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The Armstrongs Come to NOLA (part 1)

As I mentioned earlier, Matt, Izzy, and Claire came to visit this past week. They arrived late on Monday night, and I got to pick them up at the airport. I parked the car and met them at the baggage claim because I couldn't wait to give them all huge hugs! It has been over four months since I moved from Salt Lake, and I couldn't believe how much Claire had grown. Since we got home late that night, the festivities didn't start until the next day. Matt and Izzy couldn't have chosen a better time to visit. The weather was perfect (mid-70's and sunny!) but more importantly, since I was unemployed, I had no other obligation than to help show them a good time.

We started off their visit by walking to Audubon Park for a picnic.

Claire has only gotten more stylish and cool as she's gotten older.

We took a walk around the park afterward and showed them the turtles and birds. We hoped the crocodile/alligator would show up, but we never spotted it.

Of course, we stopped by the fountain on our way out and let Peter and Claire splash around a bit.

Our final stop was Mike's office at Tulane overlooking the park. Matt and Izzy were impressed by the math on the chalkboards.

Claire was more impressed by the wind-up crab that scuttled across the desk.

Matt and Claire left their mark before we headed back to the house.

While Peter napped, I took Matt, Izzy, and Claire on a drive through past my old school and the 9th ward. We also stopped at St. Luis Cemetery. Since I blogged about it before, I'll just post a couple of new photos (the rest will be on my flickr, if anyone is interested.) Last time, it was a silvery, rainy kind of day. This time, the sun was bright overhead.

I thought this was a sad sort of Family Tomb with only one name on it.

We gorged on barbecue at VooDoo BBQ that night and then went home and waited anxiously for the election results. Mike and Amanda went to bed early, but Matt, Izzy, and I waited to hear President-elect Obama's acceptance speech. I'm not one to get patriotic, but that night I felt absurdly proud to call America home, and I look forward to the coming years.

This Past Weekend

I spent a little time....

Wandering around this library:

Staring up at buildings like these:

Taking advantage of bathrooms wherever they were found. Some of them cooler (and nicer) than others, such as this one at a little cafe:

Exploring this cemetery tucked quietly away:

Paying tribute to the falling stock market, aptly draped in a flag like any proper casket:

Ferrying past this:

Catching up with this fellow:

Inspecting the Fragonards at this museum:

Feeling sophisticated while trying to keep my eyes open at one of these events:

And aimlessly wandering through this park:

Today, I spent a lot of time wishing the weekend had never ended.

Graceland

I've never been a huge Elvis fan, but when I saw the pictures from Erica's tour of Graceland last March, it totally captured my fancy. I really wanted to see it for myself. Memphis is about 6 hours from New Orleans, but it was only 3 hours from Jackson, MS. We figured we'd never be that close again and since not much was going on during the evacuation, we made a day trip to visit the King.

We splurged for the Platinum passes, since they were kindly giving evacuees from Louisiana and Mississippi discounts. I was pleased to find that the first thing you see upon arrival is a gift shop. And there were many more to be found on the entire Graceland compound, which is extensive. I perused the shop for a long time, debating about whether or not it was worth $25 to buy a cheesy t-shirt just to be ironic. My prudent side, for once, won, and I walked away with just some postcards that I have yet to mail and an Elvis tin with mints. It was hard, though. So much merchandise!

They handed out the audio guides and we waited in line for the shuttle up to the Graceland mansion.

And finally, there it was!

I know, I know. It doesn't seem like much by today's MTV Cribs standards, but just wait till you see inside. The glamor is all in the decor.

Here's the living room when you first walk in.

The elegant dining room, along with a painting of Elvis. There were many around the house, and some more that I will share.

And now for the creepiest room - the Jungle Room.

I loved the kitchen, exactly how Elvis left it.

The billiards room. I like to picture Elvis and his entourage shooting pool and everyone has sideburns.

And now for my favorite room in the house - the TV room.

Taking Care of Business!

Backyard:

And now for the best part - the memorabilia!

Gold records!

And updated to reflect the new technologies - a platinum tape.

I promised more paintings, and I always deliver.

If the memorabilia is the best part of Graceland, then the best part of the memorabilia is the costumes. Such amazing costumes!

This photo cannot capture the immensity of the racquetball court full of gold/platinum records. And the best part is that when you enter the room, the theme from 2001 Space Odyssey plays through your audio guide. It really sets the tone.

Our last stop at the house was the burial site. On the drive up, I had thought about what I could leave for Elvis, but since we didn't have much with us whilst evacuating, I couldn't come up with anything. Luckily there was no lack of other trinkets for Elvis.

Time for a quick snack, but there was still so much more to see!

Such as cars!

And more jumpsuits!

And private jets!

Phew! It was a lot to take in and very worth the trip, even for someone who had never really listened to Elvis. I guess I had this feeling before that Elvis was kind of a joke, someone that people do bad impersonations of in seedy lounges in Las Vegas. I left Graceland, though, completely overwhelmed by what a star he was. Pure and simple.

But there was one last thing we had to do in Memphis. Get some ribs! ChaCha told us the best place for ribs was Central Ribs, and I'm pretty inclined to agree. They had a sign posted that said any evacuees from Louisiana or Mississippi got half off their meal. Bonus, right! Except, it didn't count for ribs. Still, it was worth paying full price.

Moving to Crescent City Part 5: The French Quarter

It's been about a month now since I arrived in New Orleans. I really am behind, but now that there's only one more week of Summer Institute, I should have some more free time. Considering, though, that my life here has been practice teaching in the morning, framework sessions in the afternoon, and then coming home and working on lesson plans (promise, it's the last time I complain about them) all night long, there really isn't much to blog about anyway. But again, all that is going to change after next week. At least until school starts up. Back to this entry, though. Of course, one of the first things Liz and I did when we arrived in New Orleans was head out to the French Quarter. I've blogged about the Quarter before, so I won't spend too much time on it. I'll just share some photos.

I never thought I'd live somewhere with palm trees. It's like I'm always on vacation. See the lines for the streetcar? Still haven't been on it. And no, it's not called Desire. It's the Canal line.

Of course I took Liz down Bourbon St. and I was curious to see more of it, since last time I was there we only saw about a block's worth. I don't think I really need to go back. Next stop, Cafe du Monde for some beignets. Some of the bussers tried to play a trick on customers. They would put cash down on the ground and wait to see if anyone would pick it up. When no one stooped for two dollars, they added more money. But everyone just trampled over it.

Then we just wandered around for a bit and soaked in all the beautiful architecture and the atmosphere.

Liz and I returned to the FQ a couple days later to go on one of those haunted history walking tours.

Our tour guide was fantastic, and I actually learned quite a lot about the French Quarter, so I would definitely recommend one of these tours, even though they're kind of pricey. We heard lots of stories about ghosts and gruesome acts and even one about Richard Simmons. I guess that fits.

Moving to Crescent City Part 4: Galveston

I know what you're thinking. Galveston is also in Texas, so why the separate entry? Because Galveston is a little more special than the rest of Texas. It's the home of the Timmerman's, Kyle and Jenn, whose wedding I blogged about last March. In fact, you can see their home in the photo right above... that adorable white building in the heart of Galveston's downtown. Since Kyle and Jenn were so hospitable and allowed us to pause in our trip and spend an extra night there, we had a lot to do and see. I'm not going to be able to give my visit there the blog entry it deserves, though, because I'm still knee-deep in lesson planning and should really be reading up on money, banking, blah blah blah to share with the kiddos tomorrow, but I'm getting behind on my blog and I want to FINALLY catch you all up so I can start posting about New Orleans. Thus, a blog of mostly photos. Maybe that's best afterall.

Here are some more shots of Galveston from a parking structure.

The city/island is much bigger than I expected it to be and it was the perfect transition from Texas to New Orleans. In fact, I think Galveston is almost like a smaller New Orleans. It's got Mardi Gras and spring breakers looking to get wasted. It's got beautiful houses built on stilts. It's got great little shops. I was pleased with the city. The whole time, though, I kept thinking of the opening line from Donald Barthelme's short story "I Bought a Little City," which you can hear on the New Yorker Fiction podcast I blogged about once before.

Our first morning in Galveston, we walked along the Strand and visited shops. I found the statues that I always wanted as a little girl and never got. Remember these?

In Galveston, you have to walk up steps to get to the sidewalk.

Then we went to seawall and looked out at the Gulf of Mexico.

It was nice to be at the beach again. I think it's been 3 or 4 years. I was wishing I had brought my swimsuit. Technically, I did have my swimsuit. It was packed somewhere in my car with the rest of my belongings. But just sitting on a lawn chair under an umbrella was good enough.

Then we went on a walk to look at all the pretty houses in Galveston.

Here are some other sights from our walk:

That evening, after a delicious dinner, we played some mini golf.

I lost. But I also won a free game. Guess who got a hole-in-one on the last hole? Me. Bells started ringing, I jumped up and down, high-fives were passed and I got this little card.

Sadly, our time in Galveston came to an end much to quickly. The next morning, we took a ferry across the harbor to Port Bolivar to continue our trek to New Orleans.

I know you can't really see them in this picture, but there are porpoises following that boat! We same them jumping around.

You can tell the houses near Port Bolivar are ready for hurricanes and flooding. Most of the houses in New Orleans are built on stilts or at least shored higher, but these houses were so high up. I can't imagine bringing in the groceries.

And then we drove across the swamps of Louisiana and down into NoLA. More on that later.

Moving to Crescent City Part 3: Texas

I forgot to load the Friday Night Lights soundtrack on my ipod before the trip. I was so disappointed, but it turns out the landscape wasn't quite right anyway. Leaving El Paso, it was rocky and dry and surprisingly mountainous. Not quite the fields, small towns, and football stadiums I was expecting. Basically, it was hours and hours of this:

Every once in a while, we'd pass oversized load trucks carrying gigantic pieces of somethin' or other. We thought it was rocket, but after careful observation, we think it was the parts for a wind turbine.

Finally, and it was a really long finally, we made it to San Antonio to visit the Alamo.

Confession: I still don't really know the story of the Alamo. But while I wandered around, I did a double take. For a second there, though, I thought, "What did Joseph Smith do at the Alamo?"

Turns out, it was William Barrett Travis, but the resemblance is uncanny. This is what I do know about the Alamo, though; it's really pretty.

After leaving San Antonio, the landscape looked more like what I was expecting.

We drove through a lot more of that, and through Rocket City (Houston really does look futuristic!) and on to Galveston.

{Photo from the Houston CVB because mine didn't turn out.}

Moving to Crescent City Part 2: New Mexico

After Moab, we decided to hit the Four Corners Monument because we both really wanted to stand in four places at once. If you are also filled with this desire and thinking about visiting, be prepared to be underwhelmed. That is, unless you absolutely love a long row of port-a-potties, awkward stalls of people selling their wares, and a long line of people waiting to stand in four states at once. Still, we did it and I got a picture of me doing it, so that's all that matters.

The thing about Four Corners is that we drove through a tiny slice of Colorado entering the monument and a bit of Arizona exiting it and then the rest of the day through New Mexico. My plan to stop in Albuquerque for some Mexican at lunch time didn't quite work out. At lunch time, we were still driving through emptiness except for what appeared in the distance to be the Black Fortress from one of my favorite childhood movies, Krull.

We veered off the Interstate to drive on Route 66 for a bit (you know, for kicks) and finally made it to Albuquerque in the late afternoon. I wanted to stop by Old Town because I remembered it being cool when I visited back in 2004 for my first ever work trip, the National Scenic Byways Convention with my former co-worker and friend, Kellie. But maybe it was driving for so long and the fact that it was really hot still and we didn't really feel like browsing the stores too much, but Old Town just wasn't holding our attention. We wandered for maybe half an hour and I took some photos and then we moved on. But here are some photos since I didn't blog about the trip way back then, even though I actually did have a blog at the time. Yep, four long years.

There were so many great hotels with neon signs on the entrance into town, which is actually part of Historic Route 66 for all you byways fans. Unfortunately, I was driving and it was a new city and I didn't really know where I was going, so I couldn't take any photos.

I loved the color of this bug. Too bad it wasn't parked somewhere more picturesque than the parking lot.

More photos from inside Old Town:

But since Liz was driving out of Albuquerque, I snapped a photo of at least one old neon sign. Too bad it wasn't dark yet. I would love to drive that strip at night.

Then the rest of New Mexico. There was a lightning storm south of Albuquerque. Who knew New Mexico would prepare me for the afternoon lightning and storms we have here almost every day.

We stopped in Truth or Consequences for gas because it was such a cool name.

And watched the sun set over the land of enchantment.

We, however, still had more driving to do, so we listened to This American Life, a staple of the trip, and drove on till we it El Paso.

Moving to Crescent City Part 1: Moab

Let's just state the obvious. Moab and New Orleans are nothing alike. Okay, I'll give you the fact that they are both tourist destinations, and probably concede that people get drunk in each. But landscape-wise, nothing alike. I kept thinking about that the whole time I was driving - how many landscapes I passed through. In Utah, it bleeds from green to beige to red. New Mexico was pretty much the same the entire time, but Texas shifted from dusty and rocky to green plains and then the overbearing lushness of Louisiana where, from Lafayette to Baton Rouge, I drover over huge cement pillars sticking out of the swamp. And here I am, below sea level, relieved to have an evening free so I can enjoy So You Think You Can Dance while I catch up a little on blogging.

The plan when I first started planning my trip was to make the journey to NoLa feel as vacation-like as possible with little stops along the way. My friend, Liz, flew out from Indiana to keep me company. Although I'm a Utah native, I haven't spent a lot of time in Southern Utah and had only visited one of the five or so national parks there. I figured I couldn't leave the West without seeing arches. I was confronted by the Delicate Arch everywhere I go. It's on most of the Utah license plates (although I stuck with the classic Ski Utah myself) and is often used as the symbol for Utah. In Moab, it's everywhere, just to remind you of what you went there to see.

And see it we did! But first, we saw a lot of other things, except big horned sheep. When we first entered the park, we saw a sign for the sheep.

And we read in the brochure that big horned sheep in the park are so tame that visitors can stand next to them and get their picture taken. Sadly, we didn't see any to test that out, so we had to settle for the sculpture at the visitor center.

But there were plenty of red rocks and arches.

p.s. that one rock looks just like Nefertiti, right?

Those rocks reminded me of the oracles in Neverending Story, except without the glowing.

And here, ladies and gentlemen, is what we've all been waiting for.

Yeah, it's a little small from far away. Turns out you have to hike to get up there and get a better view, and you all know how much i love hiking. So yeah, that's the best photo I got.

We stayed in Moab that night at the Apache Motel. John Wayne stayed there, so that makes up for how ghetto it was and the nice clerk who spray-painted her hair.

Trip Twittering

Just a quick note to say I've been trying to be better at twittering whilst on my trip, so you can read all my exciting thoughts while on the never-ending roads of New Mexico and Texas. I'm currently spending the night with Kyle and Jenn in Galveston before ending my roadtrip in New Orleans tomorrow. It'll probably be a while before I can blog for reals.

New Orleans: Adventures in Food

I took a quick trip to New Orleans last weekend and just happened to coincide with Tulane's annual Crawfest. I'm not a seafood lover. I tried some sort of crab sandwich last year for my mom's birthday thinking that I was perhaps mistaken about seafood, but I couldn't finish it. However, I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to experience some Cajun cuisine while in Louisiana (I don't know if crawfish is technically Cajun, but it's seafood in Louisiana so... close enough). It must be good because there was a long line of people just waiting to pick up their portion of the 6 tons of crawfish Tulane bought for the occasion.

For those of you unfamiliar with crawfish, like I was, it's kind of like a little lobster. See:

And you know it's cooked because the tail curls up, like so:

And then you crack it open:

Inside you find a tiny little morsel of spiced deliciousness.

Even Peter wanted some.

{Don't worry. He didn't have any.}

It's a lot of work for a little something, and if you think about it too hard, it's pretty disgusting. Especially when you see the aftermath of empty carcasses.

Later that evening, we went for another taste of delectable New Orleans fare. I took pictures along the way. For some reason, this house feels very Southern Gothic to me. It seems like the perfect setting for a story.

Speaking of Southern Gothic. Creepy trees.

According to Amanda, and Martha Stewart, people paint the ceiling of their beautiful verandas blue to deter insects. It's supposed to work.

I just love all the verandas and the furniture on the verandas. But the sun wasn't cooperating with my picture taking.

Good thing there's an evacuation route.

And the trees on St. Charles are full of beads.

We ate at Zea's on St. Charles street and each shared spared ribs, rotisserie chicken, veal, cheese grits, perfectly steamed broccoli, red beans, dirty rice, potatoes, and snap peas. It was quite the feast. But we needed something to top it off, so we ventured over to the Creole Creamery.

I was so pleased with the weather while I was in New Orleans. It was a sunny 70-something degrees. A nice change from the sporadic Utah weather where it was snowing the day before I left.

Southern summer night with a full moon... could anything be better?

That night, we watched A Streetcar Named Desire. Southern indeed.

London

Maybe it was a mistake to save London for our last outing. To be honest, we almost didn't go. After Stonehenge, Salisbury, Bath, Yorkshire, and Paris, we were, simply put, tuckered out. But I couldn't go to England without going to London, and the airport doesn't count. So we took the train early in the morning and decided to start the day off at the Tate Britain. The closest stop was the Westminster one, and when we climbed the stairs to the outside we saw this:

Well, not that exact view because that photo was taken from on the bridge, but the House of Parliament was right there as you leave the tube.

And of course, we had to take a self-portrait with Big Ben.

Although, this wasn't a self-portrait. Kris had to crouch down on one knee to get this picture. All my self-portraits ended up just being my eyes all squinty in the sun. Last time I was in London, I took about a million blurry photos of Big Ben (the photos are missing right now, but that bug will be fixed soon). It was much easier in the daytime.

I'm pretty sure this is a closer photo of the parliament, but it looks so much like a church that I can't tell.

I'm so accustomed to Classical architecture in my government buildings that all that ornate detail seems like an unlawful mixture of church and state.

We visited Westminster Abbey on our way to the Tate Britain. But opted not to enter. Once again, it was at the end of my trip when money was tight. Some day I'll actually go inside. But what I loved about the exterior of the building were its windows.

Finally, we made it to the Tate Britain.

We couldn't take photos inside the museum, but it was lovely. I saw this painting by Sargent that I've always loved. And, amazingly, we ran into a drinking fountain!

I never knew how much I loved drinking fountains until I couldn't ever find one. That and Diet Cokes with lots of ice. Aww... America.

Something I appreciate about London, though, is how they remind people which way to look.

It really is helpful because the cars there drive on the wrong side of the road. After the Tate, we went to Picadilly for some lunch and shopping.

And then to the Tower of London, which came highly recommended by several people. I stopped by the tower on my last trip, but couldn't afford to go inside. This time, we took a tour led by a beefeater nameed Bob.

Houses inside the tower:

The White Tower, the building all the other buildings and walls are meant to safeguard:

And this guy was guarding the crown jewels, which Kris heard somewhere are fake. The real ones are stashed somewhere else. This made them seem not as impressive to us. Plus, you stand on a moving walkway that moves you past the crowns. Tacky.

We explored the tower for quite some time. Here are some of the things we saw. First, the chapel in the White Tower. The White Tower is pretty much an armory now and shows all the old weapons and suits of armor. I was hoping it would look like the living quarters of a real castle.

This is one of the rooms in which they imprisoned people.

Not too shabby. And some of the rooms even overlooked the Thames.

With a view of the Tower Bridge:

And we got to walk on a wall again.

In all of our exploring, I was really hoping to come across these amazing papercuts that a girl I kind of know through friends of friends did last month, but I should have done more research as to where they actually were because I never found them. I guess I could have asked someone, but that would require doing something I don't like to do - ask. So I'll just admire them from the blogging world instead of in real life.

When we'd had our fill of medieval castle life, we walked down to the Tower Bridge.

Here's Kris:

and here's a self-portrait:

We stayed to watch the lights come on.

And then we were going to stop by Portabello Road because of this:

But it was getting late and we really just wanted to get home. I still had to pack for my flight the next day. Like I said, we probably should have visited London earlier in the trip. The combination of exhaustion and the fact that both Kris and I had been there before affected the expected wow factor.

Paris: the Last Day

Sorry to be so neglectful. I've been busy spending time with my sister and adorable nephew who have been visiting from New Orleans (post forthcoming - believe me, you will want to see these pictures) and helping my mom prepare to move at the end of the month. I only have one more post after this one about my trip to England. It's amazing how quickly the time went by. But back to the task at hand, chronicling my last day in Paris.

We had actually gone to the Musee d'Orsay the day before, but realized we would only have an hour and half (if that long) before it closed. Remembering the rush at the Louvre and knowing that there would be many pieces at the museum that we would want to see (I'm just a sucker for Impressionism), we wisely decided to forego it and return the next day. So first thing in the morning, we crossed through the Tuilleries, over the river, and entered the museum.

First of all, I just need to say that I am enamored of train stations at the moment. And train stations transformed into museums are simply incredible. Look at this:

That ceiling! And I think a converted train station is the perfect locale for works by Impressionists (and others around that era) because of their concern with urban life and their inclusion of places like train stations (I'm thinking Monet's Gare St. Lazare). I didn't take as many photos in the museum as I would have because, stupidly, I had forgotten to bring my camera battery charger to Paris with me and after three days and hundreds of photos, I was worried that it would give out on me. But something I absolutely love about my camera (a little Sony Cyber-shot, for those of you interested) is that the battery life for it is absolutely amazing and it lasted the entire trip. I didn't even have that annoying low battery flickering. In lieu of taking photos, I wrote down in my little book about four pages of artists I loved and wanted to look into more. (I've found the museum's index of works is really helpful in re-identifying the illegible names I wrote down.) I did take some pictures, though. Here are a few.

{I love the face on that cat!}

{A detail from Seurat's Cirque}

{One of the galleries with train station architecture.}

More photos, of course, on flickr.

I also loved the huge clock.

{If you look closely, you can see Sacre Coeur.}

Kris and I explored the museum on our own and met up again at a certain time. I got there earlier than she and was very glad for the chance to sit down for a bit.

But we decided we weren't quite done yet. Neither of us had made it through the museum and both wanted to see more. I'm so glad we did because otherwise I would have missed this:

On our way back through the Tuilleries after leaving the museum, I was pleased to see children playing with sailboats in the fountain. I had expressed disappointment earlier that day to Kris that I hadn't seen any and that I would have to photoshop some into my photos because it felt like such a quintessential sight. I'm glad the children saved me from that hassle. (And don't even get me started on how strange it is that I would be willing to create photos of something I felt like I should have seen.)

Our final destination in Paris was Pere Lachaise Cemetery.

When we first got there, we looked at the map and excitedly wrote down a list of graves we wanted to find. These included people such as lovers Heloise and Abelard; the artists Pissarro, Seurat, Delacroix, Daumier, Corot, Ingres; musicians Jim Morrison and Frederic Chopin; and writers Oscar Wilde and Balzac. After trying to find Pissarro in a little corner of the cemetery without the aid of the detailed map we were too cheap to purchase, our list was narrowed dramatically. Turns out, the only graves we really wanted to see enough to hunt for were Chopin

and Oscar Wilde

I read in our guide book about another grave there with an urban legend. Apparently, if a woman rubs a certain spot on the bronze effigy of Victor Noir (the pseudonym for a female journalist that was shot and killed), she will become fertile. Kris and I were strangely determined to find this. After combing section 92, we did.

It was getting late and we had a train to catch, so Kris and I headed back towards the Metro stop. I guess I hadn't realized how late it was getting because the two gates out of Pere Lachaise were already locked tight. We were starting to get nervous when we came across a guard who asked us if we were hoping to sleep there that night. As much as I love cemeteries, I had no desire to stay overnight. We made it back to our hotel to pick up our luggage and then across the city again to Gare du Nord where we had to wait in the cold and with the pigeons for our train to show up on the old fashioned time board that makes the most delightful clicking noise. I'm so glad it's not digital. And then through the tunnel and back in Jolly Old England where we were stopped at Baker Street and ushered off the train because of repair work on the underground. We thought we weren't going to make our train back to Didcot that night, but luckily, with seconds to spare, we sat down exhausted on the train to Cardiff, that just happened to stop in Didcot.

Paris on a Monday

We took our time getting ready in the morning. We had decided that we didn't want to rush things in Paris. I hate those vacations where you're so busy running around trying to check things off a list that you never really feel relaxed or like you got to experience the city. So we slept until we woke up and then got ready for the day. The hotel had courteously placed a plug adapter in our room, but it still didn't work for me. I had to piggy back.

So there's the European plug with a UK adapter with a USA adapter and my hair dryer. I worried that it might not be safe, but there were no sparks or explosions, so I guess it was ok. We had checked out the TV the night before to see what channels we got. The only one in English was CNN and I watched an interesting story about the election in Russia. They were replaying it in the morning as we got ready, so I found something else.

Beverly Hills 90210 is much better in French. At least, Dylan's voice is better, but I didn't know what was going on. It was an episode from one of those late seasons when everyone stopped watching. We finally made it out the door at 10 or so and got a little lost wandering the streets looking for something to eat.

What to do on a Monday when all the museums are closed? We decided to return to Notre Dame.

We didn't go inside because we had already paid to go inside so many churches and I thought I didn't need more pictures of stained glass. We contented ourselves with the exterior and just enjoyed the sunshine by resting for a bit in a little park behind the cathedral. Parks are nice and free and open on Mondays, so we decided to visit another park, the Tuilleries. We took the Metro.

I think the Tuilleries would be better in full summer, or even in the fall. Right now, it all just seemed bare and brown, and we didn't want to just lounge by the fountain because there was a strong wind blowing that made sitting around for too long a bad idea. So we mostly walked through it to get to the Musee de l'Orangerie on the other side.

The Musee de l'Orangerie is the home of Monet's waterlilies and a collection of Impressionist works. I had seen some of the large canvases of the waterlilies in Cleveland for spring break last year, but I loved seeing them at the l'Orangerie because of how they were situated, curving in bright, elliptical rooms.

There was this family there with two little boys that were on the floor coloring. Super cute, right?

Except that one of the boys was singing to himself the entire time, which at first was still adorable because little boy/French/singing... but after a while it started to get on my nerves. I took some video just as his mother, I think, came up to tell him to be quiet, or something. That lasted for a few minutes and then the singing began again.

Anyway... the rest of the museum held pieces from the Jean Walter and Paul Guillaume Collection. I would've read more about it, but it was in French and that made my brain hurt. But there were these darling miniature rooms that showed how the pieces were arranged before moved to the museum.

After the museum, we decided to walk along the Champs Elysee up towards the Arch de Triomphe, finding something to eat along the way. But first, we crossed over the Place de la Concorde and this amazing fountain.

The Champs Elysee was totally packed and we had a hard time finding a bench on which to rest while we enjoyed pain au chocolat and a crepe. When we did find a spot, we stayed there for a while and watched people as they passed by. We played a little game to see if we could guess who were tourists and who weren't. And I tried to imagine what the fug girls would say about this lady.

And there it was, the Arch de Triomphe!

After a sufficient amount of oohing and awwing and an awkward encounter with a woman asking for money, it was time for the Eiffel Tower.

Let's pause for a minute and notice that cute blue scarf I have on. I bought it that morning from a street vendor for 5 euro. Two days later, when I wore my jacket again, I noticed the whole front of it was blue and Kris pointed out that the back of my neck was also a smurf-like hue. Oh well...

I think that last picture shows exactly why everyone kept mistaking Kris for a Parisian and would speak to her in French everywhere we went.

The pavilion over by the Eiffel Tower felt like a huge party. There were tons of people there taking pictures (we even ran into some fellow American tourists! - Girls that were obnoxiously taking pictures of themselves leaping in front the Eiffel Tower. It made me feel really old because I was crotchety about their exuberance and wanted them to just calm down) and there were also dancers.

And apparently, no one has told the Frenchies that rollerblading is totally passe.

I think I took about a hundred pictures just of the Eiffel Tower. I couldn't help myself. It's just so pretty.

As a sidenote, something else I found just so pretty in Paris were these trees.

Back to the Eiffel Tower. We tried to time it just right so that we could see the tower in the daylight but also at night. We were just a little early. So we wandered around for about 2 hours, drinking hot chocolate because it turned freezing cold. At least trees were blossoming and there were flowers and the grass was green so that it looked like spring, even when it felt like winter.

And finally, the lights came on.

Arriving in Paris

As part of my two week adventure in England, we braved the chunnel (overcoming our common fear that somehow the walls will collapse and water will come rushing in and we will be drowned) and ended up in Paris. Here's something you should know about me: I have always wanted to go to Paris. I'm surprised it's taken me this long in my life and that I didn't go during my study abroad in Austria because my list of places to go has looked something like this ever since I was about five years old. 1. PARIS 2. Paris 3. Paris 4. Paris and 5. Somewhere else in France. I think this love came from my francophile father, who was a missionary in France and Belgium and always ingrained in us a love of all things French. So going to Paris for the first time was no small matter. However, I tried to trick myself into thinking it was no big deal so that my dream version of Paris wouldn't be completely shattered.

The trip started off with an early morning train ride to London where I had to pay an outrageous £4 for a one way trip on the underground from Paddington to St. Pancras. That's about $8!! But I won't sully this entry with talk of finances. After waiting for about an hour at St. Pancras, we boarded the Eurostar. I have to say, I was impressed by station.

We made our way from Gare du Nord to our hotel, learning the hard way that you should never pull your suitcase behind you through the Metro turnstiles, and then rushed off to the Louvre after checking in. Since it was the first Sunday of the month, the museum was free and we wanted to take advantage.

We only had about an hour and a half, which really wouldn't even allow us to put a dent in all that the Louvre has to offer. So we narrowed it down. It's a given what you have to see at the Louvre. Huge signs in every entrance will point you there.

We found the Venus de Milo first:

And then, of course, Mona Lisa.

I am much more interested in the crowds of people that view these works of art than the works themselves, I think. I can't get over the need people apparently feel to see them and to be photographed with them and then move on. In the case of the Mona Lisa, especially, you couldn't even really see the painting. There was no way I could just stand and look. I was jostled and crowded and it was so loud and there are flashes going off and it's absolutely ridiculous. But I totally had my picture taken with it. Because it's behind bulletproof glass.

And one of my favorite things to see at the Louvre:

The Nike of Samothrace. Isn't it divine? So much better in person.

We also wanted to see Gericault's The Raft of the Medusa because it's something we studied in Art History.

I knew it was big, but I was still amazed by the scale. Not just of Gericault's masterpiece, but of every painting in the room, all of which I had studied in one Art History class or another. It felt like celebrity sighting. I kept saying, 'OMG, there is Death of Sardanapalus It's Liberty Leading the People!' But that's just how Paris was in general. We'd walk around the city and come face to face with all sorts of buildings or monuments that I had heard about and seen pictures of all my life. Back to the Louvre...

I think my favorite part of the Louvre was just the building itself. It was incredibly beautiful in every detail - marble halls, pillars, archways, even railings.

Unfortunately, the Louvre closed and we were forced out of those marble hallways and into the courtyard.

Where we took a number of self-portraits to convince everyone that we were ACTUALLY IN PARIS and AT THE LOUVRE! And that it was windy.

Afterwards, we picked up something to eat and I was forced to put into practice the 5 years of French I took off and on throughout high school and college. It didn't go very well and for the rest of the trip, I got by with "Je voudrais..." and pointing. I think the next part of the evening was one of my favorites, though. We just walked along the Seine and it was twilight and there were lights and OMG there's Notre Dame and that spire must be St. Chapelle and there's the Eiffel Tower and that's Pont Neuf and yes, I am finally in Paris. Sigh.

p.s. I know I said in an earlier post that I was trying to show restraint regarding photos in these entries because you can all see them on flickr, but it's Paris, and I can't. So please be prepared with a fast Internet connection.

A Day in Bath

It's already been confessed here that I'm kind of Jane Austen nerd, although my search for clips from Jane Austen movies to show how I imagined Bath before visiting proved that I am by no means the biggest of Jane Austen nerds. The winners of that esteemed title go to people who create videos like these:

Believe me, there are hundreds of them. And I confess, I watched a few last night. Still, if there's a new Jane Austen movie, I will see it (even horrible ones like that new Persuasion), and I even started that painful book Mr Darcy Takes a Wife, although I didn't get very far. So you can see why I was so excited to go to Bath, where parts of Persuasion and Northanger Abbey, two of my favorite Austen books. We even had a local guide. Austin, a friend of Kris and Miles, grew up not far from Bath and thus took us on a personal tour.

People were dressed a little less formally than in Austen's day.

Including Kris, who happened to be dressed as a spy.

There are so many places to visit!

Of course, the first place we visited was the Roman Baths, which we gained access to through the Pump Room. I thrilled at the signs of places I had read about so often.

The details of the room made it very easy to imagine Catherine Morland or Anne Elliot walking around and around.

We took a tour of the Roman Baths, but I must confess to disappointment. I mean, sure, it was interesting hearing about the Romans and the Goddess Minerva, etc, but all I wanted to hear about was just why it appeared that the only purpose of the Pump Room was to walk around and around in circles and how the Roman Baths were used in Jane Austen's day. I went to Bath for Jane Austen, not ancient civilizations. It was still pretty, though.

Afterwards, we walked over by the Abbey, where crowds of people watched street performers and Austin told us to keep watch on our possession because of pick-pockets.

We walked around Bath Abbey, but decided not to pay the fee to enter (we'd already seen so many churches and our pockets were light). Instead, we walked down by the River Avon.

Despite how convenient it would be to ask each other to take pictures of us, we all still took self-portraits. They're usually just so much cooler.

We wandered the streets, full of crowded little shops, people, and pigeons. It was inevitable that one of us would get pooped on. I'm just glad it was Austin.

I may have satiated my desire to connect Bath with Jane Austen had I only visited the Jane Austen Centre located right there in Bath, but we didn't go in.

Kris and I browsed the shop while Miles and Austin went to get the car, though. What we found was less Austen than Darcy. His portrait was for sale, girls were fawning over him in at least three languages, and, if we had been very lucky, we could've timed it right to take tea with Mr. Darcy!

I know, I know... it's Mr. Darcy and Colin Firth's portrayal of him is very swoonable, but it all seemed a little ridiculous.

One last place to visit before heading out of town... the Royal Crescent.

We drove through some of the very steeped hill and curved streets of Bath before heading home, but since I had to take pictures out of the car window, they didn't quite turn out. All in all, it was very satisfying, and now I can smugly say whenever watching Persuasion or Northanger Abbey that I have been there.

The Ruins of Fountains Abbey

I really like ruins. I almost ruined my love of ruins once, though, by writing a paper on them. The thesis was something about how Washington Irving uses ruins (and fake ruins) throughout The Sketchbook as a means to ponder his own mortality. Yeah, I know... it sounds cliche here, but I think I had some pretty good ideas in the paper. The problem was it was poorly executed, and the shame of it (because I knew I did a horrible job while I was writing the paper) still lingers. I'll never be able to think of ruins without thinking of my ruined paper. But I digress...

The Fountains Abbey was first built in 1152 and thrived for 400 years, with different parts of the building being added in different styles until The Dissolution of the Monasteries by Henry VIII in 1539. Then it was basically just abandoned and the lead roof was melted down and sold to people in York. Over 450 years later (the length of time seriously boggles my mind!) it is ruins (and a World Heritage Site). And incredibly beautiful. It's nestled in a little valley about an hour west of York near the town Ripon. You can just see the top of the tower over some hills where sheep graze.

Then you walk down a steep hill and there it is. It just gets bigger and bigger as you get closer to it, and there were so many rooms to explore. We kept discovering little corners and decaying staircases and trying to put it all together again in our mind's eye.

Here's me, trying to look monumental and permanent in the face of so much decay... or something.

There were more rooks (or ravens, I couldn't tell) here. And pigeons, of course. Pigeons are omnipresent, and I'm beginning to think that rooks/ravens are, too. They kept circling the towers. It was so silent there, otherwise, despite the fact that there were really quite a lot of people there. Somehow, though, we hardly ever saw anyone and rarely heard anyone speaking.

When we bought our ticket, the clerk told us that we just had to see the gardens. Thinking, once again, that it would be like the amazing gardens in South Carolina, I was eager to follow her advice. Turns out, this is the garden.

It's a water garden, and it was nice and all, but I wouldn't say it was worth the extra mile of walking while faint with hunger and in the cold. I was just a bit disappointed.

But not disappointed at all with the ruins. Seriously incredible. I would post many more pictures, but I'm trying to learn the art of restraint. You can, however, see them on flickr. Fountains Abbey concluded our trip to Yorkshire. We had a 3 hour car ride home.... through beautiful country. It's a hard life I live.

York

It seems forever ago now, but really it was just last week that we were in York. Our plan was mostly to use York as a point of departure for other things in the area, but we ended up liking it quite a bit. The inner part of town is full of great streets and shops and is surrounded by an old Roman wall. We arrived in the early evening and checked into our hostel.

I had accidentally booked our room for the next evening (I'm blaming jet lag), but luckily, they still had one available. It was a little attic on the fourth or fifth floor (I lost count) and quite comfy. Here's where we stayed, Blossoms Hostel:

And then we hit the streets. We knew that there was a big cathedral in York, York Minster, which is apparently the largest cathedral north of the Alps. We were just walking towards the center of town when we turned a corner and there it was. It took us completely by surprise.

We just wandered around that evening. Pretty much everything was closed, except for a few places to eat. It's so strange to me how a city can empty out at 6 pm. But we chose a restaurant in town with a very traditional menu and each tried a lamb dish. I'm not sure either of us really liked lamb, but it's apparently what you eat in Yorkshire. Kris ordered the Yorkshire pudding, which isn't really a pudding at all, nor is it a dessert, but it was quite tasty - kind of like a scone. My dish had a delightful honey mint sauce. Something that's great about traveling with Kris is that we both enjoy calling it a night early and going back to the room to read. That's what we did. I was re-reading Wuthering Heights and Kris had picked up Anne Bronte's The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and we were both quite content.

In the morning, we explored the town when things were actually open. Our first stop was the wall that circles the town. We walked along a portion of it.

Wouldn't it be amazing to live in one of these houses by the cathedral? They were so stately and had such beautiful, green gardens! I'm so glad that England is green. The bland brown of Utah winters was really getting to me.

Our next stop was York Minster. I took about a thousand pictures (all on flickr), so I'll just post a few here.

I think this is the most massive stained glass window I've ever seen.

Remember how I said there were lots of little English schoolkids going on fieldtrip? Well, here are some more.

This is a little street in York called The Shambles. Apparently, it's where they used to butcher pigs. Now it's a tourist attraction. Funny how things work.

And look - another group of kids on fieldtrip.

We couldn't stay as long as we would've liked to because we wanted to visit the ruins of an old abbey before heading back home. But I loved how almost everywhere in town, we could see the tip of York Minster.

Well, my holiday has come to an end. I leave for home tomorrow afternoon. But once I'm there, I'll have ample time to blog while looking for a new job, so stay tuned.

Visiting Bronte Country

The first time I read Jane Eyre I was in eighth grade, and I liked it better than Pride and Prejudice, which I also read over Christmas break. I read Wuthering Heights in ninth grade, but I didn't really get it. Then I read Agnes Grey, Villette (which was a challenge because of my two years of middle school French), Shirley, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, and The Professor, so that I had pretty much covered the whole Bronte repertoire before I entered high school. I used to read a lot more than I do now. I only mention this to explain why I desperately wanted to visit Haworth and the moors. When I first discussed visiting Kris in England, we had all sorts of grand plans that included Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and Paris, along with Lyme Regis, Brighton, Bath, London, etc. Basically, anywhere in the United Kingdom you have possibly ever heard of or was mentioned in a Jane Austen novel. I've gradually had to pare those away to just the basics. But I couldn't get rid of Bronte Country. Even that started off as a trip to the Yorkshire Dales and the Lake District and then a jaunt over to the seaside. But we found that once we got up here, it took all our time to visit Haworth, York, and nearby Fountains Abbey. The trip was well worth it and we saw so much and took so many pictures that even now I have to pare down a blog entry in which I should be able to detail our whole trip into three separate (hopefully short) sections. First off, Haworth.

Kris has this genius little GPS device that helps us navigate our way around the winding roads of England. The voice that gives us our direction is, of course, British and sometimes very insistent. I've nicknamed her Victoria. I don't know why. But sometimes Victoria takes us on the strangest paths. We think she's set to scenic. And sometimes scenic is over strange hills and around narrow little corners all with a 60 mph speed limit. Sometimes we think Victoria may be trying to kill us. But sometimes it's worth it. She took us over a little mountain with a beautiful view on our way to Haworth.

And she took us to the parking lot at the very doorstep of the Bronte Parsonage.

Doesn't it look lovely and charming? You would never suspect that it was completely surrounded by the best, most morbid cemetery I've ever seen. You can't even get away from it inside, since a simple glance through the window reveals tombstones.

But before I go on, I have to post a picture of what is just a tad more morbid than the cemetery in the front yard.

The sofa Emily Bronte died on. And it's just as I imagined.

What you immediately notice at the Bronte home, though, are the rooks. They are everywhere and their calls are so insistent. I had to take a video just to try and get the feel of it. They're all over the trees and hopping on and off tombstones. It's fantastic.

Here is the church where the Brontes' father was parson. It's just on the other side of the graveyard from the parsonage.

Kris and I started up this path, which we later found out will take you to the top of the withins, but it's an 8 mile journey and we had other places to see.

Here's a final look at Haworth before we took off for York.

And of course, the moors covered in heather (wouldn't it have been lovely in the summer, all covered in purple?)

The view climbing out of the valley was so lovely, I made Kris pull over so I could take a few pictures.

More of York and Yorkshire later. For now, I'm off to bed and off to Bath tomorrow.

First Report from England

The trip started off with a two-hour delay (thank you United Airlines), which didn't leave a lot of time for my one hour layover in Chicago. In fact, it left no time, and I spent the entire flight biting my nails and wondering if I'd even make it to England that night. (Although it didn't keep me from noticing the beautiful sunset.)

My flight landed at 4:23, exactly 5 minutes after the flight to Heathrow was supposed to take off. But I got lucky. The flight to Heathrow was also delayed, and I got there just in time for the flight attendants to usher me quickly onto the plane minutes before it took off. This time, I spent 7 hours with a nagging worry that just perhaps my large suitcase didn't have time to make it on the plane. Luckily, I had the forethought to pack my most needed necessities in my carry-on. But things have a way of working out sometimes. I got the whole row to myself and spent the flight putting my two new purchases to good use. I tried to sleep for an hour, but I'm not one to sleep in public. I just can't bring myself to do it. Instead, I got a view of England waking up.

I landed at Heathrow and made my way through a very long customs line and then waited, impatiently, to see if my bag had arrived. The Trip Gods were smiling down one me because there it was, just waiting. I had about five minutes to catch the bus to Reading, which had a much more bustling station than I had expected and I searched around looking for my friend, Kris. Once again, the Trip Gods blessed me and we found each other quickly.

That afternoon, after I took a quick nap, we headed off to explore nearby Oxford. I took tons of pictures (which you can find here), but here's a brief tour of what we saw.

(I love that there are blossoms here already!)

We stopped at the University Church and went inside and climbed up the scariest, narrow set of spiral stairs, I've ever seen. Luckily, there's a rope you can hold onto.

But the view was entirely worth it.

Other than that, we basically wandered around for a while and sat in a little bookshop looking through guides to Paris before heading home for the evening.

The next day, we took off bright and early to visit Stonehenge and Salisbury. I kept taking pictures of the lovely green, English countryside.

I hadn't planned on going to Stonehenge when I was mapping out my trip. Our original plans to visit a quarterly antiques fair in the south of England didn't work out, so we decided to go there instead, and I'm so glad I did. It was a strange feeling to see something in person that we had seen so often in pictures. I always figured visiting Stonehenge would be lame because it'd be all fenced off with lots of people staring at it, and I had some notion of sitting amidst the ruins reading (or writing) poetry or something equally 19th Century romanticist. And I was right. There was a pathway for walking and we couldn't get anywhere really near the stones, so I could forget about whiling away the afternoon with book in hand. It was cold and windy anyway, so I wouldn't have wanted to linger too long, but Stonehenge was still incredible to visit.

The guidebooks told us that we'd see the spire of the nearby Salisbury Cathedral long before we entered the town. They were right.

The oldest existing working clock is located in the Salisbury Cathedral.

Here are some more interior shots:

Some school kids were going on a fieldtrip through the cathedral. We never went to cool places like that.

Since it was a ruins kind of day, we decided to stop by the Avebury ruins on our way home. We could see Stonehenge from the side of the road, and we thought how strange it would be to see something so famous every day on your way to work. It would become so casual.

The Avebury ruins, much less famous than Stonehenge, are a series of megaliths, some in semi-circular forms and others in a pathway. Apparently, the people of the 19th Century were a little suspicious of the stones and took pickaxes and other tools to them, so many are now missing. But those that remain are simply standing along the side of the road, and visitors can access them through a series of fences. No pathways blocking them, so I would've been free to read and write poetry to my heart's content, but I found I'd rather take photos. Funny how things work.

Well, that only took pretty much all day to write. Good thing it's a stormy day outside, and I've been perfectly content to relax in Kris's comfy living room for the day. Tomorrow, the adventures begin again, so blogging will be slow... but a ridiculous amount of pictures are (yes, another self-promotional plug) on my flickr.

Seattle: the final morning

On Sunday morning, we really only had time for brunch in the hotel's restaurant and a quick walk to the Elliott Bay Bookstore. Here are a few pictures from the walk:

The bookstore had a great selection of cards and paper products, in addition to books. I especially liked these cards:

In fact, I blogged about them over here. The funny thing is, we had just been talking about the names of various groups of animals after watching a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire miss that a group of crows is called a murder. I hadn't realized before all the different names. I wish I had gotten the string of ponies card, though.

And then back to the airport. I loved this painting on the window right by our gate. It reminded me of a Chagall. The owls are my favorite part.

I sat right on the wing, which limited my view. But I could still glimpse the mountains and the Great Salt Lake as we got closer to landing.

I got home in time to celebrate Izzy's birthday with the family. I can't believe that was just last week.

Seattle: Day 3

We were all set to do some shopping on Saturday. We wanted to walk around the Capitol Hill area of Seattle and visit some of the great shops that we saw as we drove by, but it was so cold and rainy and Basil was peacefully sleeping in his carseat, so we decided to go to one of the places I really wanted to see, the University of Washington.

The campus was so beautiful. As Tanker told me once, every building on campus looks like a cathedral. I've really got to get on my application for their Museum Studies program. If that's what I end up doing.

The rain was letting up, so we decided to head back downtown and see if we couldn't get back to shopping. Here are some pictures of Seattle from the car, again.

We decided to hit Pike's Place Market while the weather was reasonable, although it was still very cold and windy.

I loved the market: vegetable and fruit stands, cheese cases, flower stands. It reminded me of the subjects of Impressionist paintings... like these fish:

Or these oranges:

The crabs were trying to get out of their case, though. Not exactly a still life.

But I also really liked the architecture of the market, lots of brick and ducts and iron.

I'm really sad this next picture didn't turn out. While we were inside some of the stores, a clown with balloons cascading from his head and all over his back. I thought he was selling balloons, but he never approached anyone, or even looked approachable, and ended up sitting at this deli counter. I wanted him to have a shot of whiskey in his hands to complete the pathetic scene.

After browsing the market for a while, the weather drove us towards an indoor mall. These picketers were telling us to BUY MORE STUFF because it was all going to run out soon. I think they were being ironic.

Here's Basil all bundled up:

We decided to take the monorail to the Space Needle. Since it was such an overcast day and all of us had already been to the top of the Space Needle at one point in our lives, we skipped the elevator ride to the top and satisfied ourselves with taking pictures from the outside.

These figures reminded me of Peter Pan.

We wandered over to the Sci-Fi museum for a moment to take some photos with the sleek backdrop.

We took the monorail back into town and finished up our shopping at a few more stores, but all the Christmas lights were now on. It felt festive.

Even Santa joined in the fun at the carousel.

Seattle: Day 2

Kylie, Basil, and I went exploring on Friday morning. We didn't know exactly where we were going, but we saw a lot of interesting things along the way. I took pictures from the car.

We went through a couple of tunnels.

And under this bridge:

And over this one:

Which led us into one of the hip neighborhoods. Here's the thing we've discovered about Seattle, though - everyone thinks their neighborhood is the hip one. And I guess they're all right. This one had some funky buildings and Christmas decorations.

But what I loved most about being there was the water - all the harbors and ferries and shipping of large containers, but mostly the sailboats. I want to learn to sail.

We even ran into the Starbucks Headquarters. I find this building a little creepy, to be honest. I don't like the peeping woman. It's disconcerting.

Later, we met up with Kylie's husband and cousin, along with her cousin's little girl, a friend, and the friend's newborn, for lunch. There were seagulls everywhere, and, unlike in Salt Lake, it seemed fitting.

After lunch, we traveled to the Seattle Aquarium. Kylie took Basil inside because it was getting cold while I explored the waterfront and we waited for her cousin (et al) to arrive.

Then I joined Kylie and Basil inside and we waited some more. I felt kind of cool that the two of us found the aquarium so quickly while the Washington natives (albeit not from Seattle) got lost. I like being able to find my way around new towns.

I have A LOT of pictures from the aquarium, but I tried to narrow it down. These starfish were my favorite.

I thought the jellyfish would be my favorite because I'm always seeing amazing photos of iridescent jellyfish floating through aquariums. In this, the Seattle Aquarium fell short. There was just a ring of jellyfish that they tried to make glow with changing lights.

They did have an octopus, but apparently it was too busy digesting a starfish to move.

Luckily, the aquarium also had plenty of cardboard cutouts for pictures.

More fish:

They had fur seals swimming around so quickly that I could barely get a picture. I'm actually kind of pleased with how ghostly this one turned out.

Here's the fur seal on land:

I love that it looks so awkward and cumbersome on land and that it's so graceful in the water. They hardly seem the same creature.

Here's one of the friendly otters:

Some of the aquariums exhibits are viewed outside, so you get to see ferries and ships.

When we were all fished out, we stopped at possibly the best antique store I've ever been to, located just across the street. Generally it seems that "antique" stores either have a lot of junk or a lot of overpriced items, but this one had tons of things that I actually wanted to buy and if I ever mover to Seattle, I plan on getting several pieces of furniture from there. Not to mention some of these adorable teacups.

Or this rad bike:

We were parked at the foot of the hill that leads to Pike's Market and were tempted to hike up to it, but decided it was time to get home instead.

Babies have pretty demanding schedules and for some reason require a lot of sleep, so we spent the night playing Scrabulous. I made the mistake of teaching Kylie all my tricks and now she is winning all of our games.

Seattle: Day 1

So I'm pretty much really lucky. Well, it's a combination of luck and having really great friends, which I guess I'm lucky to have. So there's that. A couple of weeks ago, Kylie asked if I'd be interested in traveling with them to Seattle. It took me about two seconds to say yes. And then I remembered that I had to ask for time off. Once that was obtained, it was another definite yes again. Her husband's work is headquartered in the Emerald City and they were invited to attend some fancy, schmancy Christmas dinner party where babies weren't exactly expected. My role: I had the hard work of watching an adorable baby for about 3 hours on Thursday night. This meant that for the first time in my life, I got to order room service. I ordered the SoDo cheese steak, but even this blue collar dinner came on a silver (kind of) platter, complete with tiny ketchup and salt and pepper shakers.