, which was frustrating and usually led to Tim and/or I whining. Once we got our tickets we got as far away as possible from our group and went inside the Louvre. I didn't realize how many fantastic historical artifacts that they had there. I saw the Code of Hammurabi, the winged bull from Sargon's palace, and a good amount of other interesting objects from Ancient Mesopotamia and the Levant. We power-walked through the Greco-Roman sculptures, saw Venus di Milo, and found our way upstairs to the Mona Lisa. It was actually larger than I expected, probably because I had heard "it's so much smaller than I expected" so many times. There were hundreds of people crowded into this medium-sized room just to say they had seen it, and at that moment I was one of them. I spent about a minute looking at it, and walked back into the hall. There were four da Vinci paintings that I think are far more impressive than the Mona Lisa, but I was the only person looking at them, I could easily go off on a tangent because of that, but I will refrain. Tim and I then walked through the Grand Galleries, whose enormous and amazing paintings were a bit vertigo-inducing. After returning our jaws to the closed position we met up with the girls near the Glass Pyramid and then headed back to the hotel. After a quick siesta we headed out to dinner at this nice little French restaurant with an English-speaking waiter who made fun of us but earned his tip. I had a wonderful salmon dish and half of my friend Danielle's mussels, let's just say that I was very happy. After grimacing while paying the bill we went back to the hotel and spent the evening talking and laughing, and once more I stayed up far too late.

Sunday, November 4th

Woke up at 8 after four hours of sleep and grabbed some delicious and free breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Tim and I then went off to explore as much of Paris as we could before we were supposed to leave. We walked to the Bastille Monument and then for some reason kept walking. As the amount of graffiti increased I realized we were probably heading into the gritty part of Paris. And after we were accosted by four drunk Frenchman at 11 in the morning we knew we were in the wrong part of town. Every large white van was covered in graffiti, and the locals knew we were tourists because we had recently bathed. I've walked some pretty scary streets on some very late nights in London and Rome, but the first time I have feared for my safety was on that Paris street at 11am on a Sunday morning. Needless to say, nothing happened, and I am still alive. We got back to the hotel, grabbed one last baguette, waited around for an hour after checking out, took the coach to the train station, and then took the train back to London. All of that fits into one sentence because everything went according to plan, which is never any fun. So what is my verdict on Paris? To be honest I was never that excited to go, I've never dreamed about going to France, because it's...France. Paris is a beautiful city, more beautiful than Rome or London, and a day an a half was not near enough time to give the city justice. I would need a week or two to explore everything that it had to offer, but to be honest a day and a half in Paris was enough for me. Paris and France may be beautiful, but French people still live there. I tried to go into it with an open mind and held out hope that the stereotypes weren't true, but they sure were. The French are so...French. It was a breath of fresh air coming back to snooty Kensington and hearing people say "excuse me" and "good evening", manners are certainly cultural. Later in the evening Danielle, Michelle, Tim and I all went to Pizza Hut to celebrate our homecoming with some good American food. The waitress didn't make fun of us, she was kind, she was English, we tipped her well.

Monday, November 5th

"Remember, remember the fifth of November" So today was Guy Fawkes Day, and while Parliament didn't have to sit, we still had to go to classes. I went to class until 5, and then hung out and watched the fireworks with a big group of good friends until bed time. I know I've said this before, but I am really going to miss the friends I have made out here. I came over here with the philosophy that I would meet a few bearable people and just get by for four months. I didn't realize that I would be forming deep friendships with amazing people that, come one more month, I may never see again. It's bittersweet, that is for sure.

Tuesday, November 6th

Wrote a paper, turned it in. Ate dinner with Danielle and Michelle. Am now heading out to the Builder's Arms with Danielle and Tim. Oh and I'm heading to Prague the day after tomorrow, yikes.

Italia! (Firenze, Cinque Terre, Sirmione, Venezia)

Sunday, October 21st

Woke up very early and caught the Eurostar train from Rome to Florence/Firenze, which was expensive, but it got us there in half the time and was worth it because we only had Sunday to explore Florence. Our "hostel" was only four or five blocks from the train station, which was fantastic, and it was right in the heart of Florence as well. I put quotations around hostel because when at least when I think of hostels now I think of the Dublin-health-code-violation-waiting-to-happen that I stayed in. Our Florence hostel had a private bathroom, free internet, free Skype (which helped out a lot with my developing homesickness), and free room service breakfast. Most of all, I got to sleep on a bed, which was obviously quite an upgrade from a cold tile floor. We rested up for about half an hour and then the hostel owner gave us a map and pointed us to all of the sights. We saw the Uffizi and the Academia, but didn't want to pay the 15 euro and wait in line for two precious hours. Besides, we saw Michelangelo's David through a doorway for free anyway. We made the hike to the Piazzale Michelangelo to get a great panoramic view of Florence. The downside to the day was that the weather was horrible. It was about 40 degrees with 25 mph winds, and we all packed for a warm Italy, so needless to say we were a bit chilly - even I was. We walked along the River Arno and the Ponte Vecchio at sunset, which was picturesque to say the least. Then we headed back to the hostel for a quick warm up and rest, and asked the hostel owner for dinner recommendations. She pointed us to "The Porcupinno" or some other Italian name very similar to porcupine. I hate to rely on the superlative again, but that dinner will probably be one of the best meals I will ever had. They served us a wonderful bruschetta, a fantastic house red, and I I had the gnocchi con pesto - which took me about what seemed to be an hour to eat because I wanted the experience to last as long as possible. Our waiter was wonderful, but the manager wouldn't give us the student discount that we were promised, but that couldn't put a damper on such a lovely meal. After dinner we walked back to our hostel and just had a very good time, even though we didn't "do much", I think my day in Florence was the most fun I had in Italy. The three of us were in great moods even though we were freezing, and went to bed early in preparation for another early morning and day of travel.

Monday, October 22nd

Once more we got up early and took the early train, this time to Riomaggiore and the Cinque Terre ("Five Cities"). I'd been told by friends that this was one of the most amazing places in the world, so I obviously had to go there. The five cities are perched on cliffs on the Mediterranean coast and the only things connecting them are ancient footpaths and a train, before the train came the villages were only accessible by sea. It was enjoyable to stay in such a unique and beautiful place. Not to mention that the apartment that we rented in Manarola was fantastic, I got my own bedroom with a king-sized bed, we had a kitchen, and it cost as much as a hostel. Jenny, Lisa and I spent the day on our balcony playing cards and talking, which we ended up doing until about midnight. We ran to the top of the town to catch the sunset, which was a good call because we didn't see much of the sun for the next five days. We ate dinner at a touristy little restaurant, where I witnessed yet another case of a horrible American tourist. The pasta was superb and the waiter was actually nice (even though we didn't order an appetizer, which is what they expect). My roommate Tim was supposed to meet us in Manarola, but all he had was our address and he was supposed to find his way from Venice - so I actually didn't think he would make it. But at midnight we heard a knock on the door and we couldn't believe it was him, we gave him a hero's welcome. It was nice that my good friend joined the travel group, but it was also very nice that I was no longer the only male that would have to figure out what to do while the girls went shopping.

Tuesday, October 23rd

Woke up rather late compared to the other days, which was nice. We hiked to Corniglia, which was a hike indeed, especially with the 400 or so stairs that made up the last leg of it. Corniglia was unique because it didn't have a harbor, it was just perched high up on a hill overlooking the sea - it made me wonder how the town got started in the first place, it must have been by people that either enjoy exercise or don't like leaving their town. The weather was decent, but not swimming friendly. We hiked back in the late afternoon and cooked dinner in our apartment, and then proceeded to play a card game called "Euchere" for the next four or five hours until bed. Wow, these Cinque Terre posts are going to be easy.

Wednesday, October 24th

I woke up to the sound of what I thought was the river that ran underneath the town, but it just so happened that it was pouring down rain (oh and my laundry was on the line outside). Looking out my bedroom I saw swarms of tourists in flourescent ponchos holding technicolor umbrellas and knew that it was going to be an interesting day. The problem with travelling with girls is that while I may be ready to go five minutes after I wake up, they fit the stereotype and take more than an hour. So at about noon we finally left for Vernazza, we hopped on the train without paying for our tickets, and then explored Vernazza in the cold rain - which was more enjoyable than I make it seem. We ate lunch at a wonderful restaurant where I had a delicious salmon pizza, again, another Italian dish that I will be telling my grandchildren about. Lisa and Jenny decided that they wanted to go back, and I wanted to stay but I couldn't feel my feet so we got back to Manarola a little before dark. We then did our newfound routine of cooking and eating dinner, and then playing cards and talking until we were too tired to think. And I think that is why Tim and I decided to go swimming in the Mediterranean at midnight with the cold rain and wind and all. We swam around Manarola harbor and found that the water was warmer than the air, and had a great time. Walking back through the semi-deserted town in our towels, some Italians just laughed at us and gave us thumbs up.

Thursday, October 25th

Today we went to Monterossa, the northernmost of the towns. Again it was raining but we didn't let that deter us from playing on the beach and the rocks like eight year olds. It was a lot of fun. We ate lunch in a restaurant that was forgettable and ate gelato afterwards. After only a few hours we headed back to our apartment and did our routine. Everybody else went to bed early, but I was up all night stressing about money, so I wasn't to excited with the 4am wake up call.

Friday, October 26th

We took the 4:30 train from Manarola to La Spezia, where we had to wait for an hour in a McDonalds dining room. We changed trains a total of four times to get to Sermione by noon. Today was the worst weather by far, and it just so happened that we walked 6km from the train station to our hotel. Let's just say that none of us were in the best of spirits. Sermione is a peninsula that sticks out into Lake Garda and has wonderful views of the Italian Alps and is a Summer tourist destination. We finally mustered up the energy to move again at about 5, and went to explore the town. We ate dinner at a tourist restaurant that had picture menus and an Italian stereotype for a waiter. Afterwards we ate gelato, naturally. We ate gelato once or twice a day, which meant that all of the walking I was doing was just cancelling out that delicious ice cream. I had to sleep on a cot in the hotel room, which made me miss my room in Manarola.

Saturday, October 27th

We woke up with the sunrise and were lucky enough to grab some free breakfast at the hotel before we left. It was a continental breakfast buffet with rolls and deli meat, which meant that we were horrible people and we discreetly packed sandwiches for the day. When we walked outside we saw something we hadn't seen since Monday, the sun! The girls wanted to get a head start on Venice, but I wanted to actually see the Alps and Lake Garda, so we postponed our trip about an hour - which was well worth it. We took the train from Desenzano to Venice and were there before noon. This was also where we parted ways with Tim, who took the train back to Milan Airport (he'd already visited Venice before he came to Cinque Terre). The train ride was comfortable and the people watching was fantastic. The train was laid out into separate compartments of six seats, a train that you would see in a movie, and we were sitting with a middle-aged Italian man and a pretty Italian girl. The Italian man somehow managed to get his zipper stuck on the fabric of his jacket, but obviously didn't know how to fix it because he wrestled with it for about thirty minutes. By the end of it he was standing and screaming Italian obscenities at his zipper, it was one of those situations in which you try your best not to laugh. Upon our arrival into Venice we took a bus back across the Long Bridge and went to find our "hostel", which was actually a campground with the lost-in-translation name "Camping Jolly". We stayed in a bungalow or something along those lines, and it was comfortable and cheap - which is always good for me. We headed back to Venice and the girls spent the first three hours shopping, and when I say shopping, I just mean that they bought about five things - but somehow it took that long, I guess I have a lot to learn about women. We managed to move about five blocks in that amount of time, which was quite frustrating. I couldn't go off and explore by myself because Venice was horribly confusing, so I just looked at this time as being preparation for marriage.

Once they were done shopping we went to find somewhere to eat dinner, but instead ended up getting lost for about an hour. And not lost in the nice little tourist town of Venice, lost in the real, gritty part of Venice covered in graffiti and lacking street lights - it was fantastic. The girls decided that because this would be our last real Italian meal that we should eat on the Canal Grande, so after asking a few English-speaking people where we were we managed to find the Rialto Bridge and thus the Canal Grande. It was the worst meal of the trip. The restaurant was overpriced (and I am broke), the waiter hated us because we didn't order enough food, the gnocchi was chalky, the house wine tasted 10 euro cheaper than it cost, and it took them twenty minutes to give us our check, which in turn managed to leave me with 5 euro to live on for the next two days. On a lighter note, we realized that the girls sitting at the table behind us were from Richmond, and spent the rest of the evening with them. They were a lot of fun, and it was nice to mix up the group dynamic a bit, oh yeah, and we grabbed one last gelato before boarding the bus back to Camping Jolly. The bus ride redeemed the dinner. Halfway through the ride everybody started saying "Camping Jolly?" to each other, and soon we were all talking to each other about our lives and where we all came from. I met a wonderful Australian girl who was on her way to Austria, two girls from Mexico that were working on learning their fourth language, and some more Aussies, Kiwis, and Brits - I love the English language. We all made the half-mile trek back to Camping Jolly together, and I was the only one that knew the way, and felt a bit like the Pied Piper walking through the darkened Venetian streets.

Sunday, October 28th

We woke up rather early and decided that we would explore Venice some more, we checked out of Camping Jolly and took off to the bus stop with our heavy backpacks. It just so happened that today was the Venice Marathon, which meant that the busses weren't running, which meant that we had to walk the mile and half to the train station, where we hopped on and rode it into Venice. We checked our backpacks at left luggage and took off to explore Venice some more. We walked to the Piazza del San Marco, which was brimming with tourists and pigeons - two of my favorite things. The girls then did some shopping while I watched the marathon runners near the finish line. There were three types of runners, those who look understandably tired, those who look like they've only run a mile, and those who look like me after I run a mile. We spent the better part of the day just wandering and getting slightly lost, which is my favorite travel activity, and somehow found our way back to the train station. We took the 5:00 train to Milan, and it was a regional train, so that meant that it was two hours slower than Eurostar, but 20 euros cheaper, so that was just fine with me. It was a comfortable five-hour ride, even though a drunkard decided to stare at me through one of the partitions for ten minutes or so. From the Milan train station we took a coach to Milan Bergamo airport because we were flying out at 6am the next morning. We decided that we would "sleep" in the airport, which I am no stranger to. We staked our claim on a few uncomfortable bench seats and Jenny tried to sleep on the floor, then the security guard kicked all of us out. He sent us across the street to what felt like a refugee camp for airport passengers, people were everywhere, lying on the concrete, on their luggage, on each other. I was lying on a bench when a Frenchman got a security guard to kick me off of it. I sat up and apologized, it made sense, there were a lot of people. Then the Frenchman stretched out exactly as I had, what a horrible human being. I finished On the Road and then tried to sleep by holding my head in my hands, this didn't work so I decided to move to the floor, as many other people had done. It was dirty cold concrete, but I was tired. I began to doze off, and then for reasons I'm still not privy to, the security guard yelled something in Italian and kicked me in the side, then stormed off.

Monday, October 29th

Needless to say, I didn't get any sleep. They kicked us out of the refugee camp twenty minutes later and sent us back to the actual airport. We checked in at 4am without any hiccups, and boarded the plane two hours later. An emergency exit seat was open, so I chose legroom over friends, naturally. Two hours into the uneventful flight I realized that 1) we should have landed already and 2) we had been flying in a circle for some time. This is when the pilot came in over the intercom "Due to fog, we are being diverted to London Luton". We landed at London Luton 30 minutes later than we should have landed at Stansted. So it was shaping up to be a fantastic day. I had already booked a cheap ticket on the Stansted Express train and had everything figured out, which I had to do because I had class from 1:30-8:00 that night and a presentation in Parliament on top of that. When I disembarked from the plane I waited for a few minutes for the girls, but figured out they just went on without me, which bummed me out. Those few minutes meant that I was at the back of the passport control line, I got stuck behind an Eastern European man and his son who talked with the official for 30-40 minutes, it was horrible and I was grumpy. When I was done being grilled by the passport official I went and bought a bus ticket to London. I caught the bus twenty minutes later, we were later stuck in traffic for thirty minutes driving into London, and were now running well behind schedule - I had to be in class in three hours. I got off at the first London stop and took my chances on the Tube, just when the Piccadilly Line was closed for security concerns. So after another thirty minutes of waiting at the Green Park station I finally caught a train back here.

I didn't realize how much I would miss London, but coming back to my dorm room couldn't have made me happier. I showered, polished up my presentation for twenty minutes and then headed off to class on no sleep. I got an A- on the British Politics midterm that I thought I failed, so that definitely brightened my mood. That night I went to Parliament and gave my presentation on devolution in Committee Room 8, my professor didn't show, but John Hayes MP was there and said that he really enjoyed it. Thank God for espresso. He then took the class to see the House of Lords and House of Commons, which was great. He got us into the special viewing gallery in the House of Commons, told us to have fun, and then left. They were debating about the situation in Burma, and it was so very interesting to see Parliament in action. About twenty minutes after we sat down a familiar voice came over the speakers, it was John Hayes, it was quite nice to see him in action - he actually reminds me of Churchill. After hanging out in the House of Commons for another half hour I headed back to Kensington, finally got to Skype home, and got some much needed sleep.

Tuesday, October 30th

Slept until noon, wrote on this thing throughout the rest of the day.

Wednesday, October 31st

Went to St. Paul's Cathedral with my History of London class, and climbed to the top of the dome - it was a shame that I didn't bring my camera because the view was amazing. Although I could have done without the 450 stairs and having to duck for 20 minutes straight. Hung out with the girls downstairs and had a little Halloween soiree, it was really nice to see everyone again, it made me realize how much I'm going to miss these people when we go our separate ways next month.

Thursday, November 1st

I can't believe that it is November already, and that I'm more than halfway through this wonderful experience. I just wish I had a bottomless bank account so I could just do this forever. Tonight we're all going to a nice pub in Piccadilly Circus for Tim's birthday, which will be a good time. And I know I just finished writing about Italy, but I am going to Paris tomorrow. When I called home from Florence my dad said something to the effect of, "How did you get your life?" I'm still trying to figure that out.

Italia! (Roma)

I have spent the better part of the last two weeks exploring Italy, and now I'm going to try to play catch up. This is going to be a lot of work, but it has to be done. Click here to see my pictures from my wonderful trip.

Thursday, October 18th

Woke up at about 7am, and was at the Tube station by about 8. Took the Tube to Baker Street and waited for my easyBus shuttle, which was 30 minutes late and the driver was quite rude and obnoxious. There was a good amount of traffic on the way to Stansted Airport, so we arrived about 45 minutes late, but luckily I've learned that when you depend on the unreliable Tube and easyBus you have to plan to be at the airport about three hours in advance. I waited in line at check-in with a mass of fifty or so horribly annoying British high school students with one chaperone. So I spent about an hour in that check-in line because of hiccups with passports, baggage and what have you. When I finally got my boarding pass I had less than an hour to get to my gate. You also have to realize that RyanAir (the amazingly cheap airline that I fly on over here) has first come first serve seating, so I figured that I would now be sitting next to a crying baby and an obese Irishman that is deathly afraid of flying - which is what happened on my flight home from Ireland. But surprisingly, I was lucky enough to get an Emergency Exit row seat, which meant that I didn't have to spend the next two hours with my knees digging into the back of the seat ahead of me, and I figured that was a good start to the trip. The flight was comfortable and uneventful, and passport control at Rome Ciampino Airport was laughable. The girls (Jenny, Lisa, and Stephanie) booked another flight, so I spent the next five hours sitting in the cramped arrivals section reading, watching Italians drink espresso shot after espresso shot, talking to a girl from South Africa, and finally caving for a 7 euro panini after 30 hours of no food.

The girls' flight was delayed 30 minutes, and once they finally arrived we hopped on the bus to Rome. Thunder and lightning welcomed us to Italy, and run-down buildings and graffiti streets welcomed us to Rome. The bus dropped us off at the train station, where we found a pay phone and called Jenny's sister's friend's friend Jeanette who gave us directions to her flat. We hailed a taxi and the driver tried to charge us fifty euro for a two mile ride because we were obviously tourists, but we turned him down and he cursed in Italian as he drove off. We found another taxi that only charged us 10 euro. The taxi ride was what I expected: fast, reckless, and slightly scary - there were no lanes or traffic rules for that matter. We arrived at the apartment at about 10pm. The apartment was wonderful, it wasn't particularly nice or in a good location, but it was free. Our three hostesses were fantastic, and so hospitable. Jeanette was an American in her mid-20s, fluent in Italian, and taught English across town. Emily was an American in her mid-20s as well, she spoke Italian with a horrible southern accent, and seemed to be ranting about how horrible and chauvinistic Italian men were whenever I talked to her. Delphine was in her mid-20s and was from Belgium, she was fluent in five languages and working on another one, and she had a voice as deep as mine. Jeanette and Delphine showed us where a wonderful pizza place was down the street, and ran to catch the bus. We walked in the door probably looking a bit odd and a bit American. We sat at the table and opened our menus, there was one problem, everything was in Italian. And I think at that point our combined knowledge of the Italian language was limited to as many actual Italian words as you'd find on an Olive Garden menu - which is about nine or ten. Our waitress walked over with a sweet "buona sera" and that was the last word we understood. She was this lovely young Italian woman who couldn't speak English, and when we asked her what "rosse" was, she struggled for a bit and said "toe...may...toe..." and when we all smiled and nodded, she sighed and wiped her brow with a smile - she was absolutely wonderful. We slowly but surely figured out what pizzas we wanted, I ordered the Napoli because it sounded the best. They served us four enormous pizzas the same diameter as a steering wheel. What I didn't realize was that the Napoli pizza was an anchovy pizza, but what I also didn't realize was that I actually like anchovies. So after each of us were defeated by half of our pizzas, we boxed them up and headed back to the apartment on the somewhat scary streets at midnight. I was the only guy in the group, so I was relegated to sleeping on the cold tile floor with a small blanket all three nights that we were there.

Friday, October 19th

Okay, today was easily one of my favorite days of the trip.

We woke up with the sunrise, I had anchovy pizza for breakfast, and then we caught the bus to the Colloseo/Flavian Ampitheatre/Colosseum after using our phrase book to buy a ticket. The Colosseum was as amazing as I had expected, especially in the early morning with a lack of tourists. It was actually quite cold, I guess it dropped 20 degrees from the day before, the weather would serve to be a preview for the rest of the trip. We spent about two or three hours exploring the Colosseum, and I surprised by how interesting it was - the audioguide went beyond just talking about how gladiators fought there and actually got into the interesting history of it. For instance, it was originally called the Flavian Ampitheatre. But Nero put an enormous statue of himself near its entrance that was nicknamed the Collosos, thus the name Colloseo/Colosseum. The low point of the day was running into the high schoolers that I was stuck in line with at the airport in London, not surprisingly they were acting like the loud and obnoxious teenagers that they were again, I'm just glad that was the last time I had to see them.

After the Colosseum we went to Palatine Hill, which was beautiful and so...Roman. The trees, the ruins, the scenery, the fountains, everything. I could have spent five hours exploring everything there, but we had to cut it short in order to fit in everything else. We went to lunch at this touristy patio restaurant where everyone spoke English (which was a bit of a relief). Our waiter was very friendly and would sing in Italian whenever he was walking between tables. The restaurant was filled with American tourists, the bad kind, the kind that said "I don't want any of your pasta, I just want some ribs". It's in situations like that in which you are embarrassed by your American accent. I had a pizza because it was the cheapest thing on the menu, and it was wonderful, as was the wine that we ordered - after all, it was Italy. After lunch we decided to head over to the Pantheon (I was the only one that wanted to go there, but I convinced them) but our plans were delayed by all of the fantastic sights along the way. We walked along some ruins that captivated us for twenty or so minutes and then stumbled upon the monument to Vittorio Emanuele II, which was the most overwhelming and enormous monument I will probably ever see. Looking up at it gave you vertigo; and the sculptures, architecture, and the view from the top were breathtaking. I was literally brought to tears by the view of Rome framed by Italian flags and beautiful cathedral domes, it felt like a homecoming.

After having our jaws in the dropped position for about half an hour we headed off for the Pantheon. I will say that I was a fantastic navigator in Rome, I only needed one look at the map and I could navigate my way anywhere. If I believed in the idea of past lives, I would be pretty sure that I spent the majority of them living in Rome. The Pantheon was everything that I had expected. I had studied it in a few art history classes and was captivated by it. For a quick history lesson, it was built as a temple to the gods in the second century by Hadrian, and was later converted to a Christian church. It is the only intact building from the Roman Empire in Rome. The story goes that when the Goths invaded and burned Rome they walked into the Pantheon and were so amazed by its beauty that they walked right out. It was just such a privilege to stand in a beautiful building (now a church) that is 1900 years old, how often do you get to say that? From the Pantheon we walked to Trevi Fountain, which is clogged with tourists and is essentially one of those places that you go to just to say that you went there - which I'm not a big fan of. This is in keeping with the travel philosophies of a lot of the kids in my program, those who tried to see how many countries they could fit into their Fall break. Travel isn't a collection of pins in a map or souvenirs, it's not where you've been, it's what you've experienced - that is my travel philosophy in one sentence. It just irks me when people go into it with that pins-in-a-map with their daddy's credit card approach and neglect the culture entirely. That's why I'm glad we stayed in Italy for 12 days, we got a good sense of the culture, I may now be broke, but I feel as if I have a greater understanding of Italy and its people. Well that's enough of a digression, back to Trevi Fountain. It is a beautiful fountain, don't get me wrong, it's grandiose in Renaissance style and somewhat unbelievable that human hands were able to sculpt so much stone and marble in such a fashion.

From the Trevi Fountain we went to sit and rest on the famous Spanish Steps. The sun was setting between the buildings, and it was quite a beautiful sight - aside from the thousands of tourists scrambling for photographs. We then backtracked a bit and walked to Piazza Navona to eat dinner, well, the girls ate dinner, I didn't have the money so I just ate a few pieces of "free" bread. Needless to say, our waiter hated me, but I threw in a euro for tip to ease my conscience. After eating dinner and exploring the piazza a little more (I particularly enjoyed the guitarist playing Pink Floyd and Beatles) we bought bus tickets and hopped on the 84 to go back to the girls' apartment. We didn't know that it took a different route than the 84 we took to the Colloseo, so we ended up missing our stop and riding the bus to the station, where we just hopped on another bus and finally found our way back.

Saturday, October 20th

We woke up rather late because we were waiting for Jenny's friend Danny to arrive from Bari, which is a 6-hour train ride from Rome. He came up for the day to show us around Rome, which was wonderful because he knew Italian so we didn't have to awkwardly use our phrase books. He was an amazing person as well, I told him that if I ever write a book, he will be a character. Danny wore a soiled Denver Broncos visor, had a ponytail, a neck beard, and wore a sweatshirt that had "All American" stamped across the front of it. His appearance would lead you to believe that he was an ignorant American, but you should have seen the looks on Italian faces when he would walk up to them and speak to them impeccably in their own language. He teaches English to Italian students in Bari, and told us about how he is usually the brunt of weekly anti-Americanism from his English and Scottish colleagues. And jokes such as, "What is the difference between the USA and yogurt?" "After fifty years yogurt forms a culture." I laughed, and found myself partially agreeing with this idea, probably because it is frowned upon to particularly like America. But Danny talked of his rebuttal in which he simply stated that the US has the most emulated culture in modern history, turn on Italian television and you will see American MTV and dubbed American sitcoms, walk around the corner and you will see a McDonald's packed with Italians, and then he said if he ever has to fend off anti-Americanism in a hurry, he just says World War Two. I don't know, it was just so refreshing to meet someone that was one of the most culturally intelligent people I've known and also loved his country, because I didn't think that that was possible.

We took the Metro (their Underground) to San Pietro, grabbed a snack from a cafe and went to stand in line at the Musei di Vatican. The Museum itself had some pretty impressive pieces of artwork, I was particularly drawn to The Crucifixion of Saint Peter by Caravaggio. His use of light and darkness while conveying the human emotion involved in the scene was sincerely moving.

After touring the art gallery and seeing many of the paintings I have studied in art history classes we walked through the ornate Hall of Maps and on to the Sistine Chapel. It was an odd experience, I still don't quite know how I felt about it. The artwork was amazing, and seeing one of Michelangelo's masterpieces was wonderful. We were shuffled in like cattle, and the chapel was packed from wall to wall with people talking loudly and taking pictures and video. And every thirty seconds the security guards would yell "No photos!" and somehow managed to yell "Shhhh" as well. It was all quite distracting for me. I just wish I could spend an hour in there alone lying on the floor, because I walked out after half an hour with a sore neck and slight frustration. Upon exiting we were lucky enough to see a pack of illegal street vendors (counterfeit hand bags and watches, etc.) pack up as fast as possible and run from the Polizia. We then walked about a mile to this wonderful restaurant that Danny was telling us about, Navona Notte. I had an amazing gnocchi con bolognese dish that will live on in my dreams. After this we walked back to Saint Peter's Basilica and went inside. Words or pictures cannot do it justice, to rely on the superlative, it was the most awe-inspiring structure I have ever seen. Michelangelo's Pieta was displayed at the foot of a cross to the right of the entrance, and I felt very privileged to be able to see such a moving work of art. We happened to be visiting the Basilica during mass, and the combination of the art, architecture, and Latin hymn would be an poignant experience even for the most ardent of atheists.

We then took the Metro to Piazza del Popolo to get hustled by vendors of useless and overpriced trinkets, and then we ran up flights of stairs and a hill path to see the Roman sunset, and it was absolutely beautiful. From there we headed to Danny's favorite restaurant Al Balestrari where I had the best pizza I will ever have, writing about it makes my mouth water. After dinner we retraced our steps and saw the Trevi fountain at night, which was much more impressive than during the day (and there were about half the amount of tourists) and Danny and I were hustled by street vendors while the girls shopped for overpriced clothing. Then we walked Saint Peter's Basilica, which was one of the highlights of my trip. It was a crisp night and Saint Peter's was nearly deserted, we sat at the base of a fountain where we sat on the cold stone and had our own respective moments of reflection at the foot of one of the world's greatest churches illuminated by spotlight and moonlight. It will be a memory that I will surely cherish.

Upon our arrival back to the girls' apartment we said goodnight and goodbye to Danny and our wonderful hosts, because we were leaving for Florence before the sunrise the next day. Stephanie was going back to London, but Jenny, Lisa and I still had over a week of Italy to look forward to. I need to split these up because my memory needs a break, in the next post I will talk about Florence and perhaps our five days in Cinque Terre.

Cheers!

British Museum, Richmond Walk, and Ham House

Well Midterms are over, and I am now officially on my one-and-a-half week Fall Break, which is obviously quite a relief. I leave for Italy at 8am tomorrow, it's horrible, but all I can think about is waking up early and then having to wait for the girls in the airport for four hours. Although after Ireland I should be a little more accustomed to staying in an airport for a long period of time. The fact that I'll be in Rome tomorrow has probably crossed by mind twice today. I know once I'm climbing the Spanish Steps worrying about the hassles of travel will melt away. Okay, I will admit I am very excited for this trip. Twelve days in the Old Country with good friends, it doesn't get much better than that. And yes, I may end up maxing out yet another credit card, but in ten years time that won't matter at all - but those twelve days will. That's essentially how I've been living my life out here, with a kind of reserved recklessness in which I collect debt like it's fashionable in order to live my life from one once-in-a-lifetime moment to the next. I'll pay for it later, but I will never regret it. On that note, I just finished booking my four day November trip to Bergen, Norway. Which I am obviously very excited about, because then my heritage tour will be complete (sorry Sweden). That now means that I have booked every weekend until I leave, again, the reserved recklessness.

I figure I should give a little mini-update on this week, because these three days will pale in comparison (in my memory especially) to Italy.

Monday, October 15th

Class all day. Two midterms. Parliament session at night, which was a bit disappointing because John Hayes (the MP that teaches those sessions) didn't talk about the recent developments in British Politics. Basically the Conservatives under David Cameron are now 8 points ahead of Labour under Gordon Brown, and the Conservatives haven't been ahead of Labour since 1992 - I'd say that's a pretty big deal. Oh by the way, British Politics are way more fun than US Politics.

Tuesday, October 16th

Worked on museum project and turned it in the afternoon. It was an assignment for my Museums and Galleries class in which I had to design a temporary exhibit. Everybody else did art exhibitions, I did an exhibition on the history of war and peace between Britain and Ireland in the 20th century. Which may have had something to do with my recent trip to Ireland's National Museum and the London Imperial War Museum, just maybe. It'll be interesting to see what an Art History PHD thinks of it. Spent the evening finishing up my British Politics presentation that I have to give the Monday I fly in from Milan.

Wednesday, October 17th

Visited the British Museum with Museums and Galleries class. It was very interesting because we've been studying the controversy surrounding the Elgin Marbles for the past week, and we were able to see them in person, and then argue amongst ourselves in the exhibit. I will risk having an opinion and say that I believe they should stay in the British Museum. We toured the museum for three hours with our professor lecturing, which was a good learning experience, but exhausting. I then took the one-hour Tube ride to Richmond, which is a city/town right outside of London (where the freshman/sophomore campus of Richmond University is, hence the name) that I haven't been to yet. It was absolutely beautiful. I met up with my History of London class and we went on a two-mile river walk along the Thames, and I actually realized that not all of the Thames looks like an enormous, horribly polluted and garbage-choked version of the Puyallup River. It was very picturesque, but two miles in the mud is quite tiresome to say the least. We reached our destination, which is called Ham House. I expected a quirky cottage judging from the name, but it turned out to be a lovely 17th century country home/mansion. The gardens were amazing in their size and design, but being that it is the middle of Autumn, everything was a shade of green or brown. After spending about two hours on the grounds I trekked the two miles back in the mud, with no shoes, in the snow, all uphill, whilst being chased by dogs. Okay, it was just two miles in the mud, and there was one little incline, but I assure you I was tired. All right, that's enough whining about walking from the twenty-one year old.

So needless to say, I found my way back here. I spent the evening once more finishing up my presentation, packing, and fending off invitations to the pub. Italia, here I come.

Between Ireland, Mid-terms, and Italy

Wednesday, October 10th

Today was another field trip day for my classes, and it was one of the better ones at that. I took the Tube to Southfields, which is pretty deep into South London, a neighborhood about which my professor remarked, "This is the real London." Although I think she's biased because it's where she lives. Even if she took us there because she only wanted to walk a few blocks that morning, it was still a lovely neighborhood that was quite a nice red-brick contrast to the white-washed walls of Kensington. We went to a very small gallery that was oddly placed in the middle of a residential neighborhood, it was only one room and the artwork was only displayed on two of its walls, but it was my favorite art gallery that I've been to here. The project was called "Welcome Stranger" and consisted of the artist going to different places in the community and sketching the people that he met and recording his conversations with this great assortment of people. Think of it has a hybrid of art and sociology. We were lucky enough to have a long discussion with the artist himself and the gallery owner, which brought a priceless insight into the art and the gallery itself. In all honesty, if we wouldn't have had the artist there to tell the wonderful stories of these people, I probably would have written the exhibit off as yet another pretentious exercise in modern art. It was very interesting, actually more inspiring than anything.

I then went to Southwark with my History of London class. We went to the fantastic St. Magnus Cathedral on the north bank of the Thames, which had great architecture and even a better history. The priest actually sat us down and gave us a "lecture" on the history of the site and the church. It was the most interesting 10 minutes I've had in that class, and I think my sub-par professor realized this and cut off the priest with a "Oh, thank you, that should be a good introduction" to the disappointment of the rest of my class. By the way, St. Magnus is the only church/cathedral in London to be named after a Norse saint - well I thought that was interesting. We then "traced Shakespeare's steps" through streets he never walked on and redeveloped neighborhoods (the new Globe Theatre is actually about two blocks from the original, which was kind of a let down to learn). We went to another lovely cathedral, the Priory of St. Mary, which had beautiful fan-vaulted ceilings and an interesting excavation in what used to be the yard that shows all of the layers of building and development down to the original Roman road. After visiting a few former brothels that are now boutique hotels and shops we headed home. I'm writing this on Sunday evening, and I can safely say that this was the last remotely-touristy thing I did. Wednesday night was spent studying and hanging out the girls' balcony downstairs.

Thursday, October 11th

Studied/Procrastinated/Watched television shows on my computer all day. Girls' balcony at night.

Friday, October 12th

Same as Thursday.

Saturday, October 13th

Same as Friday.

Sunday, October 14th

Same as Saturday sans procrastination, watching television, and girls' balcony.

I may not update this until after Italy because I have midterms this week (I leave for Italy on Thursday), so I figure I'll post my itinerary for my wonderful (and horribly expensive, thank God for credit cards) 12 day break.

Thursday, October 18th

Fly into Rome with Jenny, Lisa and Stephanie.

Friday and Saturday, October 19th and 20th

Explore Rome with aforementioned friends.

Sunday, October 21st

Florence, meet up with Tim, hopefully.

Monday, October 22nd

Florence/ head to Cinque Terre

Tuesday to Thursday, October 23rd to 25th

Cinque Terre (by the way, supposedly one of the most beautiful places in the world)

Friday, October 26th

Sirmione (a small village on Lake Garda in Lombardy)

Saturday, October 27th

Venice

Sunday, October 28th

Milan

Monday, October 29th

Spend night in airport, fly out of Milan at 6:30am, class and fifteen minute Parliament presentation at 1:30pm - should be interesting.