Haworth and Knaresborough

Since Easter Break I’ve been in York finishing up school, exploring the city and continually finding new places, writing and editing for my other blog and in my novel projects, reading, watching movies, going out for dinner with friends. . . . It has been a very relaxed end to the semester.

The past two Saturdays I’ve gone on day trips. On May 9, my flatmate Amy and I took a train and then a bus to the village of Haworth. We trekked up a steep hill through some shops, and at the top, we entered the Brontë house.

Who are the Brontës? It pains me that you have to ask! The Brontë sisters were literary geniuses who lived short, tragic lives, leaving the world with only glimpses of their brilliance in the form of a handful of novels and poems.

Maria and Elizabeth Brontë died at eleven and ten years old after suffering cruel conditions at a boarding school. Charlotte Brontë, known for writing Jane Eyre, is perhaps the most famous sister. Charlotte lived the longest (to age 38), and her other completed novels are Shirley and Villette. Emily Brontë is the author of Wuthering Heights, one of my favorite books. The youngest sister, Anne, wrote The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and Agnes Grey. All the Brontë siblings wrote poetry, and Charlotte and her brother Branwell were accomplished artists as well.

The Brontë girls were haunted by death, grief, poverty, religion, and oppressive gender roles of their society. Ahead of their time, the girls’ novels explore all these themes.They published most of their works under male or ambiguous names––still receiving harsh criticism for the dark themes and many challenges to tradition (both literary and societal).

As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I adore them. But I’ll stop with the history lesson. If you don’t know much about them you should really read their novels or at least read their wikipedia pages. They changed the literary stage in many ways, and I think they are underappreciated––especially in America.

Walking through their home was surreal. I stood in front of the table where Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights were written. I gawked at the couch where Emily spent her last hours before succumbing to Tuberculosis. I found handwritten letters and journals by all the girls in glass cases. I marveled at Charlotte’s drawing skills and discovered by the size of one of her dresses that she was a tiny woman.

Maybe my favorite part about visiting the Brontë home was that it helped me see the girls as people as well as authors. This was the kitchen where they cooked dinner, scrubbed dishes, and made tea. Here was the sewing kit they used to mend and make clothing. That was where they sat to do their lessons as children. There was the nursery where they spent their childhoods playing with toy soldiers and creating advanced fictional worlds in the pages of diaries.

The girls took trips around the country, took lessons at home and at a boarding school before Maria and Elizabeth became deathly ill from the poor conditions, worked as governesses, walked through the moors, went shopping, and took care of each other and their father as they one by one fell ill and died. The Brontë women produced some of the greatest literary pieces in history at young ages and still managed to live real, human lives. Realizing that was such a relief and reassurance.

Here are some more photos of Haworth:

The next Saturday I took a train to Knaresborough with Deanna. We saw some great things, but half the fun of that trip was getting to know Deanna better. We talked non-stop for six hours about everything from women in the church to writing fantasy novels.

Right off the train we walked through the small town to the castle ruins and gardens on top of a cliff overlooking the famous viaduct bridge. Mother Shipton, the prophetess of local legend, predicted that the world would end when the bridge collapses for the third times. It has already fallen twice!

(Photo credit to Deanna Menke since my phone decided to freeze while we were at the lookout point!)

We explored the gardens for the rest of the morning and then ate our packed lunches on a bench overlooking the river.

We made our way down the cliff’s steep stairs and walked along the river through a different section of the town. At Mother Shipton’s park we walked on gravel roads winding along the river and through a wooded hillside covered in white flowers. Inside the park we had a better view of this “weir” (small man-made damn) that was originally built for the nearby mill.

The walk through the park is nice, but the real reason you go to Mother Shipton’s is to see the petrifying well, the wishing well, and the cave where Mother Shipton was born, and later in life, lived and prophesied.

The petrifying well is a naturally occurring source of water with such a high  mineral content that it coats things in stone! A teddy bear petrifies in three months. People have been coming to see the petrifying well since the 1600s! In fact, the well is England’s oldest tourist attraction. Mother Shipton made the site even more famous.

As you can see in the photos above, people hang things on the line and come back for them after they have turned to stone. The small museum in the park is full of petrified items donated by famous people: a shoe from Queen Mary’s shoe, a purse belonging to Agatha Christie, and John Wayne’s cowboy hat.

The wishing well is tucked in a small alcove behind the petrifying well. You have to duck down and then reach your hand into a recess in the rock wall, dipping your hand into the “magical” wishing waters as you make a wish. Legend says that for the wish to come true, you have to let your hand dry naturally and never speak of what you wished for. Visitors claim the well works: many return year after year to make new wishes.

Head Over Heels for Skye (Skye Part Two)

We started my twenty first birthday right: with food and a great view––eating at that picnic table again looking out at the water. Half an hour later we were on a tour bus headed for the Fairy Pools!

When our driver stopped, I was a little  nervous at the lack of water or anything more magical looking than the mountains, but I started on my way down the hill. When the first waterfall came into view, I may have laughed a little manically.

I hurried on, pushing up a small mud hill, and then found myself jumping from boulder to boulder across a river! How could it get better? It was a a real-life adventure straight from a fairy tale book.

Impossibly, it did get better. Each series of waterfall and plunge pools or “fairy pools” I came upon made my heart swell an extra size. I couldn’t stop smiling. I never wanted to leave! I was incredibly close to jumping in, but as it was our first stop of the day, I really didn’t want to be soaking wet and miserable for the next five or so hours. Still, I kind of regret not doing it! The water was clear as glass––and not as cold as Lake Michigan can be even in summer.

Sorry for all the selfies––as I said, I was so excited! I had to try to capture my real smile for once.

I put aside my fear of heights and pretended I wasn’t clumsy and accident prone, and climbed all over those fairy pools! I climbed as close to the falls as I dared, sat on stones in the middle of rivers, hoisted myself up and down rock walls, and generally got muddy and out of breath. And it was 110% worth it!

But, all good things come to an end. As we hiked back up the incredibly steep trail toward our bus, I made a promise to myself that I would return to the Fairy Pools someday. And when I do, you can bet I will be swimming no matter the weather!

Our next stop of the day was at the Talisker Distillery. Crystal and Alison took the tour while Sydney, Alecia, and I found a restaurant for lunch. Then it was off to Old Man of Storr.

This is an intense climb. The gravel makes for slippery purchase––up and down––and it is a good twenty to thirty minute climb just to the base of the rock formation. That is as far as I got without my inhaler, but a few of the other girls went up higher. Here are some photos of the view from Old Man of Storr:

Simply gorgeous and rugged land! Thankful that the weather held out for us our entire time on Skye. I was always comfortable in a long sleeve shirt and a scarf, taking my rain jacket on and off depending on if I was hiking or standing still.

For dinner that night I treated myself to some steak and roasted potatoes. Later, we had ice cream hand-made on Skye and listened to a local band play live at the pub. I’d say it was a pretty good birthday. Maybe my best one so far.

SAMSUNG

And that is how I ended my insane, exhausting, rewarding Easter Break. The next day we took a taxi, ferry, train, and our own two legs back to school over about thirteen hours of traveling.

It took a few days for all of my experiences to sink in, but now that they have, I am astounded that I have seen so much of the world. I hope you have enjoyed reading along with little snapshots of my adventures. I’d love to talk more about it in person when I am back home!

Falling In Love with Skye (Skye Part One)

The train from Edinburgh to Mallaig was a long ride, but I filled it well with a book, music, and gazing greedily out the window.

The mountains look soft, velvety and plush as if you could spring off them like the grass jump pads in Meet the Robinson’s. Swatches of snow perch on the tops of the highest peaks, caked in the crevices of stone.

I see my first waterfall: a small one cutting through the ground of a forest to the field below. The more I study the land the more tumbling waterfalls I find. A big one! My heart falters and I gasp aloud at the sight of a waterfall shimmying down a staircase of roots and stones. I want to shout, grab the shoulder of a nearby passenger, force them to look and see and feel all of this. A wide waterfall with foaming cream water. A pair running closer and closer until they merge halfway down a hill. A waterfall as thin as a ruler. The biggest waterfalls carve their own paths deep into the earth, smaller versions of what has happened in Arizona at the Grand Canyon.

I can imagine little trolls popping up from clumps of mossy rock. Anything could be out there! The dark green forests ache with magic and mystery. I understand now why there is such rich folklore in Scotland and Ireland––their landscape begs for it.

Castles are sprinkled like confetti across the countryside. White, red brick, gray stone. From tiny homes to sprawling structures with walls and turrets, they look sturdy, fierce, and proud.

A few deer stare at the train blankly, unconcerned as it slices against the wind through the Highlands. A pristine, snow white lamb trots behind it’s momma, black head held high.

I could cry, but if I did I would never stop. Instead I imagine. In my mind I leap off the train and run. Scramble on top of every rock to claim and conquer it. Splash in a waterfall. Hike a small mountain. Push my body to its limits. Breathe hard and deep and taste the cold fresh air on my tongue and roof of my mouth. Stretch my lungs to bursting with the Highland air.

When the train lurches to a stop and a glare on the window reminds me I’m inside instead of out, my excitement builds further. In a few more hours, I’ll be out in those hills, walking those shores, touching that rock and moss.

Arriving in Mallaig we explored the little town until the ferry took us across to the Isle of Skye. On Skye we waited for a bus for over an hour and a half, but when it finally arrived, the bus driver took us directly to our hostel.

We didn’t have much time left that night for much except dinner of fish and chips at the only restaurant in the tiny town of Kyleakin. Alison, another friend from York St John, joined us at this point in our trip. Our hostel was interesting to say the least. Somehow, we got placed in the “caravans” outside. I crept around a maintenance shed, afraid of what I might see. Our caravan was a rickety trailer converted to sleep eight guests each on bunk beds that swayed with the trailer when anyone so much as twitched.

The next morning I bought packaged apple turnovers from the convenience store (attached to the restaurant) and ate at a picnic table looking out at the bay. Getting around the island was tricker than we expected, so our first full day in Skye we caught a bus to Eilean Donan castle and then did our own exploring near our hostel.

The castle was fantastic! The views from outside were unbelievable––a stone castle against cliffs and water. The castle was recently rebuilt, so everything inside was very well presented. We saw spy holes in the walls, weaponry, the family seal (the Mackenzies!), a fully stocked kitchen with plastic foods that looked incredibly real, bedrooms, family photos, and more views of the lake, town, and cliffs outside the castle.

The rest of the daylight saw us to some castle ruins near our hostel and then up over Skye Bridge which crosses between Isle of Skye, the island of Eilean Ban, and all the way to the mainland.

Climbing up to the castle ruins was fantastic. Getting to Caisteal Maol or Bare Castle, is quite easy compared to other hikes, but it does require some adventurous spirit as the last bit is almost straight up! You have to climb the stones and mounded earth like a ladder. The views are worth every bit of mud you’ll get on your jeans and hands. Back on the beaches we found shells and sea glass––perfect souvenirs of the island’s natural beauty.

Here’s what we saw from the top of Skye Bridge:

Edinburgh: Magic, Museums, and Majesty

After a much needed two day break back at school, I hopped on a train to Scotland with Alecia and Sydney. Our first destination was Edinburgh. We couldn’t check into our hostel until after 3pm, so we explored some attractions on the way toward our hostel.

Our first stop was at St Giles Cathedral. I only have pictures of the outside since you had to buy a photograph license to take pictures inside. The most remarkable feature about the inside of the cathedral was the bright blue ceiling in the nave. The church was also full of Scottish clan and family symbols on shields and flags.

Unintentionally, we arrived at the church during a free concert! We took the opportunity to set our heavy backpacks down and sit for a while in the cathedral, listening to the trio experiment and improv their way through several original pieces. The violinist was especially dramatic, and I had to fight back giggles on several occasions as he threw his bow into the air and whipped his black curls away from his face, striking a pose.

We headed up the street and found the Elephant House. It’s called the “birthplace of Harry Potter” and there is a reason for the quotations. J.K. Rowling in fact did not write the first Harry Potter books in the cafe. She wrote those at a cafe that has now changed ownership and name. But, parts of the Harry Potter books were written in the Elephant House––the last instead of the first.

Alecia and Sydney got some hot cocoa and we sat by a fake fireplace while I imagined Ms. Rowling strolling in with a notebook or a laptop, a dreamy look on her face, searching for just the right words to bring her characters and wizarding world to life.

The bathroom walls were thick with thank you’s to J.K., the books, and the characters. I couldn’t resist adding my own note in Sharpie pen on top of the hundreds of layers of crayon, marker, and pen. Even knowing it would most likely be covered and buried in just another few days, it felt important to add just a few of my own simple words to the story, world, and culture the books have created for an entire generation.

We left the magical behind and entered into the historical at Scottish Museum. I was very impressed! It was one of the best museums I have been to since being abroad, ranking up near the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. My favorite part of the museum was the cultural exhibits presenting cultures from around the world through clothing, art, performance, religion, and more. I have always been fascinated by Native American culture, and they had quite a large collection from the Americas, which I found surprising since we were in Scotland.

By the time we finished in the museum it was early evening and we were more than ready to set our luggage down. We made our way to our hostel, checked in, made our beds, and then headed back out to find dinner.

There were not many options near our hostel! And a lot of them were closed for some reason. We ended up at an “American” restaurant called The Frontier. Our waitress was funny and incredibly kind and helpful. I had baked macaroni and cheese with french fries dipped in some honey mustard, and for dessert, a milkshake! It was the closest to a real milkshake that I’ve had in the UK. They mix in so much milk and whip them until they’re basically frothy milk drinks instead of thick ice cream drinks.

The next morning we took advantage of the free breakfast at our hostel before walking into town to the Starbucks that acted as the meeting point for a free walking tour. Our guide was a quirky Scotswoman who led us around the city for the next three hours, spouting off history and puns and shocking facts.

We learned about the “spitting heart” on the pavement outside St Giles Cathedral that citizens still spit on to this day to show their hatred of taxes or government or something. . . . There is a statue nearby that is thought to bring you luck if you rub its big toe. Edinburgh Castle has been inhabited since it was built! Today it acts as a military base and a museum. A woman named Maggie Dickson survived her hanging in the Grassmarket, knocking on the casket of her lid a few hours later to be let out. In the same square there is a round stone memorial for the thousands of Christians who were martyred in Edinburgh. J.K. Rowling spent lots of time in the cemetery in Edinburg. Many character names can be found amongst the tombstones, and the view of a private school for gifted (sometimes orphaned) children as well as a castle can be seen from the cemetery gates––these most likely merged to form the castle-like school of Hogwarts.

After the tour we stopped for lunch, did a quick tour through the Writer’s Museum, and then made our way over to the Palace of Holyroodhouse. We didn’t go in since tickets were expensive and I am the only one obsessed with castles, but here is a photo I got through the gates.

With the rest of our afternoon we hiked Arthur’s Seat. This was my favorite part of my stay in Edinburgh! It was a tough climb. My calf muscles felt like they might rip, but the view at the top was more than worth it.

I’ve included some of my musings from on top of Arthur’s Seat. It is mostly unedited to preserve the rawness of the writing, so please excuse all the run ons and other grammatical issues. The ellipses are to indicate when I have cut a sentence or two from what I’ve included here.

Up in the rugged highlands, even the wind is stronger than me. . . . If you yawn, the wind whistles through your nostrils and you can hear the wind inside your head, rattling, echoing.

. . . . Listening for God and feeling His power in the buffet, His presence in the solidity of the cliff walls, His care in the plush mossy earth.

I long for more of this rugged nature. I want to hike and sleep under stars and jump in cold lakes and drink from rivers. I want trees and sand. Enough of cities and streets and people. I want more of this! Raw power and almost cruel beauty. It just is. It makes no excuses or explanations. It exists and goes on being without thought for why or how or for whom. Simple. Powerful. Almost divine––with a touch of the divine at least. Perhaps it is a “thin place” like the Celtic Christians are fond of calling places where divine and natural or human feel close, almost touching, separated by just a thin sheet of cosmic tissue paper.

Venice: Glittering Glass, Masks, and Waters

We arrived in Venice just after sunset. The streets and canals were lit with golden electric lights, the canals still somehow reflecting back a dark blue.

Venice has a completely different atmosphere from any other city I visited. There are no cars. Shops and restaurants stay open past five––allowing for some actual nightlife. Half the streets are made of water. Street vendors sell carnival masks and Venetian glass instead of leather and scarves.

Leaving the main streets of Venice behind we wandered the dim alleys and bridges until we found our hostel, checked in, and fell asleep, restless for the next morning. We’d had a taste and were craving more. What else would we find in Venice? Our exhaustion was giving way to excitement once more.

The morning saw us to a bakery just as the city was awakening and before the cruise ships landed with the hoards of tourists. I had one apricot or maybe peach filled croissant and a second croissant drizzled in melted chocolate. The woman who owned that bakery is a genius. I don’t know if I’ve ever tasted such a perfect croissant. In flavor and texture, nothing could have been improved.

Licking our fingers and wishing we had bought even more croissants, we trekked across the cobbled streets towards the Doge’s Palace. The sun couldn’t find its way down through the tall buildings into the narrow alleys, and there was a dank chill in the shadows. Many of the shops we passed were still closed, eery in their display of masks and food locked behind dark glass.

But we crossed another bridge and stepped into the sun and into St Mark’s Square. 

We hurried to purchase our tickets for the palace, determined to beat the hundreds of tourists set to arrive in the next hour off their docking cruise ships. Here are two of my pictures of the palace. It stands on one end of St Mark’s Square next to the Basilica. On its back side, the Doge’s palace is right up against the Canal di San Marco, leading right into the Adriatic Sea.

Here’s a photo from Tony Hisgett on Flickr so you can see the whole palace as it stands in front of the water:

He has a whole album of gorgeous Venice pictures if you are interested in looking at them! Click here!

Inside the palace I read and heard about the ancient Venetian government, trying to wrap my mind around the ancient dynasty’s rule and fall. The earliest parts of the palace were built as early as 1340, and it has acted as a home for the Doge, a government building, a prison, and a museum since then.

Like other place I’ve visited, the palace’s best art was often found on the ceilings. This palace also featured an extensive armory, stocked with spears, swords, cannons, armor, and things I can’t name. My favorite room was the Hall of the Great Council. It claims to be one of the largest rooms in Europe (which I kind of doubt), but it’s real claim to fame is the art and gold trim casing the room.

After we spent some time sitting and staring at the opulent room, we kept exploring, walking the Bridge of Sighs where prisoners sentenced to death caught their last glimpse of the city, the prisons that held the criminals below the palace, the Doge’s chambers, and many governmental rooms.

Finished in the palace we stepped outside and crossed over to the Basilica. Unfortunately, it was under construction on the outside and no photos are allowed inside, so I have very limited photographic documentation of this site. 

St Mark’s Basilica was not my favorite church inside. The floors were actually the highlight of the building for me! They are in rough shape, dipping and rising like small hills and many sections are covered with thick rugs to prevent more damage from the thousands of feet that shuffle across the floors every day, but the exposed and preserved sections of floor are spectacular. The entire floor is a mosaic, or really, grids of mosaics. The same photographer, Tom Hisgett, whose photo of the palace I showed earlier also caught some pictures of the Basilica’s interior. Maybe he had special permission?

After lunch we found our way back to the square and entered the palace on the other end of the square to see the museum. This portion contained a ballroom and lots of art. I was so sick of art I didn’t take pictures. But, here is the ballroom and an example of a decorated Venetian glass chandelier.

The rest of the day we walked along the canal by the palace, got a little lost heading back to the main part of the city where our hostel was, ate dinner on the Grand Canal, shopped through the glass, mask, and bead stores, and ended the night licking cones of gelato sitting on steps leading into the canal.

Corrie left early the next morning to meet her parents in Amsterdam, and the rest of the girls and I spent a leisurely day wandering and shopping in Venice.

We went back to St Mark’s Square and sat on the cold marble steps while listening to live bands play familiar and beloved tunes spanning every genre. I picked out a song from Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky, the Pirates of the Caribbean theme song, and a song from The Sound of Music.

Instead of gelato, we decided to try some cannoli that afternoon. I got a white chocolate and a milk chocolate filled. They were very rich! The pastry was a little crunchy for my taste and I thought it was overpowered by the amount of decadent filling. I would love to try one with a flakier crust and maybe with Bavarian cream or fruit filling instead. I don’t know if they even make flavors like that, but I think it would be delicious.

For lunch I had my last Italian dish: spaghetti. We ate dinner at an Old Wild West restaurant and didn’t even feel guilty for indulging in American food in Italy because of the portions and the prices. Finally, a meal that satisfied our growing hunger!

For some reason we decided we should catch an earlier bus than we were planning to get to the airport. Getting to Marco Polo airport over three hours before our departure time, I was expecting to sit in the waiting area for a long time. Instead, we nearly missed our flight! Needless to say, it was an unwelcome and stressful end to my time in Venice.

We stood in the check-in line for over two hours during which time our boarding time was moved up. From check-in we sprinted to security, threw our bags onto the conveyor belts, ripping out liquids and electronics before stuffing them back in after we cleared. Alecia lost her boarding pass––another wave of panic set in. From security we ran to border control, waited in line again, got our passports stamped, and rushed down an escalator. There, although our boarding time was already past, we waited. The plane wasn’t even ready! It also never pulled up to the airport; we had to take busses. It was chaos with no instruction or direction from the flight staff.

Collapsing into my seat on the plane that would take us to Manchester, I had never been so relieved to hear British accents. Home, I thought, and startled a little bit. But it was true. I snuggled into my seat, closing my eyes, and let the British accent wash over me. I was going home.

Florence: The Best of Food and Art

If you are looking for some good food, you should go to Florence. Even if you don’t like food you should go to Florence! But if you don’t like food, you might have a problem. You should think about it.

So let’s start with food. And first things first, gelato. A great chain with greater prices is Grom. You can really taste the quality difference in this gelato. And if you’re a fan of waffle cones like me, you’ll be pleased to know that Grom uses real waffle cones––not stale and flavorless sugar cones disguised as waffle cones. My favorite flavor of gelato while in Florence was called Cookies. It was a vanilla base with fudge swirls, chocolate chips, and some cookie bits as well as cookie dough pieces. You also can’t go wrong with Strawberry, Lemon, or Vanilla. I tried Peach once that was pretty tasty as well! You can usually get two scoops in a small cup or cone, allowing you to try two different flavors. Here’s a photo of me at Grom with my gelato! Grom has pretty standard flavors (no Cookie) but the quality and prices are unbeatable. If you are looking for a Grom there is one conveniently located behind the Duomo––which you undoubtedly have to visit if you are in Florence. Pizza. Charnell’s friend from high school is studying in Florence and he met up with us for dinner one night. He took us to Gusta’s, saying it had the best pizza, and he was so right. I even got it again the next day for lunch! I sat on the sloping cobblestones in front of an old palace with my box of pizza and let the runny sauce drip down my hands. I tore the glob of mozzarella into pieces to eat a little with each bite. It was a floppy mess of a pizza but so incredibly worth it. It was also one of the cheaper meals I was able to find. So if you’re looking for good pizza in Florence, you can’t go wrong with Gusta’s. Last comment on food, I promise! Our last morning in Florence we went to the food market with Charnell’s friend, Tanner. Mercato Centrale is an indoor food market in Florence full of fish, meats, dried fruits and nuts, pastas, sauces, fresh fruits and vegetables, oils, and other mysterious things I didn’t look too closely at. Upstairs in the food market you’ll find bakeries and cafes; that’s where we ate breakfast. I bought a chocolate chip roll thing-ma-jig and an apple tart. Both were some of the best foods I’ve ever had. I was literally looking up apple tart recipes today and trying to think of how I might re-create it. The crust was thick and almost chewy, the filling had just the right size chunks of apple with enough thick sauce holding it all together, and the strudel topping was perfection. The chocolate chip bread was the shape of a crusty roll and the consistency of a soft bagel. The chocolate chips were rich and small enough that they melted in the heat of my mouth instead of crunching between my teeth.

The rest of our time in Florence was spent wandering markets, walking bridges, exploring our way up to Piazza Michelangelo and a church on the hill there, and gaping at the Duomo.

We took a long route to get to the church, San Miniato, and Piazza Michelangelo, and looking back, I’m grateful we did. The weather was gorgeous and the road wound through the hills, showing off some of the best part of the Italian countryside and city below.

That walk and the church and the piazza were the highlights of my Florence experience. You’ll be hard-pressed to find a better view, and for some reason I did not feel crowded by tourists. It is an open area and everyone, at least when we visited, seemed content to meander along calmly instead of trampling and running like tourists so often do.

Here are some more photos of the Dumo from up close:

While the outside is unbelievable, the inside by comparison was very disappointing. The church was plain and mostly empty. Apparantly they were cleaning up after Easter servies, though, so it is possible that the church is usually more impressive. Admission is free, but lines are usually wrapped all the way around the church and down the street. You absolutely have to see the outside and take the time to admire all the color and detail, but if lines look too intimidating, don’t feel bad about passing and using your time to see other things.

Florence is a great city to explore! The bridges, Roman walls, art galleries, and more all offer so many varied experiences it’s hard to get bored. If you’re interested in art, you should head to the Academia Gallery to see the David statue. The rest of the museum has lots of iconography and sculptures, but the David was the highlight of the museum for me. I didn’t think it would be that impressive, but the statue blew my mind. I’m not usually even very keen on statues! But he was so life-like. The David looked like he could blink into waking any moment, his body poised and curled, ready for action. Michelangelo put such detail into the David that he even has veins!

There are tons of art galleries in Florence. Corrie went to another the morning the rest of us went to the food market; we were a little tired of art after Paris and Rome! Florence is an art-lover’s paradise. Galleries, street art vendors, statues and fountains everywhere, the very build buildings. . .

Finally, here are some photos from our wanderings:

Next stop: Venice!

Rome: This is What Dreams are Made of (Part Two)

On our third day in Rome we walked a big loop around the city to see the Fontana del Tritone, Spanish Steps and the Trinita dei Monti, the Pantheon, Piazza Navona, and Campo di Fiori.

It was a lovely walk, and the weather was a little cooler than the previous two days, but still nice until late afternoon when it began to rain. Another disappointment was that the Trevi Fountain was under construction! The central statue was visible through some scaffolding, but most of the giant fountain was covered and all the water was drained.

The Spanish Steps are just steps, but it is a lovely area. Great views on top, a church with really spectacular art (and that’s saying something since I’ve been to an uncountable number in the past months), and a pretty fountain and piazza below. It is a crowded area though, so if you want to see it without hoards of other people, you’ll have to go early in the morning or late at night.

Before touring the Pantheon we stopped for lunch and I had some of the best pizza of my life! The flavor was perfect and although I don’t usually like thin crusts, it was a perfectly balanced pizza. The man ushering us through the door claiming he had the best pizza in the city might have been right! And, he gave us a great deal.

On our way to the Pantheon some street vendors called me Barbie while they tried to sweet talk me into buying selfie sticks. Hmm.

The Pantheon has been turned into a Christian/Catholic church so it is a little hard to imagine what it used to be like. But the pillars and circular structure still impress. The giant skylight at the top of the dome really makes the building stand out as a sight worth seeing. I think it is even open to the elements!

The rest of the afternoon we spent exploring Piazza Navona––has a large fountain and lots of artists selling their work––and Campo de Fiori––an outdoor market selling everything from jewelry to spices. At the market I bought some souvenirs for my family and some dried pineapple instead of my usual afternoon gelato.

On our way back to our hostel, we found these ruins. They looked like they were just growing up right out of the city, caged off from danger like vulnerable baby trees.

Our final day in Rome it rained. We had plans to go to a beach, but obviously we had to re-think that. Since it was also Easter Sunday, most places were closed.

We pulled up our hoods, popped our umbrellas, and sloshed through the streets to the Villa Borghese gallery and gardens. We explored the gardens first––me stepping cautiously around puddles and leaping quickly off mushy ground to more solid footing––and then tried to enter the gallery. It was a free entry day but apparently you had to book tickets in advance? Even though they were free? Very confusing.

We hunted down some lunch, returned to our hostel for a quick beak, and jumped the metro to the only pyramid in Italy (some ruined pyramids have now been discovered but the Pyramid of Cestius still claims the title). Gaius Cestius’ wife built the pyramid for him as his tomb. Today the area around the pyramid is a cat sanctuary. You think I’m joking, but stray cats live inside the fenced area around the pyramid and are taken care of by volunteers and donations. I think you can even adopt a pyramid cat.

Below is a picture of the Pyramid of Cestius next to a remaining section of the Roman walls as well as a gate. There is a museum/exhibit inside that section of the wall, but it was closed on Easter so we didn’t have a chance to go inside.

We called it an early day, tired of walking and of the rain and of walking in the rain, and reported back to our room for a while before venturing out one more time for some fettuccine alfredo. I was pretty ecstatic about finding chicken fettuccine alfredo, but was sadly disappointed when it wasn’t as good as Carrabba’s! It was fine, but the sauce was flavorless and the massive portion just couldn’t make up for it. So congratulations, Carrabba’s, your homemade noodles and rich sauce have beat out authentic Italian pasta in Italy!

Back in our room, we said goodnight to Rome early and set our alarms for 5am the next morning. Up next, Florence!

Rome: This is What Dreams are Made of (Part One)

Yes, that was a Lizzie McGuire Movie reference.

Rome captured my heart and lit my imagination on fire. Paris was all right, but Rome felt like an exotic paradise––a place where dreams were real and history sizzled in the air as it mixed with pasta and gelato and iconic monuments bathed in glorious sunshine. Sorry. I just can’t help but gush about Rome!

We got into Rome late at night and had a few cultural shocks that led to a little panic, but all turned out fine. We quickly learned that Italians are forceful, pushy, and have little to no personal space. But. They can cook and their country is phenomenal so I will try to forgive them.

Our first morning in Rome we slept in a little bit because we were completely drained from Paris and our late night flight. Once we were up, we grabbed some muffins from the train station across the street and hoped a bus to the Vatican City. For the first time since leaving York, I felt like I was somewhere new and different, embarking on a real adventure full of precious opportunities.

Amidst all the red and yellow hued buildings rise gold and marble domes of churches, medieval stone aqueducts, and stone castles and pillars of Roman cities. I leapt off the bus into 70 degree weather, relishing the touch of sun on my cheeks and arms. We turned a corner and my feet couldn’t decide whether to stop completely or break into a run, sending me stumbling forward awkwardly, gawking at the outer ring of the Vatican City.

Unfortunately my camera ran out of space early in the day so I only have a few, but you can find some online if you don’t know what the Vatican looks like.

A woman with a tour company stopped us as we entered the city and offered us a guided tour with fast track tickets for a very reasonable price. We debated a minute before agreeing to go for it, and I am so glad we did. The lines snaked back and forth across the entire square––several hours long. No shade, nowhere to sit, chances of seeing the museum, basilica, and chapel slim to none, I would have been bitter and miserable.

Instead, we followed our guide to their agency to make our payment and then to the Vatican Museum. We jumped the line and received headsets. Our guide led us through the museum’s most important rooms, explaining some of the art and history as we went along.

Next, we entered the Sistine Chapel. Recently cleaned, the jewel-toned colors shine. No photos are allowed inside the chapel. I tried to soak in as much of the famous art as I could, but it was overwhelming. The whole room, from floor boards to the center of the ceiling, is split into square and rectangular paintings filled with figures and messages and lessons. Our guide kept reminding us (not inside the chapel as silence is strictly enforced) that Michelangelo was not a painter. He did not even want to paint the Sistine Chapel, but what the Pops says goes. He was a sculptor, As such, his figures look like they are made of marble. They also all look like men. . . .

From the Sistine Chapel we crossed over to St. Peter’s Basilica. It is the largest church in the world, towering over everything for blocks. The most unique feature of the church is it’s levels or layers. The gold and marble structure is layered with domes, pillars, arches, and more, creating depth and intricacy at every seam. The varying depths and its massive size made it incredibly difficult to capture in a picture, unfortunately. I did find some decent photos on Flickr though! Photos by Ed Brambley and Christopher Chan respectively.

Because it is so touristy, the basilica felt less holy or sacred than some of the churches I have been too. Still, it was incredible.

After our whirlwind of a morning in the Vatican, we ate lunch at an outdoor cafe in the shade of some umbrellas. We enjoyed our food and just watched the world go by. The sun, the city, and all we had done and the excitement of what was to come tingled in my veins. I never wanted the afternoon to end.

I had some delicious Italian spaghetti and then got my first real gelato: one scoop each of strawberry and vanilla! It was everything I hoped and dreamed.

The rest of the afternoon we wandered by some street vendors and then up to the Roman fortress along the river. Half a mile away (roughly), St. Peter’s Basilica was still the largest thing on the horizon.

To end the day, we had pizza and seasoned, hand cut wedge fries at the Termini train station before taking turns showering and drifting off to sleep.

Our second day in Rome brought us to the Colosseum, Forum, and Palatine Hill. I can’t decide if I loved day one or two more! The weather was perfect, the history engrossing, and the world just seemed to ache with a beauty that echoed my joy and contentment.

We started off at the Colosseum, listening to a Rick Steve’s audioguide we downloaded from iTunes for free. It definitely enhanced our experience there––as did our pre-bought tickets that allowed us to skip most of the line. If you are going near Easter, like us, or in the summer, you need to plan ahead!

The floor is missing over the arena part of the Colosseum: that’s why you can see the tunnels and hallways running underneath it. In a place where the floor was perfectly functional if crooked, I twisted both my ankles and fell completely down a small set of stairs. Luckily, I didn’t severely sprain my ankles, but there was a long moment of panic in which I saw my life flash before my eyes and then the rest of my Spring Break spent on crutches––or crawling if I couldn’t find a doctor!

I sat down for a minute and gently rolled out my ankles, testing them. They were swollen and tight and sore, but I could walk. Stairs hurt, but I downed some ibuprofen and prayed they wouldn’t get worse.

After finishing at the Colosseum we needed lunch. We walked a few minutes away and found a place with giant portions and decent prices. I got a calzone with ham and cheese: one of my favorite meals this semester and definitely in the top few of Easter Break as well.

Next we explored the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill area. I could have spent an entire day there wandering the gardens and ruins, but unfortunately, it closed early for security reasons in preparation for the Pope’s arrival later that night. Still, the two or so hours we spent there rank in the top hours of all of Spring Break.

I drank from a fountain, touched the petals of flowers, tasted oranges on the air, shivered briefly in the shade and mist of a waterfall, gaped at ruins that are more beautiful than many other structurally sound places in the world.

We explored a large open street for most of the rest of the day. Street performers were blowing bubbles across the Roman landscape and cityscape, transforming it into a real wonderland. We sat on the ledge of a railing for probably close to an hour, melting into the sunshine and watching the city drift by in caged, soapy reflections.

In our exploring we fought our way up some stairs and stumbled onto this fantastic view!

We splurged on a nicer diner since were right in the center of Rome, and I had some fettuccine pasta with salmon in it. I thought it had a cream sauce but it was definitely tomato based with some other unidentifiable ingredients. Interesting, but tasty!

After our late dinner we joined the mob of people edging towards the Colosseum to see the Pope lead the city through the Stations of the Cross in a Good Friday Service. We waited for a super long time for the Pope to arrive. A choir sang out into the cool night air around the back lit Colosseum before the service began, and the crowd hushed immediately.

The service was in Italian, but the repeated Lord’s Prayer was in Latin and I recognized it from my high school Latin class. I wish we could have understood all that was going on, but it was special to be involved in such a holy event in a historic place for Christians. Plus, I got to see the Pope!

Rainy Days in Paris: Part Two

On our second day in Paris, we took the Metro and a bajillion stairs up to Sacre Coeur, or The Sacred Heart Basilica. The church is fairly new; built in 1914. Outside the Basilica is a quaint square filled with art, music, and restaurants. Enjoying a brief window of sun, we wandered the square and took time to talk with some of the artists.

No photos are are allowed inside The Sacred Heart. The main focal point of the church is the dome in the back. A gold mosaic of Jesus takes up the majority of the dome, and his presences shines down on everyone below. We sat down to rest, and I took advantage of the stillness and the quiet to pray. My prayers turned to reflective silence and listening, and then. . . to sleep. I was exhausted from the night before (a room mate’s strange comings and goings and phone calls kept me up), and the church was cool and calm. I woke up twenty or so minutes later feeling refreshed and blessed, encountering God’s presence in a sacred building even while asleep.

After a lunch of baguettes, our group headed down the massive hill the basilica stands on to the Moulin Rouge. It was smaller than I expected it to be, at least on the outside, but still pretty exciting.

Next we walked through a fancy neighborhood to the Galeries Lafayette mall with it’s famous domed interior and then on to the Louvre.

A cool church

Fancy Metro station entrance

The Louvre is massive! Once we got through the line, we were rewarded by receiving free entry with our UK Student cards from York St John. Hooray! Unfortunately, I was so exhausted I could barely walk around the museum. I sat for a majority of our time inside, studying whatever paintings happened to be near seating. One of my friends, Corrie, was in heaven in the Louvre, running through it to try to see as much as possible. I did see some ruins and castle-related things on the way out through the basement that were cool, though!

My recommendation for the Louvre: have a plan and don’t be too tired to stand. I could have gotten much more out of my visit if I took some time to study the map and determine what I would enjoy seeing instead of aimlessly wandering (and sitting). If you need to see the Mona Lisa, you can, but know there will be crowds, it’s a tiny painting, and there is so much more (and more interesting?) to see in the museum.

Our third day in Paris we took a metro and a train to Versailles to see the Palace. Hunching against the wind, we stood shivering in  line for over an hour––even with pre-reserved tickets. Finally, we were admitted inside. Our tickets allowed us to see the palace, gardens, and Marie Antoinette’s estate of Petit Trianon, and the Grand Trianon. My favorite house was actually Grand Trianon and not the Palace, although that was a close second.

Inside the Palace the Hall of Mirrors was one of the more memorable rooms. Glittering crystal and gold chandeliers dominated the palace, as did art. The gold trimmed ceiling pieces were my favorite pieces of art. The pictures on the walls held portraits of royalty and generals, but the ceilings told stories. The Bible, history, mythology, and wish combined in ceiling paintings so lavish and intriguing it was hard to look away.

The gardens would have been more enjoyable if it wasn’t so cold! Still, they were pretty even in early spring without many leaves or flowers. Bach played through speakers as you crunched along the gravel paths, suggesting even more grandeur.

Here are some photos of Grand Trianon.

We had dinner (baguettes) and crepes in Versailles before walking back to the train station. When we arrived, they told us there had been an “incident” and no more trains would be running to Paris from the station. The crowd slowly exited the station, stunned and bewildered, and then some locals started marching for the other station. We all fell into place behind them and I felt a little bit like I was part of an Exodus or a herd or something, blindly following the people at the front. At the station they stamped our tickets to allow us to use them on our new train: crisis averted.

Our final day in Paris took us to Luxembourg Gardens and Palace in the morning. It was a much smaller area than I expected, but still pretty.

We walked through the city to the Catacombs where we were told it would be a three hour wait. Nope! We turned around and found our way to Notre Dame. We had done our research and knew what time we had to be there for a free English tour. It was fantastic! I loved learning about the intertwined history of the city and the church. The architecture of Notre Dame is so intentional, covered in detail that all points to God and the Gospel message. The building itself is a teaching tool. And it has held and witnessed so much history: Napoleon, wars, weddings, the supposed crown of thorns, and more.

Next to Notre Dame we saw the Love Lock Bridge! Which really, has no bridge left! It is solid locks.

After that, we took a scenic walk past a bridge and another church to a Metro station to get back to our hostel to collect our things before heading off to the airport. We were Rome bound!

Rainy Days in Paris: Part One

Simply getting to Paris was an adventure of its own! Our train from York to London broke down, and after sitting inside a stationary train for over an hour, we were all ushered outside to a different platform and onto a different train headed for London.

In London, we had some time to kill before our second train’s departure. Our group decided to walk to the nearby British Library and explore one of the exhibits. I love books, but I wasn’t expecting such a fantastic experience in the British Library. In the single exhibit we toured, I saw original, handwritten manuscripts of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, the Lindisfarne Gospels, gorgeous illustrated copies of the Bible, Hebrew Bibles, and one of the earliest copies of the Latin Bible from around 400 AD.

When our train arrived in Paris (after going under water without any sort of notice or announcement so I completely missed it since most of the ride was through tunnels), we attempted to get to our hostel. We got lost a few times, but eventually, taking two different metros and walking in a few circles, we got to Arty Paris hostel. Which, if you are looking for a place to stay in Paris, I would definitely recommend!

The girls in my room were already sleeping when I got in. I pulled out pajamas and soap as quietly as possible before sneaking into the adjoining bathroom to shower. But where was the light? I searched and searched, but could not figure out how to turn on the lights! I refused to let that stop me. I opened the curtains and the window to let in the meager moon and street light, and showered in almost pitch black.

Europe’s Daylight Savings is later than America’s, and happened to land on our first night in Paris. My phone decided not to change time during the night, and so I was late to breakfast. The other girls were still mapping and planning out the day though, so it was not as disastrous as it could have been.

Yet another reason to love Arty Paris is their free and delicious breakfast: fresh croissants and crusty bread with butter and assorted jellies, orange juice, tea, coffee, and hot chocolate. Nothing beats a fresh croissant in the morning. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a bakery croissant in the US, but I have a suspicion that the Europeans do it better. Still, I will definitely be scoping out some bakeries when I get home! I have a new and intensified fresh bread addiction after enjoying fresh croissants, scones, etc every morning traveling Europe.

Finished with breakfast, we zipped our raincoats, popped open our umbrellas, and stepped out into the Parisian rain. It rained more in Paris in three days than it has rained in England the entire time I have been here! It mists and sprinkles a lot in England, and storms at night, but it rained in Paris. All day. For two days.

That first day in Paris we walked over seventeen miles! The next few days were almost worse though, because my body was outraged it had been pushed so far so fast and was now expected to keep on going. Just over a week into our trip, we all noticed that our feet and legs didn’t really hurt anymore. Whether we lost all feeling, our bodies grew used to all the walking, or our muscles gave up on stopped sending panic signals, I’m not sure, but it sure made walking for hours on end easier.

Our first stop of the day was at the Eiffel Tower. The iconic tower I’ve seen on TV, movies, and in pictures my whole life still managed to impress me. It’s size is staggering. It’s taller and has a wider base than I’d expected. The metal frame is as much art as it is structure. Even in the rain, wind pulling my umbrella inside out and showering me with slanting sheets of water, I was happy to stand and look up at the tower. I took way too many pictures of the tower, but here are some of my favorites from the morning.

Next we made our way to the Louvre, passing Pont Alexander II Bridge, an obelisk, fountains in a square, and through the gardens outside the Louvre. We grabbed baguettes from a food stand in the park and ate them as we walked through the gardens up to the art museum. When we got there, however, the line was way too long! It was raining again at this point, so we decided to come back another day.

From there we walked back through the gardens and the square up the Champs Elysee (stopping at a Disney Store) to the Arc de Triomphe.

We wandered the city until dinner, soaking it all in along with the rain. For dinner, I had some of the best spaghetti of my life! Or, it could have been that I was unbelievably hungry after walking for hours on end. . . .

After dinner we hunted down some ice cream that ended up being way to expensive, but it bought us a table in a cozy mood-lit restaurant until dark when we shuffled back out into the damp cold to see the Eiffel Tower lit up at night. We even saw it sparkle at the top of the hour on our walk back to our hostel along the river.