Travel| EuroTrippin: Leaving London

My plane was scheduled to leave at 9:20am on Sunday morning. I got in from shopping at around 10pm. Calculating my time to get to the airport via public transportation (I refused to spend £90 for a taxi) was 2 hours and you're supposed to be there around 2.5 hours before your plane leaves, I decided to just stay up and leave my place at around 4:30am.

I took a power nap at around 2am. Woke up at 3:30, showered and dressed. I took the bus to Brixton Tube Station and to my surprise, the train station was closed. O.O

I admit...this was purely my fault. I thought the trains were 24/7.
Thank GOD for free public WIFI. The streets were filled with drunkards leaving the pubs/clubs and I was a little panicky. Would I have to spend the £90? No. It was 5am. The bus would get me there in 2 hours. Perfect.

I took the N109 to the X26 stop. Or what I thought was the X26 stop. The bus was idling when I got of the N109.  According to Google Maps, it was supposed to leave at 5:20am. It was 5:21 when I approached, walking in the street so the bus would see me. He began to drive off, I ran full speed IN FRONT OF HIM...waving the hand that wasn't pulling my luggage behind me.

HE SPEEDS OFF DODGING ME MAKING OBSCENE GESTURES.

I.am.fucked.

Travel| EuroTrippin: Last Looks London

I figured it was high time I wrapped this series up. From Amsterdam, I went back to London for 2 more days as I was flying out of Heathrow.

The first day, I went to the Twinings Tea Store right next to the Royal Courts.

The Royal Courts glowed my favorite color!

Travel| EuroTrippin Part 9: Amsterdam, The Tale of Two Cities

I've been trying to find the words to describe Amsterdam. I should preface this story by saying, I've never smoked cigarettes or pot in my life. I've never been high on any substance or drunk to the point I've blacked out or thrown up or even been disgustingly hungover the next day. I don't judge people who do but I don't like not being in control of my body/actions or that uninhibited in public. I say this because when I told people I went/was going to Amsterdam, everyone assumed that I was going to be high off my ass in a cafe all day...and maybe I should've taken in some debuachery but that goes with one of my travel tips: Be who you are where ever you are and remember who that person is...Meaning, if you don't like to wake up early, being in a foreign country is not going to motivate you to wake up early to check the sights. Don't schedule early things. ConverseAdditionally, if you don't smoke pot, don't do it just because you're in Amsterdam where everyone else is smoking pot.

Well, not everyone.

When I talked to my host about why he moved from Israel to Amsterdam, he told me he moved for love. He met his girlfriend on a long weekend and never went back home. Romantic, yes? Whatever.
I also asked him about how he felt about the reputation the city has for being home for all these vices. He didn't care. He felt like Amsterdam was much more than sex shops and cafes. After spending a bit of time there, I agreed.

When I got off the tram, the first sights I was bombarded with were young tourists looking like the cat that ate the canary: eager to indulge in whatever they wanted for the night and a black man preaching the gospel of Jesus in Dutch in the middle of the crowd. Amsterdam is a verrrry religious city but yet you can basically take drugs, buy a hooker and eat a cheeseburger out of a vending machine. Liberating, yes? It had me thinking about how Amsterdam would fare as an American city with our crazy religious fanatics. I don't think it would do well. Our religious people condemn instead of help. I didn't get that feeling in Amsterdam. I told a coworker of mine my philosophy about religion which is...they all say to love one another. I can love my hooker friend without stoning her to death or paying for her services, no?
What I also noted about the city was how even though you know people are getting high and doing whatever, they weren't acting crazy in the streets. I never felt unsafe or like some man high on shrooms was going to push me in a canal or take advantage of me. Maybe they have it right. Allow people to do what they want in a safe environment and that makes it safer for the community as a whole.

Trave| EuroTrippin Part 8|Amsterdam, One Night Only

It was a little after 6pm when I reached Amsterdam and the city was in full swing. People were everywhere hanging out, commuting home, living their lives....and I was in the middle of it.

Now, in London, I almost got hit by a bus because I didn't look left. In Brussels, I was paranoid about getting hit by a tram. In Amsterdam, I didn't realize I was standing in the middle of the bike lane....until suddenly dozens of bikes were headed my way...all swerving around me. The Dutch are polite. I'm sure in NYC,someone would've just hit me or yelled an obscenity. They just asked me to move...please. Go figure!

I had an hour to meet my host and I'd heard about the Febo. Febo is a fast food chain where you can get hot food (cheeseburgers, fish sticks, croquets, etc) from a vending machine for very cheap. I had to see it for myself. My host asked me if I ate there....I wanted to try it but couldn't do it. He said.."The Febo is for the people drunk or high and nothing is open. They will eat anything at that point...even a little child." Lol

 



I  stopped at The Crepe Bar lured in by the promise of free wifi. The waiter was so nice. He talked me into eating so I  had a chicken teriyaki crepe that was delicious. It was the perfect blend of flavors and filled me up without making me feel stuffed. I recommed coming there....the staff is friendly and polite. The food is good and inexpensive and they have any type of crepe you can think of...if they don't have it, you can make it,

I made it through the maze of streets to my host's house and crashed for the night.

More Europe stories, here.

Travel| EuroTrippin Part 7: A Day in Brussels

I woke up bright and early to the gray overcast sky I had begun to get used to in Europe. I showered and since I'm a fast learner, I put on almost all the clothes I had in my backpack. Leggings, 2 pairs of jeans, long-sleeved shirt and 2 sweaters. My host evidently felt bad and she printed out the email to prove she did send me the right address. I didn't feel the need to hash everything out again.

view from my window

I left, desperate for a cup of tea and found it close to where I was staying.
The pain au chocolat was Heaven and this other pastry...I forget the French name was light, flaky, sweet but not overly so....it was perfect.

Of course, I bought Belgian chocolates.

whatever chocolate you want, they had it...crazy!

Travel| EuroTrippin: Awake in Paris, Asleep in Brussels

I went to bed relatively early on my birthday. I felt the roots of a head cold settling in. My throat was sore and in the middle of the night, I woke up congested, coughing and sneezing. My host gave me some pills and told me to get some more from the pharmacie next door. Sadly, I needed to be on the train to the Porte Maillot Coach Station at the same time she opened. I hit up another pharmacie next to the train station but the attendant didn't speak English.

Under stress, my lifeboat French becomes Franglish...a new breed of French, Spanish and English.
Our conversation went something like this.

Lady: Bonjour
Me: Bonjour. Parlez vous Anglais?
L: No
M: Tiene este? (Spanish. Do you have this? I handed her the pills my host gave me. There were only 2 left.)
L: No.
M: Je suis (I am in French) *cough cough* and *sneeze sneeze*) I.actually coughed and sneezed. She gave me some lozenges.

I left Paris for Brussels at 11am on my friend, the Megabus. Paris was cold and gray but had enchanted me with its wine and desserts.

Travel| EuroTrippin: Paris Day 2

Different money I had on me: pounds and euro...so confusing compared to American currency

I woke up the next day refreshed and excited to take on Paris.

After all, it was my birthday!

I took the Metro to the Louvre. When I walked outside, my mouth dropped. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Compared to the cramped feeling where you have so many buildings all together, the Louvre was wide and gorgeous.

I walked all around and took pictures of all the sculptures. I walked across to the park across from the Louvre and got breakfast from the truck. I spoke my order French and the man responded to me in Spanish. He asked if I was Dominican. I told him in English that I'm American Black.
In London, the sightseeing bus driver asked me if I was Indian. I thought it funny that with the large population of Africans in both London and Paris that they wouldn't see me as African-American.

un cafe et un pain au chocolat

I walked through the park and noted all the sculptures remembering a joke a comedian made about how all the art in France was of women with their breasts out.

I watched a woman pick something off the ground and she tried to offer it to some tourists as they walked by...just as a young woman approached me asking for donations for a school for the deaf and dumb. She asked me to sign my name and write how much I'd give. I wrote down 1€ and she became visibly upset. "Look at how much other people gave," she demanded. Others had given 20 and 30€. I got upset. I knew that it was a scam; one that I'd seen many times in the States and refused any more. She could take it or leave it. She took it.The woman from earlier came at me with a gold ring that she so happened to "find" on the ground. She told me in French. "Ooh look! So pretty!" I just shook my head and walked away. There were African men selling Eiffel Towers and kept saying, "My sista...my sista!" I was disgusted. Couldn't I just enjoy the sights without being hustled?
I walked through the bridge at the Pont des Arts where lovers "lock their love." The sadness began to creep up again. I let it go, refusing to allow it to ruin my day. I rode around the city on Les Cars Rouges and was in awe of Paris' beauty.

museum

Paris Opera

on the side of the Arc de Triomphe

birds at the Jardin de Tuileries - real life angry birds!

gorgeous macaroons

I ended up at Cour St Emilion for a birthday drink and dessert.

Parisian uniform

Chai 33 was gorgeous and decorated in my favorite colors: black, pink and purple.

I was coming down with a cold. I figured the best thing for it would be red wine. I HATE red wine but this one was bearable. The creme brulee was fab but I felt nauseous in the middle of it...the cold won out.

a great way to stay green and dry your hands.

I started to feel sick but when I got home my host had bread, stinky cheese, homemade foie gras and champagne ready for me. :)

 

 

It was an awesome birthday!

 

Next up, BRUSSELS!!!!

 

Go back back <<<< Paris Day 1 <<<<London

Other pictures here

Travel| EuroTrippin: Part 4 Paris Day 1

I took the Megabus from London to Paris under the cloak of night. The ride would take about 8 hours. I was worried I wouldn't get the beloved stamp in my passport this way but I was mistaken when we got to Dover port and was required to show our ID to the French police.
Let me take this moment to say that generally reading a whole bunch of travel blogs made me paranoid about having people around me see my American passport. I know in many countries, flashing your blue passport leaves you in a vulnerable position where it can be stolen and sold on the black market. Also, I was the only American in my group. I don't like being in the minority amd didn't want to be a target.

Anywho...I get my stamp and we board the ferry from Dover port that will take us into Paris.
I hadn't been on a boat in years and I really didn't enjoy the experience which dashed my Feb 2014 plans of a Mexican cruise.

It was cool though because they had everything you could want...even a station where you could charge your device for very little. You plug in your phone, pay and lock it in there for your ride. The trip took about an hour and a half.

We got to the Porte Maillot Coach Station in Paris at 7am and the first sight to greet me was the Arc du Triomphe. It was still dark. The Arc was backlit and it was beautiful.
I followed the group through the Palais de Congres which is a huge mall that housed the Metro that would take me to Montreuil where I was staying.

Travel Tip: Follow the leader. I didn't know the people I was following. We hadn't even spoken on the bus but they spoke French and they walked like they knew where they were going. Following the leader helped me in every country I visited.

We get to the Metro and of course I had no Euro and the machine didn't accept my American (no chip) cards. So, off I went to find an ATM in sleepy Paris at 7AM. None of the businesses that had one inside were open, so I went to the Palais.

I walked around in what seemed like circles in an empty mall that smelled like they pumped perfume in the air. I felt like I was walking around in a beautiful jewelry box where everything was nice and shiny. After searching, I found an ATM at un Bureau de Change, made my way to the Metro and bought a book of 10 tickets for 13.30€.

As I rode in Metro 1, it announced each stop in French. When we stopped at Bastille, the Sun rose. It was beautiful and poetic. It hit me- I'm in Paris alone and instead of feeling invigorated and excited, I began to feel sad.

I changed at Nation (pronounced Na-see-unh) for Metro 6 and it was there that I noticed the first difference between being in Paris City Center and the outer zones. You have to open the door to the train yourself to get off and on the train. I didn't realize this until I watched people getting off and on the train.

Travel Tip: Not sure what to do? Watch the locals. This helped when the next day, I was on Metro, the conductor said something (obviously in French) and everyone groaned, got off and waited for the next train.

I used AirBnB for my stay, booking rooms in people's houses rather than hotels, thinking it would be cheaper and more authentic that way. Using my host's directions, I began to walk away from the Metro. She told me there was a small hill that I would need to walk up. She didn't tell me that at the top of the small hill is another not so small hill that by the end of walking it with my 50lb backpack on, I'd want to kill myself.

My legs burned, my chest burned but I felt victorious at the end and much like I needed to hit the gym.

She told me that the keys were in a red flower pot and she wouldn't be home but she would keep her phone on...I get there, no red pot.I searched all the pots and didn't find any keys.
I panicked. There I was, in Paris, exhausted and travel-weary....all I wanted was a nice hot shower, a nap and a day at the Louvre.

I called my host..30 times. She didn't answer and I was blowing through my travel minutes.
I broke down and cried big juicy tears. I was hysterical.

Crazy situations were running through my mind. What if she'd taken my money and had no intention of letting me stay..what if she went away and forgot and didn't leave the keys....more importantly, it was cold and damp.

A man came out of the apartment building and we locked eyes. Mine, teary and wide like a wounded kitten. His, wide and scared. Before I could say anything, he turned and walked away. This was clearly not me...the damsel in distress. I had to pull myself together and figure out a game plan.
I spied a cafe as I was walking up the hill and went inside.
Umm, Bonjour! Parlez-vous anglais?

The owner shook his head no.
His friend came into the cafe.
Comprends Anglais?
He shook his head no.
Espanol?
Portuguese.
I tried to explain the situation and that I needed to know where the nearest hotel was...the problem was..my Portuguese was closer to Spanish and his was closer to French .

I used the bathroom. I ordered a coffee and an omelet. I ate and drank while pulling myself together.
I took out my map of Paris and figured out where the hotels were and concocted Plan B. I called my host again and went back to the apartment. I ran into some of her neighbors who called her too and helped me look for the.keys. We found them. Relieved, I took around at my new temporary Paris chateau.


By that time,it was 10:30!! I took a nap. I still felt the damp Parisian chill in my bones. When I woke up, it was 1pm. I was still feeling sad about being alone. I felt like backpacking was stupid and I was wishing I was back home.

I took a shower and got dressed. I called my mom. She didn't make me feel any better. Time was wasting. My day of gazing at the Mona Lisa at the Louvre was seeming less likely of happening but I couldn't stay in the house and sulk. I decided to be spontaneous and pick a train stop, find something to eat and cheer up.

I ended up back at Nation at a cafe where the waiters spoke English. I ordered the duck confit with baked potatoes. I was happy that it didn't involve chips as every meal in London somehow included chips.

I never really had duck but it was delicious. I also had a generous helping of rose wine. For dessert, I had a small platter that included 1 macaroon, small rum cake with some rum to pour on top and a creme brulee. The creme brulee was so delicious, my eyes closed involuntarily with each bite.
I felt revived. How could I think coming to Paris was stupid? I walked to Bastille and took pictures along the way. By the time I got back, it was dark. I went into the local Tabac and got a few supplies for the night and next day.
The owner asked me a question and instead of saying Oui, I said Si. He laughed and asked where I was from. We chatted a little. He was a nice old man. As I left, in English he said, Ok, bye. You're beautiful.

Old or not, it made me smile. It was a nice end to a day that didn't start off so well.

Travel| EuroTripping: Part 3: London Day 2:

I took London by bus. I used the Golden Tours sightseeing trolley and I paid $56 for a 24 hour ticket + entrance to the London Eye which saved me about $30 from buying it separate and the day of as the tickets were £33 and £19 respectively.

 

Because I visited during the Winter (the off-season), I had the whole bus to myself! :)

 

 

The horse guards at the palace.

 

Trafalgar Square