THE MONTMARTRE CEMETERY

This magical place, literally across the street from our hotel, is described by Wikipedia as epitomizing the "artsy, quixotic, gentle, almost whimsical Paris that every romantic visitor secretly cherishes." It is indeed.It is the final resting place of numerous famous people, including Hector Berlioz, Edgar Degas, Alexandre Dumas, Heinrich Heine,Francois Truffaut and Emile Zola.It was the perfect place to visit on a rainy day and watch the feral cats run behind the bizarre mausoleums as I wandered for hours.

PARIS AT NIGHT

My son, Creighton, and I spent an evening walking along the Seine, where thousands of partiers drank wine and ate while creating and listening to music and watching the tour boats. We also bought tickets to the top of the Eiffel Tower, but I must admit that when I got off the first elevator halfway up to the top, my stomach and knees got the better of me and I had to go back down. Not for the faint of heart!

WHERE HAVE ALL THE RICH PARISIANS GONE?

They've gone to Galleries Lafayette, near the magnificent opera house in Paris. This spectacular interior is even more amazing in person. I couldn't afford to buy anything, but the view was free!

PARIS -- A CITY OF CONTRASTS

I saw this man pulling his belongings behind him only a few blocks away from Galleries Lafayette, a luxury shopping mega-complex.

African men sell souvenirs on the streets

IMAGES OF THE UNDERCLASS IN PARIS

A gypsy woman with a small baby begs for money from three young women eating their lunch on the steps of the famous Paris Opera House.

THE UNDERBELLY OF PARIS

Paris has not only become the home of a variety of immigrants, both legal and illegal,but also of an underclass who live and beg on the streets, often with dogs and cats and babies to elicit sympathy. I saw an organ grinder outside a luxury department store with a mangy cat sitting atop the instrument with a hat beside it. The North Africans sell trinkets near the Eiffel Tower and run off every time the gendarmes appear. The gypsy women often have babies and their older children pick your pockets while the mother engages you in conversation. There seems to be no coherent public policy to address the situation, so signs appear warning tourists of the dangers.

These people were protesting the genocide of the Hindu Tamil tribe of people in Sri Lanka. Since I don't know French, it was unclear to me if the oppressors were the Tamil Tigers, a much-feared reactionary group or by the majority Singhalese Buddhists. They were hoping to raise international awareness and pressure the French government to take a stand.

OUR PARIS TOUR GUIDE

Our trusty tour guide, Veronique, shows us the sites of Paris from our tour bus.

WE LOVE PARIS!!

We've just spent three nights and two days in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Here's a short list of some of our experiences: visited the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower (where some climbed or elevated to the top), the D'Orsay Museum, Le Tuileres Gardens,Notre Dame Cathedral (where some hiked up to the top), the Shakespeare & Co. bookstore, the Opera House, the Arc de Triumphe (where some hiked up to the top), etc., etc.

I myself must admit that when I got halfway up the Eiffel Tower, I had to come back down, even though I had a ticket to the top. My stomach felt as though it was falling down to my knees, which were wobbling. I was embarrassed, but not enough to brave it. There's something about the openness of the structure that just didn't work for me.

We tried to use our French, even though so many people speak perfect English. It was frustrating that no matter how perfectly we pronounced "bonjour," they could always tell. We thought we sounded pretty good!

Now it's off to Switzerland. We now need to learn German in two hours!

A SWEET MOMENT IN UNIVERSITY PARK

Oxford seems to be a place where people can grow old gracefully and still act young. I happened across this touching scene in the park across the street.

GOOD-BYE OXFORD! HELLO PARIS!

Even though this the most gorgeous spring day imaginable, our students are all spending 3-1/2 hours writing essay exams for their Oxford courses. Study habits varied considerably, so it will be interesting to see which methods result in the best grades! This evening we will have a special good-bye dinner here at Wycliffe Hall and present a few gifts to our kind hosts: French chocolates for the cleaning staff and the kitchen staff, a chocolate torte for the domestic bursar, chocolate truffles and flowers for Prof. Chapman's sweet wife, Rachel; and a new bow tie for Prof. Chapman. Some may be tempted to celebrate at the pubs tonight; however, we have a 12-hour trip ahead of us tomorrow, including a two-hour ferry ride across the notoriously choppy English Channel. Discretion is advised!

Three of stranger items in the museum of the history of science: an artificial hand, an early version of a breast pump and a doctor's kit for performing amputations.

Finely crafted "clocks" made in Nuremburg

This was a quite accurate and carefully designed model of the solar system.

A MUSEUM VISIT

Oxford has its share of curious and grand museums, although my two favorites are closed for renovation -- the Pitt Rivers and the Ashmoleum. I wrote about the Pitt Rivers in my previous blog: www.eurospring05.blogspot.com. My son and I decided to try a different one recently -- the Museum of the History of Science, located next to the remarkable round structure of the Sheldonian Theatre. It turns out this ancient building was the site of the original Ashmoleum, but it now houses a fascinating and rather bizarre collection of scientific instruments and other technological gadgets, some almost 1000 years old.

What I found most moving was how beautiful many of these items are. They seem to have been designed and produced in an era that celebrated the artfulness of science. They could be proudly displayed in someone's living room (or drawing room, as the case may be). I've included photos of a few of the items we saw.

Daphna Sadeh and the Voyagers

Saturday night, after the visit to Portsmouth, we rushed to the lovely campus of St. Hilda's for a concert by Daphna Sadeh and the Voyagers. The posters had intrigued us: "a brilliant and hypnotic mix of jazz, Western classical, Middle Eastern, Arabic Taqsim and Jewish music." The energy that exploded on that stage before an intimate audience of about 100 people made me feel as though we were at a Jewish wedding with gypsies, Arabs and Russians all contributing to the musical experience of the bass, an accordian, guitars, drums and a variety of wind instruments. After about a half-hour, the audience could hardly sit still, and by the last number, two young people got up and danced. What a night!

Check them out at http://www.daphnasadeh.com/the-voyagers/

A view of the HMS Warrior

Views of HMS Victory

SHIPS AHOY AND A BOTTLE OF RUM!! The Historic Dockyards at Portsmouth

Saturday, April 18

Today was our last field trip of our stay in Oxford. We had been well prepped by Prof. Chapman's lecture about the thee historic ships we'd see at the historic dockyards: HMS Victory (18th c.), HMS Warrior (19th c.) and the Mary Rose, King Henry VIII's favorite ship (16th c.). The first two are incredibly well-preserved, and we spent hours walking on the decks of the Victory and seeing the very spot where Lord Nelson died just when the English declared victory at the Battle of Trafalgar. The Mary Rose was retrieved from the bottom of the ocean in 1982, with Prince Charles being a significant player in its story. We view it through glass, since it's in its 27th year of being washed for preservation purposes. What I find most interesting are the thousands of artifacts brought up with the ship, housed in a special museum. Everything from utensils to coins to clothing to syringes with which to inject mercury as a cure for syphilis (ouch) are displayed in this strange, haunted place.

My favorite exhibit, though, is in another building. It features gigantic figureheads from old ships, some beautiful but most bizarre and rather politically incorrect. Check out the photos.

THE GARGOYLES OF MAGDALEN COLLEGE

Just remember -- it's pronounced "Mod-lin." Nobody quite knows why, but I guess it's for the same reason Prof. Chapman says "med-sin."

These are just a few of the hundreds of unique gargoyles on this campus; they are some of the thousands in this incredible city. Some are cute, some are strange and others are down-right frightening.

EASTER STORIES

Although a large contingent of us went to Ireland for our Easter break, others found unique destinations that make me wish I could have accompanied every one of them! My personal favorite was a trip to St. Andrew's by a group of golf enthusiasts. They arranged this before we ever left home. They spent three glorious days playing on courses overlooking the ocean. A close second is the group of three young men who backpacked through Wales. Other destinations included Bremen, Germany; Barcelona; Belgium (a two-hour journey via the high-speed train); and London. Most of us are exhausted and were happy to come "home" to Oxford. It's interesting how attached we have become to this place. It's safe and familiar without being easily exhausted. There's always something new going on or somewhere new to explore.

Yesterday my husband and I hosted two friends from Amsterdam who'd never been to Oxford. We felt a certain pride in showing off "our" city. We paid the £3 each to enter the inside of Magdalen College on High Street, where C. S. Lewis attended. We strolled through the extensive grounds, complete with a deer park (several albino deer are featured -- very strange). We then had refreshments in the old student snack bar, which featured photos of the cast of the movie "Waterland." We sat outside on the banks of the Thames, watching punt renters almost capsize while trying to push off or dock. It was our first fairly warm day in Oxford. The daffodils are mostly gone now and the lilacs are out. The smell has gone from fresh to warmly sweet.

DOWNTOWN DUBLIN

Here are a few photos of the area in which the movie "Once" was filmed. The downtown pedestrian walkway is really beautiful, as is St. Stephen's Green.

OFF TO THE WILD IRISH COUNTRYSIDE

Easter Day was spent in this little red van belonging to "Over the Top" tour company with our Gaelic-speaking driver, Eaman. My husband balked when he saw how tightly the 16 of us would be packed in, but he took a deep breath and determined he could manage. It turned out to be a good decision. We were a motley crew, to be sure -- we came from Denmark, Canada, Switzerland, France, and, of course, the two of us from the U.S. The French group comprised partyers who were practicing their English phrases on me. My favorite was this one: "Besides being incredibly sexy, what do you do in your life?" I wonder if they had a chance to try it out at the pubs.

We drove up low mountains to the fields of what would be purple and pink heather later in the season, except that they were brown this time of year. Down below we could see the lush green meadows and mirror-like lakes. One such lake had only one mansion on its shores that belonged to the Guinness Family. It also looked as though it had a helipad.

We stopped at a pub in the town of Wicklow, where we were served huge plates of pork roast, potatoes (two kinds), rutabagas, carrots, peas and cranberry sauce for our Easter dinner.

But the last stop was the most impressive -- Glendalough (glen between two lakes). We visited a monastery that dated from the 6th century with a stone (not slate) roof. The graveyard was a dramatic look at Irish history. It was very powerful, and made me think of the book "How the Irish Saved Civilization." I could just imagine the monks sitting in this beautiful but isolated place in their austere, cold accommodations copying the works of the classics. A day worth the miles and tight seating on the bus!

A WORD ABOUT HOSTELS

We stayed at the Four Courts Hostel, located on the River Liffey. The riverfront was not developed with aesthetics in mind, but it was a convenient location for us to explore the Old Dublin section, known as the Temple Bar neighborhood and Trinity College. In general, I like staying at hostels, even though I'm often the oldest person in residence. I love the comaraderie, the sense of adventure, the cacophony of languages and the informality. This one made my A-List. Friday night when the pubs were closed, they brought in Irish musicians, and the music and Guinness went on until the wee hours of the morning. People cooked up appetizing dishes in the kitchen at all hours of the day (and mostly night). People shared their food, their wine, their life stories. I met a sweet 19-year-old French woman named Annie who was looking for a job in Dublin. She'd just been offered a post as a nanny, but she said she'd rather work in "fast food." I met an older man who was originally from Dublin, and was back to work on his master's thesis in sociology. He was studying low-income housing for Ireland. He said he wasn't getting much work done but liked the socializing. I myself didn't get much sleep with all the partying, but did like looking around the dining room and thinking about all the brainpower and charisma of these incredible young world citizens. What a privilege to be there!

ISLAND OF DREAMS

First of all, a disclaimer: I am half Irish (on my mother's side obviously, since my surname is definitely not Irish) and have always dreamed of visiting Ireland. One of my sadnesses is that my mother never made it there, even though she did visit Europe two times. My mother's great-grandparents came over in the late 1840s, as so many others did, during the potato famine. I have been unable to track them; they had common names, they were poor and they emigrated to Canada, then moved to North Dakota for free land. My mother didn't even know her grandparents' first names. After reading the classic book about the famine (THE GREAT HUNGER, by Cecil Woodham-Smith) I no longer was concerned about my particular ancestors; I was just obsessed with the tragic, dramatic story.

But the Ireland I saw is an ongoing 21st century drama. I was a bit taken aback by the poverty barely beneath the surface; I should have known, but I somehow thought the past ten years of the "Irish Miracle" would have erased all the past. It hasn't. I thought the city resembled photos I've seen of eastern Europe than England or France or Germany. And now that the miracle bubble has burst, it's hard to know what will happen next. I can say that prices are still astonishingly high. My son paid the equivalent of $6 for dental floss. Our youth hostel with few amenities was $40 per night per person. There's no doubt about it -- Dublin is a bit seedy.

Having said that, the people were the most friendly I've seen anywhere in Europe. When the cab driver calls me "sweetheart," it's clearly a thoughtful endearment, not a threatening experience. People stop to help you on the street when you pull out your map. St. Stephen's Park was a lovely spot in the middle of downtown brimming with flowers, swans and families.

We also made it to the coast, to the hills and lakes and to a beautiful stark abbey called Glendalough.

The second trip somewhere is always better. For mine, I will take a week-long coach tour around the island.

A word about the drinking: yes, it's everywhere. Signs were posted Good Friday apologizing for not serving alcohol, but then the pubs and bars opened at midnight and stayed open until 3 a.m. Odd logic, but it works for them!

OFF TO THE EMERALD ISLE

Thursday a large group of us started our journey to Ireland -- some via cheap flights on RyanAir, but some the old-fashioned way -- by train and ferry. The train trip required three connections. The first leg of the trip was good -- quiet, clean and fast train. But the next two connections were not so good. Too many people, not enough room for luggage and reserved seats that weren't really reserved. From what I've read, Great Britain's rail service is rated as the worst in Europe, although it still far outshines the service in the U.S. The service is on time, frequent and comprehensive. The ferry ride was definitely not so good. Apparently the ferry previous to ours had been cancelled, so ours was packed. Seats were hard to find and the 3-hour trip seemed much longer. Then came the jam-packed bus ride to downtown Dublin, then the cab ride to our hostel. All this took a long ten hours, but cost less than $100 each (round-trip). After a good night's sleep, though, we were ready to take on the Emerald Isle. Stay tuned.

"The Winter's Tale" is promoted outside the RSC in Stratford-Upon-Avon

A view from inside Warwick Castle