Hello my family and friends,
Yes I'm still alive.
And I've come to the conclusion that I really suck at blogging. I'll tell you what I'm going to do.
As many of you know, In the time that I have not been blogging I've traveled to Italy, Berlin, Vienna, and Koblenz. I'm currently in the process of putting all of those pictures up on facebook. You can find them there.
From now on I'll try and use the blog as a platform to let you all know how I'm doing. I'll talk more about day to day stuff than trips that I've made or buildings that I've seen. I feel like that will be a) more interesting for me to write and b) more interesting for you to read.
Please feel free to yell at me if you particularly care about some aspect of my travels and I'll go into detail about it.
Much love,
Tim
Monday, August 30, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
Ich komme an - Part II
Horn Ride in Hyde Park
Turns out London's a pretty big city. Actually it's a unbelievably massive city. Their "downtown" constitutes an area of approximately 15 square miles. And Paddington Station--where the Heathrow Express runs--is 3.5 miles away from Big Ben.
Not that this information would have helped me because I had no idea where Big Ben or Paddington Station was. And every attempt to figure out how to get there turned out fruitless--I even asked a policeman to no avail. I did, however, figure out where the Thames was in relation to Paddington, so I thought that, since Ben is on the river, I would head to the river to see what I could find.
Thus, with nothing but 30 lbs. of books on my back and my laptop bag at my side I struck out on the streets of London.
I attempted to remain on the same street for as long as possible because I still had a flight to catch and I couldn't afford to get lost. This led me northeast down Praed St. and then southeast down Edgeware Rd.* Along the way I saw St. James - Paddington :
Yes ladies and gents, thems Trombones (and trumpets and woodwinds and drums and tubas) on horseback. Needless to say, I was overly ecstatic about this, but it was indeed Very Cool.
I then walked over to the Albert Memorial--an ornate monument to Prince Albert.
At this point in my journey it began to rain and time was short, so I decided to call it a trip and head back to the airport. But not before a plate of fish and chips and a big glass of ale.
Up next: The train to Bielefeld.
---------------------------------------------
*I would also like to say that at the time I had no idea what those street names were because, apparently, the English consider street signs a luxury and heaven forbid they appear wasteful.
I arrived in London shortly before 8:00am. I didn't leave Heathrow until 9:20.
Yes, that means that I stood in a line at customs for almost an hour and a half. Tim's Tip for the day: don't go through customs at Heathrow. It is one of the most soul-crushing, life-sapping experiences on God's green earth. You stand in a windowless room comforted only by the endless line of crying children and angry foreigners of which you are a part. You're only hope for escape is the procession of the line, which is moving at the gruelingly slow pace of not-moving. You see a hole in the line slowly moving backwards as every person in front of you moves forward but with each person the hole becomes smaller because people are territorial and lazy, and when that hole reaches you it has become so small that the step you are allowed to take is precisely equal to "baby steps" as dictated by Mother May I.
Now it's time for a little confession: I hadn't really planned out what I was going to actually do in London. I thought it would be fairly easy to take some trains to the city center, see Big Ben from afar, takes some pictures, and drink some ale with fish and chips.
At first, I thought this was an excellent assumption because as I exited customs I found a nice man selling tickets on the "Heafrow" Express to "downtown London". Both sets of quotation marks are intentional.
Now it's time for a little confession: I hadn't really planned out what I was going to actually do in London. I thought it would be fairly easy to take some trains to the city center, see Big Ben from afar, takes some pictures, and drink some ale with fish and chips.
At first, I thought this was an excellent assumption because as I exited customs I found a nice man selling tickets on the "Heafrow" Express to "downtown London". Both sets of quotation marks are intentional.
Turns out London's a pretty big city. Actually it's a unbelievably massive city. Their "downtown" constitutes an area of approximately 15 square miles. And Paddington Station--where the Heathrow Express runs--is 3.5 miles away from Big Ben.
Not that this information would have helped me because I had no idea where Big Ben or Paddington Station was. And every attempt to figure out how to get there turned out fruitless--I even asked a policeman to no avail. I did, however, figure out where the Thames was in relation to Paddington, so I thought that, since Ben is on the river, I would head to the river to see what I could find.
Thus, with nothing but 30 lbs. of books on my back and my laptop bag at my side I struck out on the streets of London.
I attempted to remain on the same street for as long as possible because I still had a flight to catch and I couldn't afford to get lost. This led me northeast down Praed St. and then southeast down Edgeware Rd.* Along the way I saw St. James - Paddington :
and a few double-decker buses:
After about a mile-and-a-half, I came upon Hyde Park. "Well," I thought, "at least I made it to something marginally famous."
The following monument is in Hyde Park.
It's a memorial to commemorate the Reformers Tree. Reformers Tree was once used as a meeting place for political activists in the 1800's. The tree was burnt down in a riot in 1866 and was replanted in its original location in 1977.
I walked further and found the Serpentine River:
As I was taking this picture, I heard the sounds of a marching band. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to hear a London band, so I hustled on a southwesterly course. When I reached the edge of the park, this wonderful sight appeared:
After about a mile-and-a-half, I came upon Hyde Park. "Well," I thought, "at least I made it to something marginally famous."
The following monument is in Hyde Park.
It's a memorial to commemorate the Reformers Tree. Reformers Tree was once used as a meeting place for political activists in the 1800's. The tree was burnt down in a riot in 1866 and was replanted in its original location in 1977.
I walked further and found the Serpentine River:
As I was taking this picture, I heard the sounds of a marching band. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to hear a London band, so I hustled on a southwesterly course. When I reached the edge of the park, this wonderful sight appeared:
Yes ladies and gents, thems Trombones (and trumpets and woodwinds and drums and tubas) on horseback. Needless to say, I was overly ecstatic about this, but it was indeed Very Cool.
I then walked over to the Albert Memorial--an ornate monument to Prince Albert.
At this point in my journey it began to rain and time was short, so I decided to call it a trip and head back to the airport. But not before a plate of fish and chips and a big glass of ale.
Up next: The train to Bielefeld.
---------------------------------------------
*I would also like to say that at the time I had no idea what those street names were because, apparently, the English consider street signs a luxury and heaven forbid they appear wasteful.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Ich komme an - Part I
Well, 24 hours after I began my journey, I finally arrived in Bielefeld, Germany. It was quite a trip and it shall be told in 3 Parts.
Part I - The Plane to London
I arrived at the Knoxville airport at 10:00 in anticipation of my noon flight to O'Hare. Little did I know that the President also wanted to go to Chicago for Memorial Day, which delayed my flight an hour.
Then a storm hit Chicago. That delayed me another hour.
By the way, I was barely disturbed by all of this because I was busy saying Happy Birthday to my sister. (And of course "saying Happy Birthday" means discussing various philosophies of philanthropy.)
Finally, we take off just before 3:00. I arrive in plenty of my time for my next flight (thank goodness) and go to grab some food before I leave.
All of the seats in the food court were taken, so I sat by some random guy. Of course this guy (whose name, I later find out, is Nathan) happens to be one of the most interesting dude's I've ever met. He's a couple years older than me, has finished a stint in the Peace Corp, and is on his way to lead tours in the wilderness of Alaska.
We chatted about a few random topics, but the most interesting thing we talked about was his time in the Corp. He was stationed on a tiny island in the Pacific in the nation of Vanuatu. You know, the island chain northeast of Australia? Highest language density of any country in the world? Lead exporter of not-jack-squat?
Well congrats if any of this rings a bell, because I had never even heard the word "Vanuatu" until yesterday. However, after the picture he painted, it's definitely on the list of places to see before I die. From what I could understand the people are rather "primitive," but life there is awesome. You work everyday, but it's not work in the sense that you get up and slave away at projects which are dictated to you. It's work in the sense that your community depends on you to fish, plant, gather, build, etc. Work is just part of life and you do it because it's what needs to be done, not because you need the paycheck.
Oh and did I mention that Vanuatu is an island chain in the South Pacific? Which means it's absolutely beautiful. Apparently Nathan worked pretty regularly on the coral reefs off the island (aka went scuba diving) and collected clam specimens (aka took walks on the beach). Rough life.
After I finished my pizza we said farewell and I hopped on the plane to London.
As I approached my seat on the plane, I saw that my isle-sitting-neighbor (I had the window side) had already arrived. Tough luck for him, because not only do I need to reach my seat, but I need to get all arranged. I gotta take out my books, my iPod, store my overhead luggage, and cram my laptop bag under our feet. I proceed to do all of this with him standing in the isle looking rather irritated. Of course, the "under-seat storage" was unusually small for our seats and we couldn't fit both of our laptops, so he irately pulls out his bag and stuffs it in the overhead.
Well, the only lesson I learned from all of this was that it definitely pays to be "that guy." It turns out that if you make like a bad enough neighbor, people will just migrate away when the boarding ends, leaving you with two seats to lay down and sleep in. Sucker.
Oh, and this was the view from my seat at night.
On the left there is the North Star, aka Polaris. That really bright star on the right is the tip of the wing of the plane. (The three blurry things next to it are photo errors. They weren't there in real life.) What you're seeing is the 24 hour light on the North Pole in the summer. Even in the middle of the night (this had to be between 11pm-2am on the ground) there is a slight glow to the North. I could also make out three lighthouses off the east coast of Canada, but I couldn't get the pictures to turn out right.
Up next: 9 hours in England
Part I - The Plane to London
I arrived at the Knoxville airport at 10:00 in anticipation of my noon flight to O'Hare. Little did I know that the President also wanted to go to Chicago for Memorial Day, which delayed my flight an hour.
Then a storm hit Chicago. That delayed me another hour.
By the way, I was barely disturbed by all of this because I was busy saying Happy Birthday to my sister. (And of course "saying Happy Birthday" means discussing various philosophies of philanthropy.)
Finally, we take off just before 3:00. I arrive in plenty of my time for my next flight (thank goodness) and go to grab some food before I leave.
All of the seats in the food court were taken, so I sat by some random guy. Of course this guy (whose name, I later find out, is Nathan) happens to be one of the most interesting dude's I've ever met. He's a couple years older than me, has finished a stint in the Peace Corp, and is on his way to lead tours in the wilderness of Alaska.
We chatted about a few random topics, but the most interesting thing we talked about was his time in the Corp. He was stationed on a tiny island in the Pacific in the nation of Vanuatu. You know, the island chain northeast of Australia? Highest language density of any country in the world? Lead exporter of not-jack-squat?
Well congrats if any of this rings a bell, because I had never even heard the word "Vanuatu" until yesterday. However, after the picture he painted, it's definitely on the list of places to see before I die. From what I could understand the people are rather "primitive," but life there is awesome. You work everyday, but it's not work in the sense that you get up and slave away at projects which are dictated to you. It's work in the sense that your community depends on you to fish, plant, gather, build, etc. Work is just part of life and you do it because it's what needs to be done, not because you need the paycheck.
Oh and did I mention that Vanuatu is an island chain in the South Pacific? Which means it's absolutely beautiful. Apparently Nathan worked pretty regularly on the coral reefs off the island (aka went scuba diving) and collected clam specimens (aka took walks on the beach). Rough life.
After I finished my pizza we said farewell and I hopped on the plane to London.
As I approached my seat on the plane, I saw that my isle-sitting-neighbor (I had the window side) had already arrived. Tough luck for him, because not only do I need to reach my seat, but I need to get all arranged. I gotta take out my books, my iPod, store my overhead luggage, and cram my laptop bag under our feet. I proceed to do all of this with him standing in the isle looking rather irritated. Of course, the "under-seat storage" was unusually small for our seats and we couldn't fit both of our laptops, so he irately pulls out his bag and stuffs it in the overhead.
Well, the only lesson I learned from all of this was that it definitely pays to be "that guy." It turns out that if you make like a bad enough neighbor, people will just migrate away when the boarding ends, leaving you with two seats to lay down and sleep in. Sucker.
Oh, and this was the view from my seat at night.
On the left there is the North Star, aka Polaris. That really bright star on the right is the tip of the wing of the plane. (The three blurry things next to it are photo errors. They weren't there in real life.) What you're seeing is the 24 hour light on the North Pole in the summer. Even in the middle of the night (this had to be between 11pm-2am on the ground) there is a slight glow to the North. I could also make out three lighthouses off the east coast of Canada, but I couldn't get the pictures to turn out right.
Up next: 9 hours in England
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