Whale of a day.

I was the first one up on this day. And the sun was OUT!  I tried to remain as quiet as I could because Andrea still had jet lag, I had been up in the middle of the night coughing and waking everyone up, and Libby-well she's a twenty something. I had my morning coffee, took my rotten egg smell shower and got dressed.  I was ready to get out in that sun!  My travel mates were awake by this time so I waited for them to dress, eat and off we went to see the city of Rekyivek.  It is a quirky, graffiti bathed, eastern block functionality meets western freedom clash of a city.  Most buildings are square and unadorned with any architectural detail. And are concrete.  The most beauty an average building will get will come from its paint job.  The Icelandic people will paint the housing in blues, yellows, greens, and pinks.  And when the sun is out, the colors shine! 

We toured the city on foot and found the parliament building and the prime ministers office.  The day before, there had been a huge demonstration there, but all was quiet when we arrived.  We walked down by the little lake and the old harbor.  The swans and other birds there were very friendly, and one duck in particular took a great liking to me and my crazy curly hair. 

 I was squatted low to take pictures and pretty soon, I heard Libby say, " mom you have a friend."  I peeked out from my camera and I was looking at duck teeth-the bird was that close to me! Andrea called him my spirit animal.  

Our afternoon plan was to go whale watching, so we headed back to grab some lunch and put on our winter wind proof gear to rush back to the harbor to get on the boat to watch us some whales.  This is something I have always wanted to do.  It's been a huge bucket list item of mine for years and years but hasn't ever really worked out for various reasons.  

Until now.  We saw several hump back whales feeding in the cold waters of Iceland and that was a thrill!  I wasn't thrilled with the captain, but it was very exciting to be out on the water looking back into the harbor and seeing whales.  

That evening we were supposed to go on a tour to see the northern lights but the country was socked in with clouds and rain.  The northern lights are the reason I wanted to come to Iceland.  Everything else we do while we are here is just a time filler.  I really want to see the northern lights and to capture it on my camera.  The northern lights require some pretty specific factors 1) cold weather, 2) clear sky-no cloud cover, 3) dark sky-no moon 4) solar activity and 5)luck.  I had organized the trip for 1 and 3, anticipated 4 based on the time of year and prayed for 2 and 5.  

But tonight was not going to be my night.  Just as well, I had come down with a raging cold virus that was making me tired so I went to bed early.  My travel mates researched the happy hours in town, but opted for an early night too. 

Hidden treasures in a lava crust

Day Two of Iceland had the three of us (Libby, my sorority sister Andrea, and me) set out on a driving adventure.  Andrea had already been in Iceland since 6:30 am the previous morning and taken an adventure drive of her own-she had this down desPite the road signs (or lack of them), the additional letters in the Icelandic alphabet, and a rather pushy British voice on the 10 year old GARMIN GPS device.  We were going to drive what is known as the golden circle.  I'm not quite sure why they call it that, because in reality the best things (and really the only things) to see are in a "straight" line up to the northeast.  

None then less, we did drive in a circle and tried to see some more off the beaten path type of areas.  Andrea surmised we may have been a couple of weeks early for the real landscape beauty of Iceland because not much was green yet.  I have my doubts, but she has studied the country since childhood.

 We drove highway 1 through a small village of Snellfoss which highlights included a KFC and an Olis.  KFC is LOVED in Europe which must explain why it is still in business.  I saw them everywhere and the college kids especially love to it and subway.  An Olis is a gas station and little convenience store which also has free wifi.  The allowed us to check in to the safety mechanism established by Iceland because a lot of extremist and not so smart tourist go do some crazy things on some dangerous glaciers and interior mountains.  We were lame by comparison.   

After turning off the pushy gps, and relying on the map above, we drove up through various lavas fields and around volcanos until we reached skálholt, an old Catholic Cathedral area which is on the interior of the country but was once a thriving and important part of the government and civilization.  In order to have built this area, the people of the time would have had to wait until the winter when they could have drug building materials, including wood tree trunks, from the shorelines over frozen lakes and such to get it to the location.  The land does not appear conducive to farming or even raising of livestock, so how they managed to live is a mystery to me. The area has now been excavated and several building foundations have been located. It is a simple, stark building that stands there now.  And not much else, frankly.  A few houses scattered about, and everything is on the honor system-visiting the old crypts in the church basement-200 Isk, using the toilets-donation, lighting a candle-donation. 

From here we drove on to the Geysir.  Libby was absolutely famished so we first ate at a lovely restaurant onsite.  Food is very expensive is Iceland; for example Libby's pizza and my meatball panini was $30 USD.  So we'd been eating a lot of sandwiches at the apartment.  Libby was ready for food! 

Geysir is a, you guessed it, a geyser.  It's the oldest one in Iceland I think. And it's what all other's are generically called-or named after.  There is a very active one here that erupts about every 4 to 5 minutes with varying force. There are several that bubble like a boiling pot of water.  I was wearing my winter coat and there are pots of water bubbling in the earth.  It was weird to think about and look at.  And they all smell.  Like rotten eggs.  In fact, sadly, the whole country smells like rotten eggs. I smelled like rotten eggs when I got out of the shower that morning. I may never want another egg again. 

 

After seeing the eruption several times and watching the new people stand on the wrong side of it for fun, we headed north again to a huge water fall called Gullföss.  This was really amazing to see and the 2D pictures don't do it justice in the least.  Furthermore, the light was remarkably flat that day so the pictures are even more "meh!" than they should be. It is truly a sight to see.  Interestingly, the Icelandic government could use a robust education in marketing their national parks.  At the top of this amazing feature there was little more than an outdoor shack that housed a high end gift store or at least had window display for it.   The buildings reminded me of the temporary class rooms schools use while they are building an addition. There was no educational feature, no museum, no docent, no--nothing. 

From here we circled (see what I did here) back down the road and stopped to pet the Icelandic horses we'd seen on the trip up.  They are so friendly! As we walked up to them, they did not run away, they loved to be scratched, and in fact one was scratching his backside on the barbed wire fence.  They are short and stocky and look like they are built for working.  These were fun guys. 

We finished the circle in Thingviller national park which is where the parliament of Icelandic people began in 900 and something AD.  They still hold major festivals and governmental events here.  It's also where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates come together but are slowly drifting apart (at like 2 mm a year or something).  We walked around this lava field and saw the plates, the amazing clear water, the weird plant growth, and even some birds. 

After 7 hours, I concluded that Iceland is like Cilantro-you either love it or you don't like it all that much.  I think I fall in the second category-the sites we saw were amazing, but there were so many hours of seeing the same things-barren, mad max, moon crust landscape-that I was just over it. We were weary and headed home for more sandwiches and wine. Especially wine.  

Race the maze and end on the moon

I've tried to remain positive, truly, even in light of all this dreary rain that I've been dragging around with me.  Traveling requires a certain amount of flexibility even when things go divinely.  And things have not gone divinely...at all.  My departure from Scotland and entrance to Iceland was pretty par for the course for this trip.  It was rainy and cold leaving our flat with the worlds heaviest luggage to drag across the cobblestone streets and down the Closes and Wynds of old town. A Close or Wynd is a small passage way between buildings or streets which  for most western cultured people would mean "do not enter", but in fact are public passageways. Each is named, but I am not clear on how one acquires its name, but I do know that a Close would be closed after dark by a gate and a Wynd remains open at all times.  If one is named a Court, the passage way opens up into a court between a square(-ish) of multiple buildings and will often be residential in nature.  These were beautiful once I got the nerve to venture back there and ran into all sorts of people passing through.  

I had made plans to meet a Scot at one of my transfer stations before reaching the airport to gather something for a friend and hoped to confirm the details during the hour trip to the central Glasgow station from the Edinburgh Waverly station. (The Waverly station sits near the Sir Walter Scott monument and is named for his Waverly papers).  I had opted to take a little later train for a more leisurely morning, so needed to give this information to my liaison.  With Libby's help I got to the station in plenty of time, we parted ways and I was on my own again. I pulled my ticket from the self serve machine and located my platform-with time to spare.  This was just MARVelous, darling.  While waiting, I checked for wifi in the Waverly station-nope.  But the rail carriage had wifi I knew from my trip to St. Andrew's and confirmed by my friend who lives in Scotland.  So I did not worry.  Until a two carriage 1970's rickety "train" clickety clacked into the station.  I'm pretty sure, "for the love of God!" actually came out of my mouth and was not just in my head. You can bet your 1970's Farrah hairstyle that this relic did not have wifi. 

After many delays and slow stops and starts on the tracks in the middle of nowhere, we finally reached Glasgow Central, about 10 minutes late which only gave me about 9 minutes to find the other train I needed to get to the Paisley station where I would meet my Scot man for the secret handoff of a metal armadillo for my friend. This train was brand new and glorious, but I was only on it for 8 minutes so I rushed to get out several messages. 

The Paisley station was small, (no wifi), which made it easy to find the handsome Scot I was meeting.  He treated me to a tea, some funny stories, and we successfully made the hand off of Lloyd the armadillo. Soon after, I was on a city bus with other Glasgowians headed to the airport. Once at the airport, there was wifi...and for 1 and 1/2 hours I tried to get it to work.  No Luck.  But I made my plane and was headed to Iceland to see the Northern Lights! 

While the plane had wifi, it was only for the upper crust and I was riding in the peasant section, but I knew that the Rekyivek airport had wifi b/c I had used it before.  Once there, I would be able to confirm the address and directions to the apartment accommodations.  Surely.  But no, the airport wifi would not allow me to log on for more than about 2 minutes--just before border control.  This may be a courtesy so that travelers can assure loved ones that they've arrived safely, but who knows.  

I snaked my way through the various parts of this ultramodern airport to baggage claim (baggage re-claim) which they sign as "arrivals" which actually confused me as I thought I might be exiting the secure area and I might have trouble coming back in to get my bags.  As part of the marketing genius of the airport planners, the duty free alcohol purchase area is right by baggage claim.  Alcohol is very heavily taxed in Iceland-up to 50%-so I scooped up a bottle of wine and the cheapest bottle of vodka I could find because I needed it.  And still no wifi. 

There is a service to get to the city of Rekyivek from the international airport which is about 50 miles away in Kevliek.  It's called flybus and is really slick.  It's a coach type bus that rides high and smooth...and has WIFI.  Except mine did not have working wifi.  However, it was cold, windy, and overcast so I was batting a thousand.  I rode the bus to the central bus station which is said to be in the city center.  Where it actually goes is to a run down concrete building in the grassy median of what appear to be two highways. 

Iceland was not thrilling me so far as it looked liked a post apocalyptic war torn mad max civilization on an outlying planet. Everything building appeared to have been build from the same square concrete mold post 1970's, but I know I had read that the Icelandic people had been born of the Vikings so I wondered if I was just in the run down 'hood of Iceland. There was graffiti on all the buildings, it was getting dark, and I had not yet been able to confirm the walking directions to the apartment.  Thank my lucky stars I could hijack the Enterprise Rental Car wifi and at least get a message to my new travel buddy who was already at the apartment.  I told her I was going to walk, but after attempting it for one block and being blown back by the wind, I went back into the BSI,hijacked the Enterprise Rental Car wifi and told her I was taking a cab, thank you very much! 

Once deposited at the apartment, I opened that bottle of wine.  It had been a long frustrating day. 

Rainy Highlight-FORE!!!!

This was going to be one of the big highlights of my trip- St. Andrew's Golf Course.  Libby had booked us train tickets so we could go to St. Andrew's on Monday of our Scotland excursion.  I was thrilled.  She was not.  She went along because I wanted to go-she can be a trooper like that.  But it was pretty touch and go for the first couple of hours.  I'll give you one guess as to what the weather was like.  You probably didn't need even the one guess-it was rainy, cold, and miserable. I have no idea what weather deity or karma I have upset, but clearly there is a rain cloud stuck firmly to my behind. 

Getting from Edingburgh to St. Andrew's if very easy-until you have no idea where the bus stop should be.  But we figured it out.  As we were walking up to the old course, and I was seeing the iconic bridge and the various buildings I've seen so many times on TV, Libby said "that's the bridge we came to see?  Are you kidding me?  It's, like, ridiculously small." Yes, my dear-it is.  But every great golfer who has ever played the game has walked across that bridge.  I walked across the fairway, but I did not walk across the bridge.  I'm not a great golfer and I did not play a round at St. Andrew's and it just didn't feel it would be right to do so.  Golf is a game of character; you learn a lot of about yourself and you learn a lot about the people you play with.  I'm probably a purist.  I like to play with technique, play by the rules but not so strictly that if I'm having a bad hole I'm unwilling to pick up that little white doodie and take the max on the hole and move along.  A new hole means a new opportunity to play better.  I've played some great courses.  I even have gotten par on TPC sawgrass the day before Q-school was to start, so I can hold my own with practice, but I play for fun.  If I'm not having fun, it's time to call it a day.  

And so we did.  After we looked around the town of St. Andrew's, had a coffee, visited the cathedral ruins-in the rain, the University museum, stopped for lunch at a University bar and shopped in the pro shop for a little something, we went home early.  It wasn't fun anymore.  We were wet, cold, and tired. 

We got to the Royal mile apartment, treated ourselves like princesses with tea, Indian for dinner, and bed.  And I dreamt of the great golfers who crossed the bridge at St. Andrew's and how lucky I am to have been there to see it. 

Castles and cats, writers and wars.

I haven't been blogging much because my pictures are stuck in my camera b/c I don't have a card reader.  But some have been asking so I am catching up a bit. During the second day in Scotland, there was only a 70% chance of rain, which I took as a promising sign.  We participated in a 2.5 hour walking tour of Edinburgh old town and history.  The city has an amazing history, especially for its size, from the advent of economics to architecture to the world famous Professor Higgs and JK Rowling, to bloody battles over religion and clan battles over turf. It was quite enjoyable and mostly without rain.  We walked up to Edinburgh castle and from this point on the top of the hill you could overlook the entirety of the city-both old and new.  Since we were staying on the Royal Mile which is book ended by Edinburgh Castle at one end and Hoolyrood Palace at the other, it felt as if Edinburgh was very small.  Once we took the tour and ventured off the hill it was easy to see we were staying in the oldest part of the city and there were worlds and worlds more to the city. 

(Shhh-we missed the first tour b/c Libby was a wee bit slow so we stopped for coffee-this is me and my granny chin looking at my hostage photos whishing I could get them out.)

We spent the afternoon in the Scotish National Gallery which has amazing master pieces by Daddi, Rapheal, Cezzane, Monet, and Ruben.  The most impressive part, to me, was that they had a function going on with young kids cutting and pasting in the center of the rooms of the museum-not segregated away somewhere.  I have a photo I will share later. It was a very nice way to spend a gloomy afternoon.  

After this lovely and sophisticated time, we stopped for an ice cream and ate it in a park in front of the Sir Walter Scott monument-during a brief respite in the gloom.  It is a Victorian gothic monument and the tallest on dedicated to a writer in the world.  You can go up in it, if you want to climb 287 stairs, but I opted to go to the hill of the castle by our apartment which was easier to climb and which I could still see the city. 

We decided to walk up to Calton Hill which is another smaller hill that overlooks the city.  The sun was beginning to peer out from the clouds and I was able to capture this photo looking back into the city. 

By this time, it was the bewitching hour.  Libby had talked my into taking her to a Cat Cafe.  Yes, I paid a cover charge to go sit with various cats while I paid for tea and cakes.  It was actually fun, only because it made my girl so happy. 

Oh the things we do for our kiddos!  

Magnetic force or red beacon?

Do you think these idiots graduated primary school and will understand if I yell Shut the $&@k up? We apparently have joined the party train to God knows where. Libby and I were destined for Edinburgh. In London, six 20 something beefed-up over grown boys joined our carriage for the trip north. The only saving grace among them was that one looked like DariusRucker-but even that didn't last more than a couple of hours. They were loud, obnoxious, drinking, lost, bored...boys. The entire carriage was quiet, except for these large watch wearing, over-sized biceped, short-statured, big-mouthed, champagne drinking, over-grown teens; whom just happened to sit right behind me, beside me, and in front of me.

 I was ever so thankful when they got off a mere three hours into our four hour journey.  However, a Hen party took their exact seats at the exact station. (A hen party is a bachelorette party.)  I must have some magically magnetic force for obnoxiously loud people to be drawn to me-or a red beacon pops out of the top of my head drawing them near. Just as icing on the top of this poop cake, the gentleman in front of us went to get his travel bag down from the overhead luggage rack and pulled Libby's clarinet case down on my head.  I needed to survive this train trip without Police involvement and it was proving to be a challenge.

It had been a quiet day Thursday in Paris.  Initially, I was concerned about spending the day alone.  The idea of walking around in a big city--any big city--is an anxiety provoking event.  The idea of being alone in Paris for two days did not have me anxious to get there.  In the end, Libby spent the day with me on Wednesday-at least the second half of the day.  The morning I spent getting to her for the concert her Uni band was giving in the Paris park.

 But Paris had other plans for us.  It was cool and misty in the morning.  The student led band opted to cancel the performance-I'm sure they wanted to have free-time more than they wanted to give the concert in the rain soaked park.  But I had come to Paris, and in fact had re arranged my plans to reach Paris in time, for the concert.  I was disappointed.  When Libby and I were able to communicate once we both had wifi again, we discovered I was at her hostel and she was only blocks from my hotel-on opposite ends of Paris.  C'est la vie.  We arranged to meet a friend of hers studying economics in Paris, at Musee D'Orsay and finished the afternoon with Van Gogh.  Musee D'Orsay is wonderful.

Later in the evening Libby and I ended up, in the rain, by Norte Dame.  This is by far my favorite area of Paris.  I love the book sellers.  The rain, though, ensured that they weren't open.  I was crest-fallen but there was still tomorrow.  Norte Dame in the evening is beautiful.  It doesn't matter if it is raining or not.  It is beautiful. After a prix fix three course dinner with Norte Dame as the backdrop, Libby went back to her hostel and I went back to my hotel.  I was worn out and intended to sleep well. 

If you've even glanced at a map of Paris, you'll know that it is not built on a grid system.  It is built on a system of snail trails or something else as arbitrary. So, before setting out on our respective journeys we looked at our rain sodden map to plot our path. Needless to say, I zagged when I should have zigged, crossed the street to the wrong side, found the back of a church (also known as a homeless mans shelter), and ended up coming up on my hotel from the opposite direction than my plan.  But I made it. 

The next morning, I awoke to not just a gray drizzle drab day but, as Libby said, it was "chucking it down."  It was simply POURING buckets.  And it was cold. It was the kind of cold that seeps into your bones and stays for days. But I was going to conquer the "alone in Paris" day, even if it was a horrible dreary day.  So I set off with a plan. 1) go to Ste. Chapelle and 2) go to Musee D' Orangerie. I got nearly to Ste Chapelle when I stopped for coffee.  It was just too cold to go any further without reinforcement and sustenance. 

The line to Ste. Chapelle is usually quite long.  I was hopeful that is would be somewhat shorter because it was raining, or "chucking it."  It was an hour of standing in line, which is somewhat shorter than normal.  But also perfectly timed, because the building closes from 1-2:15 but doesn't throw anyone out.  So I got in just before it closed for the mid day break and at some points had the budding mostly to myself.  

Ste. Chapelle was built by Saint Louis (then King Louis IX) to house the Christian relics of the Passion of Christ, including the crown of thorns, which made the King very powerful. The Ste. Chapelle was built in 1242 and it took just 7 years. It includes 1113 stained glass windows that depict stories from the Old and New Testament.

It was connected initially to the Palais de la Cité (City Palace) which now serves as the Supreme Court building or Palace of Justice.  The King eventually moved to the Louvre and Versailles, but Ste. Chapelle and the conciergerie (prison) remained. During the French Revolution, many people were detained, tried and convicted at the conciergerie including Marie Antoinette. 

When I left the conciergerie it was still chucking it, so I walked back to my hotel, hung my desperately wet everything in the bathroom to dry and climbed into bed to warm up and nap, as one can only do on a soaking Parisian day. The Musee D' Orangerie will have to wait until the next visit.  The thing I wanted to see was the Monet water lilies and they had just been in Kansas City, so the rest can wait. 

Now, we are in Edinburgh and I have seen the sun. I have also had tea and gin.

Both of these make me a much more pleasant traveler.  We are staying on the Royal Mile which sits at the top of a rather dubiously high hill. This made reaching our flat from the train station an exercise similar to climbing Mount Everest. With a suitcase.  

Once installed in our flat, it is a very nice location, close to everything. Today we walked around the city, shopping in the grass market which has small boutique shops of Scottish made items and artisan foods, stopped by the old book sellers where I found two adorable books printed in the early 1900's, and on to Prince's street which is the "rodeo drive" of Edinburgh.  

We saw Edinburgh castle from multiple vantage points as it sits at the top of the Royal Mile, and on the way home we stopped at St. Giles church.  

It was a full day, and I managed to trip only four or five times but never to fall!  And no Police were involved in my travels-so far. 

History, give or take a little...

I woke in the very fancy English townhome known as Pulteney House.  It is literally a "Town Home."  A home in town.  The wealthy would have country estates and a home in town.  I stayed "downstairs."  If you are a Downton fan, you'd know immediately that this would be the servants area.  My room was likely a sleeping room or possibly a larger work room as it was just inside the side entrance-not up the grand staircase in the foyer.  Today, it is a nice bedroom with an en suite.  If you ever get to Bath I highly recommend Pulteney house. They also serve a very lovely breakfast. 

I'm not sure what it is about me and rain, but once again as I started to set out on foot for the city, it started to rain cats and dogs.  I waited the bloody storm out (a mere 10 minutes) and walked to town in clear, but brisk skies. The rest of the morning was regal in Bath.  Bath was first "founded" by the Romans who harnessed the natural warm spring waters, but the spring was later lost to disrepair and flooding and only rediscovered 150 years ago or so.  Unfortunately, I ran out of time to take the tour of the actual Bath as the queue was astonishingly long. The waters from the springs have long been said to cure anything and even impregnanted a queen with a male child-hence the Queens bath.  Unfortunately, that King and queen were later over-thrown. 

However, I did get to go to Bath Abbey. There have been three religious buildings on the sight of Bath Abbey; a Saxon monastery, a Norman church ,  and the present day Abbey.  The first King of England was crowned in Bath Abbey in 973 AD. 

The current building was started in 1499 but stood as a carcass until the reign of Queen Elizabeth (the first, not the current one) who provided the money to finish the building but declared that Bath could have only one parish (it had five at the time) and that it would be called Bath Abbey. The building itself is a  beautiful upright Gothic style and has 52 stained glass windows-reportedly, one for each day of the week. I was able to go into the Abbey early for morning prayer.  

That also allowed me to snap a few pictures before the hoards of people came through.  You can also climb to the top of the top of the Abbey tower but in the Intermintent downpours and the 212 steps, I opted to take the Mayor's walking tour instead. 

The walking tour took 2 and a quarter hours and I got the majority of my Fitbit goal accomplished in that time.  I also saw pretty much everything in the city and learned a lot of interesting, although not necessarily true, "history."  The city, was once fortified by an encompassing wall. The whole of the city was remarkably small-you could walk the outside wall in 12 minutes.  The Abbey sits off to the side, and there is a kings bath in the drawing but the guide spoke of the Queens baths nearby-which I never could quite figure out if they were an off-shoot or a different spring from the Roman baths.  

Much later, in Victorian times, Jane Austen frequented Bath and parts of the city show up in her stories.  I have to admit I haven't read much of them, but none the less it was a fun bit of trivial history to learn. We also learned about Victorian manners, dinner protocol and well-other issues such as the "necessary houses", chamber pots, and the Victorian version of the honey wagon. I sh*t you, not! 

Bath has the fifth highest housing costs in GB, and the houses in this little did day-called the circus (don't know why-it's just a giant round about) range from £4.6 MM to government subsidized. Interestingly, they are all listed as historically significant, having been around for a long time and designed by a famous architect.  Yet, some are government subsidized housing-which is a bit like section 8 housing but without the social stigma, I am told.  The homes vary, of course, inside-the more expensive one had an indoor pool and 7 bathrooms while (whilst-if your British) the smaller was a two bed room, one bath and sadly-no pool.  

The other famous landmark of Bath is the bridge that was built with private funds and included shops on the bridge.  It's highlighted in all the literature, but really didn't seem to be a highlight of the tour.  It's a pretty bridge none the less and with all the rain the area has had, the river was flooding its banks.  

And with that, the afternoon had snuck up on me so I retrieved my luggage back at Pulteney house, and just as I was leaving-can you guess?  YES!  It rained again!  When I return home, you may want to consider building an ark.  It seems I have magical powers or I will be having a dream soon that encourages me to take in animals two at a time.  

Much to my amazement, I made it from Bath to Paddington on the Great Western Train, from Paddington to Edgewater on the circle line to change to the Hammersmith &City line to St Pancreas to get on the Eurostar with plenty of time to Spare.  I'm still pinching myself and waiting to find out I boarded the wrong train altogether and have ended up in Florence instead of Paris. However, look at the loo in the Eurostar!  It's so funny!  It's a Crapper!