When on vacation, there are a lot of new experiences. In fact you quickly find your day full of them. The unfortunate consequence of that is that some of the old and trusted routine experiences become a lower priority. Like sleep. I don't even know what time it is at home right now. I know time my body says it is - time to sleep. All the time.
The week prior to departure was filled with a flurry of activity. Not only was I planning a trip, but I was also filling in for my boss and looking for a new apartment. About four hours before departure for the airport, I got a call to go in and pay the last month rent on a new place that came open. Which meant go pay that minute or lose the chance to get the place. The ensuing adventures with banks and traffic and crashing computers was a little more than I'd have wanted, but in the end, I somehow got the place and got packed.
So on the fourth night of the trip, I find myself traveling to yet another country. The plan may have been a bit ambitious but so far we've managed to stick to it. Toronto to London Thursday night, London to Paris Saturday morning, and now Paris to Barcelona Sunday night.London remained much as I remembered it from last year. Weather that changes quickly - cloudy, sunny, rinse and repeat. Parks are everywhere and full of people just lying around apparently not doing a great deal on a Friday afternoon. The Underground remains as always in the summer - very warm and at times very crowded. Sometimes so crowded that one might say it feels a bit... romantic! While the big city has significant drawbacks there's something about England that I like. It's no home to me but maybe there's some memory of England in my blood. Maybe I'll put a finger on it when I'm back there at the end of the month.
I got to see a few sights that I didn't get to dwell on last year due to time constraints. The banking centre Canary Wharf, the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey, and Buckingham Palace with the Queen's guard carrying some pretty hefty weapons. But one thing that confounds me is the roundabouts. The monument of traffic lights on Canary Wharf is, I feel a testament to how confusing their traffic is.
Paris provides an interesting juxtaposition to London. In many ways they are similar, and yet very different and it goes far beyond different languages. My first impression however was quite shocking. No sooner had I emerged from the subway when a convoy of armoured cars drove past, soldiers again sporting some pretty hefty guns. Last night the city showed us how they party. It was their national holiday which was accompanied by a very impressive display of fireworks beside the Eiffel Tower which lit up partway through. The City of Lights has earned it name in my books. The revelries in the streets and fountains following that were interesting, even frightening at times after nearly being hit in the head by a firecracker. There was drinking everywhere. You couldn't find a bin anywhere along the Seine that wasn't filled with wine and liquor bottles (with bottles stacked around them because they were full). At times like that, you just have to shrug and say, Vive la France!
Walking around Paris can give you two different impressions. One in the crowded tourist areas and another in the peaceful streets off the beaten path. But just about everywhere in the central city, beauty...
Except... If anyone has ever been to Waterloo and has seen a certain hideous building which made one ask oneself, "from whose twisted imagination did this come," I have found the answer. Davis Centre meet Pompidou.
Exposure to French was difficult at first since it's been about eight years since I've used it. But I found it much easier to understand than Quebecois. We'll see how confused I get in Spain now!
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