England, the novel.

Last Wednesday night, after 3 classes and physics lab, I took the train from Nantes to Paris, where I spent the night before heading to England for the long weekend. This time, (as well as the other time I visited Paris to meet other Grinnellians), I stayed in hostel called, "Woodstock Hostel" in Montmarte. It's a minute from the Metro station, less than two minutes away from Sacre Coeur, and about 15 minutes from the Moulin Rouge, and I completely recommend it if anyone is going to Paris. They give you free breakfast and they even have a cat. Totally a win in my book.

The next morning, my friend Kelsey and I took the Eurostar from Paris to London (about 2 hrs.) The train goes through the chunnel, which means that instead of looking at pretty countryside, you look at a lot of black for about 45 minutes. Once we got to London, I met my uncle Mark, and Kelsey set off to meet her other friends.

Mark and I navigated the incredibly busy tube stations, and finally made it back to his house in Eltham. Mark's house is older, but is decorated in a sort classic-Russian-meets-modern-London style, and I really like it. As soon as we got there, we said hello to my aunt Luda and my cousin Frances, and then headed off to an auction, where we drank milky tea and watched old men bid on relatively cheap antiques.

That night, the whole family ate Indian takeout by candlelight, and afterwards, Frances (12) invited me to go shopping with her and her friends at Oxford Street the next day. And by shopping, she meant going to Abercrombie and Fitch. Ok. I was once 12. And I once was obsessed with Abercrombie and Fitch. But in the United States, A&F is a label similar to the Gap, only a little bit more pricey. HOWEVER. The English have taken this store to a whole new level.

We found A&F on Savile Row (where all the very posh stores, such as Hardy Amies are located) by wandering straight into a queue that wrapped around the block. A queue for Abercrombie and Fitch. People were waiting in line to get into this store. Not only that, but there was (I'm not even kidding) velvet banners creating the line, and, get this, a bouncer. A what. A bouncer. A BOUNCER to get into Abercrombie and Fitch.

The entrance was marble steps leading up into a massive foyer, where a half-naked A&F male model was standing, waiting to have his picture with any girl that wanted it. And yes, Frances and her friends got two (with two different male models, duh.) I was too surprised at first to get one with the first model, but after Frances told me very bluntly, "You want a souvenir, Ruth? That body is a bloody souvenir. Get a picture," I damn well got a picture.

The inside wasn't very interesting, only that it was three stories high, pitch black except for spotlights on the clothes, and had a David-esque statue that was 1.5 stories high, wearing Abercrombie pants. Oh, and did I mention that they had hired dancers? They had dancers dancing on the balconies. What. I tried to explain American A&F to Frances and she just blew me off, saying, "Well Ruth, the English just does it much better. We just do it like we mean it."

So London is probably top two my favourite cities. Before I left, Mark and I went to the British Library, where we saw the Lindisfarne Gospels, the oldest Beowulf, and even the original Alice in Wonderland. Afterwards, I took the train to Leicester, to visit my aunt Claire and my grandparents.

While I was in London, my grandfather called to tell me that my grandmum wasn't so healthy, and wasn't feeling up to seeing me. Luckily, though, by the time I got to Leicester, they were both rested and feeling better, and managed to come over to Claire's appartment, where I was staying. We (once again) ate really good Indian takeout and watched Strictly Come Dancing. After loads of tea, and a lot of yelling at each other, we sufficiently wore each other out, and the grandparents left. Claire and I finished Halloween night by watching a movie and going to bed at 10:30. Wild.

My last day in England, Claire and I ate lunch with the grandparents, went for a walk and played a lot of cards (during which my grandmum got to make fun of me--something she's very good at doing.) They went to mass, and Claire and I returned home, where we ate a dinner of beans on toast, and then came to the conclusion that we should go bar-hopping.

We got dressed to the nines, (meaning Claire looked really good and I tried to make the one shirt I brought along smell a little better) and went to, not one, but two bars. Claire bought the drinks, I taught the bartenders how to make Whiskey Sours with Maker's Mark Whiskey and then we sat and compared notes on our family. It's nice to know she agrees with me.

These are the conclusions we made:

1. I am turning into my father.

2. My father is turning into his mother.

3. Whiskey Sours are really good.

4. So are Gin and Tonics.

Overall, the trip was pretty British. I don't think there is any other way to describe it.