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London... it's not the city of love, light or any of that stuff but my first trip across the channel (thank you Ryanair and your cheap tickets!) was wonderful! I met up with Anna again, who has become quite the Londoner herself living and working among the masses and being proficient in tube navigation. it was so fun getting to meet all the people she's living with and hearing about her amazing job at Westminster Archives.
needless to say there are a million and a half things to see and do in London and my expert guide and I did almost a million of them, trekking halfway across the city (I know we clocked in at at least 6 miles of walking on Sunday alone) to make it to the Victoria and Albert Museum, Big Ben and Parliament, Regents Street, Liberty of London (I'm so in love with this store it's ridiculous!), Tate Modern, National Gallery, Olympia Antiques Fair, Notting Hill and the Queen's birthday parade!
word to the wise - if you're ever in London for the queen's parade, don't bother going early because you won't be able to see anything. give it an hour or so until she comes back down the road after ceremonial procedures and you can have a front row view:
Queenie looking so chipper in her blue (way to call it, Anna!) at 81. her birthday's really in April, but due to terrible British weather conditions she has consistently celebrated on the 2nd Saturday in June.
the princes and Camilla Parker Bowles (who I will claim no relation to once Wills and I are married). whoever let that woman out of the palace in that hat really needs to be shot. I mean, honestly...
such antiquated pomp and circumstance all for one woman, and you have to wonder if she actually really enjoys it all. it's definitely a sight with all the horses, soldiers and formal tradition about it. part of me was in awe of all the show while another side of me was so confused as to what year it was. do heads of state really ride in open carriages in 2008?
This weekend was a whirlwind of pavement-pounding and sightseeing as the family and Anna Stokes and I blasted through Paris in a little over 36 hours. We in with a plan of attack and tickets already in hand for the Musee d'Orsay and Versailles.
The Orsay is possibly one of my favorite museums in Paris and even two trips later there are still rooms upon rooms of things I still haven't seen, partly due to the large collection and partly due to the vast number of people that swarm the building day in and day out.
For all the amazing paintings and sculptures that are housed there, I'm sure there are two times as many tourists with their cameras, audio guides, fanny packs and children (yes, loads of children who really aren't going to remember seeing Monet's water lilies or even the Eiffel Tower for that matter). The crowds seemed lighter than we had expected - but still far too many people by my estimation. What I wouldn't have paid to have the museum to myself (a la From the Mixed up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler - anyone read that as a kid?) and an entire day just to amble through it without being shoved or worried that I was standing in the middle of someone's picture. a complete impossibility, I know. but honestly, I didn't go to see an unsmiling Asian man standing in front of Caillebot's Floor Planers. And then I have to wonder - are they really there because they appreciate it all or are they there simply to pose
in front of the famous works and tell their friends they've been there, done that?
Granted, Paris is a big city with a lot of history and attraction to it - I completely understand. But there's something about hearing very little French in the capital of France that disturbs me... maybe it's partly that I've become an elitist sequestered away in my little townwhere there are no tourists and English is hard to come by. But there is something to be said for tour buses, guides indiscriminately waving umbrellas in crowded areas and groups of 40+ people causing traffic jams in rooms at Versailles. Obviously the whole thing is inevitable, and I'm part of the problem! and yes, I do try to convince myself that I blend in like a local, which I'm sure is far from truth.
I think the root of my problem with millions of tourists descending on a place like Paris is the fact that you then don't feel like you've gone anywhere. When waiters and waitresses immediately answer you in English, it seems like you might as well be in New York City ... so while I can moan and groan all I want, I do know I'm part of the group I love to hate, and there's really no changing that. So really, I guess my only plea is - for the love of God, please don't wear fanny packs!
side note: I'll soon be moving into the petit hameau de Marie Antoinette at Versailles... please forward all notes to Marieville.
Queenie looking so chipper in her blue (way to call it, Anna!) at 81. her birthday's really in April, but due to terrible British weather conditions she has consistently celebrated on the 2nd Saturday in June.
