Planes, Trains, and Plantains

In case you didn't get the reference.

I’ve passed a lot of personal milestones in the last two-ish months. I’ve seen more carved testicles in that time than I had in the previous 20 years. I’ve spent more time away from my parents than ever before. I’ve eaten more Cornish pasties than I thought I ever would (truth be told, I had no idea what a Cornish pasty was 3 months ago). And I’ve more than doubled my total number of countries visited since September.

I’d traveled a fair bit before that, mostly on family visits, and thought I was pretty well experienced at it (little did I know you can go for 7 days with one backpacks worth of clothing). I was certainly under the impression that if you were going to be traveling, you were going to be cramped in a car and take a long while to get a long way, or you were going to be cramped in a plane, subjected to the indignity of airport security, and pay a lot to get a long way in a short time. Transportation meant discomfort, basically.

As much as I hate to come across as the snobbish North American who has been to Europe, I’ve got to say that I’ve become convinced this semester that trains are the most civilized way to travel. I use that word civilized pretty deliberately. On a train, you can stand up and move. You aren’t confined to your little space. It’s easy to have a conversation. There’s usually a place to buy food, and you can always bring in your own food. All in all, you feel like you’re actually treated like a human being when you take a train, especially in comparison with flying, where you’re treated like a potential terrorist, then the object of some kind of scam, then a piece of cargo.

Museophilia

There really is a lot to do in London. It’s not that I disbelieved that when people told me, and it feels kind of trite to say it, but it’s true.

Forgetting for a moment the allures of theatre, pubs, clubs, restaurants, live music, shopping, and all the other lovely things London offers; solely focusing on the museums, there’s enough to keep you occupied for months. I’ve been to the British Museum three times thus far (and seen the Rosetta stone all three times) and I’ve only seen a fraction of what’s in there. I still have no clue what’s in the circular thing in the middle of the building. If they allowed you to sleep there, you could spend a solid week living there, and you might be able to see everything and pay good attention to all of it.

It’s free too, as are the National Gallery, the National Portrait gallery, the Tate Modern, and the Tate Britain. I’ve managed to get to each of them once (except the Tate Britain, which I got lost trying to find, and ended up leaving to go see Jim Carrey light the Christmas lights on Oxford St), and I believe each could take up a solid day if you really paid attention to them.

Then there are the legions of smaller museums, ranging from the Freud house to the Brahmah coffee and tea museum to the Churchill Museum and Cabinet War Rooms, all of which seem fascinating, but many of which I’m not going to get to go to, or don’t want to pay to get into.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I think the size of London is overwhelming, in the best possible way.

Take III…

So, I kind of suck at this blogging thing.

From here on out, I’m going to try and simply narrate what I’ve done, not sit around and wait for some kind of profound thought to come and beat me around the head. I like stories more than statements anyway.

Hopefully, if I get motivated, I will produce entries on the travel I’ve done in England, my classes, some of the stuff I’ve done in London, and my European adventure over reading week in the near future. Someone hold me to that.