Vietato fumare
The day I’m scheduled to arrive in Italy (10 Jan) just so happens to be the day their law prohibiting public smoking goes into effect. That is unless the rebellion can stop or delay the ban.
The day I’m scheduled to arrive in Italy (10 Jan) just so happens to be the day their law prohibiting public smoking goes into effect. That is unless the rebellion can stop or delay the ban.
Christmas greetings from Queens, New York! I’m up in this northern neck of the woods for a week sharing the holidays with friends.
As Paul Harvey might say, here’s “the rest of the story.”
Happy Easter from Vienna! I should have been keeping this weblog updated as I’ve been traveling, but internet cafes in Italy and Austria have been too expensive! But to briefly recap (I’ll post more info in the future), Rome was just as nice, if not nicer than I remember. Venice - wow! It’s a great city. Vienna, I’ve only seen a little so far, so I need to get off this computer! The real Europe is so much better than anything Disney can muster up at EPCOT!
What a strange time it’s been in Italy so far! I arrived in Milan yesterday and immediately went about finding a place to stay. No troubles there, the Let’s Go guidebook I picked up in Lisbon quickly lead me to the right place - a hostel run by the local Boy Scout council. My initial impressions of Milan, however, weren’t all that good. Everyone was too well dressed! Every sidewalk had become a catwalk! And there’s something about sunglasses - probably not being able to see others in the eye - that felt really unhospitable. And on top of that the entire front facade of the city’s cathedral is covered in scaffolding, and the world-famous Teatro alla Scala opera house is under major renovation and reconstruction.
So I took a train to the nearby town of Como. Como is a beautifully set along the lake with which it shares its name along the southern edge of the Alps. But, of course, I didn’t make the trip just for the natural beauty; there were architectural sites to see! The main reason I went to Como was to see Terragni’s Casa del Fascio. It was one of the many buildings we studied this semester in our class on Communist, Fascist, and Nazi architecture. There must be something in its geometry, its political significance, its setting, its symbolism, or its narrative arrangement that makes the building particularly attractive in more than a merely aesthetic sense. Unfortunately, because it’s still a government building (no, not for the Fascist Party), I wasn’t able to get inside, even after multiple pleas in very, very broken Italian on my part.
Tomorrow: Rome
So at last, I’m finally here in Bilbao, Spain. I’ve been meaning to make this trip since the spring of 2001. I figured I’d just take a train up from Barcelona one weekend, but that never happened. Then I suspected that I’d come down from Glasgow during spring break. But alas, it was not until early this morning that I set foot in this fair city. And I must say that it’s been every bit worth the wait!
For those of y’all who don’t know, Bilbao is home to Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum. The building’s created such as stir with all the tourists it’s brought to town and essentially placing this industrial city on the world’s cultural map that other cities around the world are now wanting to get in on the so-called “Bilbao effect.” But don’t be so easily deceived to think that the folks in charge of things here have put all their eggs in one architect’s basket - ready to ride the wave of architectural fashion. No, the city invested their resources well and over the past decade or so have gotten other internationally acclaimed designers such as Santiago Calatrava and Norman Foster in on some of the major projects.
But, of course, it is Gehry’s museum that steals the show! If the outside could be called impressive, there isn’t a word fine enough in English, Spanish, or Basque to describe the interior! It’s been fun to watch visitors often more caught up in the building than in the art. But in spite of my fears that the building would completely over-power the art within, for the most part the collection on show creates a near-perfect synthesis with the building. There’s an unexpected harmony that exists between the art and the architecture similar to the way the titanium-skinned mass of the building makes peace with its surroundings - neighboring buildings, the river, and the hills.
I’m only here until tomorrow before making my way to Italy via Lyon.
Like it or not, I’m only here in Portugal for the day. I took a train yesterday afternoon from Seville and arrived here in Lisbon this morning. I finally broke down and bought a guidebook. Until now I had been trusting my instincts on what to see and had pretty much thought that if whatever’s worth seeing isn’t well-marked enough for me to notice it, it’s not really that much worth seeing. But today while avoiding a brief Portuguese rain shower, I dodged into a bookstore and wandered into the tourism section. Upon opening a guidebook to Lisbon I flipped to the architecture section, and low and behold, there it was - Alvaro Siza’s Portugal Pavilion from Expo ‘98! Honestly, I don’t think we ever studied it in any of my architecture classes, but it’s been one of my favorites for about as long as I can remember. What’s really ‘cool’ about this building is the outside space made by way of covering steel cables in concrete. Sure, you’re probably thinking, “that doesn’t sound very neat or impressive.” Well, let me then tell you that the cables have been allowed to sag (as gravity would have them do anyway) so that this multi-multi-ton area of concrete and steel looks and acts like a large piece of fabric - remarkably thin for the span it covers. If you still don’t think it’s cool I guess you won’t care that this weblog entry is being typed inside a train station designed by Santiago Calatrava. (Architecture-philes, you know what I’m talking about!)
I’m on a train back to Madrid tonight and by Saturday morning I’ll be in Bilbao - home of Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum. Ciao!
Greetings, once again, from Glasgow, Scotland! Our RyanAir flight from Beauvais to Prestwick landed 35 minutes early - an unexpected but perfectly welcome gift of bonus time in Scotland. (I’m just hoping our return flight isn’t 35 minutes early!)
I’ve got a really odd combination of feelings being back here. It’s comfortable — staying at Adelaide’s, eating familiar foods, seeing people I know — but it’s also a bit uncanny — businesses have closed, other have opened, there are new faces. And to top it off, it’s bright, sunny, and rather warm! What happened to the rainy, gray Glasgow I knew and loved? No, honestly, this is a change I can live with!
And something else that’s making life strange today are the anti-war demonstrations. Sure, in France there have been marches and protests. (I even picked up a huge banner after one had cleared our street.) But because their signs have been in French or some other probably insignificant reason I had basically been able to ignore them. Here is Scotland (both in Edinburgh this morning and now in Glasgow) it’s more than a little unsettling to see these demonstrators calling for Bush and Blair to end this war.
I generally consider myself a pacifist and am not at all gung-ho about these recent attacks, but too see first-hand hundreds if not thousands of protestors in the streets waving Iraqi flags, calling out for peace, and voicing their opinions is very bizarre. I arrived in Scotland not long after the September 11th attacks. The US and the UK have been allies for a long time, and for all intents and purposes, still are. But the people, the average citizens, of both countries, in significant numbers, aren’t happy with how their respective governments are handling the situation. Sure, the British support their troops just as we Americans support ours, but that definitely doesn’t mean the masses support the war.
God, give us peace!
Spring has sprung in Paris! I took a walk earlier today to buy some items for tonight’s pre-St. Patrick’s Day here at the apartment. The daffodils are in bloom. The sun is shining. The cafes have spilled out onto the sidewalks. Children are riding their bikes. People are reading novels on park benches. The fountains are flowing.
In case anyone’s wondering, here’s a brief run-down of what’s happening in the coming weeks.
My days as an undergraduate are numbered. This Thursday I have a paper due on Parisian housing. I’m then heading to Glasgow for the weekend to meet up with friends since I don’t know when I’ll make it back to Scotland. The following week I have three presentations to give. The next week holds two final exams, and then we’re off on a class trip to Barcelona. In our two-week spring break after that I’m hoping to make it to southern Spain, Portugal, northern Italy, Vienna, and Berlin. I’ll then be back in Paris for a few days to straighten things out, visit any remaining tourist destinations, and pack up before flying home to graduate and continue on with the rest of my life - whatever that may entail!
On Saturday morning I headed out via train to Amiens, just over one hour north of Paris. I took a medieval architecture class a couple years ago where we mainly studied the cathedrals of Italy, France, and England. I had been planning on going to Amiens since I arrived - its cathedral being the tallest in France. (The choir of the cathedral in Beauvais is technically taller, but that’s all it is - the nave was never completed.) It’s been consistently sunny here in France for over a week now so I got some really good photos both inside and outside.
I made it back to Paris in the afternoon just in time for a Scottish parade. Yesterday the Scottish national rugby team played the French team here in Paris so in honor of the Auld Alliance, linking the two nations back in the 1295, they held a pipe band parade at Montmartre. The parade was supposed to start at 4 o’clock but didn’t commence until sometime after 5 o’clock. The French seemed to blame the delay on the Scottish stopping in at a bar (or two) on their way to the starting area. The Scottish appeared to blame it on the French for putting so many bars along the eventual parade route! When the bands (from Scotland, England, and France) finally got their acts together any harsh feelings were quickly abandoned.
And any true Scotsmen running up the steps to Sacré Coeur in Paris, please note that your actions might cause on-looking lassies to fall down the steps! Trust me; I’ve seen it happen.
It’s been cloudy and overcast everyday here in Paris since I returned from Austria. But (and that’s a big but) today the accompanying precipitation has magically turned to snow!!! Yeah, it can scientifically be attributed to today’s lower temperature but who wants to be a meteorologist on a day like today?!?
to be continued…
Happy New Year everybody, or Happy Hogmanay to y’all in Scotland! Hopefully everyone’s had an enjoyable, relaxing, and merry holiday season! My parents have come and gone and Candace is only here for a couple more days… then school starts back and before I know it I’ll be inundated with assignments and who knows what happens then!
My parents we be here in the morning, and by this time tomorrow we’ll be nestled in our hotel beds in Munich. And by the same time the following night we’ll have visions of sugar plums dancing in our heads which will be lying on Austrian pillows in the little old town of Salzburg. You’ll remember Salzburg as the setting for the musical The Sound of Music.
It wasn’t until I got to the U.K. last year that I discovered the 1965 film version is such a Christmas-time favorite. (A ‘favorite thing’ enough to have an “international smash hit” Sing-a-long-a version, believe it or not!) I guess we Americans are too busy watching It’s a Wonderful Life and college football bowl games to be bothered with much other seasonal programming - especially karaoke-esque, participatory programming.
And in case I don’t sit down to type another weblog entry till sometime in January, Merry Christmas everybody, and Happy New Year!
It turns out Christmas shopping in Paris can be much, much more difficult than one would be led to believe. Take, for instance, my notion that most people for whom I’m buying gifts will be happy with just about anything quintessentially French. So I find the perfect gift, am about to go stand in a really long line to pay for it, when I notice a message on the bottom reading, “Made in Pakistan!!!” (NOTE: I added the exclamation marks.) Granted I was never a stickler for “Made in USA” products while living back home, but it seems so anti-whatever to purchase made-half-the-other-way-around-the-world presents here in France! I remember last year in Scotland being so proud to find a scarf with an attached label stating, “100% Wool, Woven in Scotland.” But looking back on it, the wool could easily have come from sheep in New Zealand!
This isn’t meant to be an anti-globalization rant, but I guess there’s at least a tinge of it in here. I mean, sure it was a godsend to be able to drink Coca-Cola in a remote African village a couple summers ago, but I’m a little irked to be mailing Hallmark greeting cards (albeit in French) back to the States this Christmas.
Where’s a good compromise? I don’t know… at least not yet.
If there’s one place in the world that’s made for window shopping, that place is Paris! I had every intention in the world today of doing actual shopping, but walking down quaint Parisian streets looking in one window, and then the next, then the next… all decked out with their Christmas finest, was ever-so-much more tempting! Maybe it has to do with letting your imagination run wild as an imaginary shopper - thinking of gifts perfect for people you don’t even know, pricing items that are well beyond your budget, being a connoisseur about a product you know nothing about, etc. But, alas, tomorrow I must do some real Christmas shopping.
Glaswegian, sweet Glaswegian!
When I was out doing my “shopping,” I happened to walk past a movie theatre showing Ken Loach’s new film, Sweet Sixteen. The film is set in Greenock, just down the River Clyde from Glasgow. It won a best screenplay award at the Cannes Film Festival, and reportedly had to have English subtitles for the judges. (I had the aid of French subtitles, and yes, often they were a lot easier to follow than the thick Glaswegian!) It is the occasionally funny but ultimately tragic tale of a 15-year old boy trying to better his own life and that of his mother, who is soon to be released from prison. The film’s title is ironic in that the boy’s life ends, not physically but certainly to all intents and purposes, on his 16th birthday.
I definitely recommend the film, but if you’re not from the greater Glasgow metropolitan area, see it with English subtitles!
Last Christmas Eve I made a special trip from Glasgow to Cambridge for the annual Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols service at King’s College Chapel. I took an overnight bus down, stood in line (literally in the freezing cold) for a few hours in order to gain admission, and took another overnight bus back. But every bit of the hassle was well worth it!
So tonight I was pleasantly surprised to happen upon another Lessons and Carols service, this one at the Eglise du Saint Esprit. The church I’ve been attending — St. Michael’s — conducted the service, but since I was at the soccer game last Sunday I had no idea!
Until the start of the service the extent of me singing Christmas songs in a foreign language basically consisted of belting out the chorus of “Feliz Navidad”. By the end of the service I had sung various verses of both traditional and modern songs in English (the British variety), French, and German. Sure, I had heard “Stille Nacht” before, but I’d always sung it in English. The same with “Il est né le divin enfant” - heard it but never sung it.
And it just so happened that the British Ambassador to France, Sir John Holmes KBE CMG CVO, was in attendance. Not too shabby.
After French class tomorrow, I’m heading off with a few of the other Tech students to the Expo.02 - Swiss National Exhibition. I’m excited for a number of reasons. 1) We’re taking the TGV, France’s high speed train, to get to Geneva. 2) It’s probably “the” architectural event of the year - including a building constructed out of an artificial cloud (trust me). 3) I really like Switzerland; I mean, who doesn’t like the Swiss?
But right now I’m doing laundry… it doesn’t get much worse than packing dirty socks and underwear for a trip!
Greetings from Paris! I’ve been here for a few days now - started intensive French classes this morning. Don’t let people tell you that the French hate Americans or more generally English-speakers. It’s just not true.
I’m leaving for Paris in one week! I, for one, can hardly believe it. I haven’t done any packing and hardly any planning, so chances are this site won’t be updated till I cross the Atlantic. Take care!
Do you want a postcard from Scotland? I’ve been basically pathetic at sending people postcards since I’ve been here in Glasgow. Maybe it’s because I haven’t really considered myself a tourist - that was, at least, until this past week where I’ve been playing catch-up by visiting museums, castles, and other tourist hot-spots. So if you really do want a “Wish you were here!” message on the back of a pretty photo, send me your mailing address. (Note: I’m leaving the UK on July 17th, so if you (or I!!!) are not prompt you’ll get an American postmark.)
In one week (give or take a few hours) I’ll be on a plane to Barcelona!