Au revoir

I'm catching a bus early tomorrow morning for the airport and flying to Paris from there. I'll try to update this blog as often as possible -- probably at the same time as I write my weekly column.

A tout a l'heure!

À Paris

In two weeks I'm flying across the Channel to spend five days in Paris, and from there, the rest of Europe. I'll visit all the must-see tourist stops. But is there anything I could miss if I didn't know about it? Where's a good place for dinner?

I'll be in Rome, Madrid, Seville and Granada, too, so send any advice for those cities my way, as well.

Cheers.

The doldrums

Wait, I have to do school work? You tend not to think about that when you "study" abroad. But, alas, I have four essays I need to finish by the end of March.

So for the last four or five days, I haven't done much but sit in my room. I was supposed to go to London on Monday, but I stayed up too late and woke up a half hour after my train left. I'll go to London on the 22nd instead.

Until then, I need to write these essays: How effective was Athenian democracy? Why did the Persians mess with Greece? Are human rights here to stay in international relations? And something about Joyce and Yeats and the Literary Irish Renaissance.

At least the house I'm locking myself in is pretty.

The plan

In case anyone's curious what I'll be doing between March 27 and my triumphant return to the States, here's what's on my Google Calendar:

- March 27-April 3: Grenoble, France. Three days in Paris. Possible day trip to Nice or Geneva.
- April 3-7: No plans. I might hang out a little longer in France or venture into Italy to track down some distant relatives of mine. Or who knows, maybe I'll just book the cheapest flight to wherever.
- April 7-15: Expert tour of Rome, Florence and Assisi.
- April 15-23: Madrid and Seville with my cousin Steve, who lives in Madrid.
- April 23-May 10: Backpacking trip from Leicester to Loch Lomond, stopping in Nottingham, York, Melrose, Edinburgh, Glasgow and Loch Lomond.

Then I'll come back to collect my things that I've left in Leicester and say goodbye to my dear friends, promising, of course, to visit each other when we're in Finland, Australia, South Africa, etc.

And finally, if I have any money left at all, I'll push back my return flight for one more week and spend it visiting Athens and spending a few days doing nothing lounge on a beach in Cyprus.

One last note for fellow lovers of travel. Watch this video about these guys' philosophy on traveling and the birth of their new magazine: http://afar.com/about/video

Men in barber shops

I got my hair cut Tuesday. It was a nice looking little shop on a side street downtown, only nine pounds, and I liked the haircut of the barber. And that's always a good sign.

As with every barber shop I've ever been to, there was an old man waiting to have his hair cut. He was just this old British chap who needed help climbing into the chair. And with the happiest grin you ever saw -- the corners of his mouth above the tip of his nose -- he said to the barber: "We'll be turning the clocks ahead soon. Within the month."

And when the barber asked him how it wanted it, the man said real short, to get ready for summer. It won't be long until the kids will all be wearing shorts.

Old men in barber shops are the same wherever you go. I hope the happy fellow sees a few more summers.

The future of the world

Last Tuesday was my friend Guillaume's birthday, and he arranged a dinner for himself at Shimla, a swanky Indian restaurant on London Road. Nineteen of us were there. We had drinks (I had Maker's Mark on the rocks and thought of Linda Roebke), we ate good food, and we talked about the world and life.

The waiter was wonderful. At one point he asked us if anyone at the table was British. I looked around and realized for the first time that no one was. I knew everyone and counted how many nationalities were represented: There were people from 14 different countries -- Finland, Sweden, Denmark, Cyprus, France, Italy, Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, Hungary, Austria, Germany, Canada and the United States.

I'll probably never eat with such diverse company again. It occurred to me later and with great force that the people at that table will be the people who steer this planet in whatever direction it's going to go. There were students of law, journalism (guess who), economics, philosophy, politics, neurology, biology, sociology, physics. They're all brilliant, sociable and multilingual. They're my generation. They're graduating soon and becoming leaders.

I hope they know what they're doing. I hope they give me good things to write about. Good, positive things.

Monarchies are so 18th Century

I hate to bash on people's traditions, but this royalty business in England has got to go. I'll grant that Britons don't pay much attention to the royal family, from what I've seen. Other than in tabloids, no one really cares what Elizabeth II is up to. In practice, England operates just like the States: The media and the public discourse is concerned with members of parliament and the prime minister.

But de facto practices aside, the idea that a basically democratic country could still allow a royal family to exist doesn't make sense to me. The phrase "queen worship" frequently comes to mind. For example, Prince William is to be addressed as "Your Royal Highness." I'm sure he's a great guy, but what did he do except be born? The queen even has a little logo that goes on postal cars and other things royal. It's a capital E and an R with a crown and the Roman numeral II in the middle. It reminds me of the LBJ (LeBron James) logo, like ERII is some sort of brand.

Royal succession would never exist in the United States. My friend from France, another nation born of a revolution, doesn't like the queen worship, either. If you want respect and influence in a place where men are created equal, you earn it.

Here's my point, in numbers: In 2006 the royal family received almost $70 million from British taxpayers. That goes towards things like $50,000 vacations for pleasure and million-dollar garden parties.

Visit to Bath

I've booked a train to Bath and back on Monday. Weather.com says it will be 42 (Fahrenheit) and rainy -- just my luck. I hope the city is as pretty in the rain.

I was counting on some National Geographic-quality photos, but I'm finding the grayness of England difficult to work with. Thus, I'm not a photojournalist. But with any luck, maybe I can take a picture or two in the school of J.M.W. Turner, who's so popular here, and capture some of the "rain and steam" of the former Roman outpost.

(The picture here is an archway over the walkway that leads to the Castro de St. Maria, an Anglican church built in the 12th Century, in Leicester. The archway was perhaps built in the 13th or 14th century, given its shape.)

A word on attire

An observation:

In the United States, a female might slip into pink sweatpants, tidy up her hair into a knot, drag some cosmetic tools across her face and pull on her Uggs before running off to class.

An American male might pull yesterday's boxers out of the heap on his floor, find some jeans and a hoodie and head out.

For a British lass, sweatpants are for going to the gym. Her hair is down and her skirt is neat, complimented by slender boots.

The masculine Briton will dress himself in dark, straight jeans, a tight-fitting sweater, scarf and jacket.

(The photo is a detail of a monument in front of Leicester City Hall to local British soldiers who died fighting in South Africa.)

Backpacking to Scotland

I'm thinking about walking from Leicester up through York and Melrose to Edinburgh. Then I'd trek over to Glasgow, catch a bus up to Loch Lomond, and finally a train back to Leicester.

Here's my route:


View Larger Map

Advice, anyone?

I don't have an accent

I speak in non-regional diction, don't I? Therefore, I have no accent.

Apparently that's not true. To my friend Guillaume from France and some of the Brits I've met, I sound just like the bubbly blonde on MTV and the fat guy with the sandwich and the Coke watching American football from his couch. (Guillaume's words, not mine.)

The European stereotypes of Americans really aren't far off, and their mockery is embarrassing and mildly insulting. I'm reassured to know that the Brits have adopted much of our entertainment culture, which must mean they appreciate us on some level. More than 80 percent of the songs at the clubs are American.

They especially like "Don't stop believin'" by the California band Journey.

(The picture here is near Leicester city centre, a bustling plaza for retail and food.)