More on Greece
Sunday, 26 April 2009

Writing this has been on my agenda for a few days, but after arriving home in Paris, then seeing my room mate off to Berlin, I have had a rather unproductive batch of activity, colored by a mild cold (which seems to have been Greece's parting gift).  At any rate, here come some tidbits about the trip, bullet-style.

• Since Greece is primarily a series of islands, it can be hard to feel like you've had a truly representative or comprehensive tour of the country if you don't have two weeks to explore and island hop.  Five days was barely enough time for Athens and Santorini.  We could have easily stayed on the island for a week or more.
• Everything the travel books say about unreliable transportation in Greece is true.  Always have a back-up plan.  When we arrived at the Athens airport, the metro was out, so we had to take a 45-minute bus to a metro stop closer to the city.  That said, even when transportation was out, it was easy to find information and alternatives.
• The metro is easy to use.  It's easy to navigate; there are only a couple of lines, and just a few major stations where you can transfer.  At each stop the doors automatically open and the name of the stop is said over the speaker system.  Buying tickets is easy, too, at automated kiosks.

• Ferries are notorious for not keeping to their schedules.  We purchased tickets in advance (by about two to three weeks) using greeka.com.  Though the ferry didn't seem full when we were on it, we had trouble on the site choosing the ticket options we wanted (i.e. economy vs. business, etc.), so despite the risk, I do recommend booking early, especially if you're interested in the high speed or if you're traveling during high season.  By the time we were in Greece and ready to hop on the ferry, they had changed the ferry number, so we had to get our seats reassigned after boarding.  Also, if you're not a Greek student, you apparently don't qualify for the student discount, as we had to pay the difference once we got on board (though on the trip coming back, no one even asked to see our student IDs, so perhaps it's worth risking).  Our last full day in Santorini, our hostel owner told us that the high speed ferry hadn't arrived that day, and that it may not come the next day (when we were supposed to return to Athens).  Fortunately when we went to the ticket office the next morning to confirm its arrival, our ferry was in fact scheduled to come to the island, though again the ferry number had changed and so had our seats.  Had the ferry not come we most likely would have missed our last day (when we had planned to see everything in Athens), and possibly our flight (which required us to leave for the airport around 3AM that night).  So, as all the guide books advise, it's best to have more than one day on the tail end of your trip in case you have any boat problems.

• We chose the high speed ferry because it was significantly cheaper than a plane, still affordable, and not as long a ride as the regular ferry.  The high speeds supposedly take five hours to get to Santorini, one of the farthest islands from the mainland, though each way it took 6+ hours (about 7.5 on the way back to Athens).  If the regular ferries are as likely to take more time than noted, I'd be wary of the 12+ hour trips to the farthest islands.
• Riding on the ferries is quite comfortable, seat-wise, though there's not much of a barrier between smoking and non-smoking areas.  The fact that they even distinguish them is a step forward for Greece (all restaurants are smoking and there are no sections, smoking's allowed in the airport, etc.).  Smoking wasn't quite as omnipresent as it was in Eastern Europe -- like in Bosnia -- but it's more prevalent in Greece than in other EU countries like France, where they've banned smoking indoors.  None of us had any trouble with sea sickness on the high speed, and I'm notorious for my sensitive stomach.
• There's a snack bar on the ferry that sells chips and not-French-fresh baked goods, but if you plan to eat a meal while you're on board, you might want to consider bringing it yourself.  There aren't many options on board (mostly airport-like sandwiches).

• Greek food is ridiculously delicious.  Don't miss the yogurt and honey.  The yogurt has a texture almost like sour cream, and the honey is somehow more honeyful.  We didn't eat a single meal while we were there that was (a) expensive (especially by Parisian standards), and (b) anything but overwhelmingly delicious.  I recommend chicken with yogurt and honey sauce (really, anything that comes with yogurt and honey is win), tzatziki, oven-roasted feta with honey and sesame (again, anything with honey = something you want to eat), pastichio, any lamb dish, etc.  I didn't find any Greek donuts while I was there, which is either due to the difficulty in making them (having a donut frier), or perhaps because they are an American-Greek tradition?  Anyway, if you've ever eaten Greek food in Birmingham, Alabama, you can rest assured that you're getting pretty authentic stuff.  Except for maybe the yogurt.  It seems one can never have yogurt quite so delicious, thick, and creamy, as when one is traveling in Greece.

• There are many places to stay on Santorini.  If you're the kind of person who has an income and isn't a student scrambling for the cheapest options, I recommend staying in Oia, which was by far the most beautiful place we saw on the island.  I didn't bother to look, but I'm sure there are a number of ritzy and small hotels, spas, etc. as it is a major honeymoon destination.  There's a hostel in Oia that's 17€ per person per night, but we opted for a hostel on Perissa Beach called Stelio's Place, which I highly recommend.  It was only 8.50€ per person per night, and the rooms and service were as good as any hotel I've ever stayed in.  Perissa Beach is a little out of the way and much more secluded, but it has a great small community feel.  The hostel was literally meters from the black sand beach, and there are a number of affordable restaurants within walking distance.  The bus stop for the area is just outside the hostel, and it was easy to catch a bus to some of the larger cities and communities on the island.  I highly recommend Stelio's Place if you can put up with the other guests, who are mostly college co-eds and can be a little drunk and noisy if they're traveling in groups.  We only had trouble with noise one night, but fortunately they went out drinking around midnight and we didn't hear them after.  I suspect that during the high season there's more of this type of thing, but perhaps a good pair of earplugs is all you need.  The hostel staff is prefectly friendly and respectful, and they will pick you up and drive you back to the port for your ferry, free of charge.  During the low season (September-April), Perissa Beach is pretty quiet and secluded.

• Buses on Santorini all run to Fira, the capital of the island.  To get from any smaller city or community to any other part of the island, you must catch a bus to Fira, then transfer.  All bus tickets are purchased on the bus, and range from 1€ to ~3€ (each way).  Fira might be a good place to stay simply because you're near the main bus terminal of the island, and since it's a larger area there are more restaurants, places to stay, etc.
• While it's good to plan more than one day in Athens for the reasons I listed above, you can see most of what is there in one day, easy.  We happened to be there on the weekend of Greek Easter (a different date than Easter elsewhere), so all the monuments and museums closed at 3PM on Saturday.  Still, when we set out around 9AM we managed to see most everything, monument-wise.  Everything's pretty easily accessible by metro.  However, we didn't see any museums in Athens since the monuments were higher on our list, but had they held regular hours I think a day and a half tops would suffice.  Athens has a touristy flea market and restaurant area, and some more authentic pockets of local life, but as a city we didn't find it too exciting to walk around (as I would, say, Paris, Venice, Prague, etc.).
• Our first night in Athens we stayed at AthenStyle hostel, which was affordable and extremely nice.  Very clean, great common areas, incredible location (less than a five minute walk to the main part of town full of restaurants, shopping, etc.), easily accessible by metro, friendly staff.  It was a bit more expensive than other options but totally worth it.  Their private rooms include a kitchenette.  We didn't see it, but the guy at the desk told us they were about to complete their rooftop cafe and bar, which would have a great view of the Acropolis.
• The hostel we stayed in on our return, Hostel Aphrodite, was much less hotel-like, and much more like your average hostel/camping facility.  They had great breakfasts (not included in the room price), but the bathrooms, while clean, were a little strange, lacked hooks or shelves in the showers, etc.  The room had a sink and two bunk beds with pretty tight quarters.  It would be a good budget option if it weren't such a long walk from any metro, and in a part of town where there's nothing to see, and where, as females, we felt pretty unsafe at night (we hardly saw ANY women in the area who weren't tourists, and the men were often in big groups, though none approached us).  This was all despite good reviews of the area and the hostel.  If you're traveling with males and you don't mind a walk and a twenty-minute metro ride each way, it's a cheap place and it's not all bad.  We concluded that one reason they probably have good reviews is that you get a free shot at the bar your first night.
• As the clock moves toward midnight the night before Greek Easter, churches across the city shoot off fireworks.  This is something we discovered while trying desparately to sleep before heading to the airport around 3AM.
• I've read lots of warnings about taxis in Athens -- that the drivers are notorious for rip-offs, etc.  We managed not to use any except to get to the airport.  I think if you call to reserve a car there's no real trouble; it's primarily in tourist spots (like at the port or the airport) where the drivers will try to get you into a car so they can overcharge you.

• The metro in Athens closes on weekdays at midnight.  Our ferry was late arriving, so around 11:30 we booked it to the metro stop (a short walk from the port) and managed to make the last train.  Keep that in mind when you're booking ferry tickets -- that your ferry may be anywhere from 2-3 hours late arriving, and that after 11:30 or so, your only transportation options are night buses and taxis.
• The light in Greece is different than anywhere else I've been.  In addition to being very beautiful, the sunlight is extremely harsh.  While it seems that everyone needs reminding that without sunscreen, you will get sunburned if you lay out on a beach, my fellow travelers insisted that they tanned well and would have no trouble.  While I was religiously slathering myself with sunscreen (even if we were just sitting in direct sunlight while eating lunch), my friends were cultivating pretty wicked burns, which can be acquired in just an hour.  It's best to avoid direct sun between 12PM and 3PM especially.  With a generous application of 30SPF, though, you'll probably be fine.  It's also worth noting that sun stroke can be common, so drinking a lot of water (especially while on the islands) is advisable.  Check to see if the places you're traveling have potable water, though.  Athens certainly does, but most places on Santorini don't, since they don't have the proper desalination plants.
  

12:48 PM                    filed under: tourism

The hammam at la Mosquée de Paris
Wednesday, 17 December 2008

I wanted to visit a Turkish bath while in Istanbul, but ultimately ran out of time and wasn't up for it after my migraine.  After searching a little on the web I figured I could find something comparable in Paris, and sure enough -- the Mosque has a hammam open seven days a week.  It's just a few stops away on the metro and a short walk.  Léti, her sister, and I decided to give it a go, and I loved it.  For all you men and ladies who are curious and don't know what to expect at a public bath, here are some facts and observations.

• The hammam at the mosque separates the sexes by day.  It's open to women Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, and to men on Tuesdays and Sundays.  You can see a list of hours on the mosque's site (French and English available).
• The mosque also has a restaurant and a tea room.  Before we went into the hammam we had some mint tea.  Though the case of sweets and pastries tempted me at the door, I didn't try any.  The tea room was beautiful, with hand painted tiles, gold table tops, and intricate designs on the ceiling.  It reminded me of a lot of things we saw in Istanbul.  Even if the hammam isn't your style, I recommend a cup of tea and a quick visit to the mosque, if only to see the decor and experience a little of the culture.
• There's a sign on the door of the hammam that says bath robes are required.  Women seen wearing, carrying, or touching bath robes while at the hammam: 0.  It's a good idea to bring your own towel, shampoo, sugar scrubs, or whatever other bathing goodies you think you might use.  The hammam has a lot of these things on hand, but they will cost you.  Towel: 4€.  The hammam supplies flip flops, but you can certainly bring your own.
• Entry in the hammam is 15€.  After that, you pay for what you want.  They have packages, or you can choose services individually.  The list of prices can be seen here.  The English page for prices doesn't work, but here are some rough translations.  Gommage = you lie on a table and a lady rubs you down with a scratchy glove after you've been in the steam rooms a while.  Savon noir = literally, "black soap," or a mud skin treatment.  Didn't try it, but it looked fun.  Épilation = wax/hair removal.  
• When you enter the hammam you pay for everything you want upfront.  The lady working the register will give you tickets, which you then hand to whomever performs the service.  The caisse is inside the main room of the hammam, which is where a lot of massages take place.  Probably the most awkward I felt while in the hammam was walking fully dressed with scarf, hat, coat, and gloves through the room of mostly-naked women to get to the locker room. 
  
• Each successive room in the hammam gets hotter and hotter.  They're all steam rooms with marble floors and elevated areas where you can lie on the hot stone.  There are squeegees and buckets everywhere for cleaning the stone if you're squeamish, but the buckets also make for good ways to cool off.  The final room is almost unbearably hot with steam visibly hanging in the air.  There's a very cold blue pool of water there, which makes for interesting temperature contrast.
• There are shower heads where you can lather up if you bring shampoo and all your shower goods.
  
• Léti's sister had a massage that she said was incredible.  We went at night when almost everyone was arriving after work, and there was a long wait for massages.  I suspect that in the mornings and afternoons that's not the case.
  
• Everyone in the hammam wears bottoms, whether it's underwear or a bikini bottom.  Most everyone was topless, save a few who were in bathing suits, but they were the odd ones out.  No one ogles, and it's not awkward or weird as most Americans might assume.

All in all, I enjoyed it and intend to go back.  Perhaps next time I'll grab something to eat and take a few photos of the tea room.  As for potential tourists, the hammam is a great relatively inexpensive way to relax after a long day of sight-seeing.

UPDATE:  Looks like I won't have time to get back to the mosque before heading State-side for the holidays, but I found some photos of the mosque, the tea room, and the hammam here.

11:51 PM                    filed under: tourism

Les musées de Paris
Friday, 21 November 2008

Paris has a plethora of museums.  The Louvre, the Musée d'Orsay, the Rodin Museum, the Pompidou, the Picasso Museum, of course.  But what others?  I recently stumbled across Wikipedia's entry for all the museums in the city.  I've visited some of the lesser-knowns, but have yet to see all the ones that interest me.  Here are some that I've visited and some of the more unusual ones that I've yet to see.

• Musée des Lettres et Manuscrits - Located in a townhouse from the 1600s, the museum displays original works by Descartes, Voltaire, Diderot, Stendahl, Flaubert, Zola, Verlaine, Nadar, Magritte, and plenty of other Frenchies.  They also have some manuscripts/letters from Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, etc.  See the Wikipedia entry for a full list.
• Palais de Toyko - Not sure exactly what's in this museum, but I've walked past it many a time.  It's very close to the Eiffel Tower, and I think the building in which it is housed serves as a kind of Japanese cultural center for the city.  Looks very interesting.
• The Catacombs - Paris's ossuary, which was primarily used during the years of the Plague, I believe.  Essentially, underneath the city in a series of tunnels there are thousands of bones piled neatly on top of each other.  If you visit the city during the summer, this is a great place to escape the heat.

• Musée de la Poste - A postal museum that specializes in the postal history and philately of France.  This one's high on my list, but I've yet to visit.
• The Jeu de Paume - A museum of modern art not far from the Louvre.  I don't know much about their permanent collection, but since September they've had two incredible photography exhibits: one of Avedon's work and one of Lee Miller's.  I think they frequently host exhibitions of high-caliber photography.
• The Gobelins manufactory - Not far from where I live, this is a small manufactory where tapestries are made.  The Gobelins were a family of dyers who began business in the city in the 15th century.  I believe tours are only offered in French, but a tour is the only way to see the actual manufacturing process -- otherwise, you can only see the show rooms.
• Musée d'histore de la médicine - I've yet to visit this one, but I hope it's akin to Philadelphia's Mutter museum.  It houses one of the oldest medical collections in Europe.
• Musée de l'erotisme - Paris's erotic museum is located in the heart of the red light district, near the Moulin Rouge.  On display are sculptures, figurines, toys, a few costumes and furniture, as well as a collection of drawings.  Most interesting, perhaps, are photos of (if I remember correctly) the interior of an old Parisian brothel -- photos made on glass plates.  Though they don't exactly compare to Bellocq's work, they bring it to mind.  Though the museum has seven floors, one can easily see everything in about an hour, two for slowpokes.

8:42 PM            comments (1)           filed under: tourism

Thoughts on Prague: museum-cities, tourism, and Travel Itself
Thursday, 23 October 2008

In recent months, I've stumbled across a number of pieces like this one that accuse Paris and other history-saturated European destinations of stagnation--that they are more like urban, city-sized museums that cater to consumers than beautiful hometowns that color the lives of residents.  In her article, Field writes:

But the worshippers these days are consumers, not creators. They are mainly foreign tourists who come to see the eternal Mona Lisa, post-modern American artists, the French Impressionists and Moliere. The city chemistry that produced rawness, dynamism, change and challenge seems absent.

As a resident of Paris, I will admit that parts of the city are museum-like, but there remains a large portion of Paris's character tucked away in quiet neighborhoods--pieces of the city rarely written about in travel books, and rarely noticed by visitors who skip from one site to another via metro.  While those producing cutting-edge work in the art world may have moved elsewhere, Paris is still a hometown.  The daily market, the tiny bakery, the ateliers in Haussmann-style apartment buildings: to an outsider, these things seem picturesque, if not fantastic.  To Parisians they are relatively quotidian, though not unappreciated.

Parisians adore the city's parks, if only because their well-groomed dogs can trot along behind them as they stroll past former palaces.  I once stood in line at a bakery as the pâttisier helped an old woman remember which was her favorite cake.  Vous ne vous souvenez pas ce gateau?  Ça c'est le gateau que vous avez acheté pour l'anniversaire de votre fils le mois dernier!  Je crois que vous aimez ça.  When he had finally convinced her that it was, in fact, the cake that she liked (she continued to disagree with him, even after sampling a piece), he bid her goodbye and told her he'd see her tomorrow.  Only in Paris do bakers help senile old women stay finicky (and on a daily basis, at that).  The way the French embrace and disregard their history simultaneously--the way they respect and grow weary with their oldest living generation--will remain for me the je ne sais quoi of life in the city.  Maybe a photo can explain better than my words can.  This photo was taken in the library of École Militaire, Paris's military academy.  The library houses hundreds if not thousands of antique volumes, some dating back to the French exploration of China.  The painting pictured is authentic and original--not like the cheap copies and modern imitations we're used to seeing in America's dentist offices.

Surely residents of other European cities take history in one hand and the everyday in the other, but I have come to admire the ease with which Parisians do so.

To breach the border of the city-museum when you travel as a tourist is difficult.  Venice, especially, stands out in my mind as a museum empty of residents--like a kind of historical theme park that caters to adults.  Prague, too, felt a little like this.  The historical parts of the city--called "Prague 1" and "Prague 2" (similar to the arrondissement system of Paris)--seemed lacking in local life.  I should pause to say that by "local life" I mean something like local business--places to shop, eat, or spend time that can't be included in a portrait of consumerism.  In Staré Město (also called "Old Town")--the ground zero of historical Prague--many streets are lined with souvenir shops.  Just off Old Town Square is a Starbucks.  At one end of Wenceslas Square sits a grand pedestrian boulevard lined with shops: H&M, Lacoste, Mango, Zara, Deisel.  During my visit, I saw a handful of KFCs and even a TGI Friday's.  I hardly expect historical cities--especially those like Prague, founded as early as the ninth century with buildings that survive from the 1200s--to cease modernization.  Still, it is strange to stand before the theatre where Mozart debuted Don Giovanni, then wander a few blocks into a six-floor shopping mall that could just as easily be located in Atlanta, Georgia.  Though the city's facades remain intact, the streets are saturated with souvenir shops and restaurants. 

Prague is relatively new to tourism.  I would guess that a good five years passed following the Velvet Revolution (the fall of Communism in Prague, November 1989) before many people traveled to see the city, which means that Prague has seen about fifteen years of increasingly heavy tourism.  In the case of the Municipal House, the birth of tourism in the city meant that restoration could be funded, after years of falling into disrepair behind the Iron Curtain.

A part of me is alarmingly appreciative of the kind of kitsch this environment produces.  Prague's popular souvenir "Czech me out" t-shirt rivals the singing Mao lighter I brought home from China last year.  The delight a seasoned tourist takes in kitschy souvenirs can be compared to the internet's love of LOLcats.  Still, sometimes when traveling I long for the authenticity that I feel tourism destroys, which which will forever remain the tourist's dilemma.  The existence of souvenir shops in any given destination probably began with other conveniences like airport shuttles, English-speaking waiters, and centrally located hotels.  Many of these things are the reasons people visit places like Prague as opposed to remote villages in Tibet.  That said, tourism is something I enjoy but also have a hard time wrapping my head around. 

I have such a strong desire to visit the unvisited places--to see local life and street markets untouched by consumerism.  When I think of travel in the early 1900s--the cost, the difficulty--I find something of the travel I long for.  Surely it was difficult, uncomfortable.  But surely also it was more immersive, more awe-inspiring.  Imagine visiting ancient ruins you had only seen sketches of, or standing as one of the first foreigners in the center of Lhasa, a forbidden city.

Though the world harbors many tiny villages tucked into mountain ranges, or forgotten towns along riverbanks, they feel as distant now as they must have two hundred years ago, but for different reasons.  Then, it was mostly the matter of getting there.  Today, though getting there is easier, there is the issue of inconvenience.  Is there a hotel to book?  What sites are there to see?  We tend to leave the inconvenient places to National Geographic.  My idealization of this kind of inconvenient travel is slightly illogical considering my sensitive stomach, my lack of physical fitness, and my general disinterest in hardcore Patagonia-type backpacking adventures.  But, you know...there's always the chance that some day I may blow a few thousand dollars making my way to the monasteries of the Himalayas to see the sun rise over Nagarkot.

I suppose generally I like to be inconvenienced in the sense of being/feeling displaced--not passing McDonald's every two blocks, not finding a GAP around the corner--but I'd also rather not hike 300 miles to find things to eat that aren't in my knapsack.  That is, I suppose, my personal dilemma, if not the dilemma of every tourist--that anything convenient will likely destroy some authenticity of a location.  Rarely do inconvenient places entice visitors.

During my weekend in Prague, I found myself wishing I could have visited within a year or two following the Velvet Revolution--that perhaps that could have offered a real glimpse into the heart of the city, the scars Communism left there etc. (nevermind the fact that I would have been three or four years old at the time...).  A few things remain that, I think, are tiny relics of that earlier Prague.  If you find yourself in the city, I highly recommend you try to experience them yourself.  They are:

1) The metro.  Perhaps comparing it with Paris's stations has a lot to do with my opinion, but there's something very Post-Communist about many of the stations, design-wise.  Generally speaking, it's easy to lose yourself in the culture and local life of any place by using public transportation, and sitting in the car of one of Prague's metro trains surrounded by Slavic language, it's easy to imagine what the city might have been twenty years ago.  Visual aids: 1, 2, 3, 4.

2) Walking the city at night.  Like Paris, the city closes up around 6PM, save a few restaurants and bars.  During my time there I didn't find any particularly hopping areas as far as nightlife was concerned, even though we stayed right off Wenceslas Square (where there are some clubs) on a street full of sex shops and cabaret theaters.  The city is lit, of course, but something about walking the city at night felt especially dark and quiet, probably due to the high number of pedestrian areas.  A dark, quiet city is something I've rarely experienced, especially as early as 8PM.  It was more refreshing than eerie.

3) Trams.  There is something very Dr. Zhivago-y about them, though I realize that neither the film nor Omar Sharif have anything to do with the Czech Republic.  If you find yourself in Prague, I recommend taking the tram from Charles Bridge up to Prague Castle.  Again, there's something delightfully Post-Communist about the trams, but unlike the metro, its in the most storybook "Hey kids!  Communism!" kind of way.  (Sorry.  It's getting late, I've been working on this post for a long time, and my figurative language--and perhaps my general grasp of English--is beginning to escape me.)  Visual aids: 1, 2, 3.

4) The post office.  My room mate for the trip, Kristin, and I went into a post office to get stamps for postcards.  The office was in what seemed like a restored train station, with pews for waiting customers, and a lot of open space.  The postal workers behind glass along one wall.  The environment really did feel more like a station than a post office.  Kristin and I walked up to ask about stamps.  The woman behind the glass was surprised and somewhat angry as she explained that we needed to take a number.  A man in a very elevator-operator uniform approached us and showed us where to take a number.  Once we did, we sat on a pew, and immediately our number appeared on a digital marquee above the woman we had asked for stamps two minutes earlier.

Sunday morning, our last day in Prague, I woke early and ate alone before wandering through the city flâneur style.  As the sun rose and bathed Old Town Square in pink, I strolled past the the clock tower and the statue of Jan Hus.  Very few people milled through the square as waiters set up chairs and tables on restaurant patios.  With so few shops open at the early hour, I decided to check out the churches.  Sure enough, Týn Cathedral's doors were open, and I stepped inside to find a service in session.  The church's pews were filled with Czechs, all dressed very casually.  A priest at the altar chanted a prayer, and the congregation chanted in response.  There was something quite ordinary, yet quite surprising about witnessing this, similar to the je ne sais quoi of Parisians walking their dogs outside palaces.  Here were the locals that seemed to be missing all weekend, gathered in blue jeans and hoodies inside the Týn Cathedral, a church constructed in 1256.  The interior is decked with gold and Baroque-style altars.  Tycho Brahe, the famous astronomer, is buried there.  Perhaps this curiosity and disbelief in mixing such rich history with the mundanity of daily life is uniquely American, since many historical buildings in our country have an entry free and roped-off rooms, or else have been privatized.  I'm thinking specifically of early government buildings in Philadelphia.

The more I see of the world, the less I know what to say about the places I have visited.  Rarely have I thought of an answer to satiate my friends' curiosity when returning from some new city.  More often than not, I settle on a few sentences that cannot be disputed, like "It was more touristy than I expected," or "The buildings are really beautiful."  To capture the essence of a place after catching only a glimpse is like writing about love without platitude; it rarely happens.  It is much easier to write about the nature of travel itself than the way a specific voyage has reshaped the traveler.  Rarely can one describe transformation until long after it has occurred.

And so, as ever, I return to the subject of Travel Itself.  Many others have captured it better than I.  Pico Iyer, in his essay, "Why We Travel: A Love Affair With the World," writes:

I remember, in fact, after my first trips to Southeast Asia more than a decade ago, how I would come back to my apartment in New York City and lie in bed, kept up by something more than jet lag, playing back in my memory, over and over, all that I had experienced, and paging wistfully through my photographs and reading and rereading my diaries, as if to
extract some mystery from them. Anyone witnessing this strange scene would have drawn the right conclusion: I was in love.

For if every true love affair can feel like a journey to a foreign country, where you can't quite speak the language, and you don't know where you're going, and you're pulled ever deeper into inviting darkness, every trip to a foreign country can be a love affair, where you're left puzzling over who you are and whom you've fallen in with. All the great travel books are love stories, by some reckoning--from the Odyssey and the Aeneid to the Divine Comedy and the New Testament--and all good trips are, like love, about being carried out of yourself and deposited in the midst of terror and wonder.

And:

We travel, then, in search of both self and anonymity--and, of course, in finding the one we apprehend the other.

Prague was, indeed, a bit of a love affair, and offered more than I expected in mulling over ideas about Travel Itself.  Walking the dark streets under the tram cables of such a sleepy city, or strolling through Old Town Square at sunrise, I found a bit of the terror and wonder I always hope to run across in exploration.

 

2:06 AM            comments (2)           filed under: tourism

Journées Européennes du Patrimoine
Wednesday, 24 September 2008

Every September dozens of sites across all of France open to the public for one weekend.  The public is invited, often for free, to visit some of the governmental institutions, private residences, old mansions, and other national treasures generally inaccessible during the year.  For example, the Hôtel de Ville is open for tours.  At the Eiffel Tower demonstrations are given to reveal how the elevators work.  Unfortunately, with only one weekend, it's hard to squeeze everything in, since by the middle of the day lines can be long for the more popular sites.  If you ever find yourself in Paris during September, try to time your trip to coincide with the Journées du Patrimoine.  However, Paris isn't the only city that participates; sites across all of France open to the public for the same weekend.





Ayelen, my Argentinian friend, and I only made it to École Militaire before seeing tremendous lines elsewhere and eventually wandering up to the Marchés aux Puces (a HUGE flea market in the north of the city, report coming soon).  The best strategy, perhaps, is to visit the more popular sites during the early morning, and the lesser ones later in the day.  Oops.

You can read a little more about the history of École Militaire on Wikipedia.  Today it is an institution for military higher education.  I believe students actually live on the premsises, since during our visit we noticed a cafeteria.  There are also stables, a library, and lots of fancy offices decorated in typical 18th century style.

11:01 PM                    filed under: tourism

Fat Tire Bike Tours in Paris
Sunday, 07 September 2008

Our second full day in Paris (03 September 2008), Abroadco booked a bike tour for everyone studying with the company.  There are twenty-six of us all together this fall--twenty-four girls and two boys.  We live all over the city in apartments, home stays, and in the dorms at Cité U, an international student center with public facilities and lots of student services (but no regular curriculum or faculty, to my knowledge).  Cité U houses hundreds of Paris's international students in a number of dormitories organized by language.  Most American students at Cité U live at the Fondation des États-Unis.

Our bike tour was with the Fat Tire Bike Tour company, which has a work force composed primarily of post-undergrad sporty Americans who have been living in the city for many months and don't speak a lick of French.  They are the type you would find playing frisbee or tossing a football on the quad, except now they've graduated and do so in some of Paris's most beautiful parks.  Oh.  And they give these bike tours.  This is not a tone of criticism, but of pure delight and amusement.  They were quite lovely and gave a very entertaining and informative tour, peppered with terms like "bro," "cat," "chick," and "totally awesome," referring of course to famous people and events throughout French history.  If you go on the tour any time soon, see if you can get Ned as your guide.

More photos from the tour on flickr (some forthcoming).

So, in short, don't dismiss city bike tours.  The tour was one of my favorite things that I've done in Paris as a tourist.

4:57 PM                    filed under: tourism