Ethpanya - Madrid y Barcelona

Madrid - Plaza del Sol

My buddies. 

I've always told Ben he's statuesque. 

We should have known to leave the free tour of Madrid after the guide made his first unfunny, inappropriate sexual joke. 

Rachel takes Madrid.

Walking places. 

Rachel and her uncle Adam, after whom we'll each name our first-born child. 

Botanical gardens in Mardid.

Tapas, wine and old men with cameras--21st birthday done right.

What recess is like in Spain. 

Barcelona - Parque Guell

I'm still not sure how I managed to avoid crying when this man started playing the most beautiful music I'd ever heard (or so I thought in my sun-intoxicated state.)

Paris for the poor: "Aside from the hairy sheets, the B.O., and the blood, this hostel's really not so bad."

We left London at 10:30 pm on Thursday night with high anxiety. Rachel has a weak stomach and sometimes, no matter how much will power and dramamine we have on board, her belly gets the best of her. Ben, Rachel's boyfriend (see post below), is generally more concerned about Rachel's nausea than Rachel is about Rachel's nausea. Ben's on the premed track and the only things standing in his way of doctoring are his critical reading skills and his vomit-phobia. Naturally, Ben packed a dozen or so trash bags, just in case. Unnaturally, he forgot to take them out of his suitcase that he stored under the bus with the rest of the luggage. But luck was on our side that night. We wrestled our way to the front of the bus line and landed the best seats in the house. Rach popped a few no-nausea pills, Ben taught me how to look terrifying enough to ward off those who might be interested in sharing a seat with me, and we were on our way.

We arrived in Paris at 7 am the following morning, on 2 hours of sleep, which were interrupted by shouts from the French border control to get off the bus and show our passports. We navigated our way through urine-drenched tunnels and a foreign metro system to meet our friends at a patisserie at La Bastille in central-ish Paris. With the first utterance of Matt and Ashley's immaculate French tongues, our fate for the rest of the weekend was set. Rachel, Ben and I followed the two of them around Paris, open-mouthed and starry-eyed--shouting, over and over again, the few French words we had learned (as though it were socially acceptable to do so.)

Friday night, we attended Shabbat services at the largest reformed synagogue in Paris. When we arrived, we knocked on the synagogue door, were spotted by a hidden camera and then greeted by a security guard, who demanded our passports and then asked how many times we'd each been to Israel and whether or not we were B'nai Mitzvahed. To assure him of my heritage, I asked if he wanted to join Matt and me in a singing of the Misheberach. Saying "no" was the worst decision he made all day. Despite the church-like decor of the service (white walls, bright red carpet, wooden, cushion-less pews, stain-glassed windows), we felt the warmth of home when the congregants stopped their kibbitzing in French to sing in Hebrew.

We spent the rest of the weekend walking miles and miles through the city--which felt like I was exploring the life-sized doll house version of what I've always imagined Paris to be.

Matt and Ashley, our surrogate parents.

Ashley, Matt, Ben, Rach and me outside of Notre Dame. 

After dinner one night, Matt told us he wanted to "explore the area" and he led us here!

I catch Matt catching Rach catch the view. 

Our buddies.

A little Scottish-Jewish flamenco.

Just a quick street-side proposal. 

Jim Morrison's grave.

Oscar Wilde's grave.

Since then...

Here's a quick lil blog entry about what's been happening in London since my last post--but it'll be short so I can move on to a post on our weekend in Paris!

Highlights of the last couple of weeks in London:

- Rachel's boyfriend Ben (who's perhaps more significantly my friend from home :) ) arrived in London to start his semester at the NYU in London program. He's the best because he indulges us when we're being really aggressively stupid by (usually fake) laughing at our intensely dumb shenanigans. He also sometimes lets me inappropriately bully him into doting on me as though I'm some kind of packaged extension of Rachel. (Because I say, "It's not fair that she gets to be a princess when I'd be just as good a princess!" *see earlier posts/Rachel's blog. We'd both be really benevolent, inclusive, fun-loving princesses.*)

Paris Preview: Ben carrying bags. His, Rachel's, Mine.

- Drinks with a cousin of my cousins (for my family: Suzanne Muchin's stepson, Josh Brown--such a sweetheart!) who didn't make clear in his invitation that I'd be going IN to Parliament (where he's interning for the semester) and able to attend a Parliament staffers' reception before drinks in the Parliament staffers' pub, which is directly underneath Big Ben. Very cool night, very cool people.

- Our second walk through Hampstead Heath park, this time with our friend Jake (who we met last summer in NYC) and his girlfriend Emily. Both arrived in London this semester.

- Trips to Borough Market.

- A pub crawl crafted by our Swedish friend who's lived in London now for three years. He's a big resource now that we've been to all the places in my bookstore-bought "Little Black Book of London."

- The Hari Krishna on London School of Economics' campus (about a 3 minute walk from ours) who serves heaping portions of delicious, free, vegetarian meals.

He also has a sense of humor! 

- Speaking of free/basically free food: Monday night dinners at the Slug and Lettuce, all food 1/2 price. Rachel and I meet our friends Molly and Chelsea every week at this chain restaurant that's unlike anything in the U.S. It has the decor and menu of a mid-range restaurant/bar but is super cheap. I don't know how they do it.

- Our overnight in Brighton, a coastal town south of London. Rachel and I stayed with my cousin Cashel and her boyfriend Moses at their flat (which had an incredible front room with floor to ceiling bay windows) for a night and had the best time. We ate delicious food, drank delicious cider and walked through the towns famously charming lanes. I still can't get over how lucky I feel to have such wonderful family in London.

Cashel and Rachel on Brighton's pebble beach.

- Dinner with Anne (the daughter of my mom's manfriend Paul) and her boyfriend Don hours before I left for Paris (we took an overnight bus, which left London at 10:30 pm). Again, I seem to have gotten lucky by knowing even more amazing young people in the city!

- Last and nerdiest highlight: my Aristotle class. Love it so much. 

On my way

The view from which I've been the most breath-taken by London is the one I get when getting places. 

I'm still trying to figure out how to capture that feeling of breathlessness and I'm still not great at remembering to snap photos in those moments. But here are some pictures from my walk down the Thames to the Tate Modern. (I live about a three minute walk from the river and I get to cross it everyday on my walk to class.) 

 I tried to take a picture of the pack of 14-year-old girls fighting over candy while smoking cigarettes but they squealed away too quickly.

There was construction on the path along the river so I had to walk down to the bank. Even the criminals in London are in love. 

Rachel's dad's colleague invited us to his home in Hampstead for breakfast. We got there early (which was really, really early--we were expected at 9 a.m.) so we had just enough time to fall completely in love with their neighborhood. 

My photos don't do it any kind of justice. If you're ever in London, you must go to Hampstead. (Home of Jude Law, Sienna Miller, Emma Thompson, George Michael (when he's not in prison). The couple's daughter had a friend over for breakfast--her family's landlord is Ozzy Osbourne.)

British humor, British threats

Muhammed saves the day

Rachel and two of our new friends (Chelsea and Molly--I told you we had some) set out this morning to see Windsor Castle.

Windsor Castle. Photo credit: not me.

I set out with them, my objective being to charm my way into Windsor Castle (hoping I'd have more luck than I did with the guards at Parliament) because if only I could get inside, I'd then charm whoever hangs out there into giving Rachel and me tickets to the Royal Wedding. I put on my lip rouge, straightened my hair, drank my soy latte and warmed up my famous eye-lock so I'd be fit for a queen.

My famous eye-lock

We got to the train station, had a few laughs over the strange candy stand called "Humbug: Suck it and see," and walked with conviction to Ticket Salesman Window 5, ready to talk discounts. "We want to go to Windsor Castle. What's the cheapest way for us to do that?" we asked Muhammed, our ticket salesman.

"Windsor is closed," Muhammed told us, with conviction.

"What?"

"The state apartment is closed until the 21st."

We exchanged some disappointed glances and tried to explain to Muhammed that we wanted to go to Windsor Castle, with an implied expectation that he make it re-open.

"Have you been to Hampton Court? You should go there," Muhammed said. Then he pulled out a fancy brochure that looked like it contained coupons and pictures of Disney Land.

"Okay, we'll go there! You're the man, Muhammed!"

"Bring me back pictures!" Muhammed said, as we dropped our quid into the quid slot.

It turns out Hampton Court isn't Disney Land, but who needs Mickey and Jasmine when you have the actually-slept-in bed of Henry VIII?

When he wasn't eating, killing people, or starring in a Showtime series, this is where Henry VIII slept.

His bedroom ceiling. My glow-in-the-dark sticky stars are better, IMHO.

On our way up the stairs.

Their backyard. Only thing it's missing is my backyard's cool fire pit. Sucks for them... 

Once we finished exploring the castle and talking about how much better we would be at Princess-ing than the princesses of the past, we met the nicest Italian man who directed us to the best pizza in town. Too bad it wasn't in town...

On our way to the bus stop, to catch a ride to Kingston, the next town over.

We got to Kingston, found our pizza shop, didn't speak for a while so we could properly inhale our food, bought some Cow costumes that double as footy pajamas, and took the train home.

Muhammed saved the day.

It's been a week and we're still alive and we're not broke (yet)

Our first week in London is coming to its end. So far, so wonderful. 

We've spent our days laughing too loudly to the jokes made by our university's faculty members (who are all apparently professors/administrators by day, stand-up comics by night) during study abroad orientation meetings, walking miles and miles throughout the city (stopping every couple of hours for a cup of tea or shared meal of Indian food), and spending time with family and new friends (I swear we're in the process making some--despite my photos being of only Rachel, myself, and strangers).

Here are a few thoughts I've had in the process:

Rachel and I were destined for the pub culture. Sing-alongs are welcome, bar tenders sometimes change into Buzz Lightyear costumes, good conversation and better company is the objective, and it's all over by 11 p.m.

So many people in London are in love and those who are in love are really in love.  

According to Archie (cousin here), London, as a working culture, is the most similar to the United States--the only significant difference being their standard 25 days of paid vacation relative to our 10 days of paid vacation. It's what deters Londoners from moving to the States. We need to change that--you're supposed to work to live, not live to work. 

There's a weird gambling chain here (it looks like a CVS but contains much more excitement than the sale of gum and prescriptions) called LadBrokes. Silly, right?!

They like me here! 

What it looks like when Rach crosses the street here.

At an American style diner in Notting Hill. Everything was pretty accurate, except their portion sizes and...

...this! $18 for a box of Fruit Loops. 

Across the street from Parliament--a bunch of peace protesters, camped there since the British invasion of Iraq. 

Westminster Abbey

Probably the least silly of the photos we took outside of Parliament. Not shown: our yoga poses and cartwheels.

And again.

Sunny day in Londontown

Green Park

On tap for this week: a trip to Windsor, a trip to Canterbury, visits with some old friends who are in town, continued exploration, see a show, attend a service at Westminster, find free meals.

(Dad, next time I'm with Archie and Cashel, I promise I'll take a picture!)