Punting: water walking might be easier.

In Venice, there are all these gondoliers who suck tourists into a romantic trip around Venice.  Honestly, gondolas look like a really inefficient way to get around water, compared to say, the speedboats that zip around the canals.  Well gondolas are practically hovercraft compared to punts.

So, what is punting?   A punt is basically a broad, flat-ish boat that you use in a river.  Punts are navigated using a bigass pole, which you push off the riverbed.  Yup.  You are pushing the boat along through the water, as opposed to, say, paddling against the water.  One of the more difficult aspects of punting is that the boat naturally wants to rotate around its center rather than move forward through the water.  It’s actually quite tricky to move at all instead of just spinning the back of the boat around – you really need to make sure you are pushing forward and don’t let the boat twist.  Additionally, you have to stand in the back of the boat, gondola-style, which can be quite unnerving for the punter whenever the boat rocks.  As this description probably implies, punting is pretty difficult.  Punting furiously and getting passed by a random family paddling a canoe feels pretty pathetic.  Even people who are really really good at punting can only move about as fast as a kayak.

Yup, this is what it looks like

Of course, rapid transportation is not really the point of punting.  Punts vary in size, but the ones I’ve been in fit about 5 people including the punter.  While not punting, it’s great to enjoy the scenery, cruise down the river, lose your wallet, etc.  Wait what?

The first time I went punting, everyone did the typical punt routine, which is to get tipsy in the boat.  For some inexplicable reason we did not bring a bottle opener.  I have my keys attached to my wallet, so I gave the wallet + keys to Camille so she could open her bottle.  For some inexplicable reason, instead of handing me my wallet, she tossed it to me across the boat.  I muffed the throw and my wallet went into the river.

Unfortunately, the river was about 5 ft. deep and cloudy.  It’s actually really polluted.  Fortunately I didn’t seem to get any infections or anything, because one person I was mentioning this story to expressed concern that the river is really not something you want to be swimming in.  And swim around I did, as Ethan and I tried to find this stupid invisible wallet.

Ethan deserves major props for volunteering to do this, especially because this was easily the coldest water I have ever been in.  The water was shockingly cold, to the point where even breathing normally required some effort.  Ethan was more resilient to the frigid water than I was (must be that Minnesota upbringing), but he only stayed in a few minutes at most as well.  After I lost the wallet I didn’t know what to do so I just sat in the boat drinking wine despondently.  As a result, I was the only person who was really drunk, which probably made me look like an alcoholic or something since I was obviously intoxicated and everyone else was pretty sober at 6PM or whenever we got dinner.  Blugh.

I’ve spent several weeks slowly replacing all the stuff I lost.  My second punting trip went much better, since I didn’t have anything to lose.  I also finally got the hang of moving the boat forward without spinning it, and did a pretty decent job.  Still, punting seems like the time of activity that survives on tradition and tourism more than anything else.

Marseille! Woo Woo

I’ve procrastinated pretty hard on writing about Marseille because, well, there isn’t much to talk about.  Everyone was tired from Morocco, since it was not a particularly relaxing place.  In Marseille, we tended to lounge around a lot, so there’s less to really talk about.  Still, Marseille was a very cool city.

The first night was something of a disaster.  I booked a different hostel from everyone else, which was a block away from the train station.  Everyone else’s hostel was quite far away from the center of Marseille.  We landed at 12:30 AM or something, so even getting to the hostels was going to be a challenge.  A bus to the train station arrived at one, but the bus driver peaced for an hour to have a drink and smoke or something.  This guy was super concerned about getting us to the train station.  Then the bus ride is delayed (or something?  I dunno what was happening) so we finally arrive at the station at 3 AM.  The bus ride itself was pretty nuts.  A trio of extremely energetic Lebanese guys made the wait for the bus extremely interesting, and they were snapping pictures with us, and giving us nicknames (I was Steve Jobs O.o) and whatnot.  There was even a guy on the bus from Newton, which was bizarre.

Anyway, we finally arrive at the train station, and I cruise off to my hostel while the rest of the group tries to get to theirs.  I don’t exactly know what happened, but apparently their hostel was super weird/sketchy, so they spent the rest of the trip in mine.  Maybe the first time I’ve ever done a good job planning stuff.  The hostel didn’t have the incredible hospitality of the one in Marrakech, but it was pretty nice, and we met a variety of travelers.

In Marseille itself, we spent our days walking to the major sites and then lounging around them.  Marseille is hillier than I expected, so walking was actually more tiring than I expected (especially the long walk up to the spectacular Notre Dame de la Garde).  My dad was concerned about my travelling to Marseille, because of its seedy reputation, but it was way safer than Marrakech.  The trip felt much more like a vacation than an adventure.  Marseille was somewhat exotic because few people spoke English.  My crappy French actually proved useful for the first time ever.

I guess the only other notable thing about Marseille was that the food was excellent.  We weren’t dining at high end restaurants of course, but every meal impressed.  One day we went for a picnic in the garden at the Palais Longchamp, and bought some random bread, wine, and cheese from a convenience store.  The food was absolutely delicious (although the meal was ruined somewhat by this random sociopath who would not go away… very annoying/creepy).

That about wraps up my vacation adventures over break, although I'll probably travel a bit more when I can.  On to another term!

“This is Marrakech”

Pictures will be added once people upload them to Facebook so I can copy them here :p

Onward to Marrakech, Morocco!  A bunch of people in my study abroad program have been going on this massive (five week long) trip during the break between terms.  Various people have been joining and leaving the trip depending on their individual travel plans.  I believe the eight people traveling intersecting in Marseille for a day will be the largest the trip gets.  I joined up with the Oxford travel group in Marrakesh, Morocco.  There were seven of us there.

Marrakech is a wild city.  I am really glad I went on this trip at this age, because Marrakech is definitely a young person’s city.  One can only really visit between the ages of twenty and thirty.  Palermo was a pretty crazy city, but that was due to the pervasive feeling of incompetence and decay.  Marrakech is a really crazy city because it is so exotic. 

The hostel we were staying at was extremely close to Jemaa El Fna square, which is the heart of Marrakech.  The directions to the hostel give some idea of how bustling and confusing this square is:

“From the no. 19 bus stop at the bottom of Jemaa El Fna walk down the street past the horses and carriages. After a minutes walk you will see the square's juice sellers. Keep the juice sellers on your left as you walk up and on the right you will see a large cafe called Cafe De France. Take the right hand turning immediately after Cafe De France with the newspaper stand on the corner.

Once on the street next to Cafe De France continue straight ahead for 100m and then take the first left hand turning with a perfume shop on the corner.

We are located down the first small left hand turning (derb laadam) off this street at number 13.

If you have any problems finding us feel free to call us or we are more than happy to meet you outside of Cafe De France to show you the way.”

The hostel was in a tiny back alleyway, and really difficult to find.  Jemaa El Fna is filled with pushcart vendors, random tiny stalls, insane motorcyclists, carriages, donkeys, monkeys, snake charmers, etc (You don’t know what panicked running through traffic is like until you are trying to dodge motorcycles while being chased by a guy holding a snake).  At night, the square is filled with the fires of about a hundred tiny food vendors (best one is number 22.  Don’t go to 118).

Near the square is a mess of souks.  In Marrakech, one haggles for everything.  At first, I was somewhat hesitant about arguing with every single merchant, but by the end all of the members of OxfordQuest2012 were haggling over almost every product – even a 4 Dirham (about 50 cent) glass of orange juice.  In the square, since there are so many food stalls one can try to find the best deal possible by constantly threatening to move to the neighboring stall unless you are served free tea/bread/whatever.  Stuff in Marrakech is extremely cheap, although a lot of it is clearly counterfeit.  Arguing over 30 Dirham makes sense when 5 Dirham is enough for a meal if you can swing it (which one girl did, super impressive), but seems ridiculous when you exchange your 30 Dirham for 3 Euros.

The hostel was fantastic.  It was not particularly clean, or quiet, or spacious, but the staff was absolutely fantastic.  They hang out with all of the people staying at the hostel, and are incredibly chill guys.  Rajeev, the staff member who waved us off, is a Moroccan dude with dreadlocks.  He gave me this ridiculous goodbye and called me his “brother from another mother.”  Plus, they hand out free infinite mint tea, which meant some people drank double-digit cups of tea per day.

I guess I’ll run through some entertaining stories from Marrakech –

On the first day there, I joined four of the people I was with for a tour of the city by carriage.  I thought the tour would be a pretty lame super-touristy thing, but our guide was terrific and took us to his favorite spots.  We also got to see the “new city” which is a modern city with apartments and chain stores and stuff (and roads that are not jammed with pack animals).  He also took us to an apothecary’s shop.  The person running the store was wearing this argyle vest with no shirt underneath (really deep V neck) with a lab coat on top.  Midway through his spiel, his wife brings out some mint tea, which we start drinking.  Then…

Him: *starts sprinkling some unmarked white powder in our tea*

Us: Um… what?

Him: Drink drink!  It’s not cocaine hahahahaha (wtf?  Nobody drinks cocaine)

Us: Um… ok I guess…

It was some really intense sinus-clearing drug

Him: *Grinds a bunch of black powder* Ok, now inhale this!

Us: Uh… ok…

So we tried a variety of weird herbal remedy things.  I forget what most of them were supposed to do, but snorting random stuff is a pretty interesting experience.

Later that day, we were talking to this Bedouin guy somewhere in the maze of souks who volunteered to show us the tannery he worked for.  We followed him to some sketchy place far away from any tourists.

Tannerys are actually pretty intense.  They’re messes of animal corpses, animal skins, and weird unhealthy looking chemicals.  Someone locks us in, so we’re awkwardly following the owner as he explains how vats of pigeon shit are used to treat the skins (it’s a natural acid) while we’re uneasily looking for some way to exit this weird place.  At the end of the tour, the owner starts demanding that we pay him.  We don’t really have much choice since we were surrounded by pissed off looking Moroccan leatherworkers, and end up chucking 40 Dirham at him (he wanted a lot more but we talked him out of it) before leaving as quickly as possible.  In retrospect, following random locals was probably a pretty dumb idea, but at least it worked out fine.

For Day 2 in Marrakech, we took a day trip to Essaouira.  It was actually pretty lame, but some stories typify how surreal Morocco can get.  Essaouira is mainly a beach town, but it was way too cold to go swimming, so the group basically sat around on the beach.  A guy with a tray of cookies came by and started trying to sell them.  He listed off the flavors:  Chocolate, coconut, apricot, blah blah.  The last flavor was “happy cookie”.

We ask what flavor happy cookie is, and he explains that they’re called that because they make you happy and make you want to eat more cookies.  We figure out that this guy is selling pot-cookies on the beach.  In fact, there are a bunch of these guys, selling happy cookies (one guy was selling “space cookies”).  One of the cookie guys offered us cocaine, although “cocaine” seems to be just the generic term for a drug in Morocco.  For lunch, we ate at this random restaurant.  Nearby some crazy party started (apparently the restaurant was near the finish line of a race) which had music BLASTING base.  This was some insane, plate rattling base.  The hysterical part was that half the music was 90s soft rock, so we spent lunch listening to middle-school slow dance music with massive thumping 100 BPM base.  Utterly ridiculous.

On the way back, our bus broke down on the side of the road, leading to this hysterical conversation:

Us for the past 15 minutes or so: Oh my god, it sounds like the bus is falling apart.

*Bus lurches to a stop*

Bus driver: Ok, everyone leave.

Us: Um… what?

Driver: Go, get your bags.

Brian: Wait, what?  You didn’t take us to our destination! Can we have a refund?

Driver: Huh?

Brian: A refund? Our money back?

Driver: *incredulous look* This is Marrakech.

Emma: I sense a Facebook album title.

Third day, 5 of us took a day trip to this waterfall park.  The brochure in the hostel described this (in incredibly mangled English, so we may have misinterpreted it) as a four-hour walk with a donkey ride back.

First, there were no donkeys.  Second, there was no walk.  This was a serious climb, with ladders and grabbing handholds and helping pull people over rocks and stuff.  I’m scared of heights, and basically started freaking out halfway up this thing, since a decent amount of time was spent clambering along a very narrow path adjacent to the edge of a cliff.  I made it through the whole thing though (even though I went at about half a mile per hour on the way down), which is good I guess.  The other two went into the desert, which they said was a fantastic experience in its own right.

This post might make me sound like some globe-trotting badass exploring wild African cities.  No.  Wrong.

On the first night, our incredibly awesome hostel people arranged this big dinner for the people staying in nearby hostels.  There were maybe 100 people packed into the most spacious hostel in the area.  Most of them were British college kids, participating in “The Hitch”.

The hitch is an annual 2 week (I think) trip where British students travel to an international city to raise money for something or other.  This year, that city was Marrakech.  The catch is, they have to hitchhike all the way there.  If traveling through Europe with no clue what city you will end up in each night sounds nuts, that’s because it basically is.  They had crazy stories about sleeping in fields, or in friendly strangers’ homes or whatever.  Some got stuck for days in southern Spain, trying to find a way onto a boat bound for Africa.  One pair of girls said that their night in Fez was the most terrifying experience of their lives.  All participants in The Hitch travel with one to two partners, and at least one member of each group must be male.  However, their male companion got seriously ill somewhere in France, and had to go back.  They pressed on, and ended up in Fez at around midnight.  So these two girls are wandering around the maze of Fez, trying to find some hostel to sleep in.  They run into these two mysterious cloaked guys, who offer to direct them to a hostel.  During the walk, the girls are getting more and more lost, and farther and farther away from the main streets of Fez.  Fortunately, the cloaked people actually were directing them to some remote hostel, but the girls said that during the walk they were completely petrified.  One of them told me the trip was easily the craziest thing she’s done in her life.

Basically, Morocco was an absolute blast, and a really stark contrast to Venice.  As one girl commented, Marrakech was the only city she’s been to on OxfordQuest2012 where she did not feel safe.  But as opposed to a city like Venice, which seemed really tame and touristy, Marrakech was exotic and wild enough to be constantly entertaining and fun.  If you’re a college student and want to go somewhere different with a group of friends, Marrakech is a really amazing place.

Ara ara - Venice

Venice is a total contrast to Palermo.  There are no cars or insane traffic -- everyone travels on foot or by boat.  A less welcome difference is that Venice swarms with tourists, even in March.  At Oxford, one realizes just how bad American accents sound (Yeah, Oxford makes you really insecure about the sound of your own voice). When I'm in Venice I start hearing strangers' ugly American accents again, because Americans are everywhere.

Fuck Yeah Aria

My only knowledge of Venice comes from Aria.  Still no camera, so you're gonna get pictures of Aria-Venice (Neo-Venezia) instead of the real thing.   Noticeably absent from Neo-Venezia are the masses of chatchka shops that are omnipresent in Venice.  Seriously, I have never seen a city with anywhere near as many stores that sell junk.  If you are looking for a new letter opener or paperweight, Venice has several dozen stores that specialize in such items.  On my first day in Venice, I decided to buy a decent pen and a notebook, so I could chill by a canal and write my thoughts (because if there’s one thing I need more of, it’s bullshitty introspective self-analysis, but whatever).  I spent a full SIX HOURS looking for these things.  Venice is the only city on the planet with more shops that sell dip pens than rollerballs.  In fact, Venice has more shops that sell decorative glass pizza wheels (really) than pen and paper.  Numerous shops sold extremely expensive (over 40 Euros) notebooks, and lots sold glass dip pens that do not actually work.  Fountain pens with cartridges or filling systems are great.  Dip pens are birthday presents for people you don’t like.  I finally found an art store that stocked practical art supplies rather than souvenirs somewhere near the Realto.

Y U LIE TO ME ARIA

I say “somewhere near” because Venice is a complete maze.  My hotel in Venice is by far the most expensive place I am staying for any of my trips, because it was selected primarily on the basis of ease of location.  It is a really nice hotel though, and I think an absolute steal for what I’m getting.  That’s another bad thing about Venice:  Everything is outlandishly expensive.  Oxford is an extremely expensive city to live in, but prices in Venice are absolutely outrageous.  There is only one chain restaurant in the entire city, and I ate at that solitary McDonalds in protest of how badly every other food outlet in the city rips tourists off.  The hotel provides a large free breakfast buffet, where I ate as much as I could.

So basically, in my first day in Venice I wandered for hours around a city filled with tourists and shops selling junk.  And it was still a great day because Venice is such an amazing city.  There are so many extraordinary buildings.  The lack of cars is tremendously refreshing.  I imagine that had I been born in Venice, I would have difficulty living anywhere else.  Once one gets away from the more touristy areas, Venice is a labyrinth of canals and tiny streets, with clotheslines everywhere and not a modern building in sight.

 

For the rest of my trip I basically wandered around, seeing as much of the city as possible, since all of it is cool in its own way.  The Vaporetto (water buses) are a great way of cruising around the city, and it’s so easy to hop on and off during a day of exploration.  In fact, I was so wrapped up in my “explore Venice” mode that I actually did a really bad job of seeing the tourist attractions.  The only really famous museum I saw was the Academia.  I finally figured I ought to visit the interior of the Basilica de San Marco on my last day in Venice, and a thunderstorm ended that plan (San Marco square entirely lives up to the hype too – it’s absolutely breathtaking).  Still, I’m glad I discovered all the random free churches and museums dotted around the city.

Pretty sure the hordes of tourists in St. Mark's Square would trample any snow used to make snowmen

And yet, I still feel like in a way I experienced Venice incorrectly.  Sure, monuments like the Basilica are impressive, but what makes truly extraordinary is the nature of the city.  Some parts of Venice feel like they are from a different century.  As probably everyone reading this blog knows, I walk really fast and also eat really fast.  I felt really hurried amidst the tranquility of the city as I ran around and gobbled overpriced meals.  In Aria, Neo-Venezia is a haven of unhurried, technologically backwards life in a future society.  The people of Venice, even the tourists, seem relaxed.  Since I was hoping to relax on this Italy trip (it was unfortunately not a particularly relaxing trip), I felt like I failed in part to appreciate the uniqueness of an entirely water-based city, because I did not adapt my natural habits.

This is a good thing

Also, shout out to Sam and Judy from Yorkshire, two really friendly and open British people I met (friendly and open British people?  Waaaaat?  They said being reserved was a southern England thing).  And another shout out to the friendly people of Traviso airport, who got me on my plane despite the fact that I was an absolute imbecile and managed to lose my boarding pass.

Palermo

No, I did not bring a camera to Oxford.  Yes I am a moron.  If you want pictures, google "Palermo" and get better pictures than I can deliver.

LonelyPlanet calls Palermo a city of "decaying splendor", which is an extremely accurate description.  The city is a claustrophobic, loud, dingy mess, dotted with extremely impressive buildings that all need repair.  For example, I went to examine what appeared to be the remains of a Greek temple, only to realize that the floor was covered in ratty blankets and cardboard boxes.  This tremendous piece of architecture was being used by the homeless since it gave them protection from the rain.

Other interesting sights in Palermo:

-A girl who looked like she was about 9 years old smoking a cigarette.

-A group of people slowly pushing their car down a busy street.

-A marble statue standing amid a pile of rubble that was being bulldozed away.

-Ambulances and fire trucks getting stuck in Palermo traffic.  Watching an ambulance sit motionless, sirens wailing, really makes one realize how efficient American and British traffic systems are by comparison.

-A group of kids playing soccer and running into a busy street after the ball.  Drivers in Palermo are terrifying.  Left turn on red seems to be legal, and cars frequently run red lights entirely.  Cars will also cross double yellow lines to pass each other, which is about as terrifying to watch as it sounds.

Basically:  Do not drive in Palermo.  Or walk in Palermo.  Or ride a bike in Palermo (these people are also mad).  I recommend using a jetpack or some other aerial transportation mechanism.

Also, I've never seen a city that so clearly did not have its shit together.  The Palermo cathedral (really magnificent and unique cross between Romanesque and Moorish architecture) claimed to charge admission, but I walked right in while looking around in bafflement for a ticket counter.  I eventually found a counter, bought a ticket, and walked into a special area which my ticket did not cover.  When I was in the crypts one emergency exit sign pointed to a crumbling and almost inaccessible ladder, leading up a dark tower.  In an emergency, if that is your only exit path you are very screwed.  Similarly, the castle at Palermo is currently used to house the Sicilian parliament and some military installation.  This would be like holding parliament in the Tower of London.  Problems started before I even got out of the airport. The Palermo baggage carousel did not work properly, prompting the Italian guy I had been sitting next to on the plane to snarkily comment "welcome to Sicily".

After a few days, I got used to the very un-Oxford zaniness and chaos of Palermo.  Unfortunately, due to personal drama I was miserable for most of my stay.  Sicily is beautiful, but it is hard to appreciate when you feel like shit.  I'll just mention one anonymous Sicilian guy who cheered me up immensely.

One of the sights in Palermo is the Teatro Maximo, this absolutely gargantuan opera house.  If this structure was in Rome, it would just look like an extremely impressive opera house in need of repairs.  In Palermo, it looks ludicrous.  There cannot be enough opera lovers within 20 miles to fill this thing - each side is half a block long.  Anyway, I was moping around there and wandered into one of the million of little cafes that dot Palermo.  I was even spacier than usual, and managed to knock this tray of brioches (at least I think that's what they were) onto the floor.

I was already having a terrible day, and now felt like a total moron.  I desperately tried apologizing to the guy behind the counter in my non-existent Italian.  He insisted that I sit down (I was planning on ordering something to go), calm down, and gave me the most delicious cannoli I've ever had in my life.  He also refused to accept any money for the brioches, or my 400% tip for the cannoli.  That was actually the only cannoli I had in Palermo -- that place was closed when I went there again that evening.  I know that guy will never know it, but he really brightened up my day.

End of Hillary Term

Oxford runs on a trimester system, meaning that there are three terms:  Michaelmas, Hillary, and Trinity.  I'm at Oxford for Hillary and Trinity terms.

There's actually about a 5 week break between terms so I get to wander around Europe for a bit.  Currently I'm visiting Italy, France, and Morocco, but I only have about half(!) of my break planned out.  I wish I was more motivated to get work done, since I still have internship applications and some other stuff to work on, but right now I'm just trying to figure out flights and how I am going to find my hotel in Venice when my flight arrives at night and Venice is an absolute maze.

No updates for a while, but I'll be having a blast, and am excited to return to Oxford for Trinity term!

Tutorials!

I have either one or two tutorials a week.  "Tutorials" are one-on-one classes with a professor.  The professor assigns a (huge) reading list the week before, and I write a paper during the week.  We then discuss it at the tutorial.

One of my tutorials is at Christ Church, perhaps the most famous of all the Oxford Colleges.  It's also the most touristy, and visitors are not allowed to go through the main gate.

I don't actually like Christ Church that much.  I think a lot of other colleges look much nicer, and seem less stuffy, but whatever.

 

 Christ Church has a large main quad.  That's the entrance from the previous photo.

 Another view of the Quad, this time taken from the entrance.

You can't see it, but there's an arch on the right side, at the corner of the quad.  I go through that to get to my tutorial.

Up a flight of stairs is the Christ Church dining hall.  Tourists everywhere.

I'm actually eating a formal dinner here tonight.  (No idea why the pictures came out so blurry, but oh well)

Notice that there is a lot of silverware on these tables.  Seems to be about 5 implements per seat.  These pictures were taken just after lunch, so they're probably setting up for dinner (which comes before formal dinner).  There are also "guest dinners" which are even more formal than formal dinner.  I'm guessing that there could be up to 9 pieces of silverware at the dinner tonight.

That's the arch I go through.  View from the upper level balcony.

I go through the arch, but  those stairs lead to the dining hall, not my tutorial.  Normally I go this way.

Turn right into this courtyard.

Then go through this passageway.

To the meadow buildings.  They're kinda in need of renovation...

Here's my professors office (she didn't want a picture taken).  Notice that offices are much friendlier here.  You can see clothes and stuff everywhere, because it seems professors half-live in their offices.  This professor didn't want her picture taken.

Where I sit.

My other tutorial is actually held at the professors house, not in a college.

And here it is.

He has a special room for talking with students.  Bookcases are rather intimidating.

Where I sit.

Professor Holmes looking like a baller.