Speaking of must see attractions

I posted yesterday about some of the most exciting and most disappointing tourist destinations. I can’t believe that Natural Bridge in Virginia didn’t make the must-see list. Especially with such added attractions as the Dinosaur Kingdom for your education and amusement:

It’s 1863 and Union soldiers have discovered a hidden valley filled with dinosaurs. Now the Yankees plan to use the dinos as weapons of mass destruction against the South.

Something tells me things kinda backfired for the Union Army.

I gotta see this place.

Hat tip: Hillbilly Savants, photo courtesy of The Anti-Zim check out the rest of her amazing Natural Bridge photo set.

Must see

What are the world’s top ten most disappointing tourist attractions? Virgin Travel Insurance asked over 1,200 British adults what they thought, and it turns out they are a jaded bunch.

The top two most disappointing sights globally are in Paris: the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. I visited both for the first time just over a year ago. The Eiffel Tower is a big old open work tower. I had pretty low expectations to start with, but I have to admit it looked pretty darn cool. Now, if you had your heart set on going up in that thing, I guess it would be disappointing to wait for hours and fork out a shed load of money. We just walked up to it and had a look, that was free. The best thing about the Eiffel Tower is seeing it from different vantage points while you’re in Paris. For that, check out Anglofille’s fab collection of Eiffel shots

My crappy picture of the Eiffel Tower

Or you could always go to Vegas.

The Louvre on the other hand. If you don’t like the Louvre, you just have no soul. I guess if you were expecting to find the burial place of Mary Magdalene and get some kind of divine revelation while being chased by an albino monk then I could see why you might be disappointed.

The rest of the list includes the Statue of Liberty, the White House (I was disappointed I didn’t get to go in), and the Spanish Steps in Rome – which I admit were a bit anti-climactic.

The British list of disappointments include Stonehenge. I concur wholeheartedly. And my expectations were lowered time and time again. I will say that Stonehenge is a lot bigger than I imagined (not disappointing), but you can’t get anywhere near the darn things (very disappointing) – and you have to pay a bunch to park. We drove out to Stonehenge during the hundred degree heat wave of 2003 – so it wasn’t that bad since the car had AC but our house – just like pretty much every other house in the UK did not.

There was also a list of must-sees – and on the global list the only thing I have seen – the Grand Canal in Venice, well…I could take it or leave it.

Ides

Hey kids, it’s the Ides of March. Beware the Ides of March. Somebody might try to stab you if you speak in the Senate. I remember that from Sophomore English. And even though I’ve never spoken in the Senate, it might be best to turn down all public speaking engagements on the Ides of March.

In fact, I did turn down a public speaking engagement today! I wasn’t due to speak today, but next week, but today I backed out. It’s a 20 minute slot on my very dull specialty subject. When I agreed to talk they’d given me more time – but my slot got squeezed because they’d secured more speakers. Usually, I don’t get out of bed for less than 45 minutes to bore entertain the masses. It takes me the first 15 minutes to woo the crowd with lame anecdotes, which would have only left 5 minutes for actual content. I told the organisers I wasn’t feeling well enough to travel.

I actually feel ok today, but it’s probably true – my feet are a bit swollen, and I’m moving a little slow. This pregnancy thing is kinda catching up with me. But I might have tried to go if I’d had a 45 minute slot.

Did you know that Julius Caesar is buried in the Roman Forum – which wasn’t a normal place for Romans to dispose of bodies? Yep. And did you know that people still leave flowers on his grave. It’s a tradition. I saw it myself when me and VolBro visited Rome.

What a waste of flowers.

Hurray for St David

Other than being my brother’s birthday, and the birthday of the son of the conductor of the train I’m on (you’ll see why that’s relevant in a moment), it’s also St David’s Day. Do you know what or who St David is the patron saint of? You’ll see why that’s relevant in a moment.

—-

Regular readers will know I was a bit unwell last week. I had a cold. I also had a number of pressing assignments at work. And I am now 6.5 months pregnant – or thereabouts. I was so excited about no longer being a smoker and having the post cold dregs settling in my chest that I didn’t really account for the cold + baby double whammy on my system. And then I was pulling out as many stops as I could muster for work, too.

Yesterday, I was really struggling, finishing off assignments (including a surprise one of cooking up an hour and a half workshop in an area I know little about), plus I needed to travel up to Liverpool – plus prepping for my speaking gig today, plus remember that surpise assigment? I only just figured out yesterday that I had 3 hours of workshop facilitation today.

Needless to say, I didn’t catch the early train I wanted to in order to have a chilled evening before the event today. I was rushing for the train I did manage. Unfortunately, so was everyone else wanting to go to Liverpool and a train load of people who had wanted to go to Manchester, but had suffered the disappointment of a cancellation.

The way it works is everybody stands around in the main hall of the station and waits to be told which platform they will be departing from. Usually the info is posted well in advance, but yesterday it was only moments before departure. Platform 18 was announced and my heart sank. That one’s so far away it’s practically in a different borough. The herd set off – and though I didn’t know about the cancelled Manchester train – I could tell a heck of a lot of people were trying for that train – and they were all moving a lot faster than I was in the hope of getting a seat.

So I’m huffing and puffing and dragging my heavy pack and I can see I’m probably not going to get a seat. And I know I’m not going to make it the 2 and a half hours to Liverpool stood up.

I kinda collapsed in a seat – despite the fact I could see they’d been reserved. And I was so despondent at the thought of trying to fight my way to a seat that I sobbed and gasped – and frankly couldn’t stop. Fortunately, the place I’d stopped was opposite the train manager’s office. And they took pity on me and let me sit there and wouldn’t let anyone sit next to me despite the fact that there were people sitting on the floor of the vestibules and even in the aisles.

Not that anyone would have wanted to sit next to me really since it took me just about an hour to catch my breath. Seriously.

—-

The presentation went ok. It was one of the few times in my professional life where I could make a joke about half nekkid men appearing in soft focus in a calendar and get away with it. I could not let such an opportunity pass unseized. I did surely objectify the firemen I was speaking about and to – and I should feel bad about it. But I can’t think of a more deserving group. And they were putty in my hands after that.

The facilitation was a little tougher. But I managed. I put a lot into my presentations and I’m pretty exhausted now. I did manage to catch the train from Liverpool a lot more easily and landed a seat no problem. But travel is still exhausting.

The train conductor was in a jolly mood – it being his son’s birthday I guess. He chirpily announced it over the train PA – and he also informed us all that it’s St David’s Day. He’s the patron saint of Wales. I know this because I know a lot of useless trivia, but it’s the kind of thing I think many Brits would know. Our conductor promised an upgrade to first class for the first person who could tell him who or what David did the patronly saint thing for. I didn’t believe him. And I certainy thought that even if it were true – someone else would be able to answer before me.

But when he walked through the carriage asking the question, I shouted out the answer. The compulsion to shout out trivia got me to be captain of the Quiz Bowl team in high school and today it got me bumped up to first class.

Free drinks, a light snack and plenty of leg room.

Hurray for St David. (Who is also, according to Wikipedia, the patron saint of Pembrokeshire, poets, vegetarians and free upgrades.)

Culture, culture, culture

My brother and I went to Italy a few years ago. It was after my grandfather died and having lived with him (and my mom) after my parents split up, I think we felt extra close to him. But we weren’t his children, either and it was difficult to express and for others to fully empathise with how we were feeling. So we went off, on our own, to Italy – as one does. And in the process we discovered that we could travel well together, a happy thing.

We had a great time – all that culture and pasta was very therapeutic. And I think we both liked Florence. But the problem with Florence is that it’s just too amazing, too full of fabulous things to see. I love museums, I love art, but even my eyes were starting to curl. Oh look – I’ve seen that painting in many an art history text, (yawn) look it’s another Great Master. Oh yes, this square is perfect in proportion – yes, I do have an odd feeling of peace. Ho hum. I think that’s because Michelangelo designed this place, too.

We were outside the Museum of the Duomo (Cathedral), leaning against concrete traffic bollards and sucking on Marloboros – and I was trying to convince my brother to go in to this one last museum. He was reluctant. A British tourist stopped just next to us to light his cigarette – and I asked him – as one can do in the brotherhood of smokers “Hey, what’s in there? Is it worth going in?”

“Well, there’s some Michelangelo, Donatello and Raphael. Yeah, it’s worth it,” he said with a shrug – probably thinking “philistine Americans”, but sounding a little culture weary himself.

“Hey, VolBro, it’s got three of the four Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles, it’s gotta be worth seeing,” I said.

So in we went. And I can’t say I saw things with exactly fresh eyes. But the thing about great, truly great works of art, is that even when you’ve ceased to be amazed by merely the wonderful you can still be stopped in your tracks by a truly powerful work that can speak to you.

This one did. I saw it in expat blogger Anglofille’s Flickr photostream this morning. And of course a sneaky pic can never have the power of the real thing, but it did take me back to an August afternoon in Florence this gray and cool London morning.

_________

Rather interestingly, she her latest post is about her grandfather, gone 9 years and their connection that remains.