Three countries, 24 days, and 11000 miles...

Flashback: Sunday, August 1, 2004

It's a right royal (half-) day today. There's a big running event, which has diverted normal traffic. But the Queen is at Balmoral, and Buckingham Palace is open to the public. Unfortunately, photography is not permitted inside.

The front door

The backyard

The pool

The garage (Royal Mews)

Before heading out to the airport, there's time for one long stroll through Hyde Park and Oxford Street, and a healthy (and reasonably-priced) early dinner at Pret a Manger.

The Serpentine (Hyde Park)

Unfortunately, the newly-opened Princess Diana Memorial Fountain is closed, due to poor design.

Kensington Palace

Marble Arch

Tactical travel error #2b:
There is a Star Alliance check-in counter at Paddington Station [since closed, as of January, 2005]. They will even check luggage for you (which follows on a separate train). However, you cannot later check a bag at Heathrow, which you may have already stored there, especially if you stored it at the wrong terminal...

Tactical travel error #2a':
You can work up a sweat carrying a full baggage load between Terminals 1 and 3. [Two years later, strict baggage rules implemented at Heathrow in July 2006 would have been a major challenge!] Certainly it's no fun to be frisked again, and in this case, to be the one frisking either. However, with not enough mileage for Star Alliance Gold status, one can only gaze longingly at the glass doors of the Air Canada/SAS London Lounge (or Singapore Airlines Silver Kris Lounge, or United Airlines Red Carpet Club), and imagine the shower facilities inside.

And then home again. Thinking back, this has been not necessarily a life-changing experience, but a fully unforgettable one. A mind-broadening first trip to Europe, but also a reminder of how much more there is, out there, and how litte time there is to go and see it. Overall though, it is a good feeling, that will take some time to wear off, and to absorb.

Last Night

Eighteen hours later, this long whirlwind day of travel has come to an end.

Palace of Westminster, at 11:35 pm

Though sun-baked, under-fed, over-walked, and in need of a shower, I still feel strangely energized. Mostly because of the incredible experiences of this day, and with the not-so-sudden realization that this kind of traveling is good. The kind which broadens one's horizons, and opens new doors, allowing one to better connect with other people in the future.

The American family initially identified themselves as hailing from Chicago, thinking that should be more readily recognized by most people in Europe. After I mentioned my visit earlier this year to McHenry county (in Illinois), they then clarified that they were actually from Milwaukee (down the road and just across the state line, where I had flown in to General Mitchell Field, and then promptly driven out of Wisconsin). We had moved beyond just polite nods and smiles, and the conversation continued on from there.

View from the Golden Jubilee Bridge

Tomorrow will be the end of this trip. For tonight, in this moment, here's to new and unforgettable memories.

Surviving the Train

Returning to Paris, there is a bit of time for a quick walk through the Tuileries. A roadside snack bar is the only dinner option which is both fast enough and cheap enough. So there really is a croque-monsieur sandwich, and they do serve them in Paris. All manner of French textbook minutiae have been seeping back slowly. Including that essay on the evils of l'alimentation rapide as the antithesis of French culture. A baker's dozen years removed from my last French class, a mere eight hours of total immersion has already started to take effect. But the process is rudely interrupted when it comes time to depart.

Gare du Nord

The American family is on the same train back to London. Their daughter is perfectly behaved. Just old enough to appreciate the visit to a foreign country, and even enjoy it.

I often wish I had travelled more as a child, but I still can't understand parents who drag along (multiple) infants on inter-continental long-haul flights. Maybe it's to visit the grandparents, or maybe it's just a foolish whim, but all the child knows is that he/she's tired/bored/hungry/thirsty/hot/cold, Mom and Dad aren't doing anything about it, and it just won't end.

I doubt think the challenge gets easier as the kids get older. Our evening train is packed with children, some off to vacation in London, others returning from a day of sugar and excitement at Euro Disney. They are all literally bouncing around the entire train compartment, completely ignoring their exhausted, pleading parents. Eurostar first class seemed like a huge ripoff for a couple of airline-style meals, but now could have been money well spent.

One particular scally is running up and down the aisle, flailing about and whacking things. I close my eyes, but am suddenly jolted by a punch to the arm. The mind boggles. Did that little punk just hit me?

The mind races. OK, what was that French word? Best not to say anything, lest it come out completely unintelligibly. The mind races again. How hard can I hit him back without getting into trouble? Does British common law or French civil law govern aboard the train? The default currency and billing system for the dining car depends on the country of departure. Does the same rule apply for the law, or does it switch over depending on which side of the tunnel you're on? What if you're in the tunnel? Can I surreptitiously push him off as we're going through?

In the end, all I can muster is a baleful glare, a toss of a camera bag onto the adjacent empty seat with disgust, and a long cold stare at the mortified mother.
The train finally arrives, and most of the other passengers not travelling with children hasten to disembark. As we flee, the American dad turns to me and says, "Congratulations, you've survived the train ride from Hell."

Versailles

On this tour are another varied bunch, including the young guy with the University of Waterloo T-shirt (now working in Hong Kong and in Paris for the week on business), a nice couple from America, travelling with their daughter, and a woman from Windsor (Ontario), whom I initially thought to also be American.

For the afternoon, there is a choice of activities, from visiting the Louvre or other museums, to simple shopping. No one else has seems to share my interests, so for me, it's a private 50-seat bus to Versailles, complete with guide and driver.

The Palace

The Gardens

Gardens to the Horizon

Meticulously Kept

Inside the Palace

Painted Ceilings

The Bedroom

The Throne

Window View

Under Renovation

The Hall of Mirrors

Mirrors

The Galleries

Tour Eiffel

If the Bank of China Tower is a sharp symbolic dagger in the heart of Hong Kong, then the Tour Montparnasse is blunt stake to downtown Paris, and a monolithic affront to the urban planning of Baron Haussmann.

The famous tower

The famous designer

Look up - waaay up

The view from the second floor

A nicer view