Thursday was our last official, entire full day in Brussels. How do you spend your last day anywhere? For everyone it's different. We spent it on the computer most of the morning until class at 11 where we reviewed the articles we had turned in the night before.
Gareth was critical, but not overly-so. I feel his comments helped me understand how in the world to write more journalistically, since I've never actually done that. Op-Ed is not the same and that's all I've ever done. It's great to hear back on your piece of work.
Then he gave us the lovely news that he doesn't give A's, which I believe is probably connected to the fact that he was a 2.1 student his whole life. He was an average, but never great student, and As should be reserved for the "great." Well, he says we've done well...but anything below an A will shoot down my GPA. Ah well.
We then had a "typical Belgian lunch" (cue chorus of: That's so Belgian!) at a little restaurant off Place Fernand Coq called Volle Gas. It was delicious. I had Chocun au gratin which was essentially endives in a cream sauce and mashed potatoes blended with herbs and vegetables. I could eat that all the time. But it left me feeling quite full.
Gareth was kind enough to cover that meal for us, which was unexpected but quite helpful since it cost around €13 and I had €17 on me. The four of us said goodbye to the Welshman and took the bus down to Grand Place for some last-minute souvenir shopping. Souvenir shops are all the same no matter where you go. Worthless. But I did find Barclay a birthday present while I was there. I guess that's a success.
There was some event being set up in the Grand Place while we were there. Lots of temporary stadium seating and then a stage with the royal chairs on it. I wouldn't call them thrones, but if that's your term of choice go for it. Lizzi asked a police officer what was going on and his response was "something important." He spoke at length, but essentially that's all he said.
We did take time to run by the Mannequin Pis--the famous fountain of a little boy peeing. We'd come across it during our first trip to Delirium (this is to show how lost we were, for you native Brussels inhabitants), but it was dark and I didn't take pictures. It's much funnier in the daylight to be sure. Word has it there are a dozen or so of these scattered around Brussels, including a female one--she's squatting. I didn't find any others, but I think I can live with that. Next time I'm here, I'll go on a city-wide scavenger hunt for all the Mannequins Pis.
Bus ride back to Flagey where we saw a concert going on. It looked to be more band-practice than actual concert. Partly because no one was listening except for a few girls dancing and partly because things were being moved around on stage and the lights crew was in a cherrypicker adjusting his appliances. I tried to go back later that night to see what was going on, but the concert had ended. Or perhaps it wasn't even for Thursday. Either way, nothing was going on.
We hung out around the apartment for a while, enjoying the cooler temperature inside. Outside it was a staggering 88 degrees or so. Gareth likes to comment on how hot it is by giving us temperatures that are supposed to make our jaws drop or something of that nature. The problem, though, is that he does so in Celsius. Sorry, American's don't think that way.
Nicole and I then made a trip up to Neuhaus near Place Jourdan to buy chocolate for Brad and his family. Since he's offering up his house to us for two nights, we figured that would be good--Belgian chocolate straight from Belgium itself. But the fact that it has a German name does somewhat bother me.
My last souvenirs were inside Lidl. Rachel and Barclay will understand when I bring them home. So we got them and left for home. I spent from whatever time that was (at least 7 by this point) until midnight working on my homework--listing 10 differences between the US and Europe. Listing them isn't really that hard; nor is going into detail about those differences. I have no idea why that took me so long. I got really, really distracted. And at some point Nicole, Lizzi, Brandon, and Brandon's roommate Marcus all left to go out. I promised to catch up with them later. But when I finished at 11:40, emailed it in, and actually thought about it, I realized that I hadn't yet packed for Paris, hadn't cleaned the apartment, which I had planned to do, and didn't have anything important charged like my phone or my camera or my iPod.
So all that took precedence. Laundry was going, I was sweeping the entire ground floor, and I wiped down the counter and the table. It was pretty nasty, actually. Cleaning the bathrooms I didn't have the heart to do since they're just going to get dirty again in the time that we're here. I did a half-ass job and then called it quits. At some point in the cleaning though, I finally got a call through to Mom where we discussed plans for Monday, of which there are many.
Not to mention, the entire night I'm on the edge of my seat waiting for an email from Tiffany. It never came. I think that was my biggest distraction, actually. Obsessive compulsively checking my email every minute.
Around 2 I realized that going out would now be pointless so I went to bed instead. And that is how you spend your last day in Brussels. Exciting? Not really. But it was a good last day.
[pictures to be added]
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Communications, Comic Capital, Champagne and IC
Back to Gareth's house on Wednesday so that we could walk a few blocks to a communications center called Mostra. Incidentally, this is the company Gareth works with when he creates EU promotional films. He's filmed all over Europe and even in parts of Africa working with Mostra.
We met his producer Elena Lincznyiova. Don't ask me how to pronounce that; I have no idea. She is a lovely Hungarian woman who essentially oversees all the productions that Mostra puts out. At any one time, there are 90 of these in operation. We got to see two films that Gareth worked on as well as one that a different journalist did completely on his own in Afghanistan. All three were pretty incredible. They were promotional material, certainly, but not propaganda, which I liked.
Next we toured the very mod offices--the editing pods, the press relations team, the translators, etc. It was fascinating and another thing that draws me to communications rather than journalism. Both Gareth and Elena stated that without journalism they would not be able to do what they do for Mostra (having both been journalists past or present). I would disagree with that. I understand the interview part and the 'digging deeper for the truth' elements might seem journalistic, but I would wager those are pretty universal for any media company that's trying to portray a message or look for a story. Having worked on film projects myself, there's very little that is strictly journalism evident in those films. I'll let them believe what they want, though.
I really enjoyed Wednesday's class, however. After so much disillusionment about journalism (which I'd heard but never actually observed or experienced), I'm seeing it is less and less the field I need to be in. I can pitch a story; I can research a story; I can conduct interviews; I can write a story. I hate informal interviews and I hate the deadlines. One week is not enough time to write a well-developed story. Journalism isn't about details. It's about cramming as much information as you can into a single line of text. It's about listing facts rather than explaining them. It's about minimizing inches and word size so that your reader might still be interested by the end.
I'm too stuck in academia to enjoy any part of that. I'm good at it. I won't deny it. I wrote one hell of a good article in my opinion. But the story it told was shit. I needed about 3 more pages to be satisfied. Instead, I was granted 1000 word max.
We went straight from Mostra to the Comic Book Museum. Belgium is famous for being the comic capital of the world (honestly, what is it NOT the capital of the world for?). The museum was relatively uninteresting. I was never into comics as a kid. I had no idea who TinTin or Lucky Luke were until I got here. I've never read Asterix. Le Chat is pretty funny, but I didn't even know what that was until I started researching about Belgium back in February or March. He had a single board display. TinTin had an entire section of the museum plus a few boards and a marble bust near the stairs. Obviously I'm out of the loop when it comes to comics...
But again, the architecture of the building was pretty. It was a former textile shop after being something else before that. I wasn't really paying attention to what I was reading, sorry. It was in complete disrepair before it was bought out and turned into its current position as the comic book centre of Brussels. I don't even know if I'd recommend the museum to anyone who hasn't read comics before (note, I've read American comics like Lola and For Better or For Worse and Garfield. But no European ones). It's not worth the €7.50 it costs to get in.
Took some quotes from random passers-by on my way back home. Got thrown out of 3 restaurants because they were "too busy to answer my questions and would I kindly wait for their colleagues to speak with me?" Their colleagues, by the way, were the servers who were actually doing their job, actually seemed to be working, and probably didn't know the answers to my questions anyway. Don't try and protest to Belgian restaurant managers. You will only be asked to leave. They have "no time for journalists."
Whatever.
The article was finished and turned in. Bus tickets to Paris were booked but not without some grief from Thalys and Eurostar. I don't know how many times I tried to reserve tickets with Thalys (the TGV), but it wouldn't let me book the cheap tickets or the expensive tickets or pay for the only tickets it would let me book. So no train for us. Back to the deceivingly-titled EuroLines bus route. We anticipate an extra hour of travel time at least and we will definitely be more prepared for the journey this time around. I rather like the roadtrip business, but trains are so much nicer.
We finished off the night in celebration--Champagne and Moulin Rouge. We celebrated turning in our articles and finally, FINALLY booking our tickets to Paris! We're good to go for our last weekend here. Crazy to think about. I'm coming back to the States on Monday.
Still no word from Invisible Children about the Roadie position, but I did get an official email saying they'd extended the date by which we should hear from them to Friday July 3. I already knew this information, but I guess being official is a good thing. I found out that one of the girls I met in Chicago--Sarah Eyk--was turned down. It's a real shame, but on a selfish note, that's good for me, right?
Two more days may or may not determine my life course this fall. The "may not" has to be included because it's Invisible Children and if July 3 is too soon, they'll easily push it back. I can't say that'd be a bad thing. I'll be back in town by that point and I would prefer a physical phone call to an email that stares me in the face.
Regardless, Wednesday was a big day, if not busy.
We met his producer Elena Lincznyiova. Don't ask me how to pronounce that; I have no idea. She is a lovely Hungarian woman who essentially oversees all the productions that Mostra puts out. At any one time, there are 90 of these in operation. We got to see two films that Gareth worked on as well as one that a different journalist did completely on his own in Afghanistan. All three were pretty incredible. They were promotional material, certainly, but not propaganda, which I liked.
Next we toured the very mod offices--the editing pods, the press relations team, the translators, etc. It was fascinating and another thing that draws me to communications rather than journalism. Both Gareth and Elena stated that without journalism they would not be able to do what they do for Mostra (having both been journalists past or present). I would disagree with that. I understand the interview part and the 'digging deeper for the truth' elements might seem journalistic, but I would wager those are pretty universal for any media company that's trying to portray a message or look for a story. Having worked on film projects myself, there's very little that is strictly journalism evident in those films. I'll let them believe what they want, though.
I really enjoyed Wednesday's class, however. After so much disillusionment about journalism (which I'd heard but never actually observed or experienced), I'm seeing it is less and less the field I need to be in. I can pitch a story; I can research a story; I can conduct interviews; I can write a story. I hate informal interviews and I hate the deadlines. One week is not enough time to write a well-developed story. Journalism isn't about details. It's about cramming as much information as you can into a single line of text. It's about listing facts rather than explaining them. It's about minimizing inches and word size so that your reader might still be interested by the end.
I'm too stuck in academia to enjoy any part of that. I'm good at it. I won't deny it. I wrote one hell of a good article in my opinion. But the story it told was shit. I needed about 3 more pages to be satisfied. Instead, I was granted 1000 word max.
We went straight from Mostra to the Comic Book Museum. Belgium is famous for being the comic capital of the world (honestly, what is it NOT the capital of the world for?). The museum was relatively uninteresting. I was never into comics as a kid. I had no idea who TinTin or Lucky Luke were until I got here. I've never read Asterix. Le Chat is pretty funny, but I didn't even know what that was until I started researching about Belgium back in February or March. He had a single board display. TinTin had an entire section of the museum plus a few boards and a marble bust near the stairs. Obviously I'm out of the loop when it comes to comics...
But again, the architecture of the building was pretty. It was a former textile shop after being something else before that. I wasn't really paying attention to what I was reading, sorry. It was in complete disrepair before it was bought out and turned into its current position as the comic book centre of Brussels. I don't even know if I'd recommend the museum to anyone who hasn't read comics before (note, I've read American comics like Lola and For Better or For Worse and Garfield. But no European ones). It's not worth the €7.50 it costs to get in.
Took some quotes from random passers-by on my way back home. Got thrown out of 3 restaurants because they were "too busy to answer my questions and would I kindly wait for their colleagues to speak with me?" Their colleagues, by the way, were the servers who were actually doing their job, actually seemed to be working, and probably didn't know the answers to my questions anyway. Don't try and protest to Belgian restaurant managers. You will only be asked to leave. They have "no time for journalists."
Whatever.
The article was finished and turned in. Bus tickets to Paris were booked but not without some grief from Thalys and Eurostar. I don't know how many times I tried to reserve tickets with Thalys (the TGV), but it wouldn't let me book the cheap tickets or the expensive tickets or pay for the only tickets it would let me book. So no train for us. Back to the deceivingly-titled EuroLines bus route. We anticipate an extra hour of travel time at least and we will definitely be more prepared for the journey this time around. I rather like the roadtrip business, but trains are so much nicer.
We finished off the night in celebration--Champagne and Moulin Rouge. We celebrated turning in our articles and finally, FINALLY booking our tickets to Paris! We're good to go for our last weekend here. Crazy to think about. I'm coming back to the States on Monday.
Still no word from Invisible Children about the Roadie position, but I did get an official email saying they'd extended the date by which we should hear from them to Friday July 3. I already knew this information, but I guess being official is a good thing. I found out that one of the girls I met in Chicago--Sarah Eyk--was turned down. It's a real shame, but on a selfish note, that's good for me, right?
Two more days may or may not determine my life course this fall. The "may not" has to be included because it's Invisible Children and if July 3 is too soon, they'll easily push it back. I can't say that'd be a bad thing. I'll be back in town by that point and I would prefer a physical phone call to an email that stares me in the face.
Regardless, Wednesday was a big day, if not busy.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Writing an Article
Tuesday wasn't exactly interesting. We had class back in the IPC at Residence Palais (the International Press Center, our usual building, for those who've forgotten since we haven't been there in forever). Our topic of study was, oddly enough, a powerpoint on Media in Europe. What is it like to report Europe?
It made me realize how much I continue to hate reporting, but how much I like European reporting more than American. European-style remains much more relaxed; as relaxed as you can be in a high-tension workzone. There isn't as much emphasis on quote-checking. "Off the record" isn't so "off the record" since you can still technically quote the person. Things of that nature.
We returned to the apartments to finish working on our articles. I conducted interviews with restaurant owners on the way back, all of whom were Italian? One man I spoke with had very broken English, so I switched to French. His French was not much better. Honestly, the women running the Alimentations in the Moroccan district speak better French than he did. And he has a restaurant!
Regardless I got my quote from him, as well as a few more questions to be answered. Writing this article has been a pain, quite frankly. I've been thrown out of restaurants and ignored by bartenders. Greenpeace has "no specialist or campaign about water." WTF? You're Greenpeace! Ah well. I returned to the apartment to sit down and crank out 650 words of copy without a single quote from an average Belgian--if indeed such a person exists in Brussels.
While Lizzi and Nicole were at dinner and Brandon upstairs in his own flat, I diligently worked until satisfied with my single response from Friends of Europe, a green organization. I had quotes and statistics from various UN and EU releases, but I didn't think this would be that difficult. This is an article that, if I truly cared about it, I would have spent a month researching and getting all the information for before writing. It's like a research paper on fast track and in mini-form. The brief before you write the actual paper. Number one reason why I hate reporting; I like time and length and detail.
And that was my ever-exciting Tuesday.
It made me realize how much I continue to hate reporting, but how much I like European reporting more than American. European-style remains much more relaxed; as relaxed as you can be in a high-tension workzone. There isn't as much emphasis on quote-checking. "Off the record" isn't so "off the record" since you can still technically quote the person. Things of that nature.
We returned to the apartments to finish working on our articles. I conducted interviews with restaurant owners on the way back, all of whom were Italian? One man I spoke with had very broken English, so I switched to French. His French was not much better. Honestly, the women running the Alimentations in the Moroccan district speak better French than he did. And he has a restaurant!
Regardless I got my quote from him, as well as a few more questions to be answered. Writing this article has been a pain, quite frankly. I've been thrown out of restaurants and ignored by bartenders. Greenpeace has "no specialist or campaign about water." WTF? You're Greenpeace! Ah well. I returned to the apartment to sit down and crank out 650 words of copy without a single quote from an average Belgian--if indeed such a person exists in Brussels.
While Lizzi and Nicole were at dinner and Brandon upstairs in his own flat, I diligently worked until satisfied with my single response from Friends of Europe, a green organization. I had quotes and statistics from various UN and EU releases, but I didn't think this would be that difficult. This is an article that, if I truly cared about it, I would have spent a month researching and getting all the information for before writing. It's like a research paper on fast track and in mini-form. The brief before you write the actual paper. Number one reason why I hate reporting; I like time and length and detail.
And that was my ever-exciting Tuesday.
In Flanders Fields
As time goes on, I realize I am less and less inclined to update this blog and more and more inclined to wander around Brussels. That or do my homework. Usually not the latter.
Regardless, the Monday sun dawned FAR too early on the start of our final week in Europe. Having gotten but 2 hours of sleep, coffee was in order, as was a water bottle that once held my delicious Kombucha tea. Dressing far too warmly for the heat that broke in Belgium, we attempted to get to Gareth's place by 10:00. Leaving by 9, then, shouldn't have been a problem since he lives about 40 minutes away by public transport...usually.
Buses 59 and 60 have a stop right outside our door. I'm talking directly across the street. If we had a street view window we could stare down the bus driver as he pulled up. Unfortunately for us, we don't have a street view window and didn't realize that the 60 bus was not only pulling up, but also leaving without us. We saw it driving off just as we opened the door. No matter, we could just wait for the next one that should come in about 10 minutes.
Wrong. It came 30 minutes later. Thank god this time the bus took us to the right destination. We arrived at Gareth's rather late, but it didn't truly matter since we weren't meeting anyone nor did we have tickets that required our attendance at a particular time. We were headed to "about as far as you can go in Belgium without going abroad" (--Gareth) in Ypres or Iepers, Belgium. That is to say, we were in Flanders truly.
We took a scenic route to get there, driving down through Wallonia (southern Belgium) before heading back up to Flanders (northern Belgium). The contrast in scenery between the two linguistic regions is rather remarkable. Wallonia is very flat farmland while Flanders is hilly. Perhaps it was the other way around? Regardless, I was too tired to take pictures. I should have.
After a long while we ended up at a World War I cemetary to commemorate all those who served in Flanders--most of them British. It was called the Tyne Cot Cemetery and as you walked toward it an automated voice spoke out the names and ages of each identified soldier buried in the cemetery. Talk about depressing.
The cemetery itself was rather beautiful, however. I would be proud to have my family buried there. The grass is well-kept. Every grave has flowers, even the unmarked ones. The marked and unmarked are all interspersed amonst each other--equality at its finest. In death we're all the same, and Tyne Cot wanted to show that.
After that morbid stop we drove a bit further to the In Flanders Fields Museum inside Ypres/Iepers. After getting lunch at a Frites Restaurant (not a stand) for a lovely cheap price, we headed across the square to the old Cathedral that had been converted to the museum itself commemorating the Flemish stalling of oncoming German troops.
We enjoyed the heat and the thrilling fountain before going in as well as the entire city which had been completely rebuilt to look like it's original pre-WWI state, except 1/5 of the size. The war had completely demolished the city in pieces. Some parts were saved, all of which were reconstructed. The buildings all look old, but definitely have a new 21st-century feel.
The museum itself was very nicely arranged. They even had that Titanic display/Holocaust museum element that provides each attendee with a card that contains the name of a person who was a part of the experience and you get to hear his/her individual story as you walk through. My person was a painter and there was an entire exhibit devoted to his work.
The drive home was pretty uninteresting since we didn't take the scenic route, but rather the faster route through industrial Flanders. Once back in Belgium, on our way to Place Flagey, we took the tunnel system to get there. Don't try holding your breath through this tunnel. It's several miles long. And there was traffic.
I crashed that night after getting through a page or two of my Judi Dench biography and didn't wake up until 4:30 the next morning.
Regardless, the Monday sun dawned FAR too early on the start of our final week in Europe. Having gotten but 2 hours of sleep, coffee was in order, as was a water bottle that once held my delicious Kombucha tea. Dressing far too warmly for the heat that broke in Belgium, we attempted to get to Gareth's place by 10:00. Leaving by 9, then, shouldn't have been a problem since he lives about 40 minutes away by public transport...usually.
Buses 59 and 60 have a stop right outside our door. I'm talking directly across the street. If we had a street view window we could stare down the bus driver as he pulled up. Unfortunately for us, we don't have a street view window and didn't realize that the 60 bus was not only pulling up, but also leaving without us. We saw it driving off just as we opened the door. No matter, we could just wait for the next one that should come in about 10 minutes.
Wrong. It came 30 minutes later. Thank god this time the bus took us to the right destination. We arrived at Gareth's rather late, but it didn't truly matter since we weren't meeting anyone nor did we have tickets that required our attendance at a particular time. We were headed to "about as far as you can go in Belgium without going abroad" (--Gareth) in Ypres or Iepers, Belgium. That is to say, we were in Flanders truly.
We took a scenic route to get there, driving down through Wallonia (southern Belgium) before heading back up to Flanders (northern Belgium). The contrast in scenery between the two linguistic regions is rather remarkable. Wallonia is very flat farmland while Flanders is hilly. Perhaps it was the other way around? Regardless, I was too tired to take pictures. I should have.
After a long while we ended up at a World War I cemetary to commemorate all those who served in Flanders--most of them British. It was called the Tyne Cot Cemetery and as you walked toward it an automated voice spoke out the names and ages of each identified soldier buried in the cemetery. Talk about depressing.
The cemetery itself was rather beautiful, however. I would be proud to have my family buried there. The grass is well-kept. Every grave has flowers, even the unmarked ones. The marked and unmarked are all interspersed amonst each other--equality at its finest. In death we're all the same, and Tyne Cot wanted to show that.
After that morbid stop we drove a bit further to the In Flanders Fields Museum inside Ypres/Iepers. After getting lunch at a Frites Restaurant (not a stand) for a lovely cheap price, we headed across the square to the old Cathedral that had been converted to the museum itself commemorating the Flemish stalling of oncoming German troops.
We enjoyed the heat and the thrilling fountain before going in as well as the entire city which had been completely rebuilt to look like it's original pre-WWI state, except 1/5 of the size. The war had completely demolished the city in pieces. Some parts were saved, all of which were reconstructed. The buildings all look old, but definitely have a new 21st-century feel.
The museum itself was very nicely arranged. They even had that Titanic display/Holocaust museum element that provides each attendee with a card that contains the name of a person who was a part of the experience and you get to hear his/her individual story as you walk through. My person was a painter and there was an entire exhibit devoted to his work.
The drive home was pretty uninteresting since we didn't take the scenic route, but rather the faster route through industrial Flanders. Once back in Belgium, on our way to Place Flagey, we took the tunnel system to get there. Don't try holding your breath through this tunnel. It's several miles long. And there was traffic.
I crashed that night after getting through a page or two of my Judi Dench biography and didn't wake up until 4:30 the next morning.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Euroadtrip
Again, pictures will have to wait. Mostly because they're still sitting on my camera. However, pictures from the previous few days were updated with the last new blog post, so you can peruse those.
After a crazy Friday of Mini-Europe and Flo Rida concert, the four of us were on our way to Amsterdam, leaving on a 9am bus. Apparently EuroLines is a bus service! Very misleading name, I must say. Especially since it left from Gare du Nord--a train station.
We walked to Place Flagey and took the 71 bus towards Porte de Namur. Or so we thought. Namur is where we usually get on the Metro to find our way to any of the three main train stations. Yet the 71 bus decided not to go to Porte de Namur this morning. We still have no clue why. It even said it was headed toward DeBrouckère and everything! We hopped off at what I had read to be Trône, knowing there was a Metro stop there. Getting off the bus, there was no such stop. At least not within view. With minutes ticking down and we already needing to be at the train station by this point, we hailed a taxi and sped towards Gare du Nord.
We checked in, got our boarding passes, walked out and right onto the bus with about 10 minutes before it was scheduled to leave. For reasons unbeknownst to us, the bus didn't actually leave until 9:15/9:30 and we simply sat there waiting all that time.
Ultimately we got on the road and headed through Antwerp, Breda, Rotterdam, Den Haag, and several other cities before ultimately reaching Amsterdam about an hour later than expected. It didn't matter much, though. We followed the directions to our hotel, the Hans Brinker hotel. Walking in the front door, we saw advertisements that it was rated the Worst of everything. The Worst Staff, the Worst Service, the Worst Rooms...overall, the Worst Hotel. Cheers!
One girl was working the desk and there were about 6 people waiting; we pushed that number up to 10. I felt so bad for her. It took a while to check in, but we finally got our keys, paid our deposits, paid for our rooms, and traipsed up to our neighboring rooms. Lizzi and I shared room 419 while Nicole and Brandon shared, coincidentally enough, room 420. In Amsterdam. How fitting can you get?
It took Lizzi and I forever to get into our room. We didn't know you had to pull the door toward you while you were unlocking it! That goes against all logic, I'm sorry. We went down to the front desk, where the girl asked the maintenance man (who was muttering in Dutch about how all the keys work and we're probably just stupid) to come up and help us. We get to the door, where he unlocks it for us and walks away. Yeah, we felt pretty dumb.
Just down the street from our hotel was a small restaurant where we stopped for dinner. I got a dinner-plate-sized banana pancake. This needs to be made at home. All the time. Deciding what to do next, we couldn't come up with anything and simply set off to explore.
Public transport in Amsterdam isn't that great, really. The tram system exists, but it doesn't serve much purpose when you have no idea where you are at any given moment. The map we'd been given by EuroLines was horrible (no monuments or parks or sightseeing locations on it anywhere; plus the streets were mismarked). Therefore, we spent that first day just walking around. We came across a market--a very touristy market, but a market nonetheless--where we wandered in and out of stalls and shops for about an hour. We discovered the touristy shopping district. We found the main square The Dam, and the Monument. After some time we found The Red Light district, which is just as sad and intriguing as the last time I saw it.
I wasn't that impressed by Amsterdam when I was here for 13 hours two years ago, so I figured I'd give it another chance. This time around, it wasn't much better. The buildings are funny, most of them nearly ready to topple over or sink into the swamp upon which they were built. The people are suffocating (guess we never left the tourist area). The canals are filthy. The streets, though filled with street cleaners and people sweeping their storefront sidewalks, are still grimy. I still have yet to be impressed with Amsterdam.
That night we took a canal tour of the city which pointed out several churches, acknowledged the 1000+ bridges, and took us out into the bay to show us the city skyline and the crazy architecture of some of the newer buildings.
I think that was my favorite part, that boat tour. But Amsterdam remains a city that I've visited, I can say I've visited, and have little desire to return to. The Netherlands, however, I'd revisit any day. The country itself is beautiful, as I saw in the bus ride there. Perhaps Rotterdam next time.
We went back to the hotel for the night (it still took me a full 2 minutes to get into that room) and more or less crashed. The next morning I woke up at 7:30 and went down to the less-than-desireable breakfast from which I returned almost immediately. I started reading Breakfast at Tiffany's while I waited for everyone else to wake up. At 9:30, we met downstairs in the lobby area and took off to exchange Lizzi's traveler's checks and to get actual food.
We stopped in a little café and ate directly on the canal, which was really nice. The food had a few stars left to fill, but it was food and we were hungry. The streets at 10am on a Sunday are completely empty. The locals aren't out for the day yet and the tourists are all still asleep from the previous night's activities. I loved it. Seedy and disquieting as parts of the city are, when they're empty, they're almost normal. Except the girls of the red light district that were already up and ready. That's not normal anywhere.
Nicole, Lizzi and Brandon sat down and I took off for a walk past a church that reeked of urine and that had no obvious entrance, over a pigeon-disgraced bridge, along a row of tilty houses, and directly behind a car that drove in reverse for at least two blocks. I don't know what I found on that walk, but the row houses are still nice close up, surprisingly. The British tourists I crossed paths with seemed about as lost as I was. The 12-year-olds carrying around their beer cans and feeling mighty proud cowered and hid them as I walked by. The woman in a lounge chair on her front porch decided to invite random people to sit across from her for a morning chat. It's a bizarre place.
We finally had to make our way back to the train station to catch our bus home, so we retraced our steps to an English bookstore, where I picked up a biography on Judi Dench. From there it was in and out of souvenir shops where nothing struck my fancy except an ashtray that I thought Alyssa would have really enjoyed. Not for 10 euro, though. [sorry, Lys]
The metro back from the train station to the bus stop was less crowded than the going there. The bus stop check in was uneventful except that the Burger King inside the metro station was the slowest I've ever experienced in my life. They literally made Nicole's chicken sandwich while she stood and waited. I can't say that it was better quality that way, either. It looked about as grease-laden and decrepit as any other fast food sandwich.
The time spent there didn't matter, however. We still sat for about 15 minutes waiting for our bus to start boarding. Sitting on the bus we happened to see a man standing outside seeing off his girlfriend (who would be riding with us), and he was proudly wearing a Mizzou shirt. Too bad he didn't get on the bus, else I would have tried to talk with him and figure out what year he was/graduated, etc.
I finished Breakfast at Tiffany's on the ride home and slept uncomfortably the rest of it. Arriving back in Brussels was a welcome experience. I have no qualms about road trips. I love them, in fact. It was simply nice to be away from a place where you have no idea where you are. Ever. Even with a map.
Back at the apartment I sat down and continued working on my article. The restaurants I had contacted never got back to me, so I got ready for a night of talking with managers in Place Jourdan on Monday.
Sunday was Special Dinner (the monthly traditional dinner among my high school friends), so at 2am I called Margaret and got to hear the wonderful voices of people I haven't talked with in months. I spent 30 minutes or so being passed around before they finally got down to their dinner and I to my article again. For backstory, I'm writing my final article on the price of water in Belgium. Around 4am I made myself go to bed. Monday was going to be a much longer day than I'd anticipated at 4am, so it's a good thing I went to bed when I did.
After a crazy Friday of Mini-Europe and Flo Rida concert, the four of us were on our way to Amsterdam, leaving on a 9am bus. Apparently EuroLines is a bus service! Very misleading name, I must say. Especially since it left from Gare du Nord--a train station.
We walked to Place Flagey and took the 71 bus towards Porte de Namur. Or so we thought. Namur is where we usually get on the Metro to find our way to any of the three main train stations. Yet the 71 bus decided not to go to Porte de Namur this morning. We still have no clue why. It even said it was headed toward DeBrouckère and everything! We hopped off at what I had read to be Trône, knowing there was a Metro stop there. Getting off the bus, there was no such stop. At least not within view. With minutes ticking down and we already needing to be at the train station by this point, we hailed a taxi and sped towards Gare du Nord.
We checked in, got our boarding passes, walked out and right onto the bus with about 10 minutes before it was scheduled to leave. For reasons unbeknownst to us, the bus didn't actually leave until 9:15/9:30 and we simply sat there waiting all that time.
Ultimately we got on the road and headed through Antwerp, Breda, Rotterdam, Den Haag, and several other cities before ultimately reaching Amsterdam about an hour later than expected. It didn't matter much, though. We followed the directions to our hotel, the Hans Brinker hotel. Walking in the front door, we saw advertisements that it was rated the Worst of everything. The Worst Staff, the Worst Service, the Worst Rooms...overall, the Worst Hotel. Cheers!One girl was working the desk and there were about 6 people waiting; we pushed that number up to 10. I felt so bad for her. It took a while to check in, but we finally got our keys, paid our deposits, paid for our rooms, and traipsed up to our neighboring rooms. Lizzi and I shared room 419 while Nicole and Brandon shared, coincidentally enough, room 420. In Amsterdam. How fitting can you get?
It took Lizzi and I forever to get into our room. We didn't know you had to pull the door toward you while you were unlocking it! That goes against all logic, I'm sorry. We went down to the front desk, where the girl asked the maintenance man (who was muttering in Dutch about how all the keys work and we're probably just stupid) to come up and help us. We get to the door, where he unlocks it for us and walks away. Yeah, we felt pretty dumb.
Just down the street from our hotel was a small restaurant where we stopped for dinner. I got a dinner-plate-sized banana pancake. This needs to be made at home. All the time. Deciding what to do next, we couldn't come up with anything and simply set off to explore.
Public transport in Amsterdam isn't that great, really. The tram system exists, but it doesn't serve much purpose when you have no idea where you are at any given moment. The map we'd been given by EuroLines was horrible (no monuments or parks or sightseeing locations on it anywhere; plus the streets were mismarked). Therefore, we spent that first day just walking around. We came across a market--a very touristy market, but a market nonetheless--where we wandered in and out of stalls and shops for about an hour. We discovered the touristy shopping district. We found the main square The Dam, and the Monument. After some time we found The Red Light district, which is just as sad and intriguing as the last time I saw it.
I wasn't that impressed by Amsterdam when I was here for 13 hours two years ago, so I figured I'd give it another chance. This time around, it wasn't much better. The buildings are funny, most of them nearly ready to topple over or sink into the swamp upon which they were built. The people are suffocating (guess we never left the tourist area). The canals are filthy. The streets, though filled with street cleaners and people sweeping their storefront sidewalks, are still grimy. I still have yet to be impressed with Amsterdam.
That night we took a canal tour of the city which pointed out several churches, acknowledged the 1000+ bridges, and took us out into the bay to show us the city skyline and the crazy architecture of some of the newer buildings.
I think that was my favorite part, that boat tour. But Amsterdam remains a city that I've visited, I can say I've visited, and have little desire to return to. The Netherlands, however, I'd revisit any day. The country itself is beautiful, as I saw in the bus ride there. Perhaps Rotterdam next time.
We went back to the hotel for the night (it still took me a full 2 minutes to get into that room) and more or less crashed. The next morning I woke up at 7:30 and went down to the less-than-desireable breakfast from which I returned almost immediately. I started reading Breakfast at Tiffany's while I waited for everyone else to wake up. At 9:30, we met downstairs in the lobby area and took off to exchange Lizzi's traveler's checks and to get actual food.
We stopped in a little café and ate directly on the canal, which was really nice. The food had a few stars left to fill, but it was food and we were hungry. The streets at 10am on a Sunday are completely empty. The locals aren't out for the day yet and the tourists are all still asleep from the previous night's activities. I loved it. Seedy and disquieting as parts of the city are, when they're empty, they're almost normal. Except the girls of the red light district that were already up and ready. That's not normal anywhere.
Nicole, Lizzi and Brandon sat down and I took off for a walk past a church that reeked of urine and that had no obvious entrance, over a pigeon-disgraced bridge, along a row of tilty houses, and directly behind a car that drove in reverse for at least two blocks. I don't know what I found on that walk, but the row houses are still nice close up, surprisingly. The British tourists I crossed paths with seemed about as lost as I was. The 12-year-olds carrying around their beer cans and feeling mighty proud cowered and hid them as I walked by. The woman in a lounge chair on her front porch decided to invite random people to sit across from her for a morning chat. It's a bizarre place.
We finally had to make our way back to the train station to catch our bus home, so we retraced our steps to an English bookstore, where I picked up a biography on Judi Dench. From there it was in and out of souvenir shops where nothing struck my fancy except an ashtray that I thought Alyssa would have really enjoyed. Not for 10 euro, though. [sorry, Lys]
The metro back from the train station to the bus stop was less crowded than the going there. The bus stop check in was uneventful except that the Burger King inside the metro station was the slowest I've ever experienced in my life. They literally made Nicole's chicken sandwich while she stood and waited. I can't say that it was better quality that way, either. It looked about as grease-laden and decrepit as any other fast food sandwich.
The time spent there didn't matter, however. We still sat for about 15 minutes waiting for our bus to start boarding. Sitting on the bus we happened to see a man standing outside seeing off his girlfriend (who would be riding with us), and he was proudly wearing a Mizzou shirt. Too bad he didn't get on the bus, else I would have tried to talk with him and figure out what year he was/graduated, etc.
I finished Breakfast at Tiffany's on the ride home and slept uncomfortably the rest of it. Arriving back in Brussels was a welcome experience. I have no qualms about road trips. I love them, in fact. It was simply nice to be away from a place where you have no idea where you are. Ever. Even with a map.
Back at the apartment I sat down and continued working on my article. The restaurants I had contacted never got back to me, so I got ready for a night of talking with managers in Place Jourdan on Monday.
Sunday was Special Dinner (the monthly traditional dinner among my high school friends), so at 2am I called Margaret and got to hear the wonderful voices of people I haven't talked with in months. I spent 30 minutes or so being passed around before they finally got down to their dinner and I to my article again. For backstory, I'm writing my final article on the price of water in Belgium. Around 4am I made myself go to bed. Monday was going to be a much longer day than I'd anticipated at 4am, so it's a good thing I went to bed when I did.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Flo Rida Yo!
Mini-Europe! In short, Mini-Europe is a combination of Disney's Epcot on a smaller scale and one of those train setups at Christmas time with the mini trains running through the mini villages and the mini people standing outside mini buildings all posed as if they are waving or driving a tractor or something of that nature. With a description like that, Mini-Europe sounds like a lot of BS. But it was sooo much fun!
Michael Jackson had died and we had just received word of it a few hours before. We spent the entire morning before class trying to get in touch with our contacts for our articles while simultaneously listening to/watching MJ music videos on MCM. At Mini-Europe that afternoon, Gareth was in a really good mood, probably because he had finally gotten his visa squared away to allow him to work in the US this coming fall. I was paying my accidental tribute to the King of Pop with Billie Jean stuck in my head on repeat. A giant orange turtle molested us at the start of the tour. Nicole got weirded out by me singing while hiding in the hedgerow. We got all the questions about the EU correct in the kids-level quiz at the end! Overall a win! Except MJ dying. That was depressing.
We did, however, have major issues with a few important parts of the next dozen hours or so. For starters, we had tickets to the Flo Rida concert that night. Supposedly. They'd never come in the mail--the post office claimed they didn't have them and the ticket office claimed they'd sent them by regular mail (meaning there's no tracking number). Our tickets were nowhere to be found, though! Normally I wouldn't care too much because I don't like rap/hip hop music, but it was a €35 ticket. Plus I kindof (*shame*) wanted to see them? Just because...who goes to see Flo Rida in Belgium?! We do.
After class we marched right up to the Ancienne Belgique--the venue for the concert--and were ready to demand that they either refund us our money or print us new tickets. Lo and behold, they had just received our tickets by return mail not long before. Apparently we had put down the wrong zip code on the address. Tickets in hand, we were ready to go for that night!
Unfortunately, the next day was still up in the air becaue there were no functioning printers at our disposal. We don't have one at the apartment. The printers in the IPC were jammed or just not working. No internet cafés near the Grand Place had printers. And what did we need printers for? To print our bus tickets to Amsterdam of course. Oh, and our hotel reservation. Not exactly necessary.
Finally, at long last we found a hole-in-the-wall café with two computers and a printer where we spent less than 10 minutes printing off all of our necessary papers. Ah, how good that felt to finally be done with everything! Tickets and reservations all in two hours!
The concert that night was, in short, wonderful. I reiterate, I can't stand that music normally. But this was just so much fun. Flo Rida's a great performer and the Belgians were really funny singing along to all the songs in their varied European accents. The DJ before the concert was really good in my opinion, and he played a mix of Michael Jackson music to which the crowd applauded and cheered. Flo Rida even gave the late great a small tribute toward the end of his concert, which I greatly appreciated. It would have been better if he'd broken out in his own version of Beat It, but the silence was nice, too.
We went to bed that night exhausted but happy. For who knows what reason I was up until 4am, though. Still can't remember why...maybe that's when I was blogging and emailing contacts for my article? Regardless it was a late night to be matched by an early morning the next day.
Michael Jackson had died and we had just received word of it a few hours before. We spent the entire morning before class trying to get in touch with our contacts for our articles while simultaneously listening to/watching MJ music videos on MCM. At Mini-Europe that afternoon, Gareth was in a really good mood, probably because he had finally gotten his visa squared away to allow him to work in the US this coming fall. I was paying my accidental tribute to the King of Pop with Billie Jean stuck in my head on repeat. A giant orange turtle molested us at the start of the tour. Nicole got weirded out by me singing while hiding in the hedgerow. We got all the questions about the EU correct in the kids-level quiz at the end! Overall a win! Except MJ dying. That was depressing.
We did, however, have major issues with a few important parts of the next dozen hours or so. For starters, we had tickets to the Flo Rida concert that night. Supposedly. They'd never come in the mail--the post office claimed they didn't have them and the ticket office claimed they'd sent them by regular mail (meaning there's no tracking number). Our tickets were nowhere to be found, though! Normally I wouldn't care too much because I don't like rap/hip hop music, but it was a €35 ticket. Plus I kindof (*shame*) wanted to see them? Just because...who goes to see Flo Rida in Belgium?! We do.
After class we marched right up to the Ancienne Belgique--the venue for the concert--and were ready to demand that they either refund us our money or print us new tickets. Lo and behold, they had just received our tickets by return mail not long before. Apparently we had put down the wrong zip code on the address. Tickets in hand, we were ready to go for that night!
Unfortunately, the next day was still up in the air becaue there were no functioning printers at our disposal. We don't have one at the apartment. The printers in the IPC were jammed or just not working. No internet cafés near the Grand Place had printers. And what did we need printers for? To print our bus tickets to Amsterdam of course. Oh, and our hotel reservation. Not exactly necessary.
Finally, at long last we found a hole-in-the-wall café with two computers and a printer where we spent less than 10 minutes printing off all of our necessary papers. Ah, how good that felt to finally be done with everything! Tickets and reservations all in two hours!
The concert that night was, in short, wonderful. I reiterate, I can't stand that music normally. But this was just so much fun. Flo Rida's a great performer and the Belgians were really funny singing along to all the songs in their varied European accents. The DJ before the concert was really good in my opinion, and he played a mix of Michael Jackson music to which the crowd applauded and cheered. Flo Rida even gave the late great a small tribute toward the end of his concert, which I greatly appreciated. It would have been better if he'd broken out in his own version of Beat It, but the silence was nice, too.
We went to bed that night exhausted but happy. For who knows what reason I was up until 4am, though. Still can't remember why...maybe that's when I was blogging and emailing contacts for my article? Regardless it was a late night to be matched by an early morning the next day.
Wednesday with a side of Thursday
My week was relatively uninteresting for these two days, so they get a combined post.
Class on Wednesday at Café Belga consisted of the pitch of our stories (mine focusing on the price of tap water in Belgian restaurants--why there is one in the first place) and our European Union quiz. That quiz was much harder than anticipated. Gareth said he'd grade somewhat generously, but that doesn't mean that I did well. Afterwards we spent a lazy Wednesday afternoon. Brandon went downtown, Nicole and Lizzi went to les Étangs d'Ixelles, and I shopped around on Rue Louise for souvenirs. Didn't find anything worthwhile, though.
And that was Wednesday.
Thursday we visited David Rennie, foreign correspondant for The Economist and James Neuger of Bloomberg News. While their lectures were interesting, they certainly opened my eyes to the stark fact that journalism as we know it (the parts that might have been most interesting to me) are dying. There is practically no such thing as a foreign correspondant anymore because no company wants to pay the price of sending staff abroad, paying for housing and transport and family fees like children's education, etc. In addition, reputable companies like CNN want to conduct foreign interviews via Skype. I find this really funny since for Invisible Children's The Rescue, CNN decided to cover how innovative we were using Mogulus (the live feed), Twitter, and FaceBook to keep our tens of thousands of people all connected at all times. Looks like they decided to try their hand at the world of technology as well.
Bloomberg is pretty interesting, me not knowing anything about the company itself. Originally just a stocks report, it graduated into market + news and it's fascinating how efficient it is! However, that showed me that the only security in journalism is in business. Business and I don't get along. I don't mind the lack of job security, but I don't like that those insecure positions are no longer insecure, they're simply endangered on the brink of extinction.
Awesome.
And then we went back home to try and get going on our articles. We had interviews to conduct and research to do. And we were going to be gone the entire weekend, so we had no other time than Thursday afternoon.
The end.
Class on Wednesday at Café Belga consisted of the pitch of our stories (mine focusing on the price of tap water in Belgian restaurants--why there is one in the first place) and our European Union quiz. That quiz was much harder than anticipated. Gareth said he'd grade somewhat generously, but that doesn't mean that I did well. Afterwards we spent a lazy Wednesday afternoon. Brandon went downtown, Nicole and Lizzi went to les Étangs d'Ixelles, and I shopped around on Rue Louise for souvenirs. Didn't find anything worthwhile, though.
And that was Wednesday.
Thursday we visited David Rennie, foreign correspondant for The Economist and James Neuger of Bloomberg News. While their lectures were interesting, they certainly opened my eyes to the stark fact that journalism as we know it (the parts that might have been most interesting to me) are dying. There is practically no such thing as a foreign correspondant anymore because no company wants to pay the price of sending staff abroad, paying for housing and transport and family fees like children's education, etc. In addition, reputable companies like CNN want to conduct foreign interviews via Skype. I find this really funny since for Invisible Children's The Rescue, CNN decided to cover how innovative we were using Mogulus (the live feed), Twitter, and FaceBook to keep our tens of thousands of people all connected at all times. Looks like they decided to try their hand at the world of technology as well.
Bloomberg is pretty interesting, me not knowing anything about the company itself. Originally just a stocks report, it graduated into market + news and it's fascinating how efficient it is! However, that showed me that the only security in journalism is in business. Business and I don't get along. I don't mind the lack of job security, but I don't like that those insecure positions are no longer insecure, they're simply endangered on the brink of extinction.
Awesome.
And then we went back home to try and get going on our articles. We had interviews to conduct and research to do. And we were going to be gone the entire weekend, so we had no other time than Thursday afternoon.
The end.
Friday, June 26, 2009
A Tuesday
Tuesday's class was relatively uneventful. We met with a representative from IFJ, the International Federation of Journalists, who painted a bleak future for journalism. Surprise surprise.
We came home after class ended and crashed. I did a whole lot of nothing, took a nap, and then called everyone at Lobby Days: How It Ends to see how the Rally/Lobbying went on Day 2.
Apparently everything went really well and the rally was awesome (as of course it would be, after all the interns' hard work). The usual permit problems persisted, but they were just as easily remedied--free public parks are wonderful!
I wish I could have been there to share the experience, but I am quite glad to be in Europe walking around the London offices or my Brussels apartment living as much of the IC life as I can from a distance.
We came home after class ended and crashed. I did a whole lot of nothing, took a nap, and then called everyone at Lobby Days: How It Ends to see how the Rally/Lobbying went on Day 2.
Apparently everything went really well and the rally was awesome (as of course it would be, after all the interns' hard work). The usual permit problems persisted, but they were just as easily remedied--free public parks are wonderful!
I wish I could have been there to share the experience, but I am quite glad to be in Europe walking around the London offices or my Brussels apartment living as much of the IC life as I can from a distance.
And we're back!
Back to a relaxed city
Back to not paying for the bus or metro
Back to a bed, not a bunk
Back to being able to control the humidity level in a room
Back to throwing away trash in bins readily-available
Back to cooking at night
Back to not looking conspicuously at a map
Back to wearing a lot a lot of black
Back to straightening my mess of hair
Back to free internet!
Back to slow internet.
Back to minimal tourism
Back to French and Dutch/Flemish
Back to dirty dishes and food not put away
Back to an empty fridge
Back to paying to use the public bathrooms
Back to school
Back to living out of a drawer, not a backpack
Back to decent coffee, but 1/4 the size
Back to driving on the RIGHT side of the road
Back to Belgium!
Back to not paying for the bus or metro
Back to a bed, not a bunk
Back to being able to control the humidity level in a room
Back to throwing away trash in bins readily-available
Back to cooking at night
Back to not looking conspicuously at a map
Back to wearing a lot a lot of black
Back to straightening my mess of hair
Back to free internet!
Back to slow internet.
Back to minimal tourism
Back to French and Dutch/Flemish
Back to dirty dishes and food not put away
Back to an empty fridge
Back to paying to use the public bathrooms
Back to school
Back to living out of a drawer, not a backpack
Back to decent coffee, but 1/4 the size
Back to driving on the RIGHT side of the road
Back to Belgium!
Being A Brit pt. 3
So I have a LOOOOOT to catch up on and I'm getting more and more pressed for time, so I'll try and abbreviate the next couple of posts.
We toured the BBC on Monday. I anticipated something a bit more glamourous than the fairly mundane building that we toured, but I suppose it is only a newsroom. It's the BBC, though. Regardless, the tour was well done and much like NBC's tour in NYC complete with audience participation in mock newsmaking.
Gareth then left us to teach the London internship students about the European Union and the Brussels kids all went to the Musem of Natural History. The building itself was beautiful! And the indoor architecture was as well. The museum was...cute. It was definitely geared towards kids--intelligent kids, though. In my opinion there are some very kid-oriented things in the US, and this was not to that extreme, but it was definitely meant for a younger crowd.
We met back up with Gareth and the London students at a CAPA classroom where we heard a debate between the Labour party and the UK Independent party. While the Independent party gave a much better delivered argument, his facts were wrong. The Labour party was pretty weak. Their debate was about whether or not Britain should remain a part of the European Union. Personal opinion, it should stay. I guess the debate wasn't good enough to sway me one way or the other, though.
And after the debate we headed over to a pub for free food with the London kids! They were really nice, but it sounded like they hadn't done a lot of traveling nor seen much of London itself. Pity, since that's one of my favourite cities.
The four of us left after a bit to head towards the Invisible Children event on Tooley Street at The Bridge. Our only point of direction? "Look for a black door." Thanks, Mike. That's loads of help. I had taken the address, but had no idea how to get there otherwise. It was a street with no number. We ultimately found it--literally underneath the Tube--and it was all decked out in mood lighting and African art. Very cool and very well done. C0ngratulations Molly Gardner and Lizzy Chenerey and anybody else who helped them set up.
[No. 39 of Kingston University]
I made it back to the hostel in time to catch three hours of sleep before jolting awake at 4am to catch our 6am train back to Brussels before our 11am class. Not as rushed or as nerve-wracking as before, but an extra hour of sleep would have been appreciated.
We toured the BBC on Monday. I anticipated something a bit more glamourous than the fairly mundane building that we toured, but I suppose it is only a newsroom. It's the BBC, though. Regardless, the tour was well done and much like NBC's tour in NYC complete with audience participation in mock newsmaking.
Gareth then left us to teach the London internship students about the European Union and the Brussels kids all went to the Musem of Natural History. The building itself was beautiful! And the indoor architecture was as well. The museum was...cute. It was definitely geared towards kids--intelligent kids, though. In my opinion there are some very kid-oriented things in the US, and this was not to that extreme, but it was definitely meant for a younger crowd.
We met back up with Gareth and the London students at a CAPA classroom where we heard a debate between the Labour party and the UK Independent party. While the Independent party gave a much better delivered argument, his facts were wrong. The Labour party was pretty weak. Their debate was about whether or not Britain should remain a part of the European Union. Personal opinion, it should stay. I guess the debate wasn't good enough to sway me one way or the other, though.
And after the debate we headed over to a pub for free food with the London kids! They were really nice, but it sounded like they hadn't done a lot of traveling nor seen much of London itself. Pity, since that's one of my favourite cities.
The four of us left after a bit to head towards the Invisible Children event on Tooley Street at The Bridge. Our only point of direction? "Look for a black door." Thanks, Mike. That's loads of help. I had taken the address, but had no idea how to get there otherwise. It was a street with no number. We ultimately found it--literally underneath the Tube--and it was all decked out in mood lighting and African art. Very cool and very well done. C0ngratulations Molly Gardner and Lizzy Chenerey and anybody else who helped them set up.
[No. 39 of Kingston University]I made it back to the hostel in time to catch three hours of sleep before jolting awake at 4am to catch our 6am train back to Brussels before our 11am class. Not as rushed or as nerve-wracking as before, but an extra hour of sleep would have been appreciated.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
London Day #2
I'm going to have to leave off pictures for this one because the internet's really slow.
After waking up on Sunday morning to wet hair and 12 people snoring (3 had left around 5:30 that morning waking me up with them), I got dressed and went down to breakfast, which was hot and humid as everywhere else in the building. Funny, though, because the rest of London was neither hot nor humid.
Meeting up with everyone else, we all made our way down to the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, first making our way across London Bridge which is not Tower Bridge? Who'da thunk. The view from it was gorgeous, though, so I suppose it was worth it.
We did come across The Monument (actual name)
and a pub called The Walrus and the Carpenter, which made me really, really happy. Finally coming out of the London backroads at the Tower, I gazed in awe at the crumbling fortress.
Tickets were £17.
Totally worth it. I learned about the entire history of the Tower from the time it was build to its current use via the Yeoman-guided tour. He was a funny little man and told his tale quite well. After his tour ended, roughly one hour later, I walked around the inside of the fortress and made my way to the former barracks which have been converted to the tower that holds the crown jewels. I won't say I wasn't impressed, but fine jewelry is much more interesting on a movie screen than in real life. Personal opinion.
Next I went into the White Tower, saw the chapel from which the bishop was drug and then beheaded during the Peasant's Revolt, thereby becoming the first executed victim in the Tower of London. The self-guided tour then wound its way through three or more floors of the White Tower, all completely filled with King Henry VIII's armor collection--personal armor, gifted armor, and armor for every one of his noble steeds. Ridiculous.
Eager to get onto Tower Bridge, I then left to find the others whom I had left at the Starbucks across the street. None of them was willing to pay to see the Tower. Unfortunate, because I thought it was so incredibly interesting.
We met up once more and they claimed their plan of action was to visit Harrod's (one of the largest and most expensive malls in the world, if not the superlative of both) and then make their way to Abbey Road. Having no desire to see expensive shoes and watches and Foosball tables, and having already seen Abbey Road, I opted out and chose instead to cross over Tower Bridge and then start the hunt for the Invisible Children Europe offices on Tooley Street.
Success! They were in what looked to be a little studio loft apartment--in truth, it might have been at one point, but this was just lovely. The Under-18 party was going on when I arrived because they were unable to attend the event the next night due to venue requirements. So I got to meet a few of the diehard IC Europe fans! We watched GO, which they'd never seen before. After a photoshoot, we went to have a picnic on Potters Fields, which was gorgeous weather and really homey. Something nice to do after nonstop traveling.
Mike and I had a really good conversation ranging from toys he wants to buy (saw a passing bicycle with 2 wheels in front and only 1 in back), to where he's going to live in the fall (currently nowhere), to being a Roadie, to cultural differences between Europe and America. I forgot how much I miss that guy. He was always so busy at Mizzou that I think the last time I saw him was our screening on March 17th, and before that probably not since at least December. It was great to catch up with him.
I'd promised to meet back with Lizzi, Nicole, and Brandon at 6pm so we could all go get dinner, so I left Tooley Street and my new IC family just as they were headed back into the offices.
Dinner was great! We found a little pub owned by a Mediterranean-looking man and had some fantastic non-English food. English food truly is as awful as you're told, so stay away from it at all costs. Afterwards, we went back to the hostel, where we dropped off Brandon, and Lizzi, Nicole and I made our way to Carnaby Street to check out the Sunday nightlife in London.
Sundays are typically gay nights at the bars, so we bypassed a particularly boistrous one that had middle-aged men spilling out the door. They started singing just after we'd passed, which made Lizzi nearly turn around to go back. However, we continued on our way looking for someplace to pop in. Mind, it was about 9:45 at this point.
We find Shakespeare's Head not far from the first pub, but much quieter. At 10:30, they rang out for last call. So early! That's the thing about Europe. People seem to enjoy their sleep. Still a bit shocking to us Americans who are used to beginning the night at around 10 or 11...
We finished our last round and went back toward that first pub, which was still singing karaoke obnoxiously, and went inside. No clue why, but now I can say that I've been inside a gay British pub. Cheers!
After waking up on Sunday morning to wet hair and 12 people snoring (3 had left around 5:30 that morning waking me up with them), I got dressed and went down to breakfast, which was hot and humid as everywhere else in the building. Funny, though, because the rest of London was neither hot nor humid.
Meeting up with everyone else, we all made our way down to the Tower of London and Tower Bridge, first making our way across London Bridge which is not Tower Bridge? Who'da thunk. The view from it was gorgeous, though, so I suppose it was worth it.
We did come across The Monument (actual name)
and a pub called The Walrus and the Carpenter, which made me really, really happy. Finally coming out of the London backroads at the Tower, I gazed in awe at the crumbling fortress.
Tickets were £17.Totally worth it. I learned about the entire history of the Tower from the time it was build to its current use via the Yeoman-guided tour. He was a funny little man and told his tale quite well. After his tour ended, roughly one hour later, I walked around the inside of the fortress and made my way to the former barracks which have been converted to the tower that holds the crown jewels. I won't say I wasn't impressed, but fine jewelry is much more interesting on a movie screen than in real life. Personal opinion.
Next I went into the White Tower, saw the chapel from which the bishop was drug and then beheaded during the Peasant's Revolt, thereby becoming the first executed victim in the Tower of London. The self-guided tour then wound its way through three or more floors of the White Tower, all completely filled with King Henry VIII's armor collection--personal armor, gifted armor, and armor for every one of his noble steeds. Ridiculous.
Eager to get onto Tower Bridge, I then left to find the others whom I had left at the Starbucks across the street. None of them was willing to pay to see the Tower. Unfortunate, because I thought it was so incredibly interesting.
We met up once more and they claimed their plan of action was to visit Harrod's (one of the largest and most expensive malls in the world, if not the superlative of both) and then make their way to Abbey Road. Having no desire to see expensive shoes and watches and Foosball tables, and having already seen Abbey Road, I opted out and chose instead to cross over Tower Bridge and then start the hunt for the Invisible Children Europe offices on Tooley Street.
Success! They were in what looked to be a little studio loft apartment--in truth, it might have been at one point, but this was just lovely. The Under-18 party was going on when I arrived because they were unable to attend the event the next night due to venue requirements. So I got to meet a few of the diehard IC Europe fans! We watched GO, which they'd never seen before. After a photoshoot, we went to have a picnic on Potters Fields, which was gorgeous weather and really homey. Something nice to do after nonstop traveling.
Mike and I had a really good conversation ranging from toys he wants to buy (saw a passing bicycle with 2 wheels in front and only 1 in back), to where he's going to live in the fall (currently nowhere), to being a Roadie, to cultural differences between Europe and America. I forgot how much I miss that guy. He was always so busy at Mizzou that I think the last time I saw him was our screening on March 17th, and before that probably not since at least December. It was great to catch up with him.
I'd promised to meet back with Lizzi, Nicole, and Brandon at 6pm so we could all go get dinner, so I left Tooley Street and my new IC family just as they were headed back into the offices.
Dinner was great! We found a little pub owned by a Mediterranean-looking man and had some fantastic non-English food. English food truly is as awful as you're told, so stay away from it at all costs. Afterwards, we went back to the hostel, where we dropped off Brandon, and Lizzi, Nicole and I made our way to Carnaby Street to check out the Sunday nightlife in London.
Sundays are typically gay nights at the bars, so we bypassed a particularly boistrous one that had middle-aged men spilling out the door. They started singing just after we'd passed, which made Lizzi nearly turn around to go back. However, we continued on our way looking for someplace to pop in. Mind, it was about 9:45 at this point.
We find Shakespeare's Head not far from the first pub, but much quieter. At 10:30, they rang out for last call. So early! That's the thing about Europe. People seem to enjoy their sleep. Still a bit shocking to us Americans who are used to beginning the night at around 10 or 11...
We finished our last round and went back toward that first pub, which was still singing karaoke obnoxiously, and went inside. No clue why, but now I can say that I've been inside a gay British pub. Cheers!
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Fish'n'Chips, Mind the Gap, Her Royal Highness, and "A story of more woe"
That's the brief blow-by-blow of our first day in London.
Having finally arrived, Brandon, Nicole and I began walking along the train towards the beautiful exit/entrance to St. Pancras station. After several cars we luckily met up with Lizzi who had just descended the train herself, and the four of us made our way out onto the busy London streets.
We attempted to wander through King's Cross station and find Platform 9 3/4, to no avail. Apparently, you need a ticket to get through that barrier. Being magic isn't enough.
We then set off to find our hostel, taking a slightly wrong turn down one of the streets and finding Café Plaka instead, where we had a lovely lunch before correcting our path. It was an odd mix of people inside, and we couldn't quite tell if they were locals or foreigners or both. London's like that. I suppose most major cities are.
Having dropped our stuff off in lockers at the Clink Hostel--a former courthouse and site of The Clash's famous trial--we mapped out where we would go for the day, beginning with a tube ride directly down to Oxford Circus. We came up from the station and were face to face with the true UK TopShop. Anyone who knows TopShop, I applaud you. Now be jealous that I just wandered through those four levels of expensive entertainment.
We moseyed on down through Regent Street toward Picadilly Circus (a main sightseeing location that I didn't see the last time I was here), which is basically the Times Square of London. I bet if I had stayed in the area longer I could have found a bunch of quirky London-things to do, but we only had 2 days of sightseeing and there's so much more to see! So Picadilly remains a snapshot of a few buildings for me until I come back.
From here we made our way towards Green Park and Buckingham Palace. Just past Picadilly Circus, however, we saw thousands of people marching through the middle of the street holding up signs and shouting. Turns out it was a political demonstration in support of the Sri Lankan Tamils who are being held in concentration camps. It called for their release and British action on their behalf. The line literally stretched for miles and, according to newspapers the next day, was comprised of over 10,000 people. We stopped inside Picadilly Market to just look around and when we came back, they were still marching! Crazy.
The last time I was at the Palace, the gates were crowded with people as we watched the Changing of the Guard, which, by the way, is completely overrated. It would probably be more interesting if it were a less-popular thing to do. I did enjoy seeing the palace itself for a change and the Victoria Monument without dozens of people clambering all over it.
But England is relatively calm when you haven't quite reached peak tourism, you're not traveling in a group of 25, and you're only visiting major sites for short periods of time. We're in what I observe to be a student-tour period. Lots of groups of high school and college aged kids seem to be coming and going in significant-sized groups and most of them from places like Spain, Portugal, Germany, etc. There aren't as many families with kids traveling around London. It makes it rather interesting to have so many people our age walking around because Belgium seems to lack that. At least in the areas where we live and take classes.
Off along St. James Park toward Westminster and the Thames River. Parliament Square was pretty cool. Not only did we see the massive Sri Lanka demonstration walk by again, we were literally in the middle of all the Parliament buildings staring straight up at Big Ben. Very cool feeling.
We walked across the Thames towards the British Museum and the London Eye. Never been in/up either but of the two, only the British Museum interests me. The Eye is way overpriced for a single ferris wheel ride. I'd rather take a helicopter.
From there, we made our way along the Queen's Path toward the Tate Modern, Millennium Bridge, and Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. A lovely walk filled with various street performers and artists, a book sale, and tourists as well as locals.
Nicole really wanted to see Romeo and Juliet at the Globe at 7:30, so we tried to get tickets and found them, not surprisingly, to be sold out. But we waited around for returns after 6pm and at around 6:50 we finally got four standing tickets for £5 apiece! Steal! So we stood during the entire 3-hour performance in the cheapest 'seats' available--the floor. Apparently 700 standing tickets are sold every night, so it was quite cramped, but it was pretty neat to see the show from the poor man's position. Goodness knows Nerinx girls (and their teachers) wouldn't have stood throughout that performance. Glad I can say I did!
It was late by European standards at this point, about 11pm, and we had to get back to our hostel and check in still (we couldn't do it earlier when we dropped our stuff off in the lockers because they don't allow check-in until after 2:30 on the day of). Navigating our way to the tube, we made it back safe and sound, checked in without a hitch, and trudged up to bed. I took a shower that night before bed, didn't quite know what to do with all my stuff, and fell asleep to the sound of rumbling London taxis and my 15 other roommates' heavy breathing.
I woke up the next morning and my hair was still wet. Curse body heat for creating so much humidity on the 5th floor. Although, it was just as bad in the basement when I went down for breakfast.
Having finally arrived, Brandon, Nicole and I began walking along the train towards the beautiful exit/entrance to St. Pancras station. After several cars we luckily met up with Lizzi who had just descended the train herself, and the four of us made our way out onto the busy London streets.
We attempted to wander through King's Cross station and find Platform 9 3/4, to no avail. Apparently, you need a ticket to get through that barrier. Being magic isn't enough.
We then set off to find our hostel, taking a slightly wrong turn down one of the streets and finding Café Plaka instead, where we had a lovely lunch before correcting our path. It was an odd mix of people inside, and we couldn't quite tell if they were locals or foreigners or both. London's like that. I suppose most major cities are.
Having dropped our stuff off in lockers at the Clink Hostel--a former courthouse and site of The Clash's famous trial--we mapped out where we would go for the day, beginning with a tube ride directly down to Oxford Circus. We came up from the station and were face to face with the true UK TopShop. Anyone who knows TopShop, I applaud you. Now be jealous that I just wandered through those four levels of expensive entertainment.
We moseyed on down through Regent Street toward Picadilly Circus (a main sightseeing location that I didn't see the last time I was here), which is basically the Times Square of London. I bet if I had stayed in the area longer I could have found a bunch of quirky London-things to do, but we only had 2 days of sightseeing and there's so much more to see! So Picadilly remains a snapshot of a few buildings for me until I come back.
From here we made our way towards Green Park and Buckingham Palace. Just past Picadilly Circus, however, we saw thousands of people marching through the middle of the street holding up signs and shouting. Turns out it was a political demonstration in support of the Sri Lankan Tamils who are being held in concentration camps. It called for their release and British action on their behalf. The line literally stretched for miles and, according to newspapers the next day, was comprised of over 10,000 people. We stopped inside Picadilly Market to just look around and when we came back, they were still marching! Crazy.
The last time I was at the Palace, the gates were crowded with people as we watched the Changing of the Guard, which, by the way, is completely overrated. It would probably be more interesting if it were a less-popular thing to do. I did enjoy seeing the palace itself for a change and the Victoria Monument without dozens of people clambering all over it.
But England is relatively calm when you haven't quite reached peak tourism, you're not traveling in a group of 25, and you're only visiting major sites for short periods of time. We're in what I observe to be a student-tour period. Lots of groups of high school and college aged kids seem to be coming and going in significant-sized groups and most of them from places like Spain, Portugal, Germany, etc. There aren't as many families with kids traveling around London. It makes it rather interesting to have so many people our age walking around because Belgium seems to lack that. At least in the areas where we live and take classes.
Off along St. James Park toward Westminster and the Thames River. Parliament Square was pretty cool. Not only did we see the massive Sri Lanka demonstration walk by again, we were literally in the middle of all the Parliament buildings staring straight up at Big Ben. Very cool feeling.
We walked across the Thames towards the British Museum and the London Eye. Never been in/up either but of the two, only the British Museum interests me. The Eye is way overpriced for a single ferris wheel ride. I'd rather take a helicopter.
From there, we made our way along the Queen's Path toward the Tate Modern, Millennium Bridge, and Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. A lovely walk filled with various street performers and artists, a book sale, and tourists as well as locals.
Nicole really wanted to see Romeo and Juliet at the Globe at 7:30, so we tried to get tickets and found them, not surprisingly, to be sold out. But we waited around for returns after 6pm and at around 6:50 we finally got four standing tickets for £5 apiece! Steal! So we stood during the entire 3-hour performance in the cheapest 'seats' available--the floor. Apparently 700 standing tickets are sold every night, so it was quite cramped, but it was pretty neat to see the show from the poor man's position. Goodness knows Nerinx girls (and their teachers) wouldn't have stood throughout that performance. Glad I can say I did!
It was late by European standards at this point, about 11pm, and we had to get back to our hostel and check in still (we couldn't do it earlier when we dropped our stuff off in the lockers because they don't allow check-in until after 2:30 on the day of). Navigating our way to the tube, we made it back safe and sound, checked in without a hitch, and trudged up to bed. I took a shower that night before bed, didn't quite know what to do with all my stuff, and fell asleep to the sound of rumbling London taxis and my 15 other roommates' heavy breathing.
I woke up the next morning and my hair was still wet. Curse body heat for creating so much humidity on the 5th floor. Although, it was just as bad in the basement when I went down for breakfast.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
There's No Place Like London
So quoth Sweeney Todd, and I heartily agree! However, I speak with much more affection for the city than does Mister Todd.
This being my first time back in London since my first visit two years ago, I still got starry-eyed getting off the train, still got blown away by the majesty of Buckingham Palace, still reveled in riding the Tube, and still found myself jubilantly excited to visit touristy places like the Tower of London.
But let me back up a few hours. We still had to get ourselves to London.
Now, we've all heard travel horror stories (and many have stories of their own)--deportation, sleeping in the airport for days on end, emergency landings, etc. I can say that I am lucky enough to have had relatively few of these, and none to that scale. The Eurostar train from Bruxelles-Midi to London's St. Pancras was probably the closest I've come to adding a travel terror to my repertoire of "notable life experiences."
We left late from our apartment. The Eurostar website recommended 45 minutes before departure to obtain tickets and run through customs, etc. I decided, being the time stickler that I am, that we should get there an hour early, just in case. Since the train left at 7:59, we were to get there at 7:00. Apparently an hour early is equivalent to 35 minutes? Mmm. In any case, we left the flat 50 minutes before departure and faced a 10 minute bus/metro ride before we even reached the station. The bus was late, the metro slow...not fun. Those 10 minutes turned into 13, and minutes were money.
We finally got to the ticket counter with 35 minutes to go and successfully picked up our 4 tickets. 30 minutes.
Lizzi was sitting first class, having booked later than us and that being cheaper than 2nd class? Okay. So she didn't have to go through check-in and moved right on to customs. However, the rest of us stood in a massive line just to check our tickets. Luckily the queue was moving relatively quickly and we made it to the front in about 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes before the train leaves.
Passport check. Another line. Moves somewhat quickly because there were three checking stations. 10 minutes.
Border control. We were standing in line when a woman came over to us and asked if we had filled out our landing cards yet. What's a landing card?! We head over to the table frantically writing our names, numbers, addresses, etc. Pens weren't working. We didn't know what several things meant, but filled them in anyway. 4 minutes.
Back in line for Border Control. Brandon and Nicole move through ahead of me (Lizzi is already through and on the train at this point). The control guard asked me what I'm doing in London--"touring"--what I want to see--"The Tower"--have I been before--"just once." He then proceeded to start recommending a whole list of places to visit, my heart rate increasing by the millisecond. My train leaves in 2 minutes.
I hurriedly excuse myself and the three of us start sprinting down the station, taking the advice of a passing guard that London train is "just to the left, but you'd better hurry." Heck yes we'd better. These tickets are non-refundable! Worst of all, Lizzi was on the train already with no way of contacting us and no idea where the hostel is or what to do in London once she arrived.
We continue sprinting up a 'gangplank' for lack of a better word and come out onto the quay, leaping onto the first open car. Shuffling through the aisles looking for our proper car and seats, we finally find them and sit down. Time? 7:59. The train starts moving.
*phew*
Disaster narrowly avoided.
This being my first time back in London since my first visit two years ago, I still got starry-eyed getting off the train, still got blown away by the majesty of Buckingham Palace, still reveled in riding the Tube, and still found myself jubilantly excited to visit touristy places like the Tower of London.
But let me back up a few hours. We still had to get ourselves to London.
Now, we've all heard travel horror stories (and many have stories of their own)--deportation, sleeping in the airport for days on end, emergency landings, etc. I can say that I am lucky enough to have had relatively few of these, and none to that scale. The Eurostar train from Bruxelles-Midi to London's St. Pancras was probably the closest I've come to adding a travel terror to my repertoire of "notable life experiences."
We left late from our apartment. The Eurostar website recommended 45 minutes before departure to obtain tickets and run through customs, etc. I decided, being the time stickler that I am, that we should get there an hour early, just in case. Since the train left at 7:59, we were to get there at 7:00. Apparently an hour early is equivalent to 35 minutes? Mmm. In any case, we left the flat 50 minutes before departure and faced a 10 minute bus/metro ride before we even reached the station. The bus was late, the metro slow...not fun. Those 10 minutes turned into 13, and minutes were money.
We finally got to the ticket counter with 35 minutes to go and successfully picked up our 4 tickets. 30 minutes.
Lizzi was sitting first class, having booked later than us and that being cheaper than 2nd class? Okay. So she didn't have to go through check-in and moved right on to customs. However, the rest of us stood in a massive line just to check our tickets. Luckily the queue was moving relatively quickly and we made it to the front in about 15 minutes. Fifteen minutes before the train leaves.
Passport check. Another line. Moves somewhat quickly because there were three checking stations. 10 minutes.
Border control. We were standing in line when a woman came over to us and asked if we had filled out our landing cards yet. What's a landing card?! We head over to the table frantically writing our names, numbers, addresses, etc. Pens weren't working. We didn't know what several things meant, but filled them in anyway. 4 minutes.
Back in line for Border Control. Brandon and Nicole move through ahead of me (Lizzi is already through and on the train at this point). The control guard asked me what I'm doing in London--"touring"--what I want to see--"The Tower"--have I been before--"just once." He then proceeded to start recommending a whole list of places to visit, my heart rate increasing by the millisecond. My train leaves in 2 minutes.
I hurriedly excuse myself and the three of us start sprinting down the station, taking the advice of a passing guard that London train is "just to the left, but you'd better hurry." Heck yes we'd better. These tickets are non-refundable! Worst of all, Lizzi was on the train already with no way of contacting us and no idea where the hostel is or what to do in London once she arrived.
We continue sprinting up a 'gangplank' for lack of a better word and come out onto the quay, leaping onto the first open car. Shuffling through the aisles looking for our proper car and seats, we finally find them and sit down. Time? 7:59. The train starts moving.
*phew*
Disaster narrowly avoided.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Luxembourg
Who takes a spontaneous day trip to a foreign country? I do; I don't know about you. So Friday Gareth canceled class and the four of us randomly took a trip down south to the quaint country of Luxembourg. The train tickets were really expensive but I'm glad I paid for them. The countryside on the train was gorgeous and the city itself, though we'd heard it would be about as boring as Bruges, was not at all. I had a great time just wandering around.
It's a small city, to be sure, and there's a great ravine in the middle of it where there runs a "canal" surrounded on both sides by forest. Very pretty, I must say. Especially when you're looking from the station side toward the palace and cathedral.
Luxembourg is supposedly known for its banks and little else, but we saw very few banks. We have also heard that their chocolate is good, so we went into a little chocolate shop across from the Duke's palace... So not legit. It was German chocolate in a Dutch-owned shop, being sold in Luxembourg? That's worse than anywhere in the world buying Hershey's. I'm sure it was excellent chocolate, as all German chocolate is, but I don't think it was worth experimenting. I had my share of German chocolate last summer.
There was a carnival going on that day (possibly that whole weekend) and some major award ceremony for a small group of people was taking place right in the middle of it. We didn't know this until AFTER the four of us had stood behind the honorees during their photoshoot. Whoops.
We also went inside a fantastic little bookshop. It was 4 or 5 stories of nothing but English, French, and German books. I love being able to read everything in a shop. I could have stayed there much longer, but we did only have the day in the city, after all.
It was a short trip, flecked with wandering in and out of local delis and shops, pictures of the Notre Dame cathedral,
a visit to a tattoo parlor, and I think we saw most of the city that way. I would recommend going to Luxembourg if you're on a hectic trip and need a day to relax but still see new things. Definitely something to try.
[pictures to come when I get back to Brussels; otherwise they're on Facebook already].
It's a small city, to be sure, and there's a great ravine in the middle of it where there runs a "canal" surrounded on both sides by forest. Very pretty, I must say. Especially when you're looking from the station side toward the palace and cathedral.
Luxembourg is supposedly known for its banks and little else, but we saw very few banks. We have also heard that their chocolate is good, so we went into a little chocolate shop across from the Duke's palace... So not legit. It was German chocolate in a Dutch-owned shop, being sold in Luxembourg? That's worse than anywhere in the world buying Hershey's. I'm sure it was excellent chocolate, as all German chocolate is, but I don't think it was worth experimenting. I had my share of German chocolate last summer.
There was a carnival going on that day (possibly that whole weekend) and some major award ceremony for a small group of people was taking place right in the middle of it. We didn't know this until AFTER the four of us had stood behind the honorees during their photoshoot. Whoops.
We also went inside a fantastic little bookshop. It was 4 or 5 stories of nothing but English, French, and German books. I love being able to read everything in a shop. I could have stayed there much longer, but we did only have the day in the city, after all.
It was a short trip, flecked with wandering in and out of local delis and shops, pictures of the Notre Dame cathedral,
a visit to a tattoo parlor, and I think we saw most of the city that way. I would recommend going to Luxembourg if you're on a hectic trip and need a day to relax but still see new things. Definitely something to try.[pictures to come when I get back to Brussels; otherwise they're on Facebook already].
Mini-Update
I'm sitting in a hostel in London right now awaiting the time when I can leave to head over to the BBC for class (gotta love visiting tv stations for class, right?). Unfortunately, I'm on a time constraint here since it's 50p for 15 minutes. And I'm out of coins, meaning after these 15 minutes I can't be on here any longer until I spend money. They're sneaky like that.
But to catch you up, and to fill in details when I get back to Brussels on Tuesday, we've had a crazy weekend.
Friday classes were canceled, so we took a day trip to Luxembourg. Having heard that it's a banking city, not very interesting, and not worth the money, I can now say that I wholeheartedly disagree. I saw very few banks, it was very interesting, and the money....just spend it. When are you going to go to Luxembourg again? Really.
Saturday morning we had an early morning train to London. VERY fun stories there that will just have to wait. I've been touring around (with or without the others) for 2 days now. Class today and then an IC party at The Bridge and we go home tomorrow morning even earlier than on the way here. We have class in Brussels tomorrow, so we have to get back, unfortunately. I love this city and forgot just how much so until I got here again.
I'll tell stories tomorrow night or early Wednesday!
But to catch you up, and to fill in details when I get back to Brussels on Tuesday, we've had a crazy weekend.
Friday classes were canceled, so we took a day trip to Luxembourg. Having heard that it's a banking city, not very interesting, and not worth the money, I can now say that I wholeheartedly disagree. I saw very few banks, it was very interesting, and the money....just spend it. When are you going to go to Luxembourg again? Really.
Saturday morning we had an early morning train to London. VERY fun stories there that will just have to wait. I've been touring around (with or without the others) for 2 days now. Class today and then an IC party at The Bridge and we go home tomorrow morning even earlier than on the way here. We have class in Brussels tomorrow, so we have to get back, unfortunately. I love this city and forgot just how much so until I got here again.
I'll tell stories tomorrow night or early Wednesday!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Just another Sunny Day. In Bruges
That would normally be a sarcastic comment about the bipolar weather that rivals even Saint Louis' conundrum of elements, but recently the rain has been good to us!
Yesterday we went to Bruges after having class at Café Belga in Place Flagey. For those who have seen the movie In Bruges, they will probably appreciate the old-town beauty of the city. I do not count myself in that number, so I can only attest to its real-life fairy tale appearance.
Apparently in that film, the main character talks about how boring Bruges is. I couldn't agree more.
It was a gorgeous town! Don't get me wrong. But there is nothing to do for a small band of college-age kids looking for a good time. We spend a good deal of our few hours there sitting along a canal and observing the tourists in the canal boats. There was even a Dutch boy in suspenders in one of the apartment windows--so cute.
But all said and done, I'll probably never go back to Bruges. Quaint and pleasantly run-down as it may be, it holds little interest for me. To be honest, the place seemed a bit fake.
Dinner last night was Moroccan chicken and couscous--only my second time ever eating it and my first time making it. Definitely an experience, and I'm so ready to make it all the time in the States!
It was an early night for all of us, and we got up ready for class at the BelVue Museum today. That was certainly one of the prettiest buildings we've been in thus far! It's located directly next to the Royal Palace. In fact, we had lunch in a courtyard off to the side of the museum and we could literally have walked into the King's Garden if not for the iron gate (but only an iron gate) separating us. Gareth commented on how in Britain there would be barbed wire and guards posted all around that gate. If you ever come to Brussels, I highly recommend this museum and the Green Kitchen for lunch.
It was a museum of Belgian history. It told the story mostly from Belgium's independence in the mid-19th century onward, as well as a really cool time-lapse map at the beginning that displayed all the changes in European rule since the year AD 1000. I meant to film this but completely forgot. Guess I'll have to go back someday.
Apart from having lots of information and royal families' personal effects, there was a separate museum that was a self guided walk through what most people would consider a dungeon or series of catacombs. In fact, however, it is the remains of a previous Royal palace, side street, and hotel all of which were destroyed in a 1731 fire. There is active excavation still going on, so we were literally walking amidst and atop an archaeological dig. The rooms are large, open, and empty, but the signs posted around informed you "you are standing in..." My favorite was Isabella Street. Reading the sign, to my left was the royal palace, and to my right was the Hoogstraat Hotel. Very interesting sensation.
And the best part of touring the Coudenberg (the former palace) was being able to hear the cars and busses passing by overhead.
After class we took a stroll through the royal parks where it seems all the locals hang out.
Then we went to northward to Botanique and took a walk through the botanical gardens of Brussels. They were so pretty, and we were enjoying the sun so much, that we stayed on the lawn for several hours just soaking it all in. An Eden in the middle of a busy city.
Tired and hungry, we all came home and Nicole, Brandon and I went grocery shopping. We found Aldi!! The reason we couldn't find it before was because it's called Lidl here. How in the world would I have known that Lidl tranlates to Aldi? Regardless, we got all the food we've been waiting for--jelly, peanut butter, vegetables, sliced bread. Life is good.
Yesterday we went to Bruges after having class at Café Belga in Place Flagey. For those who have seen the movie In Bruges, they will probably appreciate the old-town beauty of the city. I do not count myself in that number, so I can only attest to its real-life fairy tale appearance.
Apparently in that film, the main character talks about how boring Bruges is. I couldn't agree more.
It was a gorgeous town! Don't get me wrong. But there is nothing to do for a small band of college-age kids looking for a good time. We spend a good deal of our few hours there sitting along a canal and observing the tourists in the canal boats. There was even a Dutch boy in suspenders in one of the apartment windows--so cute.
But all said and done, I'll probably never go back to Bruges. Quaint and pleasantly run-down as it may be, it holds little interest for me. To be honest, the place seemed a bit fake.
Dinner last night was Moroccan chicken and couscous--only my second time ever eating it and my first time making it. Definitely an experience, and I'm so ready to make it all the time in the States!
It was an early night for all of us, and we got up ready for class at the BelVue Museum today. That was certainly one of the prettiest buildings we've been in thus far! It's located directly next to the Royal Palace. In fact, we had lunch in a courtyard off to the side of the museum and we could literally have walked into the King's Garden if not for the iron gate (but only an iron gate) separating us. Gareth commented on how in Britain there would be barbed wire and guards posted all around that gate. If you ever come to Brussels, I highly recommend this museum and the Green Kitchen for lunch.
It was a museum of Belgian history. It told the story mostly from Belgium's independence in the mid-19th century onward, as well as a really cool time-lapse map at the beginning that displayed all the changes in European rule since the year AD 1000. I meant to film this but completely forgot. Guess I'll have to go back someday.
Apart from having lots of information and royal families' personal effects, there was a separate museum that was a self guided walk through what most people would consider a dungeon or series of catacombs. In fact, however, it is the remains of a previous Royal palace, side street, and hotel all of which were destroyed in a 1731 fire. There is active excavation still going on, so we were literally walking amidst and atop an archaeological dig. The rooms are large, open, and empty, but the signs posted around informed you "you are standing in..." My favorite was Isabella Street. Reading the sign, to my left was the royal palace, and to my right was the Hoogstraat Hotel. Very interesting sensation.
And the best part of touring the Coudenberg (the former palace) was being able to hear the cars and busses passing by overhead.
After class we took a stroll through the royal parks where it seems all the locals hang out.
Then we went to northward to Botanique and took a walk through the botanical gardens of Brussels. They were so pretty, and we were enjoying the sun so much, that we stayed on the lawn for several hours just soaking it all in. An Eden in the middle of a busy city.
Tired and hungry, we all came home and Nicole, Brandon and I went grocery shopping. We found Aldi!! The reason we couldn't find it before was because it's called Lidl here. How in the world would I have known that Lidl tranlates to Aldi? Regardless, we got all the food we've been waiting for--jelly, peanut butter, vegetables, sliced bread. Life is good.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
North Atlantic Treaty Organization
NATO is not nearly as interesting as you'd think. If I thought the EU was less-than-exciting, NATO certainly beat out the EU by a long shot.
We met a little before 9am to catch the bus out of town to the NATO headquarters. Pulling up just outside, we were greeted by a giant building of concrete in the distance surrounded by a wrought-iron fence topped with barbed wire. Not exactly the most welcoming of institutions.
It took us a full 10 minutes to get through security; most of that was waiting outside the gate aimlessly. We needed our physical passports just to have our names checked, we weren't allowed cameras (except intern Jim, who was allowed his camera thanks to his handy dandy press pass), phones, etc. We passed through a metal detector and retrieved our bags sans the above listed items. While that doesn't seem to have taken long, there were 12 of us total and the guards spoke limited English...and the people at the front of the line were unfortunately those who hadn't been to NATO before.
Regardless, we made it inside only to be met by a flustered woman and a tall American man who both looked a bit surprised to see us. The woman muttered something about going to call security again and left. The man, however, explained that due to some miscommunication on his part, he hadn't expected us until that afternoon and our second speaker (after himself) was booked for the afternoon, not the morning. Nevertheless, he showed us to our room where we joined a group of students on a month-long whirlwind European study abroad trip from Bloomsburg University of Pennsylvania and from James Madison University in Virginia.
They "offered" us coffee--which means they offered us directions to their cafeteria where we could buy our own--and seven or eight of our group took full advantage of the cheap espresso to sit around and talk about all sorts of things. After a good 15 minutes, however, we realized we probably should have headed back to the room a while before. Rushing into the room and disturbing the first slide of the presentation, thereby missing his name as well, we hurriedly grabbed notepads and pens to learn about...well, everything you learned about NATO in high school, really.
I'm not trying to condemn the organization by any means. Parts of it are quite impressive and politically, I understand a lot of why it acts the way it does. Twenty-eight member states coming to unanimous consensus can't be easy, and the way former ambassadors et al. have infiltrated the US Department of Defense to provide firsthand NATO opinion on defense matters is brilliant. I learned that the Italians are the best police force and train new forces the world over. German and Polish troops in Afghanistan prevent equal numbers of American troops to be filling their places. It's an intricately organized system and I'm actually surprised by how well it does work. Oh, and that giant conference room where NATO hosts its summit and all the members sit at a round table to discuss world issues? You're not allowed in, even when it's empty. In fact, most staff aren't even allowed in. But you're allowed to look at pictures...
We waited around for half an hour [did you know NATO offers free outgoing calls to anywhere in the world?] for our second speaker to show up. Turns out we didn't get a replacement, the original second speaker drove in for us. I really liked him, too.
He's an assistant to the Secretary General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer from the Netherlands. American himself, he grew up in southern Illinois and is a Cardinals fan. Why did I include that? No idea, really. I greatly dislike baseball. Touch of the US in a concrete building with barbed wire fences, I suppose. And the only reasong I keep referring to him as "he" is because the most I know about him is his first name is Paul.
He was very knowledgeable and very casual--much like the rest of Belgium. It seemed as though he was quite used to talking to groups of people, which I'm sure he is, and to youth in particular, which may not actually be the case.
I reiterate, NATO was supremely unimpressive. I expected it to be much more along the lines of the European Union in the way of design (though probably confined to one or two main buildings) and certainly more interesting. Maybe I'm just fascinated by European affairs more than I am about the fact that the US spends a ridiculous percentage of its GDP on military and defense, which is why we have the best army in the world. That's what I learned from NATO. The US has a fantastic military and that's why they're in charge of the non-member operations throughout the world. Practical, but not something I'd like to be known for.
Oh and that rule about no cameras allowed? Somehow the Bloomsburg/JMadison kids' professor had brought one in (no idea how. HE didn't have a nifty press pass...). Jim decided it was a good time to get a group picture of all the Mizzou kids in front of the NATO wall/banner. If I get a copy of that picture, I'll add it here.
We got on the bus (after losing Tom the Australian intern, who in turn had lost his watch. Turns out the security guards had placed it in his bag so it wouldn't get lost and didn't tell him. Therefore he had it on him the entire time) to return to Place Schuman, where Nicole and Brandon and I then headed out to Tevuren to see la Musée Royale d'Afrique Centrale. I had been told it was a museum that contained all the items plundered from the Congo while Belgium was in its colonial frenzy under the rule of King Léopold II.
Well, the museum wasn't exactly filled with gold and diamonds and the like; that business was stationed in Antwerp/Anvers--interesting place for a diamond capitol in a country that has no mines of its own. This was truly a museum of Congolese, Rwandan, Burundian, etc. artifacts. Traditional items like spears and masks as well as artistic ones. Furthermore, since Belgium sent its explorers down to chart out and document the Kongo, which spread across the entirety of central Africa, there were entire galleries devoted to the African wildlife, some of which I got a huge kick out of, and more of which I'd never heard of before. Surprising!
Having literally just finished The Poisonwood Bible last night, I was so ready for this museum. I can chant back the history of the Congo, the overthrow of power, the succession of rulers, religious items like the nkisi, and a lot more. Interestingly enough, as much as I love Google, I'd never gone to look up a picture of Patrice Lumumba, the original leader of independent Congo in 1960.
Best part of the display? The gray squirrel. Dad, that's for you.
I finished my tour of the museum and went out to the absolutely gorgeous grounds. The museum had a lot of land, something I want to look into. The entire place looks like a former private residence. It had finally reached that 70 degree high, with partial-sunlight (the best you can hope for in grisly Brussels) and so a short walk around the central pond was all I could really afford, plus I had no idea what time it was and probably needed to get home.
I got back to the room hours after Brandon and Nicole left the museum because I was reading absolutely everything. Eighty percent of the signs were only in French and Dutch, so it was a lot of translating, meaning neither of them were able to glean much from the signs. So they wrapped things up a lot quicker than I did.
It's difficult to say how much I learned from this museum. It was a lot to take in and I'd highly recommend it to anyone interested in Central Africa or Belgian history. Monday in class I asked Stijn what the Belgians thought of Léopold II (who was essentially solely responsible for mass genocide and/or mutilations of the Congolese; war crimes by todays standards). There are statues of this king all over town; streets, parks, and squares named after him; references to him in newspapers and books; and, while not revered, a respectful attitude toward him at all times. For me, that's something I wouldn't be able to reconcile. Apparently the Belgians just don't care, as with everything else. He was hugely controversial during and shortly after his rule and again when Hochschild published his book King Leopold's Ghosts recently, but the clamor dies down in this country rather quickly. People like to resume their normal lives.
Riding the tram back to the metro station, I decided what that experience is like. It's exactly like riding the Screamin' Eagle at Six Flags St. Louis .... at 1/3 the speed. Everything is bumpy and you can just feel the rusted tracks beneath you. The tram screeches to a halt at each stop and groans when people get on and off. Someone needs to look into some serious maintenance. Otherwise the ride was really pleasant. The tracks take you both on some major roads, along side streets, and through forested areas where you can't see any sign of civilization even if you're squinting to catch a glimpse through the leaves.
Summary of today: NATO is severely unsatisfying; the African Museum is a must-see, but don't expect riches and wealth while there--Africa has a different kind of wealth; Brussels needs tram-work, but every city should have convenient public transportation. I'm looking at you, St. Louis.
We met a little before 9am to catch the bus out of town to the NATO headquarters. Pulling up just outside, we were greeted by a giant building of concrete in the distance surrounded by a wrought-iron fence topped with barbed wire. Not exactly the most welcoming of institutions.
It took us a full 10 minutes to get through security; most of that was waiting outside the gate aimlessly. We needed our physical passports just to have our names checked, we weren't allowed cameras (except intern Jim, who was allowed his camera thanks to his handy dandy press pass), phones, etc. We passed through a metal detector and retrieved our bags sans the above listed items. While that doesn't seem to have taken long, there were 12 of us total and the guards spoke limited English...and the people at the front of the line were unfortunately those who hadn't been to NATO before.
Regardless, we made it inside only to be met by a flustered woman and a tall American man who both looked a bit surprised to see us. The woman muttered something about going to call security again and left. The man, however, explained that due to some miscommunication on his part, he hadn't expected us until that afternoon and our second speaker (after himself) was booked for the afternoon, not the morning. Nevertheless, he showed us to our room where we joined a group of students on a month-long whirlwind European study abroad trip from Bloomsburg University of Pennsylvania and from James Madison University in Virginia.
They "offered" us coffee--which means they offered us directions to their cafeteria where we could buy our own--and seven or eight of our group took full advantage of the cheap espresso to sit around and talk about all sorts of things. After a good 15 minutes, however, we realized we probably should have headed back to the room a while before. Rushing into the room and disturbing the first slide of the presentation, thereby missing his name as well, we hurriedly grabbed notepads and pens to learn about...well, everything you learned about NATO in high school, really.
I'm not trying to condemn the organization by any means. Parts of it are quite impressive and politically, I understand a lot of why it acts the way it does. Twenty-eight member states coming to unanimous consensus can't be easy, and the way former ambassadors et al. have infiltrated the US Department of Defense to provide firsthand NATO opinion on defense matters is brilliant. I learned that the Italians are the best police force and train new forces the world over. German and Polish troops in Afghanistan prevent equal numbers of American troops to be filling their places. It's an intricately organized system and I'm actually surprised by how well it does work. Oh, and that giant conference room where NATO hosts its summit and all the members sit at a round table to discuss world issues? You're not allowed in, even when it's empty. In fact, most staff aren't even allowed in. But you're allowed to look at pictures...
We waited around for half an hour [did you know NATO offers free outgoing calls to anywhere in the world?] for our second speaker to show up. Turns out we didn't get a replacement, the original second speaker drove in for us. I really liked him, too.
He's an assistant to the Secretary General Jaap de Hoop Scheffer from the Netherlands. American himself, he grew up in southern Illinois and is a Cardinals fan. Why did I include that? No idea, really. I greatly dislike baseball. Touch of the US in a concrete building with barbed wire fences, I suppose. And the only reasong I keep referring to him as "he" is because the most I know about him is his first name is Paul.
He was very knowledgeable and very casual--much like the rest of Belgium. It seemed as though he was quite used to talking to groups of people, which I'm sure he is, and to youth in particular, which may not actually be the case.
I reiterate, NATO was supremely unimpressive. I expected it to be much more along the lines of the European Union in the way of design (though probably confined to one or two main buildings) and certainly more interesting. Maybe I'm just fascinated by European affairs more than I am about the fact that the US spends a ridiculous percentage of its GDP on military and defense, which is why we have the best army in the world. That's what I learned from NATO. The US has a fantastic military and that's why they're in charge of the non-member operations throughout the world. Practical, but not something I'd like to be known for.
Oh and that rule about no cameras allowed? Somehow the Bloomsburg/JMadison kids' professor had brought one in (no idea how. HE didn't have a nifty press pass...). Jim decided it was a good time to get a group picture of all the Mizzou kids in front of the NATO wall/banner. If I get a copy of that picture, I'll add it here.
We got on the bus (after losing Tom the Australian intern, who in turn had lost his watch. Turns out the security guards had placed it in his bag so it wouldn't get lost and didn't tell him. Therefore he had it on him the entire time) to return to Place Schuman, where Nicole and Brandon and I then headed out to Tevuren to see la Musée Royale d'Afrique Centrale. I had been told it was a museum that contained all the items plundered from the Congo while Belgium was in its colonial frenzy under the rule of King Léopold II.
Well, the museum wasn't exactly filled with gold and diamonds and the like; that business was stationed in Antwerp/Anvers--interesting place for a diamond capitol in a country that has no mines of its own. This was truly a museum of Congolese, Rwandan, Burundian, etc. artifacts. Traditional items like spears and masks as well as artistic ones. Furthermore, since Belgium sent its explorers down to chart out and document the Kongo, which spread across the entirety of central Africa, there were entire galleries devoted to the African wildlife, some of which I got a huge kick out of, and more of which I'd never heard of before. Surprising!
Having literally just finished The Poisonwood Bible last night, I was so ready for this museum. I can chant back the history of the Congo, the overthrow of power, the succession of rulers, religious items like the nkisi, and a lot more. Interestingly enough, as much as I love Google, I'd never gone to look up a picture of Patrice Lumumba, the original leader of independent Congo in 1960.
Best part of the display? The gray squirrel. Dad, that's for you.
I finished my tour of the museum and went out to the absolutely gorgeous grounds. The museum had a lot of land, something I want to look into. The entire place looks like a former private residence. It had finally reached that 70 degree high, with partial-sunlight (the best you can hope for in grisly Brussels) and so a short walk around the central pond was all I could really afford, plus I had no idea what time it was and probably needed to get home.
I got back to the room hours after Brandon and Nicole left the museum because I was reading absolutely everything. Eighty percent of the signs were only in French and Dutch, so it was a lot of translating, meaning neither of them were able to glean much from the signs. So they wrapped things up a lot quicker than I did.
It's difficult to say how much I learned from this museum. It was a lot to take in and I'd highly recommend it to anyone interested in Central Africa or Belgian history. Monday in class I asked Stijn what the Belgians thought of Léopold II (who was essentially solely responsible for mass genocide and/or mutilations of the Congolese; war crimes by todays standards). There are statues of this king all over town; streets, parks, and squares named after him; references to him in newspapers and books; and, while not revered, a respectful attitude toward him at all times. For me, that's something I wouldn't be able to reconcile. Apparently the Belgians just don't care, as with everything else. He was hugely controversial during and shortly after his rule and again when Hochschild published his book King Leopold's Ghosts recently, but the clamor dies down in this country rather quickly. People like to resume their normal lives.
Riding the tram back to the metro station, I decided what that experience is like. It's exactly like riding the Screamin' Eagle at Six Flags St. Louis .... at 1/3 the speed. Everything is bumpy and you can just feel the rusted tracks beneath you. The tram screeches to a halt at each stop and groans when people get on and off. Someone needs to look into some serious maintenance. Otherwise the ride was really pleasant. The tracks take you both on some major roads, along side streets, and through forested areas where you can't see any sign of civilization even if you're squinting to catch a glimpse through the leaves.
Summary of today: NATO is severely unsatisfying; the African Museum is a must-see, but don't expect riches and wealth while there--Africa has a different kind of wealth; Brussels needs tram-work, but every city should have convenient public transportation. I'm looking at you, St. Louis.
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