The runaround!

In the midst of a semester that's really challenging my "did I say I was busy earlier, because now I feel very busy"standard-setting, and achieving not-seen-since-grad-school levels of "actually don't know if I have a spare moment in the day" stupidity-of-tasks-to-do, I find myself in Chicago leading a school theatre trip, with no brain for grading and a few hours to kill in the hotel... So hey, baby: let's blog!!!

After the jump: A brief blather about layovers, which we generally despise.... but ah, not if they're be-trained!

Casting my mind back to Switzerland in the balmy days of July 2022... when I was wearing a jacket to deal with the "chill" of highs in the upper 60s after a month in Italy that mostly hovered in the upper 90s... the adventure of the moment was fast travel (by Pat King standards, that is).

In general, spoiled by my grad school summers and a general penchant for taking things at a humane pace that rejects the obscene show-how-busy-you-are-be-efficient-be-fast culture that has, I think, utterly ruined the upside of our potentially-streamlined modern era, I do not like to visit anywhere for fewer than three nights at a time. I'm happiest in my travels when I can camp out in a city for a week or so at a time, longer for world-class cities (your Berlins, Romes, Londons, etc.) and I try very hard to minimize one-night stays. This stems from my 2017 trip, when I frantically decided to pack as many Balkan countries as possible into a post-Italy, pre-Vienna week or so. It was amazing, and a few of those spots stick in my memory... but much of it's a blur of connecting busses and minivans and trains and bleary-eyed walks through old towns as the sun set.

That said, for this past summer's travels I had a few "makes more sense to break the travel with a quick overnight" connections to make; namely, moving from the Lauterbrunen Valley to Bristol, England to kick off my UK month; and swinging from Glasgow to Amsterdam for a flight back home.

Gare du Nord, bastion of travel! Haven of channel-crossings! Proximate to a really dope spot for croissants!

 

For the trip up to Bristol, I opted for a day in Zurich (finishing up my Swiss rail pass to get there and catching a late afternoon train out), an overnight in Paris, with a Eurostar to London for lunch before I zipped over to Bristol. This is the kind of joyful trains-on-trains-on-trains connecting you can do in Europe, nearly made even more delightful when I briefly thought I'd be able to swap my Parisian train for an earlier one. I didn't dislike Zurich per se - but I was sort of done with Switzerland's restraint and clean orderliness, and was chomping at the bit for the aimless wander that I so love in the City of Lights, the Grande Pomme, etc. Ultimately this was a no-go, and I gave myself a nice daylong meander through the city, pausing for an ice cream, a sausage, a dose of people watching, and a bit of journaling. I quite liked Zurich - and it was wonderful to get to pay homage to Cabaret Voltaire - but ah it was grand to arrive in Paris at sunset with about twelve hours of humane French meandering to attend to.

As always, some idiotic corner of my brain is always thinking "I kind of like this city!" when what it really means is "I really like blue skies!" In this case, there is an added element of "I like cool old Swiss clocks!" This blog's opinions are Trustworthy.

Dinner was at Aux Bon Crus, a bistro riffing on French truck stop cuisine, gloriously unpretentious but packed with flavor, with delicious red wine and the kind of relaxed-and-rowdy chat that you only get at these kinda spots, more neighborhood gathering joints than destination restaurants. As grand as the meal was, what I really loved was the couple of hours I spent after the meal wandering the streets, making my way down to the Seine, strolling bankside and gradually heading back to my broom closet of a hotel room for a handful of hours' sleep before jumping on the Metro to the Gare du Nord for the Eurostar.

Not every wonderful city is magical later at night, but Paris is way on up there.

 

Back in London, I had a few hours to stroll once more, albeit this time with my backpack (full of clothes, ceramics, and stones - yes, I decided to collect stones on this trip, very smart backpacking choice) from King's Crossing to Paddington station, pausing along the way to grab a meat pie and a rest in a park. As always, traversing these cities that predated mechanized transport on foot feels good.

Skipping (for now! stay tuned! for god knows how many years! for Scotland updates!) ahead to the post-UK departure, I had even more trains in my future! This leg was thrillingly zig-zagged, as my original departure date had been scheduled on a train strike date. I'm honestly sort of a fan of travel during strike seasons in Europe - work actions tend to be announced in advance, and it makes any ticket on the strike date fully flexible on most national railways. In this case, that meant I had some bonus adventures...

With those flexibilities, I managed to get down to London a night early, and catch literally the last available ticket to see Mark Rylance in Jerusalem (a play whose brilliance feels inextricably entwined with his performance, and whose view of a xenophobic, resentful, hateful England feels weirdly prescient a decade on, as English culture curdles - again, stay tuned). Lots of Thames wandering over about 24 hours of London time later, I was back on the Eurostar, this time zipping all the way off to Amsterdam!

The only story I'll tell from my PREVIOUS trip to Amsterdam is that Anne and I got on a boat specifically to eat pancakes. It was a pancake boat, the very famous, common thing we are all used to: a pancake boat where you can go to eat your savory pancakes.

I'd last visited Amsterdam in... 2010? 2008? A while back, in any case, on a visit to see my friend Anne during her grad work in Groningen. That was a magical time - stories for another time, maybe - but I hadn't been in a rush to get back, between stories about Amsterdam's overtourism and my relative disinterest in the museums-and-pot that is the city's mainline rep. What I'd forgotten - what I was delighted to rediscover - was that PAT LOVES CANALS, so an 18 hour layover spent mostly ambling the bridges and cobblestones flanking the water of this lovely city, well away from the main tourist cores, was basically ideal.

Look, I still infinitely prefer slow travel; as this summer takes shape, I'm leaning toward a 2017-ish "two or three monthlong stays in places you'd like to settle into" trip, assuming the budget holds up to scrutiny. But golly - when trains can get you where you wanna go, and when you're retouching the bases of places you've loved in years gone by? A little sprinting on the road can do ya good.

Nice to remember that, even when in Swiss cities that are a little dull, there is some extremely cool detail if you stay awake for it!