Earlier in the year, I considered taking a J Term class. One credit in one week sounds intense, but hey, it wasn't as if I had a better option. Then the London option appeared, and suddenly Baseball lost whatever vestiges of appeal it had once held.(Many, many thanks to a great host with a willingness to not only visit the touristy sites--in the snow, no less--but to do it on foot. For days. Hey, "Pain is weakness leaving the body," right?)
I'd been to London before, but back in 2000, as part of a three-week British Isles tour that consisted of my family, a bus full of senior citizens, and our trooper of a tour guide, who had to, for instance, inform the manager of a hotel in Ireland that Texans don't take kindly to waking in the wee hours to find drunk wedding guests in their bedrooms. Suffice it to say that I saw a lot--and we certainly hit the highlights--but it was quick and largely bus-based, and given that it was in the height of summer, the crowds were immense.
London in January from a local's viewpoint is another creature entirely. Honestly, if you can stand the cold, January appears to be the ideal month to do Europe: no one's around. The holiday rush is over, the festivities have ended, and everyone's gone back to work, so the attractions are open for the taking. To be the only person on the Prime Meridian for a number of photos is extraordinary; to come back and find the staff building a miniature snowman on the line is something else. Snowmen seemed to be the thing in London that day--well, that and reports of the critical grit shortage. We found several scattered around the city, then almost got caught by snowballs that night.
From snowy London, we caught a flight to sunny Rome, where the orange trees were fruiting, the skies were clear, and the local drivers were insane. (The guidebook's suggestion for crossing the street was to step out purposefully, hopefully in the company of a group, preferably one with a nun. Seriously, half the crossings are of the take-your-life-in-your-hands style, and the scooters don't necessarily stop. It takes a bit of getting used to, but it's fun.) After the self-guided night tour (again, the city was empty, so we had no problem with pictures or crowds), we woke before dawn to line up for the Vatican Museums, having been warned that the queue can stretch down the block. Well, we arrived an hour before opening to find no line whatsoever, so after a walk around the Vatican (by which I mean a walk around the outside--it seems the entrance was a block in the other direction), we hit up St. Peter's (gorgeous) and returned to the museums.
There are signs forbidding photography in the Sistine Chapel. The trick is to be sneaky. (See above.)
We did the Colosseum and the Fora, the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon. We did the Via Appia Antica (well, bits of it). We also did plenty of pizza and gelato. And then it was back to London for a rare sunny day (after a perfectly atmospheric foggy/rainy night), which we spent at the British Museum. Rosetta Stone and mummies, anyone?
So now I'm back in Charlottesville, enriched by photos and passport stamps if somewhat jetlagged. And the first Property assignment has come down.
I'm thinking Reykjavik.
