" I love Holland. I who, having no native country, had hoped that it might become my fatherland, and I still hope it will!"- Anne Frank

I do believe that I feel in love with Holland today, but before I tell you that story, let me tell you this one.

When I was about 8 years old, my mom and dad took me to Rocky Springs to teach me how to ride my bike. For those of you who've never been to Rocky Springs before, let me set the scene for you. Rocky Springs is a stop off the Natchez Trace. It is compromised of a main road that leads directly to the edge of the once small town, sitting on top of a hill overlooking the road and smaller roads that turn off to picnic areas and camp grounds. It's densely forested up to the road bed (that sets slightly elevated) and is a favorite for day hikers and many a boy scout troop.

Now, if I were to teach my child to ride a bike, I think I would find a field (particularly if that child were as uncoordinated as I) where it would be impossible to hit anything except for that fence post way off in the distance. This however, was not what my parents thought, no indeed "let's pick the forest so Lindsay has plenty of targets to choose from." Alright, I'm not really being fair, the goal of the trip was to teach me to ride downhill, for I'd already mastered the no training wheels concept, so in that case Rocky Springs was alright I suppose.

My experience of the whole bike riding thing was not a pleasant one, however. It went accordingly, Mom rather enthusiastically set me on my bike (helmetted, knee padded, and elbow padded,) while Dad stationed himself at the bottom of the hill. Then she let go, I started rolling, it got too fast and fwop! over I went either on the pavement to my left or the shrubbery on my right. Mom and Dad met in the middle. Dad picked up the bike Mom picked up me, set me back on the cursed contraption and pushed me down the hill once more, perhaps I made it at least 20 feet that time I'm not sure but sure enough, over I go once more. I can honestly say that this is the only time in my life that I actually hated my parents. I'm sure I went home that evening plotting to runaway before the week was out, but I could ride my bike downhill by golly.

One of the most popular ways to get around Europe is by bike, but biking here is nothing like like in America. Nearly every town has an extensive set of bike paths that line the main road. Sometimes they're completely isolated into a little road by themselves. The rules are much like driving a car. You ride on the right side of the rode and in order to turn around or do anything in the opposite direction you must cross the street. This isn't as challenging as it seems considering that a car will go out of its way to give you the right of way. I had a vehicle back all the way up his driveway because my lane crossed in front, and he didn't have time to turn out before I passed. The bikes even have their own little system of crosswalks and stop lights that tell you when to go or not, like a pedestrian. When we arrived we were each assigned a bike out of the Baylor bike shed.

This is my travel companion, henceforth referred to as MaryBelle.

After all of the hard work Mom and Dad invested in my magnificent bike riding skills, I haven't been on a bike since I was twelve. You can imagine the amusing time we had two weeks ago when one of my friends suggested we bike to Belgium. I thought I was going to have permanent grid patterns across my palm from gripping the handlebars so hard, but the important things was that I didn't crash... completely. And since this morning was one of only two Tuesdays that I didn't have class I decided to take MaryBelle out for a ride instead of sitting in my room doing work all day. Armed with only a map and a vague idea of the path I was searching far, I was feeling particularly adventurous.

What do you think Holland looks like?

I finally found my bike path off the main road that let me to the countryside with fields of wheat, strawberries and another plant that I couldn't identify.




Out here were the small towns where the people just lived, no international students scurrying about chattering in different languages, no tourists. In one house a family was gathered around the dining table, the windows were open and on the top floor a duvet and pillow peaked over the windowsill to air in the summer sun. Cows munched lazily on the grass and men worked in the small fields, though for professional or personal gain I couldn't tell.




I think the best part about it was that I was by myself. I don't think I've been by myself since I arrived in Holland, and as many of you know this factor if vital to my sanity and happiness. After a week various kinds of stress: planning trips, figuring out who's going, what they want to see and making sure it all actually happens, and other things, this bike ride was good for the soul. Sometimes you need to get away from the unnecessary noise: people talking, keyboards clicking, and chairs rattling, and go to a place where the only sound is the rustle of the wind through the trees and the lapping of the water against the AlbertKanaal.

Pictures.

Rock me Amadeus...

Once upon a time, Salzburg Austrian was invaded by nine girls. They arrived early Friday morning after traveling all night in crowded train compartments struggling to find a comfortable sleeping position on- or under- the mound of limbs and other extraneous body parts. Half of them that morning had changed clothes in the bathroom of the intercity train without benefit of running water. Without showers or brushed teeth (mentos, please) they descended on the city, lead by their fearless navigators, Amy and Lindsay, with one purpose: to find the Sound of Music tour.



It was the top destination for many of the girls that I traveled with this past week to see this tour. I on the other hand hadn't thought much about it. Yes, I've seen (and enjoyed) the movie, and adore the music, but I don't have the fanatical love for the Sound of Music the way the others did (though I may now...). Perhaps I'll blame this on the fact that my introduction to the musical came from when the Vicksburg Theater Guild did "SoM" as a main stage several years ago and not the movie itself. But of course, it's one of those things you can only see in Austria--- and it just happened to be in the same city that Mozart was born in--- so I was certainly game to go. My only regret is that I didn't get to see the movie right before I went, so I' was struggling to remember everything.

We saw the back and front (2 different places) of the Von Trapp Villa, the gazebo, the church where they married, the path with all the trees lining it, and much more. The highlight of the tour perhaps was up in the mountains at the town of Mounsee (where the church is located). Appel Strudel, anyone? The vanilla ice cream is legit homemade and the hot vanilla cream is utterly amazing (and unique to Mounsee, so I'm told). The best meal of the weekend, however was at Brauerei Gaststatte in Vienna. There were the boiled parsley potatoes (absolutely drenched in butter) and Viennese Schnitzel (veal) with a cranberry sauce. The sauce is by far what made the Schnitzel to fabulous. It wasn't sweet at all, but very tart and made the breading of the veal fantastic. So I went to Austria and had "crisp apple strudel" and "schnitzel with(out) noodles."

After the Sound of Music tour, and our walk through the gardens where we recreated nearly dance imaginable from the Do Re Mi song, we had lunch (ok side note here, I had a seafood salad that had octopus in it. Fulfilled that need, no need to do it again) I finally got to see my attraction, Mozart's birthplace! How utterly amazing is it to stand in the house where Mozart grew up and to see so much of his things including, get this, his concert Violin, the clavichord that he composed The Magic Flute on, and his fortepiano. I still can't get over this. I saw Mozart's fortepiano.

As sometimes happens, though my favorite part of the trip wasn't something I ever intended on seeing. It just happened to be mentioned by Meredith
the night we arrived in Vienna. Hofburg Palace was home of the Hapsburg family for quite a time, until the deconstruction of the Austrian Empire after WWI, and is still used for governmental things today. I've never really payed attention to the Hapsburgs, though I knew vaguely that Marie Antoinette was one, but at the palace I was introduced to a fascinating individual, Empress Elisabeth. Have you ever heard of her? The first time I heard her mentioned (though I didn't realize it at the time) was at the hotel desk where we asked for directions, "you mean where Sissi lived?" the concierge asked. "um, I guess." Elizabeth was married to Franz Joseph and was Empress from 1856 until her assassination in Geneva in 1898. She's a bit of a tragic figure, a shy girl who married an emperor at 15 and inherited a role which she struggled to fill. She was frequented by bouts of depression and dealt with life by writing poetry (mostly about death and loneliness and lack of freedom) and obsessing over her beauty and physical health. After he son's suicide, she apparently dove into a depression that she never emerged from. She traveled constantly, often neglecting her children from the impression I got and estranging herself from her husband. Yet her daughter spoke lovingly of her many times and her husband did everything he could to make her happy. His only words upon hearing her assassination in Switzerland were, "you have no idea how much I loved this woman." It's breathtaking, or at least I, the romantic and historian, think so. One of these days I must get a biography on her. Museums have a tough job trying to tell you all about a person in an hour or less, sometimes I think they skip characteristics that can soften the harsh edges of a person's personality, and this may be one of those cases.

On another note, I finished another book this weekend, Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl, which now makes Amsterdam available to me as a travel destination. I'm 2 for 2 on reading during the weekends and am kind of curious to know if I can keep reading one book per weekend. Maybe I'll try it and find out. In any case, I'm off to study for now. As always my pictures are here, I'm having difficulties and will continue to work on them for the rest of the day.

Tot Ziens!

Memory Cards

Hello all! It feels like I've hardly been back to write anything worth reading and now I have to head out again. Oh well, so goes the life of the traveling gnome! (Yes, I just referred to myself as a gnome and no, you may not as well.) Before I left, though, I wanted to share my personal project with you all. I've meant to before now, but unfortunately my recap posts were just too long so I thought I'd tack it onto this farewell post.

When we first moved into the dorms over here I was astounded at the size! Honestly, if the dorms at Baylor were this big I'm not sure I would have left them. I could have done some major decorating/ picture hanging, but this is Europe and not Texas. I was a bit confined to what I could bring with me and pictures and trinkets were not high on my to do list. I certainly brought enough books to make my bookshelf look rather homey (though it still looks a little skeleton like compared to what I'm used to), but there was this magnet board hanging right next to my desk. I didn't have anything to put on it! This certainly would not do. Empty space such as this tends to be cold and I wanted this place to feel like home, so I started brainstorming. I thought of printing some pictures off my computer, but at the time I didn't have a printer and didn't know that I'd be getting one. Then someone suggested I write quotes over it with a dry erase. I considered it, but in the end was afraid that wouldn't be able to get it off in August. Then, right before our London trip I had a great idea.
I'm collecting postcards from all the different places I go. It seemed like the perfect choice. I really can't get a souvenir from every place like I'm used to (usually these comes in the form of books, which are heavy and hard to lug home, not to mention on the expensive side for a summer of traveling). Postcards are fairly cheep, they average around .60 Euros here, easy to get or mail home to myself and they'll fit into a photo album at the end of the trip so I can store them. I believe I fell a little behind on the group trip because I didn't always have time to stop and select a card (which is proving to be quite a process), but I did manage to get a card from some of my favorite places so I feel this is enough. Besides, I think that I'll restrict myself to one per city. I look forward to finding how many I have when I get home!

So there's my project for the summer. Anyways, I'm off again this weekend. We take the 6:30 (11:30 your time) train from Maastricht and will be in Salzburg, Austria about 8:00 tomorrow morning. Wish us safe travels!

Empress for a Day

So I realize that I haven't spent a lot of time talking about my classes. In fact, I'm not sure I've mentioned them at all. I could blame this on the fact that I've only been in class for two weeks now, but in reality it's just because they've taken a back seat to all of the Europe/ traveling things. (Ok, how much does that NOT sound like me? Since when does school take a back seat to anything?) Anyway, now it's time to talk about class.

Today was one of those days where everything you talk about in one class matched what you discussed in the next. This morning in my Baylor class, we were covering the Protestant Reformation, leaning heavily on Martin Luther before turning toward Calvin, the Anabaptists, and then back to the Catholic church. We were discussing the internal conflicts of the church around Luther's time, primarily settling into a discussion on the selling of indulgences and the collecting of relics. And what do you suppose we did half an hour later in Dutch Art History? Low and behold, we high tailed it over to the nearest Catholic Church, St. Servaas, for a bit of relic gazing. There were the bones of St. Servatious, Something that belonged to St. Barbara (written in Dutch so I'm not sure what), and a real live piece of the "actual" cross. This however is not what was amazing about our visit to St. Servaas.

The first wooden church built near the grave of St. Servatious was constructed in the 500s and was replaced in the 700s by a stone church. The "new" part of the church was built in the 1100s. That was primarily why we were there, to look at the Gothic Architecture, identify some characteristics, and compare the different styles of the church to one another.

Just for the betterment of us all I'll share a little before continuing with my story. The easiest way to tell the difference between Roman architecture and Gothic architecture is in the arches. As everyone knows the Romans perfected the arch to be able to support structures, but slowly (I believe this change occured around 1000-1100) the arched became more pointed which mean it could hold more weight. You could built much much higher than before. So these pointed arched take over in Gothic Cathedrals and that's how you get the insanely high ceilings like with Notre-Dame in Paris. Later during the Renaissance, architects and men of taste decided that the churches and other buildings were disporportionate with other aspects of of the building. I don't quite understand what they meant by this, but they were revolted enough by this that they called the architecture style barbaric or gothic, in reference to the Visigoths, a tribe of warriors that gave the Roman Empire a great deal of problems.

Alright, now that we're all a little smarter now, let me continue with the story. So, were standing in the hallway and an older man walks up as we're about to turn and go into the sanctuary and starts talking to our professor in Dutch. He was rattling a thing of keys in his hand. Good sign. There are certain advantages to being a school group, and we all got to feel that today. At first, our new tour guide took up into the basement of the church directly under the altar to show us the different burial sights they found after some excavation (the church sits on an Ancient Roman burial ground). This however, is not where our private tour stopped. We then followed along the edge of the Sanctuary (I was trying to discretely take pictures with my iphone, so forgive the blurriness) to the back where he lifted a heavy bronze plaque to reveal a secret room underneath- the tomb of the architect of the building.

This wasn't all for past a rope barrier he lead us to a wooden door hidden in the back corner of the church. It opened up to a spiral stone staircase, just like you see in castles during the movies. Suddenly we found ourselves in the choir loft!

(Isn't it magnificent?)
From here our professor (who was a bit in disbelief I think) translated to us that every church at the time, at least the respectable ones, held a room for the Emperor to view Mass. The Emperor was the only one permitted to view Mass from above instead of peering over heads from the floor. So his room was located much higher in the church. Guess what?














Being in this room was like stepping into a mausoleum. The walls were solid stone with windows inset into arches. In the center, however the ceiling rose to a high dome, and floor is some sort of decorative stone. As you enter the main room the wall to the left is traditionally left open with arched windows. Today, there are only small windows through which you can see into the Sanctuary. (If you do, you realize that your above even the chandeliers!) Traditionally no one would have been permitted this view except the Emperor. Yet we still went higher.

Above the rows of windows there was a doorway. It was built to match the other arched spaces, but it would be pointless for a window to be here, because it lead to the space above the sanctuary. Now, I don't have a fear of heights per se, but I do have a fear of falling which means everything is dependent of strange variables: height, if I can see this height, what material the thing I'm standing on is made of, etc. However, I believe that sometimes you have to just suck it up because in 20 years, or 20 minutes, you'll end up regretting it. So that's what I did.

The stone humps that you see under the walkway are the arches of the ceiling of the Sanctuary!

















Needless to say, today was an amazing day. I'm not entirely sure that much will be able to top it.

Belle, Heidi, and the Count of Monte Cristo

What do all of these people have in common? I'm pretty sure I had the opportunity to met any of them this past weekend while we were on our group trip! We set out last Thursday for five days of straight driving, interrupted by the occasional sights to see. I was in heaven. What a perfect excuse to listen to my ipod, read my book (I was reading The Hunchback of Notre-Dame at the time) and stare aimlessly out the window for some 6-9 hours a day. Now I've come home with loads of pictures (300 in all) and lots of fun facts to share!

Germany:
To be rather frank ( pun not intended, but accepted nonetheless), I have had the itinerary for the group trip since December. I knew of only two places on the list and everything thing else I was just along the ride for. So when we made it to Boppard Germany last Thursday I met the city with muted curiosity. Nothing much more than that. (I would have been happy to stay on the bus and read some more, in all honesty!) I am glad, however that the group trip was not left to be planned by me because I had no idea what I would have missed. We boarded a boat in Boppard that took us an hour down the river, passing little towns and villages along the way. Brittany, one of the girl sitting on deck with us described it the best, "Wow, it looks like Germany came right out of a toy box!" Indeed it does, particularly from the river where the houses and churches look small and quaint nestled at the foot hills of the mountains. From the river we traveled to Wurzburg to the Prince Bishop's palace. Not being a German history major I've pieced together that the palace (pictured at the top of the post) was the home of the Bishop of Wurzburg, who also happened to be the Prince because they combined the State and Church governments into one position, (this to me seems an altogether bad idea, but alas I was never consulted in the matter). All I know is that the palace in beautiful with frescoes and tapestries original to the 18th century which largely survived because of the fore thought of some people who stored everything outside of the palace during the air raids of WWII.

My altogether favorite part of Germany however, was the little town that we stayed in the first night. Rothenburg still sits inside the original walls built to protect the city. There are a few cars inside, but larger vehicles such as our bus had to park outside the walls and lets us walk into the city. That walk was like stepping back in time to some magical place. Queue Disney music...















Beauty and the Beast, anybody? Anybody? I thought so. I expected for Belle to come stumbling around the corner with her nose in a book at any minute. Also, I must say that for dinner we found a little cafe just off the town square in view of the fountain that served the most amazing Apple Strudel with whip cream (the handmade stuff, not the gunk from a can) and ice cream.

Before heading out of Germany we headed to Mad King Ludwig's castle, Neuschwanstein, otherwise known as the real Cinderella castle that inspired the one in Magic Kingdom.


Here's where I bashfully admit that I don't have the picture of the castle that makes it look like Cinderella's castle. That picture is taken from a steal bridge that is suspended between to mountains high above a little river that you can hear but never look down far enough to see. Said bridge was so crowded that the people on it couldn't turn around. Oh, and did I mention the floor of the bridge was wood? Yea, no way I was going on that thing. My feet stayed perfectly on the ground and I am ok with that.

Switzerland:

Words utterly leave me when trying to think of a way to describe Switzerland. I think it has been my favorite country so far, so gorgeous, and we wasted no time in getting right in the middle of the beauty. We arrived at Vitznau to have lunch in the Alps.













It made me wish I had thought to read Heidi before I came, and it only got better from there. That night was stayed in Montreux, on the French speaking side of the country. This meant that my four semesters of French would be put to use and I would actually be able to read a menu without feeling like an ignorant American for the first time in weeks. On top of having the best dinner of the trip (perch fillets in this light butter sauce) we had the most wonderful view from the balcony of our hotel room!
Oh and over half the group decided to jump into Lake Geneva about 10:00 at night. I watched.














I nearly ran into the Count of Monte Cristo at Chateau de Chillon the next morning. This beautiful castle was built by the Savoy family on Lake Geneva as early as the late 900s. It is unbelievable how well things are preserved here since there was always been a constant presence of humans in the castle. There are oak posts in one of the feasting halls that are over 1000 years old and hand painting on the ceilings and walls that date to the 15th century.

France:

In addition of all of these new adventures I had the opportunity to visit two amazing sights. The first was the battlefield Verdun. I had not had a lot of background on WWI, and I'm still substantially less read in this area than her younger counter part, but a battlefield for one war is not so different from others. I'm not talking of the historical value here, these are unique unto each sight, each battle, each war. I'm referring to the point of a memorial, the action of remembering.

I have some beautiful pictures of the battlefield with scarred landscapes and patches of stunted or absent trees where nothing will grow because of the chemicals still in the soil. Up the hill there is a cemetery with 15,000 identified French troops and an ossuary containing the bones of over 130,000 unidentified troops. Almost as interesting as seeing the sight myself was watching everyone else's reaction to the battlefield and the ossuary. After leaving Verdun we headed to Belgium to where the battle of Bastogne was fought, otherwise called The Battle of the Bulge.
I'd always heard of the Battle of the Bulge, but knew nothing about it, so it wasn't quite what I expected. But it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

I'm afraid my post it already too long, and I don't want to force you to sit here and read any more. It tried to give the up most highlight from the trip. Of course, there were other places we went that I didn't mention. We had to pass through Austria, Leichtenstein, and Luxembourg to get to where we are going, so I'm able to add them to my "been there" list. For now I had two days of classes before we head out once more!

Tot Ziens!

Oh and as with last time here's the link to the rest of my pictures!

Off Again!!

Well, it's that time again. I have my first week of classes complete and it's officially THE WEEKEND!! This weekend we are going to make up the group trip that we missed during our little adventure in Houston. Here's a few of the places we'll be going...

Boppard, Wurzburg, Rothenburg, Oberammergau, Bregenz,Montreux, and Verdun... honestly I have no idea where any of these places are except Verdun. Basically this translates into Germany, Belgium, France, Liechtenstein, and Switzerland.

I still have a bit of packing to do and want to get in the bed rather early tonight so I'll sign off here. See you when I get back!

Does this go with the darks or lights?

It's Laundry Day!

With one week of traveling behind us and another trip coming the day after tomorrow I was in dire need to do a load of laundry- or several. Unfortunately for me (or quite fortunately for me actually) I have a wonderful Aunt and Uncle (shout out to Aunt Gay and Uncle Tim!!) who support me in the means of which I have become accustomed, at least as far as laundry is concerned, but this also means I've never done a load of clothes in my life, save the random pair of jeans, so today was an experience. Not only was it my first (3) load(s) of laundry all of my equipment was written in Dutch!

Now, I have been preparing for this task for days. When I got home on Saturday all of my clothes went into the laundry bag (this seemed like the natural first step). Then, yesterday I went to the store and stared at the wall of what I assumed was laundry detergent for ten minutes. Then, I realized that it was in fact NOT laundry detergent but fabric softener, and proceeded to slide about five feet to my righyt to begin my deliberation over again. I had to choose between "Kleur" color , "wit" white or "kleur/wit." And I ask myself why does this matter? Will I accidentally buy the kleur detergent and turn all of my underwear red? What happens if I buy the wit detergent and wash my colors in it? Maybe I should just buy one of each. Quite honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing and there seems to be some ominous retribution for messing up- I want all my clothes coming out the same color as they went in. After 15 minutes, during which time some nice Dutch lady stopped to tell me something (the building could have been on fire for all I knew) I made my decision between kleur and wit. I went with sensitive. Hey, you win some, you lose some. Also, for future reference for anyone thinking of a trip to Holland, I'm pretty sure "wasmiddel" means laundry detergent or something like that.

Alright, so I got the clothes and I have the detergent now all I need to do is put them in the machines, right? Luckily for me they gave me a book translating everything. Unluckily for me the washing machines are about one forth the size of the machines at home. My new fear is that somehow I will put too much detergent into these thumballina machines and flood the floor. So, I went to read the directions on the back of the bottle. Yea, lots of help there.
















Alas, there were no difficulties aside from having to move everyone else's laundry every time I wanted to put mine in, and of course if I moved your laundry to the dryer I'm going to cut the drying on ( but beware I have no invested interest in whether or not your clothes shrink). Consequently, I think I've done more of other people's laundry than I have my own, but my last load went in the wash about half an hour ago. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and there were no disasters! Oh, except for that bit where the door to the washer got stuck and I had to pry it open with a key.... but other than that I made it!

Educators or Grave Robbers?

Today was the first day when everyone's gotten to see each other and talk about our trips. It's been fun to hear of everyone else's experiences. Some of us went to Prague, Amsterdam, Barcelona, Berlin, Munich, and Dublin, and the interests of my fellow students stretch from shopping to the art in the Van Gogh Museum to the cliffs of Ireland. Like everyone else, I too told the story of my travels.

This morning I was early for breakfast and happened to be sitting at the table when Dr. Rust, our program coordinator, came down. It was just he and I for a while so we sat and chatted about London while we were waiting for breakfast to start. Somehow we ended up talking about the British Museum and an off hand remark made by Dr. Rust reminded me of a realization I had while in the museum that I'd forgotten of until now. I've pondered the question for the rest of the day.


I've loved Ancient Egypt ever since Mr. Hugh's 7th grade World History class. In fact, for a time I thought I actually wanted to be an Egyptologist, so needless to say the exhibits in the British Museum were fascinating. I've never gotten to see real "live" mummies before! However, about halfway through the exhibit I was struck with an odd feeling.

I was standing at an exhibit case containing a wooden "coffin" (not the technical term, but I'm not sure what else to call it) that sat empty with it's lid shifted to one side. Next to the coffin lay a mummy perfectly wrapped. They even had the CT imaging that they performed showing the skeleton inside the mummy. Pretty cool, huh? I thought so, too, but it was something about that empty box with it's content laying to the side that made this mummy different from the others. This mummy was a man whose family had taken care of him, preserved him so that he'd be well off in the next life. They had him wrapped and placed in a wooden box- a box that was never suppose to be opened in the first place. When you think about it, that's what the Egyptian portion of the British Museum is, cases of people who died long ago put on display to feed a, let's face it, morbid curiosity.

Before I left Baylor, my friends and I watched The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants II. Now, I am not saying that this is the movie is by any means deep or philosophical. However, there was an interesting question posed to one of the characters that I think applies here. "At what point does someone's death stop being sad?" or, if I were to reword the question, "how many years must past after someone's death before it becomes ok to dig up the sarcophagus, pry it open, remove the body, send it through a CT machine, and then put it on display for all the world to see?" It's really sort of horrifying if you think about it.

I'm not trying to make a point by saying this is right or wrong. As with many an ethical question there are two sides to the story. I can't deny the wealth of knowledge that these mummies have given us that we wouldn't know otherwise, perhaps the same knowledge that sparks a fascination and love for the culture in others the way it has me. This love, in turn, supports the preservation of the culture. I also can't deny the fact that if I had arrived that the museum to find out that no mummies were on display I would have been devastated (this was my reason for going to the museum in the first place).

In modernity, men achieve immortality through their great actions: good or bad. No one will forget who Abraham Lincoln was, and the story of Hitler's rise to power will not fade with time. Even Galileo and Elizabeth I will not be forgotten from the history books. Perhaps it is for the ancient man to enjoy immortality through the displaying of his body after his death. There is only one question left to be asked: "did this Egyptian man want immortality?" An Egyptian tomb was arranged so that the individual had everything he needed with him in the afterlife, his organs, his wealth, even his cat, and his success in this afterlife depended on these things remaining undisturbed. This is part of the horror of the grave robbers of the ancient world. So, even if we don't share the beliefs of the man in the box, the owner of the cat and the jewels, has our actions respected him?

What do you think?

"There's no place like London"

Good morning one and all! Well, good morning to you, good afternoon to me. I am back in Maastricht now, bathed, shaved, and smelling all together rather nicely after my jaunt into the English land of hostels and fuzzy showers. (All right that is an exaggeration, but those of you who travel know that showering anywhere other than home is difficult and not much of a pleasurable experience.) Now that I'm well rested I'm ready to write about my week.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to tell you of London without writing a thesis on the week. I by no means want to bore you so I'll tell you of the highlights.

Living in London

Quite honestly our hostel on the first night was a flop. It was new, in a residential part of town, and while it was safe, the over crowding of sleeping 15 people in a room coupled with the wonderful European sense that clothing can be optional lead to extreme cases of culture shock. We moved the next day.

St. Christopher's is a wonderful hostel in London. They're motto is "Party hard, sleep easy," yea. Well the first part of that aside, the hostel is surrounded by little cafes and restaurants and only three doors down from the London Bridge Tube station (I now consider myself an expert on the London Tube as I have been on nearly every line and in every borrough of the city). It's also within walking distance of many tourist areas including the Globe and Tower of London.


Of course there are some things you need to know of England/ Europe in general. There seems to be some sort of strike against top sheets here. Every bed I've slept in since I've left America has a fitted sheet and a covered duvet. Also, if it is not advertised, there is no air conditioning. You, my friend will have to sleep with the window open like everyone else. Therefore you must not be concerned of bugs flying in while you are asleep as this worry makes you a germophobic (or instectaphobic?) American.

Eating in London

I love food. That is no secret, and the quickest way to get me to eat something odd it to tell me its a cultural thing. Our first night in London, we found a little restaurant that serves Fish and Chips under the gaze of the London eye. Of course, you've got to eat it like a true Brit, swear off ketchup, it's malt vinegar all the way. There was a chain restaurant just across the street from our hostel that we ate at a couple of times called "The Slug and Lettuce." It seemed to be the gathering place for many a business person or dating couple. Here I got to try Steak and Mushroom pie ( never could find the steak and kidney) with my friends and we sat for four hours just eating and talking. (This is around the time we noticed that no one sat around with their cell phones out but chose to communicate with other humans). On my last morning in town Erin and I walked to a little cafe to have a "Full English Breakfast," but I backed out when I realized that they served Bubble and Squeak on the menu. Bubble and Squeak is one of those things that you've spent your entire life hearing about- perhaps in that Dickens book you had to read as a freshman or in some random movie- but never knew what it was. Apparently it's some sort of a potato/cabbage/ anything else you have laying around the house thing (like hash I suppose). Anyway, I had that instead, but the Bubble and Squeak took a back seat to the fact that the dish came with, among other things, something very similar to baked beans- for breakfast.





Our most interesting finds, however came from the grocery story just down the street from the hostel where we bought lunch on most days. Tuna and Sweet corn seemed to be a recurring theme, was proved tasty as well. The crunchiness of the corn added a unique texture. Also, prawns (tiny shrimp like things) were everywhere as well. Including the potato chips. I found a bag of potato chips that was prawn cocktail flavored- it wasn't as bad as it sounds. Also I found a German Bratwurst flavor, but didn't get the chance to try it.

My very favorite thing, however is a piece of candy called "Flake." It's a thick ribbon of folded chocolate and I believe is made by the Cadbury company, so think Cadbury eggs, but more amazing then that. The popular thing is to stick it down into the side of soft serve ice cream. I first discovered this tasty little treat at a food stand just outside of Westminster. We'd just walked down from the Art Gallery for Evening Song (which we were too late for) and drowned our sorrows in an ice cream cone (complete with Flake) in the shade of the sanctuary.

Sightseeing in London

On to what this post should actually be about, I suppose.


I won't lie. I'd been to London once before and met the idea of going back with a little disappointment. I wanted to see something new... Oxford, Stratford Upon Avon, Canterbury, something. When I realized all we would have time for was London I was somewhat afraid that I would regret not going somewhere else. I had no idea how little I had seen in London the first time.

We spent the entire first day at the British Museum mingling with Ancient Egyptian kings, and staring at the original Rosetta Stone (no, it isn't just a computer program). At the tower of London we saw the Crown Jewels (except for the current crown because the Queen happened to be wearing it at the time. Also, they were running a new exhibit on the armor of the Kings and had the full metal armor of Henry VIII (big dude). We saw original Monet and Van Gogh (who is Dutch by the way) at the National Gallery. I was able to search out the Broad Street water pump (one of those "worlds' biggest ball of twine" moments, my mother would say) and the Evelyn Tables at the Hunterian museum in the Royal College of Surgeons.

We even searched out Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station (and found about ten other people [ read: college students] doing the same!)

I do have a confession however, I've never read Harry Potter. I've seen the movies when someone wants to go with me, but I've never been that big of a fan. I couldn't resist the picture though!




Out of everything we saw I had two favorites. One was a 19th century operating theater that had been attached to St. Thomas Hospital between 1820-1860. The theater was for female patients only and is the only operating theater left in England, perhaps Europe as the others have been converted or torn down. It was an amazing room, like the ones I've seen in pictures many times over. It was fascinating to stand on the floor and look up at the seats where medical students would have sat watching such and such procedure and to think of the surgeries that occured in the room, as the theater predates the use of Anesthesia.

My other favorite wasn't even a selection of mine, but Erin's. It was the Cabinet War rooms where Winston Churchill ran the British government during the bombing raids of London. They were deep underground, underneath White Hall and when peace was declared everyone working in the rooms straightened their papers but them in the desk drawers and cut out the lights (apparently it was the firs time the lights had been cut out in years!). They simply left and everything stayed as it was until a few years ago. The rooms themselves are in immaculate condition and the Churchill museum that is attached inside is the most state of the art museum that I've been in. Part of me would say it even surpassed the Lincoln Museum in Springfield. It's an excellent piece of Interprative History.

So that was my week in a nutshell. Of course there are many things I haven't mentioned here, perhaps they'll appear sometime in the future. In all it was a wonderful trip full of learning experiences, and beautiful scenery.

Cheers!

I've posted the rest of my pictures at this link. Feel free to look around!

Bon Voyage!

Dear all,

Today marks the first day of individual travel! A group of us will be boarding a train this morning to northern Holland before taking a ferry across to England. We'll be spending the week in London. As a personal rule my computer will stay in Maastricht so I won't be around here until next week.

See you then!
Lindsay