Tag: travel

A Bath Story

For my last holiday adventure, Damjan and I visited a town called Bath. I highly recommend a visit here. Even though it was windy and cold, I had a really great time.

The best part of the visit was the free tour. Volunteers from the Bath community run tours of the town two or three times a day. You appreciate a town so much better when you walk around with a bit of knowledge. Bath looks like a beautiful 18th century town but our (extremely droll) guide allowed us to imagine what it was really like in the 18th century: building facades blackened with oil lamp smoke or covered with advertising, smelly streets, women with perfect coiffures infested with bugs and lice because they only washed their hair every few months.

This was the world of Jane Austen. It seemed more romantic in the books. By the way, although there is a Jane Austen Centre in Bath, she hated the place during the five years she lived there.

Something about picturesque towns seems to attract delicious food stores. Damo and I sampled quince jam in a cheese shop, chocolate and walnut fudge in a fudge shop, and a variety of European and Australian(!) olive oils and vinegars in a store called ‘Oil and Vinegar’. We ate Cornish pasties (my fourth for the trip) and bought greengage jam. We drank ‘Real Ale‘.

I found an art store. I loved every painting in that store. There were gingerbread men and cows.

Finally, we visited the Roman Baths that Bath is famous for. We spent two hours there, wandering around with audioguides stuck to our ears.


 

We took the train to Bath. We changed trains at a town called Didcot, which is an industrial town about an hour (?) west of London. Apparently, many people who can’t afford to live in London have homes in Didcot and they commute to London for work.


 

There were audioguides at Château de Versailles, Musée du Louvre and many other attractions. This was the first time I used an audioguide (it was included in the entry price). I was very impressed. The recordings were clear and informative. I am now more inclined to pay the extra money for these things now.

The Roman Baths were a major historical find. See the upper terrace in the photo? That’s the current-day street level of Bath. Apparently, Bath used to be six metres lower than it is now. People just kept knocking buildings down and constructing on top of them. In the 18th century, some people living in terraced houses complained that that water kept seeping into their basements. The town’s chief engineer came around, dug around a bit, and lo and behold, found a huge complex of magnificent (and still functional) thermal spas!

Stranded

I walked into the airport and looked for the check-in counter for British Airways flight 17. I quite enjoyed the BA flight from Melbourne to London three weeks ago. The flight attendants were nice.

I spent ten minutes puzzling over the information screen. Where was BA 17? It wasn’t listed where it should have been, between the 9:15 PM to Dubai and 9:40 PM to Singapore. I wheeled my luggage over to the BA check-in queue, about 100 m away.

“Excuse me, could you help me find my flight?” I asked the attendant politely. “I’m on BA17.”

“BA17?” She furrowed her eyebrows and pulled out a list. “BA17…”

“I can show you my ticket,” I offered. I pulled out the same e-ticket I used to fly to London. She took the ticket and considered it. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and walked to the counter, where she conferred with two other attendants. It took her a minute or two.

“There is no BA17,” she reported back. I blinked. “As of March 31st, BA no longer flies to Melbourne.” I gaped.

“Oh… What do I do?”

“You can go to Sales and see if they can get you a ticket on another flight. You should probably be on the 9:40 to Singapore.”

And then what?” I thought wildly. Wait at Singapore until there was a spot on a flight to Melbourne?

It wasn’t as bad as that. The lady at Sales transferred me to a QANTAS flight, which departed at 10:05 PM and followed the same route as the mythical BA17 flight. It was later than I expected to be in the air so I spent the next hour trying to find a place that would accept the only currency I had (Australian dollars) in exchange for dinner.

If Jesus had Asian parents

In Paris, I went to the Musée du Louvre, which I enjoyed very much, despite not knowing or caring much about European art. If you’re under 26 years old, you can visit the Louvre on Friday nights for free.

I guess I looked at 3% of the museum items in any sort of detail; the place is huge. After wandering through the sculptures, large format Italian works, Middle Eastern treasures, I finally made my way to La Gioconda or the Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.

I was incensed by the people taking photos of the painting, despite a sign clearly stating that no cameras were allowed.

“Hey, loser! No cameras,” I wanted to say. “Idiot! The flash will reflect off the glass. Buy a postcard, it’ll turn out better.” Bloody tourists.

Anyway, it’s a nice painting, supposedly the epitome of portrait paintings. Is it the best painting at the Louvre? Does it deserve to occupy pride of place at the most famous gallery in the world?

I dunno… it looks a little underexposed to me 🙂

I preferred the large format painting The Wedding at Cana by Veronese. It was right in front of the Mona Lisa so Damjan and I got to enjoy it in peace while the crowd fought to see da Vinci’s work.

I love the painting because it tells a whole story in one picture. It’s very big so you can see each person’s expression as it dawns on them that some fellow named Jesus has performed a miracle. There are more than 130 figures in the picture, so that’s a lot of painting to look at.

The painting tells the story of the first of seven miracles by Jesus, according to the Gospel of John. From the white visitor’s cards at the Louvre, I read the relevant excerpt from the gospel story.

On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had likewise been invited to the celebration. At a certain point the wine ran out, and Jesus’ mother told him, “They have no more wine.” Jesus replied, “Woman, how does this concern of yours involve me? My hour has not yet come.”

John 2:1-4

After which, Jesus’s mum tells the waiters to “Do whatever he tells you”. Jesus gets them to fill six jugs with water and give them to the head waiter to taste. The head waiter does so and is a bit confused that they still have really good wine. Where did the wine come from? Why did we leave the best wine to last? We usually serve it first! Hence, the confused expressions on the people in Veronese’s painting.

Anyway, I thought it was funny because the conversation between Mary and Jesus sounded like:

“Jesus, we’ve run out of wine.”
“So?”
“Come on, do that thing. You know, the water into wine thing. I know you can do it.”
“Mum! Not now! I’m not ready.”
“Hush, stop fussing. Just do it.”

Does this sound familiar? Maybe to all of you with Asian parents out there?

“Joan, play the piano! Auntie wants to hear!”
“Mum! Not now!”
“Hush, stop fussing. Just play an exam piece.”
“Stop embarrassing me!”
“Everyone! Joan’s going to play the piano now!”

Hehe… No doubt, someone with a deeper understanding of John 2:1-11 can provide me a more meaningful and accurate interpretation of the passage.

Edit: I found an awesome tool. BibleGateway.com provides bible passages in a variety of versions.

The Contemporary English Version says, “Jesus replied, ‘Mother, my time hasn’t yet come: You must not tell me what to do.’ “

The New King James Version says, “Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, what does your concern have to do with Me? My hour has not yet come.’ “

The Worldwide English Version says, “Jesus said, ‘Woman, why are you telling me about it? It is not yet the time for me to do something.’ “

Krispy Kreme vs. Boulangerie

While I was in London, Damo generously funded me a 90 pence Krispy Kreme original glazed donut. So much had been leading up to this, my first Krispy Kreme donut.

We stood in front of a Krispy Kreme stall at Victoria Station. From the three people in the queue before us:

“Can I have the large box of donuts, that one…”
“Two chocolate ice glazed, three strawberry filled, one lemon filled…”
“I’d like a dozen donuts…” (Store assistant: “For an extra two pounds, you can have six extra donuts…?”)

Then I stepped forward:

“One original donut, please.”

So how was it? It was tasty — soft and not overwhelmingly sweet. Damo had a bite and said that it was the yumminess of a fresh donut, nothing unique to Krispy Kreme. And besides, it was too soft.

Does it beat mille feuille? Hell, no.

Cat has its privileges

I mentioned briefly that in England, the ‘rank hath its privileges’ culture appears to be alive and kicking. I can explain with the help of the following photo, which I took at a college of Oxford University.

Exhibit A: Cat on grass
Most of the colleges of Oxford and Cambridge that I visited had similar plans: the buildings faced inward on a big quadrangle of grass. Just to prove that Oxford and Cambridge are vastly different institutions, at Oxford these are called ‘quads’ and at Cambridge, they are called ‘courts’.

Anyway, I digress.

It became obvious to me that the purpose of these immaculate lawns, which take up a huge space in the middle of everything, is to provide a means for the high-ranking college members to display their divine superiority; there were signs that warned, ‘Keep off grass. Fellows and their guests excepted.’

There are other outrages too. I saw a building where there was one gate for ‘boys’ and another gate for the Warden and Fellows. When a college runs room ballots to determine which rooms students get to live in, the President of the student body gets first choice, followed by the Vice President and so on. I have also heard that it is common for student societies to be kicked out of a room they had booked well in advance — because a Fellow has decided to have a tea party. And even crazier, did you know that there is a queen of England? I saw her palace and everything. How quaint!

Finally, I’d like to refer back to Exhibit A. Clearly, from the cat’s relaxed pose, it is comfortable ignoring the ‘keep off the grass’ directive. Because no-one’s chasing it off, I can only presume that cats in England rank very highly.

Some photos from my holiday

Because I went on holiday for three weeks, I am now catching up on a lot of homework for a part time university course I do. Hence my post-holiday blog quietness. I would like to take a break from work and show you a few of my photos. These aren’t chosen for any reason other than I can think of interesting captions to go with them.


There are waterfalls at Singapore Changi Airport.


Look at me, I have a big camera. Actually, on average I believe that Damo took better photos with his little camera than my big one. Which goes to show, it’s not the size that counts, it’s how you use it.


The streets of Cambridge.


There are many canal boats in the Oxford Canal. People live on canals and travel to the various English towns that are connected by these waterways and rivers. Perhaps this is what is considered ‘assisted parallel parking’.


The Basilique du Sacré Coeur at Montmartre, Paris. Our hostel was right in front of it. There were a lot of tourists. I hate tourists — especially those that take photos in places that are signed ‘Do not take photos’.


The Arc de Triomphe should be a place of quiet reflection. I mean, one of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier mounuments is there, right? However, the five lanes of Parisian traffic roaring around it does little to promote an atmosphere of thoughtful contemplation.


The Burghers of Calais are a famous statue composition found at musée Rodin. Burghers, get it?


We ate seven crêpes in one day. Look, I’m eating so fast I’ve blurred out. Yes, Daniel, that’s cider we’re drinking.


The glass pyramid in musée du Louvre, now notorious for being the location of the Holy Grail, as described by that tome of authority and integrity, The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown (now a Major Motion Picture Starring Tom Hanks and Audrey Tautou).


There were some balls in a palace behind the Louvre.


Sigh. Isn’t it romantic?


Tour Eiffel. Surprisingly, an affordable and interesting attraction. There are over 100 interpretive signs to read as you climb the Tower. I love interpretive signs.


Joan hangs out at Tour Eiffel.


Damjan commits what would be a federal offence in Australia: he tampers with Royal Mail.


People who know Damo will not be surprised to learn that we baked our own bread (really, the only option after returning from France, the land of heavenly bread, to England, the land of fish and chips).


People who know Joan will be surprised to learn that I made noodle soup — and it was good too, except that the noodles absorbed all the soup and it eventually became soup-infused noodles.

Mille feuille!

Yum, yum, yum! Mmmmm. Ooooh. Mille feuille!

The boulangeries (bakeries) and patisseries of Paris are slices of heaven. We had croissants for breakfast every day and Damjan introduced me to this delicious, delicious treat called ‘mille feuille‘. It cost €2.25 and was made up of (from the bottom up):

  • thin croissant-like sheet of pastry
  • light, yellow custard
  • pastry
  • that glorious custard again
  • pastry
  • oh, this was the best bit — white icing with chocolate swirls, sweet but not cloying, so perfect.

I have never had something delicious like that, where you bite it and every chew is wonderful and then it goes down your throat. Then you bite it again and you’ve realised that between swallowing, pausing and biting again, you had forgotten how yummy it is.

Between the two of us, we ate nine crêpes:

  1. apricot confiture (apricot jam)
  2. fraise confiture (strawberry jam)
  3. champignon, ouef (mushrooms, egg)
  4. jambon, gruyere (ham and gruyere cheese)
  5. beurre, sucre, cannelle (butter, sugar, cinnamon)
  6. Nutella, fraise confiture (Nutella, strawberry jam)
  7. ouef, fromage (egg, cheese)
  8. marron, chantilly (chestunut cream, whipped cream)
  9. Grand Mariner flambée

There’s much more to say, all the touristy bits beside food. I’ll get back to you on that. Damo and I are baking bread at the moment. Somehow, the bread in England just doesn’t satisfy after the French baguettes and flûtes. We’ve resorted to baking our own.

In other news, yesterday, Damjan and I went to see Les Misérables and Stomp on London’s West End. Both were bloody fantastic. I was afraid Les Miz could not live up to the hype but it did. I got teary.

The most romantic city in the world

Damjan and I have been having a fine time trekking around Oxford and Cambridge. There are many old and beautiful buildings here. I’m being educated in the English notion of beauty. I’ve always enjoyed period dramas like Pride and Prejudice and Sherlock Holmes, when they were always ‘taking a turn about the garden’ and angsting in the moors. I’m seeing it for myself. Everything here is neat and graceful. There are an awful lot of lawns you aren’t allowed to walk on — unless you’re high up in the university ranks. There is definitely a ‘rank hath its privilege’ culture here. More about this later.

Anyway, tomorrow Damjan and I are going to take the train under the English Channel and arrive in the most romantic city in the world — Paris! Good thing we’re not sick of each other yet. If we were, then I would take advantage of the latest offering from the clever people at Google: Google Romance. Damn, those Googlians think of everything.

Transit in Singapore

I am normally quite a price-sensitive consumer. That is, I do the legwork to minimise what I pay. Brand loyalty? Bah. I’ll go with whoever offers me the better deal.

But I have discovered that airport transits are such a waste of time that I would pay an extra few hundred dollars to avoid hours of waiting at airports.

I’m in transit at Singapore airport. As airports go, this one’s pretty good. Free internet access for one thing. Lots of shops open, even though it’s the middle of the night. Excellent signage. Free reading material. Plants and fountains. Perfect climate control. Mag wheels, central locking and seven CD/MP3 stacker. Airport of the year.

See you soon, Damo!

Poverty is having no money to sell to the bank

I went to the bank to buy some British pounds and EU euros with my Australian dollars. As the teller handed me the requested amount of money, she said, “So are you going for work or a holiday?”

“A holiday,” I said happily.

“Lucky! How long are you gone for?”

“For three weeks.”

“Oh.” She paused for a while. “Well, I was going to say that if when you come back you have any currency left over, you can come in and sell it back to us without being charged a commission.” She eyed my wad of cash. “But you won’t have any money left over.”