Bristol and the "Wizard"

From Dublin I traveled to Bristol, England.  I arrived just in time to meet Tom at the Train Station Temple Meads after he got off work.  Tom works for the Ministry of Defense just outside of Bristol in the town where he actually lives, Filton.  I haven´t seen Tom since the last time I was in England in 2008, so I was really excited to see him and catch up on what had been going on in our lives since we last met in London.  There is no better place to catch up with an old friend than in the local pub / apres-work watering hole.  So off we went to a fairly nice place near the docks of Bristol "Pitcher and Piano" or some combination thereof.  There we ordered a few delicious pints of Cider and then nachos to preempt the giant burgers we both ordered. We chatted and drank and ate for a while, catching up on old mutual friends, stories of college and just in general, enjoying each other´s company.  After dinner, we set off on a brief tour of downtown Bristol, seeing the Cathedral, the university and  some famous graffiti before realizing, it was definitely time for another pub and a few more rounds of cider.  (I will take a brief moment to calm the nerves of anyone reading who is worried about my BAC,or Blood Alcohol Content, but cider is typically on the lower spectrum of alcohol by volume and comes in a just under maybe 4%.  So don´t worry, I still had my wits about me.)  So we settled into the Bristol Ram and merrily settled into our cider and conversation.

The next day Tom had to go to work and I was meeting Joe, the guy everyone was absolutely jealous over when they heard that he was getting paid to travel around Europe eating food and writing about it, yeah that asshole.  Fortunately that jerk is actually a really nice dude and was kind enough to come pick me up in an actual car and drive me around Bristol and take me on another mini tour of the City.  We walked through the city, found some park, traversed this mega-hill that was kind enough to remind me how out of shape I am, and then found this lovely little sandwich shop called The Magic Roll.  And then Joe blew my mind.  He says to me,"Kendall, I´m going to need you to say very little when ordering...", strides up to the counter and says in his lovely little English Accent ,"We´d like two Wizards please!"  A Wizard is apparently a very secret locals only deal.  They don´t publish this secret word, it´s passed on my word of mouth and only works if you are from Bristol.  Me sauntering up to the counter ordering a very American sounding Wizard would not work.  I'm not sure what they would do to me, but I don't think it would be good.  So 3 quid later I had the most delicious Wizard and a coke and we were sitting in a beautiful park, and I would say, quite happy.  (Or at least I was...)

After lunch Joe drove back to his places making a pit stop at what he deems a real English Pub (defined by him as a pub with hideous carpeting).  He insisted that I experience a real English Pub and not the ones that we call pubs in America that completely lack crap carpeting and awkward photos on the wall and loads of old people.  So for one beer and cider I enjoyed my English Pub and the company of a real Englishman.  But this experience was nothing when we pulled up at his really cute and adorable English cottage in the middle of freaking nowhere with the cutest view of Wales from his hour long driveway filled with more horses than cars and I almost died.  IT WAS AMAZING.  I almost hid in his house so I´d have to stay there, forever. AND WE HAD BEER IN HIS GARDEN.  HIS ENGLISH GARDEN!  and he gave me ICE CREAM!  in his ENGLISH GARDEN!  hahahahhahehehehehhehehahahehehehahha!  For some reason, this gave me immense joy, which I´m not sure I´ve portrayed properly here with all the exclamation points, capitalization and laughter.  But use your imagination, seek all the Hugh Grant movies you can conjure and form your own vision of what I was experiencing and maybe you´ll understand why, some weeks later, I´m still in a bit of a euphoric state.

After we left his house (I almost cried) we went to the Avon Gorge Hotel to have drinks and wait for Tom.  The Avon Gorge Hotel is this really amazing hotel that sits facing the Avon Gorge which has spectacular views of no only the gorge but the worlds first Suspension Bridge.  Sipping our libations of choice (him beer, me Cider!) Joe tells me that this bridge is the bridge of choice for suicides.  Thanks Joe... my euphoria is over.  He then explains that I also have been on an impromptu death tour of Bristol.  Again... thanks!  Apparently I was at a bar, the Bristol Ram, where a girl was abducted and then killed in a field next to Joe´s house and then we passed a place where a guy killed himself with a machete and then drove over and sat facing the bridge where more people kill themselves.  I missed the simple happiness of just sitting in his English garden... what happened to that?  Dead, apparently    Tom showed up and we hung out for a while when Joe left Tom and I to eat some really delicious Indian food in the very wealthy area of Bristol called Carlton or Clifton or something equally as Anglo and pretentious sounding.

Right.  you´re exhausted of my chatter and you want pictures...  Fine!

Fish and Chips!

Sticky Toffee Pudding!

Tom! 

As usual, more pictures here.

Dublin, Ireland

Getting to Ireland, was not enjoyable. I was flying with the European discount airline Ryanair, a notoriously terrible airline that loves to fly incredibly early. This particular flight wasnt that early, leaving at 9:30am, but what made this a huge pain, was that ryanair doesnt fly out of centrally located airports sometimes and this time, i had to travel to Beauvais, 50km outside the city. In order to get there, i had to take a 35minute metro ride at 5:30am to this park, find the bus that for 10€ would drive me to the Beauvais airport 2 hiurs before my flight inorder to get through the terrible Ryanair security and get to my gate on time to make my flight.

Fast forward to 10:30am Dublin time- I made it! Im exhausted, but I made it.

I met a few american girls at my hostel in Madrid who were on break from their semester abroad in Dublin. We hit it off and they invited me to come visit them in Ireland. Of course I was going to take them up on their offer. Ireland is suppsed to be amazing and not only that, but it is filled with redheads, making it literally the only place on earth I am not a huge freak for having redhair. After time in Spain, I welcomed the opportunity to not be stared at.

Mary met me on her campus, University College Dublin (UCD) and we set off for her on campus apartment and hung out for a little while- I got to do Laundry for the first time in weeks- I was a happy girl. :) Later, we took the bus from campus into the center of Dublin and walked around. Dublin is such a cute city. All the people are so friendly and cheerful which is so different from Spain where people on the street, if they are not staring at you for being incredibly redheaded, they dont make eye contact with you and they most certainly dont smile or strike up a conversation with you. Mary took me to this amazing store called Avoca. it was like Twigs and Teacups meets Martha Stewart meets designer clothing meets The Village Bakery meets Play It Again Sams. Needless to say, I was in love. Full on love. It was 5 stories of beautiful merchandise and food. The top and bottom floors we cafes, selling amazing deliciousnesss such as sandwiches, soups, scones, irish breakfasts and sparkling lemonade. Even their cappuccinos were beautiful made with a beautiful little design in the foam, mine was a smiling sunshine one day when I met up with an old college friend for brunch! I was in loooooove. And you know what, this is maybe the best part - THEY HAVE ONE UNITED STATES LOCATION, IN ANNAPOLIS, MARYLAND!!!!!! Yes. I think I will be visiting their American location often.

Anyways, I had an amazing time in Dublin. I was there for 5 days, enjoying every minute of my stay. I had my very first pint if a true Irish Guiness, and let me tell you, its so different than the Guiness in the states. i had a delicious irish pastie, which is delicious (and also a tad surprising because the Irish are not known for their food). We slept on St. stephens Green, went to several real irish pubs, and went to a playoff rugby match. Now this rugby match changed my life. Well, it changed my perspective of what a man is. I know i have several male readers, and I will do my best not to insult your manhood, but rugby players are MEN. They are not these wimpy american football players with incrredible amounts of padding on and stopping every play to rest and regroup, no. These MEN are without padding, without all these timeouts, hitting each other, lifting each other up and tackling each other, running full speed and bleeding. It was intense. However, now I see that perhaps there has been a blend of intense manliness and increrdible stuidity. Maybe the word for these athletes is not manly, maybe its animal- these players are animals. Yes, i think im on to something... Anyways, leinster, the irish time won by a landslide and it was an incredible game which i got to witness from the third row.

I met a lot of Mary, Alice and Adriannas friends in Dublin. And we all got along really well and did a lot of hanging out with each other. One night we got together for a family dinner and made from scratch whole wheat banana pancakes with bacon and scrambled eggs- in salute to America. It was delicious! It made me pang for home a little bit.

Dublin was such a great time and experience, im in love with the city and could see myself living there if only the westher was a little better. I had great whether while i was there, very sunny and warm, but apparently its usually very very rainy and dreary, which would put a damper on my happiness for sure.

Famous Bar and area of Dublin

Farmers Market on Saturdays in Temple Bar.

It´s always Guinness time!

My first Rugby Match!  Leinster v Leicester!

Next stop: Bristol, England


More pictures here.

Oui, oui, Paris!

 Paris was supposed to be the grand finale of my trip. I had big expectations and I was also the most nervous about this romantic city. What was I, a single girl with extremeeeelllyyy limited French, going to do? To me, Paris was the ultimate romantic getaway filled with lovers and money- two things I had not.

Upon my arrival to Paris, I made my waynto Le Marais, the district of Paris where my host family was staying. The family, a young arsty couple with a 2year old girl, welcomed me to their apartment right next to a wonderful bakery, a cute cafe and the metro. (this combination has become known to me as "The Trinity", the elusive perfect combination of locales that I have found extremely desirable.). Paula, Filipe and Gala took me in with own arms and throughout the next four days shared life stories, coffee, homemade chocolate cake and their own fears with me. They were fabulous and I hope to nev forget their charming little apartment that they shared with me.

The first day I set off on an exploration of the city. I had no destination in mind, i just kept walking and walking for hours, allowing myself the opportunity to get lost in the city and to just see, without expectations, and just experience the city without having to check off my list of places to see in Paris. I walked through Le Marais and found the Seine. Walking along the Seine, you find people sitting along the river bank, tourists walking, boats wandering the river and the eventually, I saw the Eiffel Tower. Now, I'm not making this up when I say I literally gasped at the sight of seeing the Eiffel for the first time. It was surprising and beautiful and overwhelming. I couldnt help but smile and look next to me in the hopes of sharing this moment with someone. But i was surrounded by busy Parisians with whom the magic of the Eiffel is lost. It was this moment that confused me. I was so moved, almost embarrassingly so, that I wasnt sure whether to be glad I was alone, to properly enjoy the moment, without having to check my feelings or to keep moving without being aboe to stare for as long as id like, or if having somone there would have made it better. This was the fight that I had with myself and I still havent figured out the answer to it. Perhaps the is the ultimate traveling partner who both there and not there, the perfect balance of being able to share experiences with but also you feel absolutely able to be who you are and feel what you feel and maybe most importantly, to be free to do what you want.

Throughout my time in Paris, that moment seeing the Eiffel was the only time, aside from meals, that I desired somene to be there with me. By this point, I loved being alone. I didnt have to wait for anyone, I could mosey, or speed walk, I could eat when I wanted where I wanted. I was entirely free to do as I pleased. Such things included, waiting 2.5 hours in line to see the Louvre, walking to the Pompidou but refusing to wait in line again to see more art, eating 6 crepes with various comninations of nutella and fruit, 4 pain au chocolats, 3 fresh baguettes, countless cafes, stoppng for only 10 minutes to see the Arc de Triomphe, walking up all the stairs to the Eiffel to save 10€ and sitting for hours in Parisian cafes writing in my journal and drinking absurd amounts of coffee, exploring the ile de cite and admiring the Notre Dame,

Did i love Paris? I dont think ai can say that. I enjoyed the city, ive always wanted to go and im so glad I went. But with the budget I had and the little French I knew, it made it really difficult to experience what I imagine to be the proper Paris. Food is expensive, and all I really wanted was an amazing Parisian meal and I just couldnt afford it. Going in to musuems and other tourist attractions cost money, money that I couldnt spend. I wouod definitely go back to Paris, later on in my life when I dont have the budget I do now, when I can spend money on 4 course French meals and buy clothes and souvenirs.

The Seine and the Eiffel Tower

Hotel Ville

Next stop: Dublin, Ireland!


You can always see more of my photos by accessing my public Facebook link here.

Monaco is very very Poor....

View of Monaco and part of the Yacht Club

Monte Carlo Casino

Oh Monaco... So, surprisingly Monaco does have a lot of really ugly buildings.  Which is unfortunate because of the grandeur its name implies, but honestly, there were a lot of buildings that were just outdated and ugly.  But of course, there were all the enormous yachts and Aston Martin and Bentleys and other beautiful buildings that made up for it.  Even the traffic jams were gorgeous.  It's like, oh shoot, damn it, stuck behind another $300,000 car again.  Honey, I told you to skip I-95 during rush hour!

Joe and I spent the day walking all over Nice.  However, the first thing I did was fall in the only puddle in all of Monaco.  Right on my ass.  Soaking wet, in front of people.  I was naive at first to think that the 20 of the  richest men in the 20m perimeter would have sent their servants to come rescue me, wrap wads of Hundred Euro bills around my ankle to support it, and then fight over who could put me in their Rolls Royce and send me to his mansion to recuperate for the rest of my life.  But, alas, there was just Joe, embarrassed for me and only wishing he had seen the entire fall and not just the sudden disappearance of yours truly from his peripherals.  A gentleman, really...

So a bit wet and a lot sore we scampered off around Monaco in search of grandeur and cheap cheap food.  Found both, the latter in the form of a Rotisserie Chicken, tomatoes and a baguette from the super market, eaten like tramps in a park with our hands and no napkins.  Yes, this is the way to spend an afternoon in Monaco- like homeless people.  But I didn't mind, I had great company, a freshly cooked bird and a view of the Mediterranean to die for.  

After lunch we headed back down the mountain, utilizing the very random and somewhat mysterious elevators placed all around the city to descend to sea level and back to the casino to gawk at more luxury and riches.  Went into the world famous casino, pretended we had far too much money to waste on such "gaudy interior" and "ghastly collections of cars" and the "hideous excuse for a casino" in our finest (his authentic) English accents.  

And that was pretty much it for Monaco.  The boats were beautiful, the deckhands gorgeous, the teak-ing flawless and the water, crystal clear blue.  I could go back... (oh wait!  I am going back!  hahahahhahahaha in May, with my family!)

More of Nice...

Nice, France

So after the Weirdo Incident, I went back to the hostel and hid in my room.  I needed a nap!  As I was in my bed reading, a guy staying in my room came up to me and I'm immediately thinking, CAN I NOT GET ANY SLEEP AROUND HERE?  NO PEACE AND QUIET?  I'M TRAVELING ALONE AND YET SOMEHOW I AM NEVER ALONE!  

Enter Joe.  Joe is from Bristol, England and is in Nice on a dream assignment- he is getting paid to travel around Europe for a month blogging about food.  I'm extremely jealous.  (It does occur to me that I am doing basically the same thing, on a longer scale, but I am unfortunately using my own, hard earned money.  Must find out how he got this job...)  Joe is exactly what I need- a break from skeevy guys.  He has a girlfriend that he loves and has no interest in abducting me, he just wants someone to eat with.  And if you remember, I am quite a talented eater.  So it could be to say, we're a match made in Food Heaven and continue to spend the next couple days wandering around Nice, sitting on the beach drinking beer and eating pizza, and eating some really great meals. Our meals  ranged from the pizza and beer on the beach, to Kebab, to Sushi, to mussels and fish.

By Friday, Joe was leaving for Milan and I was headed to Monaco for the day.  On my way out the door I for no reason I can think of, I go the wrong way.  The complete OPPOSITE direction of the bus station to Monaco and I knew that.  I continue to walk that way, knowing my mistake and run straight into Joe.  The Italians, always up for a good strike, had decided that April Fools Day would be a great day for a train strike.  (Literally, there is a website dedicated to the upcoming strikes in Italy.  If you're interested... however it's only in Italian, but you'll get the general idea.) So Joe, not being able to make his trip to Milan that day, looked and me and said, "Monaco?"  So off we went, to Monaco for the day, no big deal or anything.  Just an obvious day trip for two people unfortunately stuck in Nice, France together.  (Did you sense the sarcasm?)


If you would like to see Joe's food blog, which I suggest because it's really well done and has beautiful pictures, you should go HERE!

Oh Nice, you're very nice...

I'm sorry I'm sorry. I know, Im not very good at this updating your blog in a timely fashion sort of thing. We all have our imperfections, right?

Nice was great. In fact it was so great, that I decided to stay for two extra days, skipping Lyon. The hostel that I was in was incredible. I still can't get over how comfortable those beds were, and the bathtubs, my god!

so after dinner the other night with the men, who turned out to be the owners of several restaurants and bars all over Europpe, we went out drinking. And boy the next day did knave a hangover. Not because I drank too much, but because I was drinking this homemade prune cordial. It was so sweet that it just gave me the worst headache the next morning. But never you fear dear readers, I had the perfect cure the next day- an afternoon on the beach! So here I am, indulging in a private afternoon on the beach, with a raging alcohol induced headache when just as soon as I settled in to my very comfortable position, ALONE(as I preferred it) this man comes and asks if he can sit next to me. Hmmm... Is he a weirdo or a nice guy... There a some risks you take in life and this was one of mine, I decided that he was a nice guy. It was a combination of the very smart looking business suit he had on, and the French accent which made it hard to understand/detect any trace of "weirdo". He sat down and I once again Settled into my hangover, when he started talking, and WOULDN'T STOP. I mean dear god, about the weatherm about his job, about where I'm from, about god only knows what and I'm just like staring at him like, "listen, pal. I have no time for this, I'm hungover, can't you see that?!?!?". (I should now tell you that I hadn't yet showered and one look at me and you'd know i was hungover). But the man persisted. Well finally he asked me if I would get a drink with him after he returned from Monaco that evening, and now I finally decidied that the man is after all a complete werido(looking back, who in their right mind wears a business suit on the beach?). I would like to say that I had a clever line along the lines of, oh I would love to join you but I'm dining with the ambassadors son in Cannes tonight and I'm afraid I just can't cancel. But instead I agreed. Now listen, I had every intention of blowing him off, but this was no risk I was going to take, turning him down in person. You never know what a weirdo in a business suit will do... But I guess he detected that I had reservations about going, and this is when he said something I'll never forget:

Don't worry, I won't abduct you!

Code red. And this is about the time that I took off in a near dead sprint in the opposite direction of Philipe.

29 March 2011

Entry from personal journal, written a bit in the style of stream-of-conscious. Time passes without notification. Ultra swanky and literary, right?



At the train station, yet again, waiting for my train to Nice. I'm so excited. Perhaps I should stop thinking so highly of it so I won't disappoint myself. However, I hear amazing things. I have done some research and the is a great local dive bar that Princess Caroline visits for seafood- I'm definitely going there. It's supposed to rain a bit, mostly Wednesday night and I'm already contemplating staying through until the 2nd to be able to see some nicer days and maybe go to Monaco for a day, do some scouting out for the trip with the family. Its only a 15 minute train ride. However, staying in Nice means an incredibly long (6 hour) train ride on the 2nd.

There are currently military men at the gare (train station) with machine guns which is only slightly scary. It would be more terrifying if they weren't all smiling and laughing.

Random observation: Ive never seen so many... Disabled people than in Europe. I feel like every day I see someone on crutches, walking with a limp, blind, or with a foot longer than the other wearing one of those shoes with a 5" lift...

I digress...

Now I know what the military men were at the gare for: some guy was smuggling socks.
I would be laughing too.

Au revoir, Toulouse...

***

Bonjour, Nice, It's lovely to meet you...

I'm sitting at a nice restaurant called "caffe dell arte" in the plaza where the Flower Market is held everyday. M hoping tin get their formula for 17€ we will see what happens. Their. menu Is in this really beautiful gold paper.

Okay. I got the formula(fixed price menu, aka prix fixe which includes a giant Nicoise salad and a filet of salmon and and a dessert, which I obviously got the chocolate crêpe. (readers, you should know that my love for chocolate is immense and unwavering).

They should have prix fixe menus in the states. It's awesome. You just get a few choices, mix and match, and it's a set price. It may not include a drink, or dessert some vary that way, but it's wildly popular in Europe it must work...

There are these really nice men sitting next to me, asking about my food where Im from, etc. They appear to be french. The salad was amazing, it was enormous and delicious. (one of the mens name is Mimo, or something tongued effect).

Cote- Rotie 2005. Reserve
Gentleman bought me a bite of the above wine. Apparently it's a pretty good wine. I have no complaints, as it tastes better than the house wine I was drinking.