Christmas on the Continent

This Christmas I went on a jaunt to the continent with a friend of mine from Saskatoon. Brennan arrived in London where we spent a day seeing the sights and meeting with friends. The next day we took a flight to “Florence” and landed at:

Go RyanAir!

The obligatory (corny) shot...

Anyhow, we spent the afternoon in Pisa, seeing the leaning tower, being enchanted by the architecture, and eating some scrumptious (if overpriced) food. It quickly became apparent that my travelling companion’s motives for coming to Europe were more gastronomic than anything else. More on that later. That evening we took the train to Rome where we staying in a hostel near the main train station…an area not nearly as charming as it looks on Google Earth.

The next morning we took another train to Naples where the promise of stunning Mediterranean scenery faded as the sky filled with clouds as our train moved further south. I was looking forward to seeing Mt. Vesuvius (think Pompei) but it was hidden by the low-lying clouds. Naples is probably the most intense place I’ve yet been. It’s simply overwhelming to the sense. As per Brennan’s food fetish we looked for a couple of good, authentic pizzerias (the food was invented in Naples) and ended up getting lost time and again in a warren’s nest of narrow streets flanked by fall apartment buildings. Those of you following the news may be aware that Naples’ garbage collection workers went on strike for the better part of a year. While the mounds of trash where gone, the leftovers weren’t and the residual rubbish only added to the flavour of the city. Plethoras of scooters mixed with centuries-old buildings and drying laundry hanging between them to create an aura that must be experienced to be understood.

The street got narrower and the buildings got taller further down the street. I didn't think to take another picture then...I was too busy trying not to get 'smooshed' between a car and a wall!

The pizza was simple and very good (and cheap!) and we eventually managed to bumble our way back to the train station in time to get confused by the notoriously unreliable transport schedules. We made it back to Rome that evening after a slightly stressful episode trying (unsuccessfully) to get to Pompei before dark.

Brennan's reaction to authentic Italian pizza.

The next day saw Brennan and I trying to do the impossible. The saying goes that Rome wasn’t built in a day, but we did try to see it all in that amount of time. We started with the Vatican (the world’s smallest sovereign state) where we explored St. Peter’s Basilica before climbing to the top of the dome where we drank in a splendid panorama of the city. We wanted to see the Vatican museums (including the Sistine Chapel) but the admission price was a little steep and we were running short on time so we waved goodbye to the Pope and headed for the Pantheon (formerly a Roman temple to their gods, now a Catholic church…the place has a higher concentration of churches than Utah!) which had the largest dome in the world at the time of its construction.

Brennan's opinion of his mid-morning/pre-Vatican snack sandwich.

From the base of the dome of St. Peter's.

Climbing to the top of the dome.

The panoramic view from the top (sorry for the resolution...I borrowed this from Wikipedia)

There were some guys dressed up as legionnaires outside charging exorbitant fees (like everyone else in Italy…but I digress) to have their pictures taken. I got them on the move from behind…not a great picture but the price was right.

Pantheon

"Legionnaires"

From the Pantheon we wound our way past the monument to Vittorio Emanuele onto the Via dei Fori Imperiali which leads to the Coliseum and is lined by ancient ruins, including Trajan’s Column and the Roman Forum (where we picked our way through what used to the be heart of Rome). The sun set and we ate (pizza, yet again! But it was good so no complaints from this guy!) before heading on to look for some open access sights like the Spanish Steps (I’m really not sure what makes them so famous but I climbed them and was reminded of the area around Sacre Coeur in Paris. Maybe that’s why.) and the Trevi Fountain. We didn’t manage to find the latter before our time ran out so I suppose I’ll never make it back to Rome (legend has it that tossing a coin into the fountain guarantees one’s return to the city).

Roman Forum. (The green triangle at the bottom is the edge of the Temple of the Vestal Virgins)

Forum (again)

Pizza (again)

We took a sleeper train from Rome that night and arrived in Venice the next morning…at 5:30. We waited in the open air terminal for 4 hours until Brennan’s former classmate Alex came to get us. I NEARLY FROZE. It was pretty miserable as there was nowhere to go to warm up at that hour and the metal benches in the station all angled downward to stop people like me from catching their beauty sleep. All was forgotten when Alex took us out for hot chocolate and then guided us around the city. I really liked Venice. I had imagined it with more water and fewer streets but was pleasantly surprised to find that all the streets were for pedestrians wich made for a very enjoyable tour. We were lucky as a week or so before our arrival the city had been flooded to about 3 feet above street level but everything had dried out by the time we arrived. Any dreams of renting a gondola, however, were dashed when we found out the going rate was 100+ Euros.

After a relaxing day in Venice the three of us boarded (yet another) train bound for Udine, Alex’s hometown. North East of Venice and a stone’s throw away from both Austria and Slovenia, Udine stood in stark contrast to most of what we’d seen so far in Italy…it was spotless.

Udine

l-r: Yours truly, Alex, Brennan

Villach, Austria

We stayed a couple of days, taking a day trip to Austria to see the Alps up close and to wander through the Christmas markets, before waving goodbye to Alex, Udine, and Italy. We did something very uncharacteristic and left Udine on schedule and left ourselves plenty of time to arrive at Venice’s Marco Polo airport. This is where Brennan’s ‘bad travel chi’ kicked in. Through some travel delays, some poor decisions on my part and mostly through some bad signs and a less-than-cooperative shuttle bus driver, we missed our pre-booked flight to Brussels. Several seething hours, a few hundred Euros and a couple of Lufthansa flights later we arrived in Belgium.

Beligan Waffle in it's natural environment

We stayed in Leuven (just outside of Brussels, where Brennan did his Master’s) with a couple (Patrick and Montserrat) with whom Brennan had lived. They were very friendly, excellent hosts and great company. We spent much of our time in Leuven meeting with Brennan’s friends or wandering around the city. We spent Christmas Eve (the big event in Europe…and, it seems, most of the non-North American world) at Patrick’s parents’ house where we were warmly welcomed along with Montserrat’s Mexican cousin and his Mexican friend. We had a lovely evening where conversation flowed freely in English, French, Dutch, and Spanish. Definitely an ideal Christmas away from home!

Christmas Eve at Patrick's parents' home.

Patrick, Montserrat, Brennan, Skinny White Guy

Christmas day was a low-key affair since Patrick was away with his extended family. Brennan, Montserrat and I went to a Catholic mass given in Dutch and Spanish. After a brief tour of the university we went ‘home’ to make a Christmas lunch of quesadillas (3 Mexicans + 2 Canadians = Unorthodox celebrations).

Brussels

Boxing Day (not a big deal over here) saw us packing up and going for a quick tour of downtown Brussels before boarding the Eurostar to return to London. Despite all the adventures, sights, and food we’d taken in I felt good to be home (well, ‘London home’) and realized how much I’ve grown to love this city in the brief time I’ve been here. It’s going to be tough to leave when the time comes!

Day at the beach

Well guys, I’m back from a succession of travels so it’s time I bring you all up to speed on what’s been going on this side of the Pond.

The day after classes ended for the term Kendal (my, um, “special” friend. We met our first Sunday here. She’s from the States and is also studying at the LSE.) and I rented a car and went on a day trip to the beach. Now, remember this may not be Canada but it’s still winter over here so it wasn’t exactly bathing-suit-weather. In typical English fashion we were rained or drizzled on most of the day but had a fun time anyhow. After leaving London (which was a little bit of an adventure in and of itself since neither of us had ever driven on the left side of the road before), we drove to Cantebury (of Chaucer’s Cantebury Tales fame) where we wandered around but were unable to get into the famous cathedral where Thomas Becket was killed. In fact, this is as close as we were able to get without having to pay a rather steep entrance fee.



Upon leaving Cantebury we made our way to Dover using some backroads which gave us a chance to see the ‘real’ British countryside which is stunning in my opinion. It is verdant even in the winter months and I can only imagine what it must look like in the summer! Kent also holds a special place in my heart because many of the most important chapters of the Battle of Britain took place in the skies over the region. It’s always interesting being in a place where history has been made.

The town of Dover itself was underwhelming to say the least and we couldn’t find a decent pub to eat in so we grabbed something to go from McD’s. I had my first Big Mac and was, once again, underwhelmed. Kept body and spirit together though.




The up-side of Dover was walking along the famed ‘white cliffs’ just North of both the town and the impressive Norman castle. It was a blustery day which made the Channel rough and which cut our walk along the cliff short as both of us were having some trouble walking and neither of us wanted to explain to the other’s parents how their child met an untimely end in such a beautiful but craggy place.




After feasting our eyes and (nominally) feeding our bellies, we proceeded down the coast toward Brighton, getting out to walk on the pebble beach at Folkestone and passing through Hastings (Battle of Hastings, William the Conqueror, etc.) and pushing for Beachy Head to see the Seven Sisters but it was dark long before we got there and neither Kendal nor I were about to go romping around in the dark and stormy night looking for some 500 foot tall cliffs…especially coming from the direction we were (i.e. inland)!

(This is what we would have seen if we'd stuck around til daylight...and a clear sky.)

Our return to London was relatively uneventful. We took a wrong turn in East Grinstead and ended up in the (very quaint) centre of town where we had a nice meal in a genuine pub. (At least we think it was genuine…I mean, who would build a tourist pub in a small town in the middle of nowhere?). After a short walk around, on which we found the following sign, we got back on the road which, as we were surprised to find out, led right past the front of the London Temple (which isn’t actually in London).

A few stressful minutes later we had crossed southern London, only getting lost a couple of times, and returned the car to London City Centre Airport at 11:30, tuckered out but pleased to have escaped the cold concrete embrace of the city.

Sigh...

Surprised to see me back so soon?

Well I got my first paper back this week:


That’s right folks, don’t adjust your screens. 58.

Now, I don’t think it’s as bad as it seems. That seems to be a common kind of mark around here from what I’ve heard. I’ve tried to console myself with the idea that my first graduate-level paper was savaged by one of the best minds in the field… It’s not working too well but it’s all I have to hold on to. Well, that and the fact that the LSE’s grading guide says that anything over a 65 shows the ability to undertake PhD work. So it’s not that bad, right? Right???

In other news I went to a Canadian carol night that was held at Crown Court Church of Scotland for the Canuck expat community. This particular church has been in operation in London since 1603 and had been on its site in Covent Garden since 1711. Quite a lovely building and the music was splendid. I got goose-bumps. I still have “Holy Cow, I’m living in London (aka the centre of the universe…well of the part that matters anyways)!” moments now and again and that was certainly one of them. Last week I went to a service held at St. Paul’s Cathedral for American Thanksgiving. It was free and so I went. It felt weird to be surrounded by a few hundred (thousand? I didn’t turn around to see how full the place was) Americans but the service was nice (mercifully free of rhetoric) as was the building itself. I think I preferred the Canadian service though. It was cosier, and the music was better and strait from my childhood. And I was surrounded by Canadians. =)

Next week my friend Brennan will be coming over from the Promised Land (i.e. that land of milk and honey, the True North Strong and Free) to visit and we’ll be spending some time running around Italy (neither of us has been) and then to Belgium where he did his Master’s degree a couple of years ago. Should be fun and I’ll get to spend Christmas on the Continent.

I should post again before Christmas but just in case I don't, 'Feliz Navidad, prospero año y felicidad' and all that!

Of royalty and Royal Residences

Two weeks til Christmas break…Two weeks til Christmas break…Two weeks…

I’m looking forward to the break to catch my breath, do some travelling, and hopefully get a good start on next term’s work.

You’ll have to forgive the disjointedness of this post. There’s a lot I’d like to share with you but (as always) little time in which to do so and, quite frankly, I’m getting tired of writing (think academic papers) so I’m not worrying to much about style here. Just content. I hope you’ll find it in your hearts to forgive me. =)

So first things first… A few odd sightings here in London. The first I don’t have a picture of but I saw the Queen when she came to open the oh-so-creatively-named New Academic Building on the LSE campus. My second royal sighting of the week occurred at the Remembrance Sunday service I attended on Whitehall. Here’s the picture I got of the Queen then:

I think she’s behind the tree but I know she’s in there somewhere…

Here are the third, and fourth odd sightings:

That’s right, blue sky!



I’d wondered if I’d done something to offend my shadow…it had been such a long time since I’d seen it.


Just to give you an idea as to the weather here I’ve taken the liberty of including a weekly forecast from the BBC website.



In other news, I’ve been introduced to a British institution: the football match. A friend of mine got some cheap tickets to a Chelsea F.C. game so though I’m not a big sports fan I went along for the experience and was not disappointed! My first inkling that “we’re not in Canada anymore Toto” was when the ‘away’ team’s fans arrived at the stadium in a single group surrounded by police on foot and on horseback. They were escorted past the rest of us Chelsea fans (well, I had to pick a side for the evening didn’t I…there’s no such thing as a neutral party at a British footie match!) and up to a separate entrance reserved especially for them.

Once I’d taken my seat I noticed that all the ‘away’ fans had been segregated (ghettoized?) on one side of the stadium with a cordon of cops standing shoulder to shoulder between the ‘home’ and ‘away’ fans. As things got heated up more and more police were interspersed among the crowd and by the second half they were lined up around the perimeter of the playing field as well, presumably to intercept any streakers or other miscreants.

I certainly have a better understanding of British culture now! The normally reserved Britons change completely when cheering on their team. There was a bloke seated nearby who was getting so worked up we all thought was going to have an aneurism right there and then, and the language… oh the language. I think it would have made the Royal Navy blush collectively!

Now onto the other end of the spectrum. This past weekend the LSE’s International Relations Department held it’s annual academic conference which I and about 75 of my cohort-mates attended. The conference itself was OK (it dealt with rising powers in IR. The BRICs for those of you interested in, or familiar with, the field.) but the real highlight was the venue.


Cumberland Lodge is located in Windsor Great Park, about 3.5 miles south of Windsor Castle. It’s a former Royal Residence that was set aside as a centre to contribute to education and social advancement. My next door neighbour while there was Royal Lodge where the Queen is known to spend weekends. I was able to slip away and attend church at the Royal Chapel nearby but alas, Her Majesty wasn’t in attendance. We weren’t allowed to bring cameras so I have no pictures of the church but here are some of Cumberland Lodge and surrounding area.

I guess I'll finish off by posting a few pictures of the Lodge (my room, dining room, etc...)

My room.

Hallway to my room.

Dining room.

Reading room/lounge.

Music room.

Staircase to my room.

Royal Chapel.

The grounds.

Once again, my apologies for the hodge-podge nature of this post but I just wanted to get it up quickly so I could go to bed at a decent time but knowing that all of you (there must be at least two of you!) know I haven't been the victim of some terrible accident in the Tube. Hope all's well back in Canada and I'll look forward to your comments.

"Signs of the Thames"

So here it is, the long awaited, critically acclaimed Post #4. Looks like my goal of 'once-weekly' was a little optimistic...

I know we’re only four post into this blog so it’s a little early for frivolous ‘speical editions’ but I’ve collected a number of photos taken here in London that bear sharing. They’re all variations on a theme and as such I’ve entitled this little exposition “The Signs of the Thames”. Corny, I know, but hopefully you’ll get a chuckle or two out of them. Drumroll please....

Taken near Hampstead Heath, this sign demonstrates the quintessential British desire for order and propriety. So what exactly do they mean by 'foul'?

Well, just to make sure the park isn't 'fouled', the Britons have come up with this ingenuous solution (above). 'Just carry around little pooper-scooper bags" you say? Hogwash!

Shifting gears... London's a big, BIG city with lots of people and more concrete than you can shake a stick at. Consequently green spaces are at a premium and every effort is made to keep them vibrant and healthy.

Hey, if we're allowed to get sick, why can't the trees?!

Finally let's move on to something of a British obsession. Those of you familiar with George Orwell's "1984" will already be acquainted with the concept underpinning of the CCTV (closed circuit TV). There is the unshakeable feeling that 'Big Brother' is always watching. One cannot walk 50 feet without coming across one of these security cameras perched atop a fence or protuding from the side of a building. So as to garner an aura of legitimacy, the Powers-That-Be have graciously posted signs informing people to 'smile-because-every-move-you-make-is-being-watched-by-some-guy/girl-in-a-control-room-somewhere-in-the-bowels-of-some-security-headquarters'. Case in point...

Now, the local populace has not simply bowed down to Big Brother...far from it. They have commited little acts of defiance to show their displeasure. The writing is hard to make out above so I'll just tell you what it says. Below 'for the purpose of;' someone has written "Interfering with your lives" and below 'for information contact;' we can read "MI5" [MI5 is roughly equivalent to CSIS in Canada or the FBI in the US]

Sometimes the acts of defiance aren't so little...

(Please notice the CCTV just to the right of the word 'nation'...these guys had guts!)

Just so you don’t think I’ve become a shutterbug rather than a student, I’ll bring you up to speed on some of the goings-on at the LSE.

First and foremost I’ve finally managed to solidify my course docket. As it stands I’ll be taking the compulsory core course “International Politics” as well as “International Security” (which is being taught by a leader in the international relations field, Barry Buzan), and “Strategic Aspects of International Relations”. These are all full-year classes which take the structure of one lecture (1 hr) per course per week and one seminar (1.5-2 hrs with a group of less than 15 students) per course per week. Doesn’t sound like much until you consider the reading lists we’ve been given! Since none of my classes have set textbooks I’m constantly in the library looking for this book or that article which have been assigned for the next class.

The learning and teaching philosophy is very different here. The onus is on the student to learn what he/she thinks will be of greatest value in preparation for the final exam (did I mention that my finals are all worth 100% of my final grade? That’s right, 1-0-0-%. All the papers, presentations, etc. which I’m required to do count for nothing and are seen as “formative exercises”.) There is very little in the way of spoon-feeding here which is nice in terms of preparing for the ‘real’ world but also a little daunting. I hadn’t appreciated how relatively sheltered the North American system was until arriving here.

This place is amazing and of the highest caliber in a lot of respects. I really am afraid of my professors here. Part of that may just be due to cultural differences. Part of it may have to do with the fact that there is such a high post-graduate student turn-over rate. (As an aside, I’d like to share a brief story with you. At the end of his introductory lecture, the professor of a class I considered taking said in lightly accented English, “Some of you may haf noticed from my accent that I’m from Chermany…it goes vithout saying zat ziss vill not be fun.” He was so deadpan that none of us knew if he was serious or not.) I think most of all, however, it’s due to the fact that these are some really sharp cookies, so to speak. For example, I remember reading journal articles by Professor Buzan as an undergrad…now he’s sending me emails. It just seems kind of surreal. My classmates are top-notch too. I’m no longer the smart kid in the class (if I ever was). For the most part it’s really nice but sometimes there can be a little too much “Type A” floating around in the air if you catch my drift (those of you who know me well may be shocked to hear me say that!).

I’ve been keeping busy outside of school too and, much to everyone’s relief, have not cloistered myself in the British Library of Political and Economic Sciences. I’ve been involved with church activities and generally with wandering around. Most large museums here are free but nothing else is. I’ve done a lot of window shopping and meandering through parks, etc. all of which has been very pleasant and informative in its own ways but none of which constitutes anything to write home about.

OK. This should do for now. I’m in good spirits (though feeling a little bit as though I were drowning in a sea of academic literature) and thank you for your posts, emails, missives, etc.