I'm Not Jewish, I'm A Woman

...A woman?

No no, Roman

Aaaaand that's basically what I had in my head all day as I traipsed around the Roman monuments in Nimes. That, I have to say, was a pretty cool day. I did not know there were so many things to know about gladiators.

Nimes was the site of a huge Roman settlement, you know, however many years old that is. A few thousand. It has some of the most well preserved Roman buildings in the world. THE WORLD. And does it ever show. The biggest one is the Arenes, or Arena for us English people. It's basically in exactly the same shape as it was two thousand years ago. The only thing it was lacking was some gladiators and the roving vendors selling badger spleens.

SO. That was cool. The Square House (la Maison Carre) was next, but it was under renovation so I didn't see much of it. What I did see was neat, though. It's a temple, so the outside is quite heavily decorated with all neat Roman carvings and things like that. Lots of pillars. You know the drill.

 I went to la Tour Magne next, which is an old defense tower up on a hill, so you get a pretty good view of Nimes and the area around. It's a good climb up a bunch of steps, but the view seemed worth it.

And now for something completely different.

They've bled us WHITE, the bastards...

And what have they ever given us in return?

A: THE ACQUEDUCT.

Namely, the Pont du Gard.

Wow. That was fabulous. It's amazing that anybody managed to build that thing, let alone in Roman times. Not sure what else to say, really, besides wow.

And so that wore me the heck out, so I've been sleeping in and drawing and writing and generally being a starving artist. Although I haven't actually been starving; Jacqueline is an awesome cook. I've got the whole sleeping on the couch thing down pat, though.

It's been nice to not do anything for a few days, I must say.

Has my roommate really been far as decided to use even go want to do look more like?

Don't worry if you don't understand the title, old people. It's a *young hip internet* thing.

So...yeah. I don't know if it's because I'm tired, don't speak much French or had too much wine but...my roommate's really confusing. She kept asking me if I wanted to go have some dinner (in French) and I was like, 'Sure...? We just met but sure...?' Then she left without me. Then she came back a few minutes later and said something about how she would pay with her special debit card? And I said, 'Okay, um...just let me use the bathroom first.' So I did, and when I came back to the room she was talking on her cell, apparently discussing her debit card with her boyfriend (I'm not sure what the deal is. It just looks like a card). So I fiddled with my computer while she talked, and when I heard her finish, I looked over and she was asleep.

What.

Seriously, I was so confused. Now I've sort of just accepted the weirdness of the universe and realized how funny it actually was. She's either got short term memory loss or is, like, REALLY high.

Anyway, this weirdness is all taking place at the hostel in Nimes, which besides all the stoned roommates is actually an awesome place. It's a twenty minute slog up a hill, but so worth it. It's very cozy and friendly and a nice sort of bohemian reprieve from the usually clinical hostels I've been staying at. The guy at the front desk is an older British guy with a mohawk and a bunch of tattoos, and he's super keen on helping people out. Also, there's lots of good cheap food, 'good' being the adjective I am excited about. I've had plenty of cheap food in the past little while, mostly in the vein of crackers, Brie cheese and drinkable yogurt. It was nice to finally eat something hot again.

I don't know why I'm tired, but I am. I spent all day on trains coming from Amsterdam, with only a brief hour's reprieve in the Gare de Lyon in Paris. I spent the first three-hour train ride finishing The Girl Who Played With Fire (not because there was nothing else to do; it was because once I started I couldn't stop). At Gare du Nord, I met a girl from Milan on her way home through Paris who spoke zero French and could not figure out the Metro ticket machine. We were both going to Gare de Lyon, so I guided her through the Parisian public transit system, and then bought her a pain au chocolat while we waited for our trains. So, I felt good about that. It was weird to know more about Paris than someone who lives so close to it. I always assumed that if you lived in Europe you knew everything there was to know about Paris, I don't know, by proxy or something. It's like instinct; Europeans just know how to deal with Paris, right?

Silly Canadians.

Anyway, I don't know why all that is important. I just felt like writing, I guess. Dad, if you read this, I'm going to the Pont du Gard soon, I promise. I will take lots of pictures.

HAARLEM

…no, not that Harlem. Two A’s, Haarlem. Haarlem, the Netherlands. I swear there are no ghettos here, just some old almshouses.

Through great adversity comes great opportunity, or something like that. I forget the quote, if it even was a quote in the first place.

   Anyway, I kind of screwed up. I got all excited to attend the Remembrance Day ceremonies in Amsterdam on November 11^th. I figured if there was one place to be a Canadian on Remembrance Day, it was Holland.

   After I arrived I found out that the Dutch celebrate Remembrance Day on May 4^th. So, I wallowed in sadness for a while, then kicked my ass into gear and did some awesome stuff.

   First off was the Corrie Ten Boom house, aka The Hiding Place. It’s a museum in the middle of Haarlem dedicated to the Ten Boom family, who were a family of clockmakers, but also a family who hid Jews fleeing from the Nazis in WWII. There are so many fake walls in that house, I can’t even begin…but wow. What a story. Google it, or just wait until I get back and I’ll tell you about it. (If you know me, that is.) Free, too, with very nice guides that let me loiter and ask questions.

   As I was walking away from the Ten Boom house, I saw a windmill. And I thought, ‘shucks, I’m in Holland. I should probably see at least one windmill up close.’ But this was not just any windmill. This was a museum too, one where you could go right inside and see all the inner workings of the mill. I dug that tour right into the ground, it was so cool. The original windmill had burnt down in the thirties, unfortunately, but the recreation is basically exactly the same, and fully functional to boot. I learnt more about windmills than I actually knew there was to know about windmills. Then afterwards I got to stay and have tea with the guides, which was fun. They’re all volunteers so you know they’re really enthusiastic about their work, and about things in general.

   The guides pointed me in the direction of an almshouse, of which there are several (read: a lot) in Haarlem. I’m still not sure why, but there was something about Haarlem that attracted almshouses, mainly for women. Most of them nowadays are residences, so I didn’t really get to snoop up close, but it was neat to pass by on the street.

   The guides also sent me to the Teylers Museum, which is the oldest museum in the Netherlands, and I’m willing to bet the most full of random historical stuff. It has fossils, coins, paintings, medals, sculpture, geodes, prints, books, and, my favourite, an entire room dedicated to obsolete scientific crap with funny names built by the Victorians. I swear, I will never, ever get tired of obsolete scientific Victorian crap. I got to see a ‘phonautograph’ and a ‘kaleidophone’ and an ‘automatic galvanograph’ and basically a thousand different things named with various combinations of those words. I spent way too much time in there. And then, just when I thought I was done, I found out the museum had a room dedicated to old-timey magicians, so after my heart stopped palpitating I checked it out.

   The only thing I love more than obsolete Victorian science crap is 18-19^th century magical crap. Those people were so effing clever, man. And so classy, too. Man…I miss those days, despite not being born then. I want more magicians wearing gloves and starchy vests and capes and funny mustaches.

   So, some World War Two history, a windmill, tea and cakes, and obsolete crappy Victorian things. I’d say that that is a day that more than makes up for the lack of poppies and reveilles around here.

BIKES, BIKES EVERYWHERE

...is about as close as you can get to describing the traffic situation in Copenhagen. Man, there is one hella efficient transit system here, I tell you what.

Oh yeah, there are some nice churches and things too. Honestly, though, I didn't see too much. I think I've sort of seen as many quaint medieval streets as I can for one trip. Lovely as they are, I couldn't stand the thought of seeing any more. Which is not to say that I didn't have fun and/or do things, they just weren't the typical 'oh my god I'm in Europe' things.

I took a canal tour, which was fun, but that's about as far as I went with the Danish tourist office. I climbed up a bunch of towers, namely the steeple of Our Saviour's church and the Rundetaarn. I had some awesome hang-out goodtimes with an online friend on Saturday night; that was peachy to a quite grand degree.

My hostel was in sort of a woodsy area (although, really, Denmark doesn't have a whole lot of wilderness. It was really more like a dry wetland), so I took a few walks there. I also visited the free town of Christiania, which is within Copenhagen but legally is an entirely separate state. It's run entirely by the residents, who are all artists. Like, all of them. Christiania's very colourful, to say the least. It's like Denman Island if Denman Island had no cars and very lax laws on graffiti.

Today I left my bag at the train station and took a day trip back to Sweden, to Malmo. I saw the Turning Torso, which is basically a building shaped like a helix. I also took a walk in the Kungsparken (which I think is the proper spelling...there are so many variations on 'King's Park' I never know which to use). That was great. I spent hours there, but unfortunately it was so beautiful I got distracted and forgot to take pictures.

I leave you with the one new thing you learn every day: there are jellyfish in Malmo. Right in the canals. Go figure.

SO...

…Stockholm.

Oh crud, am I tired. I just spent three days…doing things. Doing a lot of things. All very cool things, though, so that was a bonus.

In no particular order, I :

- Visited the tropical butterfly house

- Toured the Nobel Museum

- Took a stroll in the royal Hagaparken

- Visited the Vasa Museum

- Saw the Terracotta Warriors of the Qin Dynasty

- Visited the State Museum of Stockholm

- Visited the Medieval Museum of Stockholm

- Paid my respects at the grave of Stikkan Anderson

and some more stuff that was awesome but too numerous to list here. Those were just the biggies. Basically, I haven’t sat down for three days except to sleep.

HOWEVER. I feel great. Tired, but in a good way. Hungry, but also in a good way. I bought some Danish rye bread, liver paste and brie so I’m eating just fine.

Right now I'm sitting in the Copenhagen Central train station, leeching off the McDonald's free Wifi while I wait for the tourist office to open. I got off the night train from Stockholm at 6:27 this morning, but I'm surprisingly awake. Still, I am looking forward to crashing at the hostel.

HAR-MAR-NEE GRAN-JER

…is how Scottish people pronounce ‘Hermione Granger’. This I know because of the dad that was playing a Harry Potter card game across the aisle from me with his daughter on the train to Edinburgh.

Anyway, I am safe and sound but totally worn out in the Skeppsholmen af Chapman hostel in Stockholm, Sweden. I’m staying in the awesome part of the hostel…the part that’s a clipper ship. In case you were wondering, yes, it is as cool as it sounds. I have my own peephole and everything.

My last post was from Wincanton…not a whole lot has happened since then, but what did happen was awesome and exciting. Mum, Tammy and Linda met me for a few days in London, you know, Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, London Eye, and all that. There’s really not a whole lot to say about London other than what’s been said before; it’s great, it’s fun, it’s awesome, go see it someday.

Edinburgh, on the other hand, is a whole crap ton of fun. It’s totally on my list of places to go back to one day. I didn’t get to do a lot of what I wanted to do, but the stuff I did get to do was just as awesome. I could go on for hours about all the stuff I saw, but I’m tired right now. Maybe later.

I didn’t just see Edinburgh; Mum and co. and I spent some time with our Scottish relatives. We got to see the town where my great-grandmother grew up, and where a lot of her relatives are buried. That was a nice few days away from the big cities. I think I needed that.

So, before I fall asleep at the keyboard, I’ll end this. Goodnight for now.

I Just...I Can't...What...I Don't Even...

...have the words...

Okay, well, actually, I have one word. One word for you.

DISCWORLD.

Oh my god.

I just...wow. I don't even. Wow. This...wow.

Okay, let's see if we can put a sentence together. Oh wait, I just did. Let's go for two.

So, the Cunning Artificer's Discworld Emporium in Wincanton. (Damn, I failed.) Let me try again.

I SPENT SO MUCH BLOODY MONEY. But oh my gods was it ever worth it. My bed is covered (I'm not exaggerating. COVERED) in Discworld memorabilia. I had to clear a space to sit down to write this blog.

Quite frankly, I'm a terrible Buddhist. I'd be lying if I told you that all this stuff wasn't making me ridiculously happy. It's all just sitting there...BEING BEAUTIFUL. So many shiny new things. I'm in love.


But anyway, the store's nice too. I spent a lovely hour browsing their fine wares, chatting with the clerks (lovely, lovely people) and petting the store cats. They even gave me some little freebies because I'd come all the way from Canada. (The clerks, not the cats.) I was lucky to get there when I did, though; they were only to be open for another hour before closing for Wednesday AND Thursday. I would have been totally out of luck if I'd come any later.

But I wasn't.

And now I'm going to go paw through all my stuff.


Sweet.