Confestim revenio, Europa: A Prologue

I’ve come to realize that, even after nearly three years, I have little to no written documentation about my satiation of wanderlust in Europe.

In the autumn of 2006, I traversed the winding and labyrinthine streets of London, studying at Queen Mary during the week, hitting up British culture on weeknights and weekends.

About every third weekend or so, I visited other hotspots of the western side of Eurasia: Paris, Amsterdam (don’t worry, I didn’t do anything bad there), Vienna and Rome.  After London, I’ve decided that Rome was my next favorite city in Europe.  Vienna was very traditional and gave a warming and welcome aura of coziness; Amsterdam was fine, but if you’re not into drugs or prostitution, there’s not much to do (well, not entirely true; I’ll tell you all I did later); and I didn’t really care for Paris as much as I thought I would.

Don’t get me wrong though—Paris was great!  But you can pretty much visit all the touristy areas in less than a week.  It’s all about the French culture that keep people skittering back.

And so, let’s begin with London.


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