Katie's Corner: London According to Kathleen Quick, Friend and Rome-mate

Ciao tutti!

Welcome to Katie's Corner. A sidestep away from SPQR: All Roads Lead to Rome, this is the running commentary on Jennifer's blog that existed only in my mind as well as a vocalized nagging to Ms. Vosters. Until now. 'Cause we all need a lover of the craft, yet non-English major to balance out this hardcore literary fanatic. I joined up with Jennifer in Rome last spring after spending the fall semester back on campus. You may recognize me from my 8 photo appearances and the endlessly clever titling of "Gelato jubilee". I know! Who says a Communicative Sciences and Disorders major can't write? That's worth a Pulitzer at least.

Well friends, this blog has been abandoned for too long. Jennifer went to Berlin after Prague, but hasn't even told you the inner workings of that trip! Meanwhile, our friend Maddie and I were visiting Smicks in Ireland, and then scurrying around Glasgow and Edinburgh in Scotland. We were all reunited on April 27th, and that's where our London story begins.

Side note: Now, dear readers. Don't become terribly confused. Since she's left this blog by the side of the road to do so-called important activities like classes, work, and watching Doctor Who, she has been to London yet again. This focuses on her April/May 2014 trip to England's capital. Not her December 2013/2014 trips. The girl drank the London juice and couldn't get enough. If you've been there, you can understand why.

Sunday, April 27^th

It was my third time to London, Jennifer’s second and Maddie’s first, but we were all equally enthusiastic to be in an “easy” city after our previous months of traveling.  Speaking/reading English entirely was almost nerve-wracking.  I was waiting for our SMC Rome Program director to jump out behind the Houses of Parliament and slap my hand for not speaking Italian.  London was our playground and guilty pleasure.  Maddie and I spent the first morning watching the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, sometime residence of the Queen, fulltime tourist mob.  The palace isn’t necessarily jaw dropping, but the parks in London are spectacular; St. James’s and Green Park surround the site and bloom with carefully coordinated tulips. The three of us whiled away the afternoon at Kensington Palace, where William and Kate have an apartment, and a museum is housed showcasing the Royal Family’s past as well as my favorite exhibit, Princess Diana’s gowns.  A walk along the River Thames and a late night jaunt to Piccadilly Circus (the London equivalent of Times Square) rounded out the first full day.

View of the London Eye from St. James's Park

Monday, April 28^th

We kicked off day two with one of my favorite London sites, Covent Garden.  Many may recognize it from My Fair Lady, as the location from which Eliza Doolittle sold her flowers.  The marketplace is a mix of higher-end stores and antique flea market.  You can visit the Apple store and buy an old hand mirror within the span of 15 minutes.  It also is home to one location of Ben’s Cookies, my first love in life.  If you haven’t tried their orange peel variety, you need to board a plane to London ASAP.  We lunched from the brilliantly named The Pie Shop, where all enjoyed mushroom pies and meat paste.  I can’t create any alibi for Jennifer that afternoon; Maddie and I journeyed to Leavesden Studies in Hertfordshire, part active film hanger, and part Warner Bros. Studio Tour London-The Making of Harry Potter.  We delightfully squealed and took so many photos both of our full charged camera batteries died.  The trio, not Harry, Ron and Hermione, but Maddie, Jennifer and Katie, spent that night awkwardly ordering only food at a wine bar.

Local Ravenclaw Maddie Corsaro flies through the barrier at Platform 9 3/4

Tuesday, April 29^th

Baker Street!  If you listen very closely, one of us is thinking or talking about Sherlock Holmes at any given moment.  Tuesday belonged to the man in the deerstalker, as we ventured over to Baker Street, the location of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson’s flat in the Arthur Conan Doyle stories.  At their 221b address, there’s a museum set up like their lodgings and a buzz-worthy gift shop.  Following our Victorian era Holmes adventure; we headed over to North Gower Street, the exterior filming location for BBC’s modern day adaptation Sherlock.  We ate lunch outside at Speedy’s Café, which is adjacent to the Consulting Detective and trusty friend’s door in the show.  The staff obviously knew we were fans, so they let us walk around the tiny restaurant to view their Sherlock cast pictures hanging on the walls.  Bonus: someone walked out of the “221b” door and nearly gave us a heart attack. Not to outdo our already fantastic day, we joined up with our friends and fellow Rome Smicks, Katie and Megan, for dinner in Chinatown and a showing of Les Misérables.  Can you say spoiled?

Wednesday, April 30^th

High off Les Mis excitement, Maddie and I started Wednesday off with a visit to Westminster Abbey, which coincidentally was the third anniversary of William and Kate’s wedding at the same spot.  I know Kate would have made us bridesmaids.  As if we needed to add any more fuel to the Sherlock fire, in the afternoon we all went by the Old Bailey courthouse, which was a filming location, before reaching our destination: St. Bart’s Hospital.  Fans will recognize it as the spot Sherlock jumped to his apparent death.  A classic red phonebook had been turned into a Sherlock shrine, with drawings and scribbled quotes.  We ate Hobnobs on a bench and just stared up at the building in awe.  We were those people.  From there, we walked by St. Paul’s, the Globe Theatre, and London Bridge, which Maddie discovered is not all it’s cracked up to be.  We looped back around the Thames to the Wellington Barracks, where Jennifer and I recreated Sherlock and John sitting on the bench from The Sign of Three.  I promise I’m done with the Sherlock talk, weary readers.  That’s it.  Basta.

Katie Quick as John Watson and Jennifer Vosters as Sherlock Holmes

Thursday, May 1^st

After a quick breakfast stop at Pret (otherwise known as the establishment we ate at for 95% of our meals, which isn’t surprising considering there’s one on every corner), Maddie and Jennifer went off in search of ancient treasures at the British Museum, while Katie, Megan and I trekked it out to the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club, a.k.a Wimbledon, home of the famous Championships, for a tour of the grounds.  Following our separate ventures, we all met up for afternoon tea at Harrods, a department store in the heart of the city.  Harrods has nearly any product you can think up, though you’ll swear the price tag is fictional too.  It’s safe to say we merely browsed.  After hitting up Topshop, we ate dinner at (you guessed it!) Pret, this time in the King’s Cross/St. Pancreas train station, where I saw some 11-year-old boy named Harry trying to find Platform 9 ¾.  Silly kid!

Friday, May 2^nd

Friday was my 20^th and favorite birthday so far.  We spent the day wandering slowly around the parks of London, taking in the scenery from the ponds to exquisite landscaping.  We saw the Peter Pan statue, Royal Albert Hall, the Princess Diana memorial, ate lunch in Regent’s Park, and celebrated the day by eating Ben’s cookies at both breakfast and lunch.  It was amazing to just wander and enjoy our last full day all together before parting for the summer.  We went out for an Italian dinner, and while it wasn’t the same as Rome, it still gave us the feeling of our home in the Eternal City.  I couldn’t have asked for a better or more relaxing day to welcome my new decade.

Saturday, May 3^rd

The London Underground, or simply, “The Tube” was undergoing strikes the entire week, so Maddie and my attempts to squeeze in the Tower of London before our flight back to Ireland were all for naught.  Instead, we strolled through Covent Garden, our temporary base in Leicester Square and bid farewell to our giant blue rooster friend in Trafalgar Square before lunch.  With that, our London trip was over.  Jennifer still had another couple days before her own flight to Dublin, so the three of us divided again, sad to see the end of our current journey, but knowing that in no way was it our last.

Thanks for sticking it out to the end of our abridged escapade, everyone!  A big thank you to the roomie for letting me feature in (read: hijack) her blog. Maybe if I pressure her enough we can all finally discover what really went down in Berlin.

Katie

Whipped into shape: Easter in Prague

It would have been hard to leave spectacular Switzerland if Prague hadn't been awaiting me, along with the fabulous Megan and Katie Woods, my friends from the Rome program. I'd received rave reviews about Prague from many others, several of whom had also loved Budapest (the two are often compared). Time to see what all the fuss was about.

After a bit of a delay coming from the airport, I arrived at Hotel Chopin around dinner time and met the twins for an evening stroll around the city, leaving New Town (Nove Mesto) for historic Old Town (Stare Mesto), one of the only Eastern European metropoles left intact after World War II. (Apparently Hitler had big plans for Prague, his favorite city, as a monument to the extinct Jewish race; fortunately, these plans did not achieve fruition but still kept the city beautiful amid the wreckage of Eastern Europe.) The Easter markets were in full swing, and we found a wide boulevard with restaurants and clubs and shops and hotels lined up and lit up in the dusk; it felt a little bit like Times Square. People were milling around, eating rolled dough coated in sugar (called trdelnik), drinking Czech liquor, playing live music, and selling honey and clocks and decorated Easter eggs and other traditional Czech items. It was very lively and bright. We wound our way to the Staromêstské námêstí, a the oldest square in historic Prague, which was hemmed in by the great Church of Our Lady Before Tyn, the world's oldest astronomical clock and tower, the Prague National Gallery, and overflowing restaurants and shops. It was certainly the tourist center of Prague, but for good reason; especially as it filled with Easter market shoppers and vendors, it was a very cheerful, Czech place to chill.

Staromêstské námêstí with the astronomical clock (the tower on the left) and the cathedral

Following our usual pattern, we looked for traditional Czech cuisine for our first meal and after a little wandering through the busy streets found a small restaurant serving the typical national dishes, including famous Czech beer, pork, goulash, and dumplings. The dishes were very like the Eastern European food we'd been able to try before, particularly Hungarian and Austrian, which makes sense given the area's geographic and historical background. After dinner we tried freshly baked trdelnik from an Easter market and traipsed back to our hotel to rest.

A Czech tradition

Pork dumplings and sauerkraut

The next morning, Easter Sunday, saw us up and out across the Vtlava River for an English Mass in the lower Castle district. It was standing room only with an American priest in a small but stately church, offering an interesting contrast to our Palm Sunday Mass just a week earlier in the Pantheon. We eagerly headed back to the Easter markets for lunch, indulging in Czech street food consisting mainly of various types of potatoes, ham, sausage, cheese, and sauerkraut. We all sampled a type of hot, sweet liquor with the consistency of melted pudding that was ultimately too sugary to finish. After lunch we joined a free tour through the Jewish Quarter and tried kofola, Czech soda somewhat similar to cola, before heading to the Rudolfinum concert hall for a brief classical quintet performance that evening.

The central square in the daylight

The clock tower and the cathedral

The Rudolfinum, Prague's second most important concert hall. (They say Hitler wanted the statue of Mendelssohn removed from the roof because he was Jewish, but the workers didn't know which one was Mendelssohn. They guessed incorrectly and ended up removing Wagner, Hitler's favorite composer.)

Antonin!

Prague has a rich history of music indeed; it has long been a major stop for classical and modern music giants and boasts some of the best concert halls in Europe, including the Rudolfinum. The Czech Republic's own Antonin Dvorák was of course a Prague favorite, and we enjoyed some of his music at our concert. And the City of Prague Philharmonic is world-renowned for producing the music you'll recognize in soundtracks from The Lord of the Rings, Battlestar Galactica, Citizen Kane, The Duchess, and more. But in addition to a strong and enduring music scene, the city pays homage to Franz Kafka, who was born in Prague and lived there for much of his life.

Tortured genius

On Easter Monday we crossed the Vtlava once again to explore Prague Castle, a stunning complex of government and historical buildings on a high outcrop above the river. From the top of the hill, one looks out across the orange and copper green rooftops of Prague and can fully appreciate just how beautiful the Czech capital has remained. Within the Castle area stood St. Vitus Cathedral, an enormous Gothic church with spectacular stained glass windows. As we drifted through the various buildings - including rows of tiny homes that used to house the Castle's servant staff (one of which was rented by Kafka for a time) - we learned the history of the area, which had first been inhabited in prehistoric times and was the seat of the local government for over a thousand years.

St. Vitus Cathedral, entirely enclosed within the Castle walls

The beautiful stained glass

The rooftops of Prague

Our trip to the Castle brought us a brush with Czech culture that wasn't entirely welcome but was nonetheless - after reflection - a story worth experiencing. I'd been warned about the bizarre and barbaric Easter tradition by my friend Tim, who had lived in the Czech Republic for a year in high school. In some echo of an ancient fertility rite, Czech men took braided willow branches and whipped women in the community in exchange for sweets, which one website assured us was "actually good for the girl" (go figure). After some feverish research, we determined that prime time for whipping was only Easter Monday morning, and that at any other time it was inappropriate. We ventured out nervously and, upon encountering no maniacs with branches, somewhat forgot about it once we reached the siren call of Easter markets. 

Looming above the Easter markets was the world's oldest astronomical clock

This was quickly remedied as we progressed toward the Castle when FWAP! I felt a sharp stinging sensation precisely on my posterior. Completely caught by surprise, I couldn't even warn my comrades to save themselves and run when FWIP! Megan was hit. THWOT! So was Katie. Summoning our best Saint Mary's abilities to take shit with some shred of sophistication, we steamrolled forward, trying (and failing) spectacularly to make it look like nothing had happened. We were Americans! We were strong, independent, partially-college-educated women! We could handle a little nip in the butt, right?

Enter, out of the corner of my eye, the culprit: Random Whip-Bearing Czech Man With Heavy Accent. "Ladies! Happy Special Day!"

At this moment, our pride was doomed to a slow, painful death by forced nervous laughter as we fled the scene with the best Roman-educated speedwalking we could muster. Once we were a safe distance away, we burst into real laughter over another cultural barrier smashed to a pulp by a skinny willow whip.

We spent more time in the Castle district afterwards and visited the John Lennon Wall, brightly colored with thousands of painted messages honoring the legend and promoting his campaign for peace. We added our own stamp with a nod, of course, to our adoptive home to the south. For dinner we paid more tribute to Prague's musical history by eating at Mozart's favorite Prague pub, still in business after several hundred years, before enjoying a nighttime cruise on the Vltava. 

 

John Lennon Wall

SPQR! (Just above the red paint on the plate)

Prague at night

As we prepared for our train to Berlin the next day, we enjoyed another nighttime walk through old and new Prague, well-lit and lively, still brimming with Easter cheer. Prague blends history and modernity with elegance and a lot of fun; it is beautiful, intelligent, and classic all at once, making it a good bet for any traveler. Since I have to compare them - everybody does - I'd still probably choose Budapest in a fistfight; to me, Prague seemed like the sophisticated yet slightly stiff sibling next to Budapest's good-natured, adventurous cheer. All that said, it was absolutely a delightful three days, worth every minute and every dollar, and a trip that I would wholeheartedly recommend to travelers ready to break into the beauty of Eastern Europe. 

Swiss bliss: Aareschlucht, Interlaken, and April snow

(Continued from last post)

The next day I slept in a little and enjoyed breakfast, feeling very glad indeed that I had seen the Falls the day before: It was cold, rainy, and foggy, which would have made the whole trek not only more miserable but also quite pointless. Still marveling at the idea that I had no school and zero obligations until my train to Zürich the next day, I browsed the pamphlets in the hotel lobby and picked some things to do. Since it was off season, the hotel was practically empty during the day (even the receptionist left...), so I headed out to see the Aareschlucht Gorge just a short jaunt down the river Aare, which glistened pearly green even in the cloudy daylight. With no idea what to expect, I was in for a stunning treat.

The Aareschlucht Gorge!

One of the wider parts.

I had to go underground a few times to see the river!

The gorge was carved over millions of years by a water trickle that became the river, and the layers in the great stone crevices tell interesting stories about the Swiss landscape through the millennia. It was a much more relaxing adventure than the day before, but fascinating and beautiful all the same, as I wandered through the gorge, following the river backwards and forwards as it coursed through wide gaps and tiny slivers a person could barely squeeze through. On my out I met a friendly Swiss woman who seemed downright delighted to learn I was American - there didn't seem to be a lot who ventured past Interlaken, especially in April - which helped solidify my previous opinion that Swiss people in general are a very pleasant lot.

A kind group of fellow gawkers took my photo.

After Aareschlucht I hopped on a quick train ride to Interlaken. In spite of the rain, I knew I couldn't pass my Swiss weekend away without seeing it (especially since most of Meiringen was completely shut down for off season). Even in bad weather, with no chance of paragliding or kayaking or skiing, the little city was worth all the hype. Packed with visitors (mostly from China), it still emanated a welcoming charm that kept me entertained as I quite literally wandered for hours, crossing back and forth over the river, passing from tourist-clogged streets to almost-empty back roads, window shopping and eavesdropping (even though I couldn't understand a word) and sightseeing. I caved and bought a Swiss army knife from a nice old shopkeeper near the train station, toyed with the idea of buying Swiss chocolate from a Spanish-speaking cashier, was amazed to find myself the only non-Asian person in an entire stretch of the main street, and stopped for cheap Chinese food for dinner. (For such a small place in the middle of a valley, Interlaken is wildly cosmopolitan.)

 

Interlaken is quite colorful, too.

Always in the shadow of the Alps.

Even on a cloudy day the river was a rich, deep turquoise.

My feet were soaked from the rain by the time I got back to Meiringen that evening, but it had been such a fantastic day - somehow both relaxing and totally active - that I barely cared. I curled up to watch a low-budget British nature show - one of the only English shows on TV - before waking up early to get ready for my train. It was foggy again in the morning, but as it began to clear I could see a distinct line on the slopes of the mountains as if somebody had drawn it on with a pen; below the line was springy green and brown, but above it was powdery white. It had snowed up in the mountains during the night!

Snow in spring!

Bidding a fond farewell to Martina the receptionist - who later found and messaged me on Facebook to make sure I'd arrived in Prague safely! - I left Das Hotel Sherlock Holmes and went for a quick selfie with the consulting detective himself...well, at least the statue of him. (After all, I had him to thank for bringing me to this lovely place!) The train ride to Zurich was a treat; as we zigzagged up into the mountains, we passed through the veil of fog and seemed to go back in time from spring to winter, into heaps of fresh sugary snow as thick as Christmas in Wisconsin. Train was definitely the way to travel in Switzerland; how else could you see so much of such a spectacular countryside? 

Christmas?

From snow-white mountain slopes to fields shimmering yellow with flowers to the sky-blue valley lakes, Switzerland is a country of colors and heights. Geneva is a lovely city, but don't stop there; everywhere you go is a different experience entirely. Rather like Italy.

Up next was an Easter in Prague and a reunion with the Woods women. Who knew what to expect?

Swiss bliss: Solving "The Final Problem" in Meiringen

Let me start out by saying that Geneva is a lovely city. I tasted the best hot chocolate of my life, bought a pretty sweet Swatch, and had a wonderful twentieth birthday there with some dear friends back in November. But when one thinks - or at least when I think - of "Switzerland," the image that comes to mind is typically snowy mountains, Alpine villages, and outdoor adventure. Geneva has some pretty mountain views and a gorgeous lake, but it was not the "Swissperience" I was expecting. (Again, not that it wasn't great in its own way, but I was still hoping for a taste of the Switzerland that was advertised, which I knew was out there somewhere.) I had a few days between leaving Rome and arriving in Prague to spend alone, so I picked an Alpine village called Meiringen to be my home base for two nights before Easter.

First glimpses of Meiringen after getting off the train.

The selection of Meiringen wasn't totally random. As many of you know, I'm a huge fan (to put it mildly) of Sherlock Holmes in his many manifestations, particularly the BBC series Sherlock and the original stories by Arthur Conan Doyle (though I wouldn't say no to one of the Guy Ritchie films with RDJ, either). Well, one of the more curious things Doyle did with his beloved and ever-famous detective was throw him off the Reichenbach Falls, a tremendous waterfall in the Swiss mountains. Incidentally, his death caused such an uproar among fans that Doyle was forced to resurrect him several years later and continue his adventures - much to the delight of millions of people in the decades that have followed. The Reichenbach Falls is a real waterfall, located just above the little Swiss village that Doyle loved as a personal getaway: Meiringen. There's a Sherlock Holmes museum, lots of Holmes-themed landmarks (including a pretty sweet statue), and a series of plaques...including one overlooking the Falls at the very ledge from which Holmes fictionally plunged to his death to defeat his nemesis, Professor Moriarty.

Home sweet Holmes.

View from my balcony.

Needless to say, I made it my mission to get up to that plaque and see the Falls. Bidding Rome one last fond farewell, I flew out to Geneva, and from there I took a series of trains through the spectacular Swiss countryside to the Jungfrau region, affectionately known as "Nature's Playground" for very good reason. For as the train came around the bend and I could see the beautiful valley just before Interlaken, the azure sky was a rainbow of parachutes and paragliders; the opalescent lake shimmered in the sun as boaters and kayakers traversed its mirror-like surface; and the streets of the villages were full of people out and about their adventures in this pristine, picturesque, mountain-enclosed haven. Interlaken itself is a little city right at the junction between two large lakes, and Meiringen is tucked in a little alcove between the mountains only a few kilometers away. By the time I arrived, it was about four o'clock, sunny, and warm. But once I checked in to my hotel, Martina the receptionist told me that the weather tomorrow would be cold and rainy: not ideal for a trek of indeterminate length up to see the Falls. So in spite of major sleep deprivation and travel fatigue, I strapped on my faithful travel boots and set off with a German map to find them.

The famous Alps.

All set for Reichenbach! (No idea what was in store, of course...)

A few minutes into my little journey, several things became apparent. One, my map was utterly useless and unreadable to boot. Two, contrary to tourist belief, not everyone in the world speaks English: The only person I could ask for directions spoke next to none, leaving me to piece together a grammatically-horrific mess of mispronounced German, misplaced Italian, and misinterpreted English. Three, the "easy" uphill trek promised to me by Martina was in fact a steep dirt path winding precariously over roots and stones (and did I mention very steep mountainsides?). Four, though sunset was technically over two hours away, I was suddenly not positive the hike would take less than two hours. Nevertheless, I couldn't give up yet, not after I'd come all this way, and the beauty of the afternoon made me want to get some hiking in regardless. So on I went.

You've got to be kidding me.

I was not a quiet traveler, exuding my own chorus of wheezing (I was still recovering from a chest cold), swearing, praying, words of encouragement, and "This was probably a bad idea" as I climbed. I threw a few dirty looks at the inactive funicular, which would open within two weeks and replace this laborious trek with a fifteen-minute scenic ride. Being so early in the season, the snow on the mountains had not fully melted and so the magnificent roiling falls of the Reichenbach were in fact little more than a few trickles of water. But after much effort - after pity looks from the only passerby who showed up, after climbing over a fence probably intended to keep lunatics like me out during offseason, after clambering up a cliff-side path overlooking the giant cleft where the Falls usually fell - I made it to the plaque and the star. Almost weeping with relief, I started taking pictures. I even read the excerpt of "The Final Problem" aloud, marveling at how the area was exactly as Doyle described it a century ago. It was the ultimate crazy nergasmic spectacular, with the almost ethereal valley spread out below me.

The Reichenbach Falls (just imagine the water)

Made it to the top!

The famous plaque.

Where Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty resolved the Final Problem (and where Arthur Conan Doyle trekked during his vacations to Meiringen).

After a much easier trek down the mountain, I made it back to Das Hotel Sherlock Holmes in one piece and had a nice dinner at the hotel's entirely empty restaurant courtesy of an extremely attentive young waiter (I ate a bizarre concoction called the "Watson," which was basically eggs, cheese, and peaches broiled over bread). Exhausted and fulfilled, I curled up in my hotel room early and watched a gorgeous sunset from my balcony. It had been one of my fullest days yet: leaving my lovely Rome at the crack of dawn, flying to Geneva and hopping from train to train across Switzerland, trekking the Alps in a questionable judgment call that ultimately paid off...

Meiringen from the Falls.

But tomorrow, April 18, was a new day in the final travel marathon across Europe and eventually back across the Atlantic. The last adventure had begun.

Feeling pretty high on life.