The Royal Wedding: An Unforgettable London Celebration

           Newspapers called it a “storybook wedding”. Magazines said it was a “fairytale romance come true.” And sitting there in Hyde Park, watching the magic unfold, it truly was.

Outside Buckingham Palace

            Yesterday I had the incredible fortune of being in the city that seemed at the center of the universe. All of the world’s eyes were turned towards London as England’s most famous couple finally said, “I do.” And to be honest, the experience was once-in-a-lifetime. When Prince William and Catherine first announced their wedding date, I thought to myself how amazing it would be to witness the Royal Wedding first-hand, to be in London when all the parties, processions and preparations were going on. I knew it would be a day I would cherish forever and never, ever forget. So I made it happen.

Mom's picture from the Royal Wedding, 1981.

But for me, this day was more important than the wedding itself. It was important because of the family history I had tied to it. Exactly thirty years ago, at Charles and Diana’s wedding, my parents stood amongst the crowds in front of Buckingham Palace. They saw the famous kiss on the balcony and witnessed London in its finest hour. To be in the exact same spot, thirty years later, well, it was moving. Let’s just say I could feel their spirits there with me.

Hyde Park on Wedding Day

           


So yesterday morning, as I trudged off in the early hours towards Hyde Park, I was more excited than usual. Being ill-equipped to camp out for two nights before, I couldn’t even hope for a spot in front of Buckingham Palace. According to our cabbie, it had been closed off since the night before because there were too many people. Instead, we made our way towards Hyde Park, where three giant screens would project the procession and ceremony to tens of thousands of viewers. Upon arrival, we could see the crowds were already looming large. Most of the park’s viewing area was filled with people picnicking, drinking, and waiting for William and Catherine to make their first appearance. As we were only two, we managed to squeeze ourselves into a spot near the front, with great views of the action. While we waited, we popped the cork on the first of a few bottles of Prince William commemorative champagne.

British pride

            As I looked around me, I noticed that the park itself had been transformed. It appeared as if I had stepped onto carnival grounds, complete with ferris wheels, funnel cake stands, Pimm’s vendors, and row after row of port-o-potties. But nobody seemed to mind the seedy atmosphere. They were there to watch the wedding of the century, and everyone was giddy with excitement. I saw more wedding dresses than I could count, from little 4-year-olds dressed up like princesses, to 40-year-olds in bridal couture. Men ran around in their morning suits while ladies wore intricate, head-turning hats. The faces of William and Catherine appeared everywhere in the crowd, as many onlookers wore masks to look like the happy couple. There were children with red, white, and blue mohawks, sporting Union Jack face paint, and carrying giant flags with the couple’s picture in the middle. I have never in my life seen the Union Jack employed so cleverly. Everything from flags and face paint to pants, capes, suits, hats, t-shirts, and scarves.

Commemorative royal masks

I listened carefully to the people around us. I wanted to know where they were from, how long they had been here, and how much this wedding meant to them. In our immediate vicinity I heard at least three or four foreign languages, and met English-speakers from around the world. The family in front of us, half-Indian, half-American, had camped out overnight in the park to make sure they got a good spot.

Catherine arrives at Westminster Abbey

When the coverage of the wedding and procession finally started, the crowd grew very quiet. As each member of the royal family appeared at Westminster Abbey, loud cheers and applause pierced the skies. And when the yellow-clad Queen exited her car, the cheers grew louder than I had ever heard them. This is truly a country that loves its monarch. Finally, at 11am, the time came for Catherine to appear at the abbey. As she stepped out of the Rolls Royce with her father, the crowd gasped at her unbelievable beauty. Many clapped for her elegant, lace-covered gown, and when it was announced that Sarah Burton was indeed the designer, you could tell that Britain was pleased with the choice. During the actual ceremony, not a sound could be heard in the park. Those who couldn’t find seats on the grass filled the sidewalks, standing, eyes glued to the big screens. The only break in the silence? When William put the ring on Catherine’s finger and many thought it wasn’t going to fit! Men in the crowd chuckled while women moaned at the misfortune of it all, until the ring slid on and sighs of relief rang around the park. At the end, when William, now Duke of Cambridge, left the abbey with his new wife, blue and red confetti rained down from the skies.

The famous first kiss.

Just before the start of the procession back to the palace, we made our way to the streets, attempting to get close enough to Buckingham Palace to see the couple emerge onto the balcony for their first kiss. However, unlike at Charles and Diana’s wedding, the police held the barriers fast, and even blocked off access to many side streets. There was no getting to the palace. And so I spent the time of the procession jostling my way through the streets outside the palace, in what felt like a never-ending line at a Disneyworld ride, with people pushing through for a better view, and kids riding atop their parents’ shoulders to glimpse a bit of the action. People stood on every available surface – from steps to stoops to windowsills – all in the vain hope of seeing the carriage go by. But with crowds 20-people deep from the barriers, it was seemingly hopeless. Many didn’t stop from trying, and for that I give them props, but I eventually made my way into a nearby pub to watch the kiss and RAF fly-by on TV.

A modern monarchy.

         At 1:30pm the multi-hour wedding saga was nearly over. And as the couple made their way back to Clarence House in an Aston Martin, I took the tube back home. Today, sitting here and looking back on the day, I realize how truly lucky I was to witness this magical event mere feet from where it was actually occurring. I may not have gotten to Buckingham Palace to see them in person, but wrapped up in the crowds and clinking champagne glasses with some of London’s finest, I witnessed the wedding in a unique and unforgettable way.

Falling in Love with France

            I first fell in love with France when I was 15 years old. Now, eight years later, at 23, I can honestly say it is the longest and most fulfilling relationship I have had in my life. Like in any relationship, we’ve certainly had our ups and downs. But my love for this country is something I am sure will last me a lifetime.

No matter where you go, or what you do, it is hard to resist the charms of a place like France. It is a place where what you eat isn’t just a meal, but a way to celebrate and enjoy life. It is a place where Sundays are sacred. They are family days that no amount of work will interrupt. It is a place where the concept of “fast friends” does not exist, but instead you make friends for a lifetime. It is a place that celebrates its long and twisted history with an appropriate amount of reverence, remembrance, and even sometimes regret. For us Americans, the privilege of living in France is one that only a few us will come to know and understand. For me, a lot of my experience was seemingly a travel back in time, to an age when life was simpler, more traditional. When the pace of a day wasn’t measured in emails sent or text messages received, but rather in walks taken along the river or conversations held with friends and neighbors. For those of you who have been lucky enough to live in France, you will understand the transformative process I have gone through. You gain a deeper appreciation of life and love, and greater understanding of what it truly means to live in the now.

            As I sit here and think back on the past seven months, I feel privileged to have had an experience that made me grow and change to the extent that it has. I came over knowing absolutely nothing about how to interact with a classroom of students, yet I am leaving a teacher. I can only hope that I have touched some of my students’ lives in the way that they have touched mine. Some of them, I will remember forever.

For those of you reading this who have followed my journey from the beginning, you will know that my teaching path was a little more than rocky. There were times when I would simply break down and cry because I felt useless and unheard. Times when I felt so lonely and out of place I couldn’t imagine what had possessed me to take this job in the first place. But one of the great things about teaching is that the moments of light seriously outshine the moments of darkness, and it is the days I left the classroom smiling that I will always remember.

Of my time spent in Strasbourg, there are certain memories I will cherish forever. Like the Thursday afternoon cappuccino and pastry date I kept with some of my students, or the nights spent roaming the city streets taking in everything this age-old place has to offer. I will miss being able to eat chocolate for breakfast, digging into a millefeuille that melts in my mouth, or eating tarte flambée until I feel like I might throw up. I will miss the soirées with newly made French friends, the local shop owners who know me by name, and the times I had entire conversations in French without even realizing it. I will miss eating mousse au chocolat from a jar and having it still be amazing. I will miss the funny way French people continue to wear bonnets, long-sleeved shirts, jeans and boots even when it’s 80 degrees outside. I will certainly miss how unique I was, being the only American in a small town in Alsace, and being told my accent is “trop sexy”. I will miss hearing people speak Alsatian and giggling to myself because it sounds like some sort of strange German from an alien planet. I’ll miss the looks I used to get when I would have quick-paced conversations in English, like I possessed some incredible and mystical talent. But mostly, I’ll miss the people who have touched my life, and changed so much of who I am. It is those people, you know who you are, that made this experience what it was.

And so, as I prepare to leave this place, my adopted home and love of my life, filled to the brim with wonderful memories and a new outlook on living, I know one thing is for certain: I will be back.

Neuschwanstein Castle: Just Like a Fairy Tale

           Last Monday I escaped the dreary weather and pouring rain in Strasbourg for a journey that would last me two days, two 4-hour train rides, and one long trip down the autobahn. For a while now, I’ve been trying to fit Neuschwanstein Castle into my European itinerary. Everyone I know who has been there says it is a must-see. “It will blow your mind,” a friend simply said. Nestled in a small village about a two-hour drive outside of Munich, the castle is easiest to reach by car. It’s also possible to take the train from Munich to Füssen, and then a bus to Schwangau, but that can be somewhat hectic and time consuming.

            Well, to put it simply, I got lucky. A friend from the US was coming over to Europe for the week. Originally stationed in Zurich, then going up through Germany to Amsterdam, he was a mere train ride away from Alsace. We decided that we would take Tuesday, one of my days off, to explore the magnificent castle. It did inspire the castle in Disney's Sleeping Beauty after all, and who doesn’t want to feel like a princess for a day?

Neuschwanstein Castle

            So, right after work on Monday, I hopped a train from Strasbourg to Zurich. Or three trains, rather. Switching first in Saint-Louis, I arrived in Basel around 8:45pm. My head the clouds, it wasn’t until I was riding the escalator up to the second floor that I realized I had left my laptop in the train car. Sprinting down the upwards-moving escalator and bounding past two border control agents, I swiftly entered the train car and retrieved the laptop. Upon disembarking from the train, I was met by a hoard of Swiss police and border control. Then the questioning began. “What is in your bag?” “Where are you going” “What is your business in Switzerland?” “Empty the contents of your suitcase.” “Show me your passport.” This list goes on. I finally repacked the suitcase with my belongings that had been scattered all over the tracks, while one of the policemen phoned the French immigration authorities to make sure that I was indeed living legally in France. Once that was cleared up, I was on my way yet again. To this day, I maintain that they think I went back on the train to leave a bomb!

I arrived in Zurich around 10:30pm. Knowing we had an early wakeup the next morning, we crashed soon after reaching the hotel. 6:30am Tuesday morning was more pleasant than I expected. A fog had settled on Zurich overnight, and I was eager to make my way towards Germany, where the weathermen promised sun and clear skies. We grabbed a quick taxi to the airport, picked up a rental car, and jumped on the highway for our 3-hour journey to the castle.

Nestled into the mountains

Here is something you need to know if you are ever driving in Switzerland, Austria, or Germany: bring your own music! Listening to the music on their radio stations is like taking a trip back in time, revisiting the worst songs ever recorded from around the world. That, or German talk shows. So my advice to you? Bring your iPod. The drive altogether was not bad. And I must admit, seeing the snow-capped Alps out the right-hand side of the car for the duration of the journey was nothing less than extraordinary. Once past Switzerland and Austria, we zoomed up the autobahn at 200 kilometers per hour – a whopping 124 mph! It was awesome. However, trips up the Autobahn are not only a treat for those with a need for speed, but also for those who love to look at nice cars. BMWs, Porsches, Audis, you name a luxury car brand, and we saw one of its cars careening up the left-hand lane, only to disappear as soon as it had appeared in our rear-view mirror.

We arrived at the castle around 11:30am, and decided to go for lunch before our 1pm tour. Jumping headfirst into the German experience, my lunch consisted of 3 different types of sausage. Not bad, but they pretty much just tasted like hot dogs. Around 12:15, we started the 30-minute hike up the hill to the castle. Sitting atop a bluff above the village of Schwangau, Neuschwanstein Castle appears as if rising out of nowhere, surrounding by trees, waterfalls, and deep gorges. To the left, nothing but trees. To the right, a crystal-clear lake, another castle, and the snow-capped mountains in the distance.

For the lazy tourists wanting to skip the 30-minute hike altogether, companies offer horse-drawn carriage rides up the mountain. If you walk, beware of the horse manure you encounter along the route! Stepping in that is no fun…Once you reach the top of the mountain, you may choose from an array of restaurants and tourist shops to spend your money. Or, if you’re like me, you can simply gaze at the castle in a state of wonderment and awe.

Fairy tale.

Built for Ludwig II of Bavaria as an homage to Wagner and his operas, Neuschwanstein Castle was originally constructed in 1869. However, due to the untimely drowning of its owner, the castle was never completely finished. Only 16 of the 200 rooms in the immense castle were finished, furnished, and decorated. Of them, the king’s throne room and bedchamber are certainly two of the most exquisite. On the short, 30-minute guided tour, the throne room is the first room you enter. Designed like a Byzantine church, the room is complete with gilded ceiling, walls painted with figures of Christ and the disciples, and a brilliant mosaic floor. The floor itself, made of marble, took two and a half years and over two million stones to make. The 2000 pound gilded brass chandelier that hangs in the room is in the shape of a Byzantine crown. Curiously enough, the one thing missing in the throne room is the throne itself. It was never built because of the king’s death, and the space it would have occupied sits empty to this day.

Throughout the castle, visitors will notice the proliferation of swans – figurines, statues, paintings, etc. They are everywhere! Apparently the king was obsessed with them, so he had them shaped into door handles and faucets, painted on walls and ceilings, and made in giant statues to place all around the castle. He believed that they were his living symbol within the castle walls.

King's bedchamber

From the throne room you progress to the king’s bedchamber, filled with elaborate and ornate woodcarvings. For four and a half years, 14 wood carvers worked tirelessly on the bed, writing desk, walls, ceiling, and washing stand for the king. In all, the king had only six months to enjoy the room before he died. The sink and washbasin are very delicate and elegant structures, and of course, the faucet is shaped into…you guessed it…a swan. The fireplace, carved with figurines from one of Wagner’s operas, is a true testament to the king’s love of the composer. Also inside the bedchamberwas a secret door that opened into a private chapel. Religious much? But I did have to laugh at the cries of shock and awe that emitted from the mostly-American crowd as the guide opened the door…oh how I love seeing Americans outside of their normal habitat!

Upon leaving the bedchamber, you enter the living room, or “Swan Room”, which is essentially a room with a disproportionate number of swans in it. This leads into the cave that the king had designed for inside his castle just because he felt like. Called the Wiener Cave, it has stalagtites, stalagmites, and the whole nine yards. The final stop on the tour is the Singers Hall. The biggest room in the castle, this is where the king planned to have private performances of Wagner’s operas. It has excellent acoustics because of the pine wood ceilings, and as such, concerts have been held here every September since 1969.

Tiniest BMW ever.

When we left the castle, we hopped back on the autobahn for a quick drive up to Munich. First on the itinerary was a stop at the BMW Museum, where we heard you could sit and try the feel of all the newest car models. We had been inspired to take this little detour by a young American couple we met at the castle. Over in Germany to have “European delivery” on the husband’s new BMW, they explained to us the premise behind the deal. If you select European delivery on your car, you fly over to Germany from the states on a two-for-one deal with Lufthansa. Once in Munich, you visit the plant, get all the paperwork in order, and then take your car on a two-week jaunt throughout Europe. Wherever you please. Once the two weeks is up, you drop off your car, they ship it over to the US, and you fly on home. This particular couple had decided to do a bit of Germany, Austria, and Switzerland on their tour, as well as a trip to the little old town of Strasbourg. I got so excited giving them tips on what to see and where to go, I’m quite certain I scared them off a little bit! At any rate, we stopped off at the BMW Museum, and I must say, we were less than impressed. Most of the cars are locked, so you can only really look inside them to see what they’re like. The few that are unlocked generally have people already in or around them, so if you want to see them, you have to queue up. Only spanning one floor and having probably 15 or so cars on exhibit, the museum’s greatest bit, in my opinion, is the tiny, old BMW box-on-wheels that looks as if it could only get it’s one passenger from the garage to the driveway before giving up.

Look familiar?

After the museum, we checked into the hotel and hit a local Bavarian hotspot for dinner. Spatenhaus lies right off the main drag in Munich, Maximilianstrasse. One of the city’s best-known beer gardens, Spatenhaus serves heaping mounds of traditional Bavarian foods. Instead of a breadbasket at the beginning of your meal, you get a basket of bretzel. And let's just say that vegetarian options are few and far between. Germans sure do like their beef, veal, pork, and chicken! As it was just the start of white asparagus season, I decided to have an order of them for my meal. Probably as long as my forearm, and as thick around, they wound up being quite filling! However, the “roast” chicken that was meant to come with my asparagus could not have been farther from what I expected. I suppose, if I had gone to Alabama and order chicken-fried-steak, then it would have been a different story.

We finished up dinner and made our way to the Hofbrauhaus, Munich’s most famous beer hall. Upon entering, I felt transported right back to Oktoberfest. Large wooden tables with benches filled the hall, while music blared, and people slurped liter after liter of beer from 2-pound beer steins. Thinking my asparagus and bretzel would hold up on me (stupid), I decided I could easily finish off two steins of beer. Not a good idea. Let’s just say Wednesday morning’s train ride back to Strasbourg was less-than-desirable!

As always, I am left with only fond memories of my trip to Germany and the land of fantasy that the castle embodies. And let’s be honest, how amazing is Europe? In how many places can you travel among three countries in one day and still have more than enough time to spare?