SP:
I'll say this for Americans - we understand the fine art of standing together in close quarters. Perhaps it's our rugged sense of individualism, or the "There's plenty of space here for everyone, now get the f*$% off my land" gene, but when we stand together, everyone has a little elbow room.
Americans and their fondness for personal space rapidly became the topic of conversation as Anna and I waited to see the Changing of the Guard. Anticipating a large crowd, Anna and I arrived at 10 am for an 11:30 am event. Now we were stuck wondering why the people whose sole purpose in life currently seemed to be the attempted merging of our bodies so they could see the Guards didn't think to do the same thing.
The morning started out pleasantly enough. Yes, we got up early. But none of our roommates had stolen anything during the night, we slept well enough, and I had a Magnum Bar (hi, Reeva!) for breakfast. Ice cream, the breakfast of champions! A small group of like- minded tourists had gathered along the rail to Buckingham Palace, awaiting the promised event with relative calm. I'm not going to imply anything, but most of the like-minded tourists were also American.
Around 11:15, the small group turning into A Major Crowd. My God, you'd think the Queen herself was going to appear. At 11:30 on the dot (man, those military men are punctual...), the ceremonies got underway. The New Guard and the Old Guard both lined up, and both got to present the crowd with their bands. The Old Guard favored the rabble with movie themes, including "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly." I kid you not. Around this time, Anna and I had our cultural revelation. To Anna's right, there were a few American tourists. Albeit tight, she nonetheless had some room to breath. Between us was a French lady (Anna says she was French, but I couldn't verify) who didn't seem to understand that the railing was a physical barrier and no amount of pushing would get us through to the other side. Over my left side was a mother who seemed fine using me as a platform for her kid. It got better. Said mother then elbowed me out of the way saying "Please, please, my child wants to see." Now, this I understand. If kids aren't entertained, they get noisy, rambunctious, and annoying. I'll let the kid through. However, that does NOT mean that Mom, Dad, and Granny get to tag along too. You came late, you stand in the back. Those are the rules. By this time, New Guard Band started up. The song was quickly, and increduously, identified as James Blunt's "You're Beautiful." AAAHHH!!!! I thought we dumped that song a year ago! WTF? Come on Guard, do you really have nothing else?
Post concert, the Old Guards and the tourists trouped out. Anna and I decided the British Museum would provide a few hours of entertainment. Besides, I really wanted to see Ginger, resident mummy so named because he's somewhat ginger in color. And I mean the pinkish root, not the flaming red color associated with hair. Of course, no trip to the British Museum would be complete without a stop to see the Elgin Marbles, otherwise known as "The Stolen Pieces of the Parthenon." Stay tuned for the fun we have in store with the pictures and video we took of the Marbles. We did find Ginger (success!), but the true treasure of the day was a painting depicting some battle between the Ethiopians and an invading Italian army. The Ethiopians, vastly outarmed by the Italians, are mostly using sticks and old muskets, with the notable exception of the Virgin Mary. She's packing. A pistol. I have the picture.
AW:
So, we still did not manage to find the TARDIS, ARC, or an entrance to Hogwarts. We were well on our way to Platform 9 3\4 at King's Cross Station only to discover you had to buy a ticket in order to get into the train station. We decided to be cheapskates and not buy tickets but bitch about it instead. The English Tourism Board really needs to get its act together...Charge people for a ticket to Platform 9 3\4 at King's Cross Station (we looked, this was not an option), place a TARDIS someplace in London and charge for pictures, an entrance to ARC, really, very disappointing.
Okay so enough about the failings of the English Tourism Board...we're on our way to Paris! So we find our seats on the train, the very long train, of which our car is the second to last. We had walked halfway to Paris by the time we got on the train. We sit down, get situated, pull out our snacks, iPods, and books and are ready to go. We look to the left and our hearts deflated...the two women across the aisle had trumped our snacks... by bringing wine in plastic cups, with aluminium foil lids.
We had somehow missed these at the grocery store. We were intrigued, and staring...luckily, the women weren't that creeped out once we explained our fascination. We even took pictures so we could start a new trend at home. What is wrong with the U.S.? How have we missed this trend? It solves all of the open bottle laws in a multitude of states. We could sell them at 7-11! Classy!
Okay, after waxing poetic over the cup 'o wine to-go, rather longer than was necessary, we decided we would admire the countryside on the way to Paris. We're still guessing that both of us fell asleep as the next thing we know we were pulling into Paris (we're both basing this on the fact that we had skipped a number of songs on our iPods with no recollection of fast forwarding through them). As we got off the train, we looked for the ticket office so we could book our Eurail reservations for our trips in Italy, easier said than done. We went to 3, count them, 3 different ticket desks before we finally found the one desk in the entire railway station that could assist us. After a long 30 minutes, with several reservations in hand, we made our way to the Metro to go to our hostel, Absolute Paris close to Place de la Republique. We unceremoniously dumped our crap and went scouting for dinner. After reviewing the menus of numerous restaurants that were out to bankrupt us we found this amazing little Italian restaurant, Pizzaria Renato (41, boulevard du Temple, 75003, Paris, on the Place de la Republique).
This place has absolutely exceptional food, drink, dessert, staff, everything. We highly recommend that you visit this place on your next trip to Paris (we visited several times...is it bad if the owner recognizes you in a number of days and knows what you will order?) After our highly fulfilling dinner with the amazing chocolate cake with fresh strawberries as the final stamp on our dedication to this place we were off to bed.
I'll say this for Americans - we understand the fine art of standing together in close quarters. Perhaps it's our rugged sense of individualism, or the "There's plenty of space here for everyone, now get the f*$% off my land" gene, but when we stand together, everyone has a little elbow room.
Americans and their fondness for personal space rapidly became the topic of conversation as Anna and I waited to see the Changing of the Guard. Anticipating a large crowd, Anna and I arrived at 10 am for an 11:30 am event. Now we were stuck wondering why the people whose sole purpose in life currently seemed to be the attempted merging of our bodies so they could see the Guards didn't think to do the same thing.
The morning started out pleasantly enough. Yes, we got up early. But none of our roommates had stolen anything during the night, we slept well enough, and I had a Magnum Bar (hi, Reeva!) for breakfast. Ice cream, the breakfast of champions! A small group of like- minded tourists had gathered along the rail to Buckingham Palace, awaiting the promised event with relative calm. I'm not going to imply anything, but most of the like-minded tourists were also American.
Around 11:15, the small group turning into A Major Crowd. My God, you'd think the Queen herself was going to appear. At 11:30 on the dot (man, those military men are punctual...), the ceremonies got underway. The New Guard and the Old Guard both lined up, and both got to present the crowd with their bands. The Old Guard favored the rabble with movie themes, including "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly." I kid you not. Around this time, Anna and I had our cultural revelation. To Anna's right, there were a few American tourists. Albeit tight, she nonetheless had some room to breath. Between us was a French lady (Anna says she was French, but I couldn't verify) who didn't seem to understand that the railing was a physical barrier and no amount of pushing would get us through to the other side. Over my left side was a mother who seemed fine using me as a platform for her kid. It got better. Said mother then elbowed me out of the way saying "Please, please, my child wants to see." Now, this I understand. If kids aren't entertained, they get noisy, rambunctious, and annoying. I'll let the kid through. However, that does NOT mean that Mom, Dad, and Granny get to tag along too. You came late, you stand in the back. Those are the rules. By this time, New Guard Band started up. The song was quickly, and increduously, identified as James Blunt's "You're Beautiful." AAAHHH!!!! I thought we dumped that song a year ago! WTF? Come on Guard, do you really have nothing else?
Post concert, the Old Guards and the tourists trouped out. Anna and I decided the British Museum would provide a few hours of entertainment. Besides, I really wanted to see Ginger, resident mummy so named because he's somewhat ginger in color. And I mean the pinkish root, not the flaming red color associated with hair. Of course, no trip to the British Museum would be complete without a stop to see the Elgin Marbles, otherwise known as "The Stolen Pieces of the Parthenon." Stay tuned for the fun we have in store with the pictures and video we took of the Marbles. We did find Ginger (success!), but the true treasure of the day was a painting depicting some battle between the Ethiopians and an invading Italian army. The Ethiopians, vastly outarmed by the Italians, are mostly using sticks and old muskets, with the notable exception of the Virgin Mary. She's packing. A pistol. I have the picture.AW:
So, we still did not manage to find the TARDIS, ARC, or an entrance to Hogwarts. We were well on our way to Platform 9 3\4 at King's Cross Station only to discover you had to buy a ticket in order to get into the train station. We decided to be cheapskates and not buy tickets but bitch about it instead. The English Tourism Board really needs to get its act together...Charge people for a ticket to Platform 9 3\4 at King's Cross Station (we looked, this was not an option), place a TARDIS someplace in London and charge for pictures, an entrance to ARC, really, very disappointing.
Okay so enough about the failings of the English Tourism Board...we're on our way to Paris! So we find our seats on the train, the very long train, of which our car is the second to last. We had walked halfway to Paris by the time we got on the train. We sit down, get situated, pull out our snacks, iPods, and books and are ready to go. We look to the left and our hearts deflated...the two women across the aisle had trumped our snacks... by bringing wine in plastic cups, with aluminium foil lids.
We had somehow missed these at the grocery store. We were intrigued, and staring...luckily, the women weren't that creeped out once we explained our fascination. We even took pictures so we could start a new trend at home. What is wrong with the U.S.? How have we missed this trend? It solves all of the open bottle laws in a multitude of states. We could sell them at 7-11! Classy! Okay, after waxing poetic over the cup 'o wine to-go, rather longer than was necessary, we decided we would admire the countryside on the way to Paris. We're still guessing that both of us fell asleep as the next thing we know we were pulling into Paris (we're both basing this on the fact that we had skipped a number of songs on our iPods with no recollection of fast forwarding through them). As we got off the train, we looked for the ticket office so we could book our Eurail reservations for our trips in Italy, easier said than done. We went to 3, count them, 3 different ticket desks before we finally found the one desk in the entire railway station that could assist us. After a long 30 minutes, with several reservations in hand, we made our way to the Metro to go to our hostel, Absolute Paris close to Place de la Republique. We unceremoniously dumped our crap and went scouting for dinner. After reviewing the menus of numerous restaurants that were out to bankrupt us we found this amazing little Italian restaurant, Pizzaria Renato (41, boulevard du Temple, 75003, Paris, on the Place de la Republique).
This place has absolutely exceptional food, drink, dessert, staff, everything. We highly recommend that you visit this place on your next trip to Paris (we visited several times...is it bad if the owner recognizes you in a number of days and knows what you will order?) After our highly fulfilling dinner with the amazing chocolate cake with fresh strawberries as the final stamp on our dedication to this place we were off to bed.
