So everyone told us that the French were complete assholes. The first day we got there, we learned that this was just not true. While exploring a menu board outside a small cafe, one of the waiters came out, bestowed kisses on all of us, held our hands, and walked us to a table inside.
We then learned that this was due to the fact that the French government had actually done an ad campaign telling the citizens of Paris to be nicer to tourists. They even sent police officers around to enforce this niceness. Interesting way to promote the tourist industry.
Our first stop in France was at Versailles. It was...justifying to say the least. This was where the French Revolution came to a head. After walking around Versailles for an entire day, I completely understand their motives! Kaare and I estimated that if one was to rebuild the palace in this day and age - including the grounds, the architecture, the paintings, the carvings, and the bloody gold - it would definitely be somewhere in the trillions of dollars. No exaggeration. The revolution happened because the people were fed up with the amount of money that Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette were spending. Antoinette had her own village on the grounds of Versailles, put aside for those days that she wanted to feel like a "peasant". She actually had an entire village built for her whims. If the revolutionaries were worried about their justifiability, I'm sure that the march through the grounds of Versailles on the way to the palace swept away any and all doubts.
I'd also heard that the Louvre was just too big to see in one visit, and that you needed at least three days to see it properly. "Pfft," I thought, "people just don't know how to manage their time!" Having now been there, I can safely say that the Louvre is about the size of Canada. A couple of the paintings there were actually two stories tall. It is one of the most amazing museums I have ever been to, and I would suggest that everyone put it on their list of things to see before they die. Because it would be very easy to get lost and die inside the Louvre.
The traffic in Paris is ridiculous. This one time, we watched seven lanes converge into one without the use of road lines, traffic lights, or street signs. The Arc de Triomphe is encased with a twelve lane roundabout. And pedestrians? You must be joking. Or at least the highways department of Paris must have been joking when they put crosswalks on the road. It's just a way for drivers to hit more people all at once. We call it violence, they call it efficiency.
Finally, to sum up, I saw my first dead person in Paris. Well, at least what we thought was a dead person at the time. She was in fact a drunk in the subway that had somehow managed to pass out head first through the bars of the chairs. But I definitely thought she was dead for a solid ten minutes.
Quote of the Day:
In Kaare's guidebook for the Middle East, there is a section on Iraq. In this section of Iraq, there is a heading that says "Solo Traveling". The advice it gives on solo traveling in Iraq?
You must be mad.
That is all it says.
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Saturday, 5 January 2008
Friday, 30 November 2007
Helsinki, Finland
We have just spent over seventeen hours in transit. I am two coffees on stuttered sleep into the next day. My thoughts dart like hummingbirds. Tangible, numerous; easy to see but impossible to grasp. I suspect, that were I to catch one, it would make about as much lasting sense as a meth freak. Gibberish doomed to deteriorate. Caffeine tends to turn my insides into chaotic mish mash. Especially now that I've agreed to the third cup. My innards shall be mashed potatoes, cigarettes are my gravy, Oxford the dish that this feast is served on. And so, erratically and potato-like, I remember Finland.
Fitting, actually, as potatoes are one of Jessica's favourite foods. She claims she use to get drunk on them. I believe her.
The house of Jessica and Jan (pronounced 'yawn') is like a prototype for the House of Awesome. A miniature prototype. A shoebox diorama held together with paintings, puppets, posters and utter disarray. Well, not so much disarray as functional chaos. Animators by profession, their workday start time amounted to a shoulder shrug. As in: "What time do you have to work today?" Reply: shoulder shrug. They are artists from the core.
After spending almost a month in the Baltics, surrounded by Old Towns and the ancient, Helsinki was almost refreshing in its newness. The architecture had obviously been planned with aesthetics in mind, as it was utterly gorgeous. Also, probably one of the best planned public transit systems I've ever seen. However, the roads are ridiculous to try and navigate. It took Kaare and I about twenty minutes to walk from the market square to Jessica and Jan's apartment. On the third day there, we realized that it should have only taken us about two minutes. I felt like a giant ass. But hey, I've felt dumber over more important things than that!
The market was so sweet. Imagine the Granville Island Market on speed. Vendors everywhere selling everything from bulk olives to fish eggs. One of my favourite new dishes being mashed potatoes with fish eggs. Amazingly good! And we also ate horse. And reindeer. Dear Rudolph: the end. Sorry kids...Rudolph's nose didn't save him this time. It was actually really good. Extremely salty. Sorry to all the veggies out there, I'll stop talking about it now. Well, one more thing: Yummmmmm.......!
I think one of my favourite parts of Finland was Soumenlinna. Oh yeah, just you try pronouncing that one. We'll hold a conference call contest to see who gets the closest. Anyways, Soumenlinna is an island just off the coast of Helsinki. It was about a fifteen minute ferry ride, the price of which was included in our tram ticket, proof of Finland's superior public transit. The island was beautiful. We spent almost four hours wandering around: in ruins, on the shore, over rocks, and down those rickety wooden staircases that I've always associated with the ocean off of Long Beach. And when we went for lunch, I had a fish stew with a tomato base. Yup, tomatoes. I've decided that if you can manifest things, then you must be able to de-manifest things. So no more tomato allergy for Angie! I hope. I haven't had the guts to try fresh ones yet. Plus I don't really trust the hospital systems of the countries that we've been in. And I don't think Kaare would be quite as good with an allergic reaction as he was at fixing Jessica's arm WHEN HE BROKE IT!!!
Don't worry, that happened in Thailand! Not in Finland. Although I don't think Jessica will ever let him live it down. Much to my entertainment. Sorry for the heart attack I must have just given you Mom.
Anyways, that's about it for now folks! We're alive in Oxford right now, and we head to Brussels later this evening. I will hopefully be able to keep in better contact with everyone! Look forward to long and detailed emails folks...providing that Marty has internet that he doesn't mind me using as crack. Lets hear it for internet withdraws! (Hooray)
Quote of the Day:
I was wearing my ewok touque and bouncing one of the balls on the end of the idiot ties off my head. Kaare gave me a look (you know..."a look"), and I explained that I was building up the bounce ratio. His reply...
"Did you calculate that using your retard powers?"
Alcohol Fact of the Day:
In Finland, they have Fish Vodka. That would be Fisherman Friends Vodka. The menthol is so strong that you don't even taste the alcohol. It's crazy.
Fitting, actually, as potatoes are one of Jessica's favourite foods. She claims she use to get drunk on them. I believe her.
The house of Jessica and Jan (pronounced 'yawn') is like a prototype for the House of Awesome. A miniature prototype. A shoebox diorama held together with paintings, puppets, posters and utter disarray. Well, not so much disarray as functional chaos. Animators by profession, their workday start time amounted to a shoulder shrug. As in: "What time do you have to work today?" Reply: shoulder shrug. They are artists from the core.
After spending almost a month in the Baltics, surrounded by Old Towns and the ancient, Helsinki was almost refreshing in its newness. The architecture had obviously been planned with aesthetics in mind, as it was utterly gorgeous. Also, probably one of the best planned public transit systems I've ever seen. However, the roads are ridiculous to try and navigate. It took Kaare and I about twenty minutes to walk from the market square to Jessica and Jan's apartment. On the third day there, we realized that it should have only taken us about two minutes. I felt like a giant ass. But hey, I've felt dumber over more important things than that!
The market was so sweet. Imagine the Granville Island Market on speed. Vendors everywhere selling everything from bulk olives to fish eggs. One of my favourite new dishes being mashed potatoes with fish eggs. Amazingly good! And we also ate horse. And reindeer. Dear Rudolph: the end. Sorry kids...Rudolph's nose didn't save him this time. It was actually really good. Extremely salty. Sorry to all the veggies out there, I'll stop talking about it now. Well, one more thing: Yummmmmm.......!
I think one of my favourite parts of Finland was Soumenlinna. Oh yeah, just you try pronouncing that one. We'll hold a conference call contest to see who gets the closest. Anyways, Soumenlinna is an island just off the coast of Helsinki. It was about a fifteen minute ferry ride, the price of which was included in our tram ticket, proof of Finland's superior public transit. The island was beautiful. We spent almost four hours wandering around: in ruins, on the shore, over rocks, and down those rickety wooden staircases that I've always associated with the ocean off of Long Beach. And when we went for lunch, I had a fish stew with a tomato base. Yup, tomatoes. I've decided that if you can manifest things, then you must be able to de-manifest things. So no more tomato allergy for Angie! I hope. I haven't had the guts to try fresh ones yet. Plus I don't really trust the hospital systems of the countries that we've been in. And I don't think Kaare would be quite as good with an allergic reaction as he was at fixing Jessica's arm WHEN HE BROKE IT!!!
Don't worry, that happened in Thailand! Not in Finland. Although I don't think Jessica will ever let him live it down. Much to my entertainment. Sorry for the heart attack I must have just given you Mom.
Anyways, that's about it for now folks! We're alive in Oxford right now, and we head to Brussels later this evening. I will hopefully be able to keep in better contact with everyone! Look forward to long and detailed emails folks...providing that Marty has internet that he doesn't mind me using as crack. Lets hear it for internet withdraws! (Hooray)
Quote of the Day:
I was wearing my ewok touque and bouncing one of the balls on the end of the idiot ties off my head. Kaare gave me a look (you know..."a look"), and I explained that I was building up the bounce ratio. His reply...
"Did you calculate that using your retard powers?"
Alcohol Fact of the Day:
In Finland, they have Fish Vodka. That would be Fisherman Friends Vodka. The menthol is so strong that you don't even taste the alcohol. It's crazy.
Tuesday, 20 November 2007
Tallinn, Estonia
For Stella-Mom and Auntie Julie: who wanted to hear about something other than drinking.
And for Nana: not a single f-bomb to be seen!
The beauty of Tallinn is quieting for me. The grey sea port day. The winter bare trees in hidden courtyards or growing out of moss covered ruins. As I walk past the soaring architecture of Alexander Nevsky Chapel, I have to quickly step onto the two foot wide sidewalk to avoid the cars whizzing down the cobblestone. A colourful lane lined with galleries and stencil graffiti has, on the left side, a steep, concrete staircase. On the right is the original, 800 year old roadway, built at an almost mind boggling forty five degree angle (although Kaare will argue that I am exagerating the angle). How did people, never mind horses, manuever it? Imagine Dawes Hill made of cobblestones. (For those of you who know Vancouver)
I feel like I'm stuck in juxtaposition. Like, all of a sudden, the cartoon Mickey Mouse from "Steamboat Willie" (circa 1928) happens to appear in "Finding Nemo". Stylish (and gorgeous) women in fur lined parkas and jeans that I'm pretty sure they put on with a paint brush, navigate the age worn streets in spike heels. Although we have it on good authority that these women aren't locals, they're Russians. A local told us that. At the top of the city, I can look over both the colourful Old Town and the bustling port area of the new town. Even our hostel, with it's laminate flooring and central heating, has a kitchen situated in what could very well have been a medieval dungeon. Possibly, it still is. We found some very suspicious Hansel and Gretel sized holes in the wall.
And the art community here is like nothing I've seen outside of Nelson or the Sunshine Coast. We accidentaly came across the art gallery/workshop of Aleksnar Savchnkov. We walked through an arched tunnel on a whim, finding ourselves in a hidden courtyard. It was like walking into a faerie garden. Stone arches and staircases covered in vines, stained glass lanterns, wooden planks carved with foreign script and the utter silence of a garden in hibernation. I half expected a little gnome to come racing around the corner and chastise us in gibberish for our intrusion. To our right, an aged stairwell led down into the basement gallery. Inside there were paintings everywhere. On walls and chairs, in tiny alcoves or hanging from the ceiling. Images of women, scenes of snow covered Tallinn and innovative pictures of angels or the Virgin Mary. If the painting was framed, it was done so artistically with driftwood, stone, scrap metal, wool and even with the building itself. There was one alcove about two feet wide, one foot tall and two feet deep, that held a tine painting of the Virgin with a candle burning blithely beside it. Most of the paintings, however, were unframed. They lay in folders on tables, or strewn unfinished around Savnchkov's work space. A fireplace roared, surrounded by comfy chairs, the artist, and a few other tea drinkers. The building, from what I could gather, had been a monastery once upon a time. It was one of the coziest places I have ever had the privelage of stumbling into.
Finally, I apologize to everyone who hasn't been hearing from us lately. Internet has been hard to come by. Right now, we're stealing internet from Jessica's neighbours. (We're in Helsinki by the way) We have officially become gypsies.
And for Nana: not a single f-bomb to be seen!
The beauty of Tallinn is quieting for me. The grey sea port day. The winter bare trees in hidden courtyards or growing out of moss covered ruins. As I walk past the soaring architecture of Alexander Nevsky Chapel, I have to quickly step onto the two foot wide sidewalk to avoid the cars whizzing down the cobblestone. A colourful lane lined with galleries and stencil graffiti has, on the left side, a steep, concrete staircase. On the right is the original, 800 year old roadway, built at an almost mind boggling forty five degree angle (although Kaare will argue that I am exagerating the angle). How did people, never mind horses, manuever it? Imagine Dawes Hill made of cobblestones. (For those of you who know Vancouver)
I feel like I'm stuck in juxtaposition. Like, all of a sudden, the cartoon Mickey Mouse from "Steamboat Willie" (circa 1928) happens to appear in "Finding Nemo". Stylish (and gorgeous) women in fur lined parkas and jeans that I'm pretty sure they put on with a paint brush, navigate the age worn streets in spike heels. Although we have it on good authority that these women aren't locals, they're Russians. A local told us that. At the top of the city, I can look over both the colourful Old Town and the bustling port area of the new town. Even our hostel, with it's laminate flooring and central heating, has a kitchen situated in what could very well have been a medieval dungeon. Possibly, it still is. We found some very suspicious Hansel and Gretel sized holes in the wall.
And the art community here is like nothing I've seen outside of Nelson or the Sunshine Coast. We accidentaly came across the art gallery/workshop of Aleksnar Savchnkov. We walked through an arched tunnel on a whim, finding ourselves in a hidden courtyard. It was like walking into a faerie garden. Stone arches and staircases covered in vines, stained glass lanterns, wooden planks carved with foreign script and the utter silence of a garden in hibernation. I half expected a little gnome to come racing around the corner and chastise us in gibberish for our intrusion. To our right, an aged stairwell led down into the basement gallery. Inside there were paintings everywhere. On walls and chairs, in tiny alcoves or hanging from the ceiling. Images of women, scenes of snow covered Tallinn and innovative pictures of angels or the Virgin Mary. If the painting was framed, it was done so artistically with driftwood, stone, scrap metal, wool and even with the building itself. There was one alcove about two feet wide, one foot tall and two feet deep, that held a tine painting of the Virgin with a candle burning blithely beside it. Most of the paintings, however, were unframed. They lay in folders on tables, or strewn unfinished around Savnchkov's work space. A fireplace roared, surrounded by comfy chairs, the artist, and a few other tea drinkers. The building, from what I could gather, had been a monastery once upon a time. It was one of the coziest places I have ever had the privelage of stumbling into.
Finally, I apologize to everyone who hasn't been hearing from us lately. Internet has been hard to come by. Right now, we're stealing internet from Jessica's neighbours. (We're in Helsinki by the way) We have officially become gypsies.
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