OK, so it might have been over a week ago, but here's what happened in Budapest:
LOVE.
One of the consequences of being a weirdo is having really strange obsessions. One of mine is all things Russia/Eastern Europe. Flip through my ninth grade world history notebook and you'll find plentiful doodles of the Ukrainian flag (yes, I realize that the Ukrainian flag is a rectangle with a horizontal line through the middle - not exactly an entertaining doodle. weirdo, remember?) Anyway, just the feeling I got from Hungary was tantalizing. The architecture? Amazing. The museums? Fascinating. The markets? Bustling. The coffee? Strong. The metro? Strictly monitored. The zoo? Crazy good.
As a group, we did a lot of walking around and taking pictures of buildings and we went to the zoo, where I saw a KOMODO DRAGON. Ever since the episode of Crocodile Hunter where Steve Irwin wrangled komodo dragons, I've wanted to see one. I guess we could put reptiles on my list of really strange obsessions. The zoo also had hippos and kangaroos and a cassowary and a polar bear, all of which I'd never seen in person before. Plus, being Budapest, the somewhat docile animals like zebras and giraffes were in enclosures that allowed visitors to stick their hands over/through the fence. So I pet a giraffe and almost pet a zebra. One of the things I found most entertaining about the zoo, though, was the fact that every so often, in the middle of animal cages, they'd have an enclosure of manikins depicting the people of the region that the animals were from. So it looked like they were keeping Africans and Aborigines and Neanderthals in the zoo. I chuckled.
One morning, since I am a grandma and raise at the crack of dawn, I set off on my own for a bit before the others woke up. I met an old lady carrying a Scooby Doo bag in the metro. She needed help mounting the escalator, since they are steep and rocket fast in the Budapest underground - no joke, so I offered my hand, she grabbed hold, and we ascended side by side. Halfway up she started babbling at me in Hungarian, so I politely smiled and nodded my head and faux laughed for as long as I could, until I realized she had asked me a question and was looking at me expectantly. So I kept smiling and said, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm American." To which she continued babbling, then made the motion of shivering, and I realized that she was trying to tell me I'd be cold without a jacket on. Old Ladies, your cross cultural constancy rocks. By then we were at the top, ending our ride, and I again offered my hand and she happily took it for help in the dismount. Nothing like holding hands in the morning to let you know that the day is going to be a great one. Later, I ran into some Auburn brahs, who just so happened to know my brah! It was one heckuva family reunion and a reminder of how small this big world can be.
On our last day in the city, we spent some time at a big market. I went in with the resolve to be an awesome haggler and talk down ALL the prices. My resolve broke when the shopkeeper helping me looked horrified that I had (unknowingly) grabbed the largest size of blouse -"Is that...for YOU?" - and immediately said she would get the smallest for me. Oh, Shopkeepers, you know your job so well. I will gladly be a sucker under these circumstances. Then we went to the Budapestian Luby's and got some tasty tasty tasty főzelék - basically a stewed vegetable soup. Mine was pumpkin. Mmm. (Apparently, Luby's is a Texan institution, which explains why no one at Tech knows what I'm talking about when I mention it. So, linksies, for reference.)
Hurrah for Budapest.
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
24 July 2012
21 July 2012
Why I Love Croatia: Essay Three by BA Three
As promised, blagosphere, here is the third and final installment of our Croatian adventure. Danbot used to have long hair, runs entirely too much, and knows what I'm talking about almost 72% of the time - which is no small feat.
“We’re going to Croatia.”
“We’re going to Croatia.”
“Cool! Where in Croatia?”
“Exactly.”
It’s difficult to say when the trip to Croatia actually
began. For me, Croatia wasn’t just
another country that I was visiting for a weekend. It practically became a state of mind. Even before setting foot in that country, I
was in a state of perpetual mental planning and preparation: food, water,
shelter, location, packing lists, backup plans, double check lists, barter for
a goat?, all the what-ifs, haircut?... Sure, why not.
“Where are we?”
Bus-Train-Train-Bus-Airplane-Bus. After nearly 11 hours of travel, a 24-pack of
Twix, antithetical passport guards, a RyanAir flight full of loud, crazy
Belgians (partying next to me in the aisle), and screaming, kicking Irish kids
(behind Molly’s window seat. I think
this was the one case where taking the middle seat was actually the best
option. Kevin wins, yet again), stamps
on stamps, and a confusing currency withdrawal, all we could ask was “where are
we?”
“What brings you
to Europe?”
Before
I continue, I want to elaborate on the passport guards. We were in line at the passport check before
departure and Molly is the first one to go.
The passport lady asks a few questions, takes one look at Molly’s
passport, and commences a lengthy tirade at Molly for not having a student visa
(the very student visa that we didn’t need since our stay in the EU wasn’t going
to last longer than 90 days). Meanwhile, the guard sitting next to
little-miss-devil-incarnate looked bored out of his mind, with his cheek
propped in the palm of his hand. He
nonchalantly waved Kevin and me to his desk and joked with
us about life in Belgium as flames and the gnashing of teeth continued to spew
from the adjacent desk. Kevo and I get
waved through the doors with a smile.
Five minutes later, the doors opened and out walked poor Molly wearing
the what-have-I-done-to-deserve-this?-look that you usually see on lost puppy
dogs. If you hang around Molly long
enough, you get to see this face fairly often (see blog post concerning pants). [it's always me...]
Now, back to the question at
hand: “Where are we?” The answer was
relatively simple at the moment- we were on a bus headed towards the coastal
town of Zadar. It just didn’t feel so
simple. What was this land surrounding
me? Dry scrublands spanning for kilometers, mountains exploding upward in the
distance, a machine gun pillbox…what did we just pass? Seriously, what is this place? It
didn’t take long for us to realize that signs of war hang on this country like
shadows cast by a conflict that lingers closely in the past. Nonetheless, we were here and we could only
go forward with our plans.
"3 Tickets to
Plitvice Lakes, please."
You
know you’re going to have an awesome Friday when your breakfast is comprised of
apples and ice cream. That, and not 20
minutes after leaving the hostel, we get to witness a mob of tourists pour out
of their bus and start shoving parked cars off the road. No, it wasn’t your standard Friday-morning
riot (would’ve been cool, though!); the bus just needed some wiggle room. Next step: purchase supplies. In Croatia, there isn’t a better place to
shop than Konzum! They have it all- from
dense bread to I <3 Hrvatska bandanas.
Fully stocked for 3 days of wilderness survival, we headed to the bus
station. A cameo appearance from
Croatia’s very own female Clint Eastwood (we have photo evidence) and a
three-hour bus ride later, we were in Plitvice Lakes National Park. And that’s when we heard those iconic words:
“Caaaaan I heelllpp yoouu?”. Graying
hair, pink-purple shirt, black fanny pack, and a face that reminded me a bit of
a koala’s- Room Lady (never got her actual name) comes up and offers her place
for “twweeeenntty Euuurrooss.” No, thank
you. “I wait here thiiirrrtty
minutessss”. Ok, we’re going to go now.
One thing you’ll never hear
after the first night of camping: “I slept SO well! Such refreshing sleep clearly deserves to be
recorded in my Captain’s Log for future review!”
I spent a good portion of the night shivering from the
cold, yet still sweating due to all the nylon my skin came in contact
with. The dichotomy of it all was pretty
gnarly. Also, critters. You could hear their footsteps in the
leaves. Pretty sure we heard a
deer. We also heard something creeping
around the food bag. Couldn’t tell what
it was. But alas, Mother Nature’s lovely
minions let us be.
Bosnia or Bust
We were awake the next day by 04:00. I was able to experience the glorious joy of
peeling my arms and legs apart, already sticky from sweat and grime (it only
got better from there). We packed camp and readied ourselves for the day’s journey: go to
Bosnia. How were we planning on doing
it? Go east…very east. One thing I didn’t really consider as we set
off on our hike: following a compass in
one direction is great and all, but it doesn’t account for slight deviations
made in the North or South directions, and those deviations add up. After a few hours of hiking and straight up bushwhacking, we found a good resting point and
checked the maps. Mind you, the area we
were in was absolutely beautiful: sprawling woods, chirping birds, massive rock
formations. It all just got… repetitive. That was a bit unnerving. That whole “Where are we?” question was
resounding in my head more and more. We
decided to play it safe and start the return journey.
I was on point to guide us back to the park. It was difficult at times as I had to put all
my faith in a little piece of magnetic metal to point us back to the direction
of the highway. In between telling
stories to pass the time, I was thinking about how much supplies we had, how
long it would last us, etc. After the
hike, Kevin and I both agreed that we would’ve been able to easily get by
comfortably for at least 3-4 days with what we had. I am thankful that Molly and Kevin were the
ones crazy enough to go on this adventure.
Kevin’s wild stories about all his shenanigans and Molly’s choir-trained
singing helped me take my mind off the unfortunate situation that we were
potentially getting ourselves into. I
never really thanked them for that… cue overdue shout-out: {Thanks!, and keep on keeping on dude and dudette! \m/ }
Moving onward, we happened
upon a stone wall and followed it a bit towards a creepy abandoned building/murder-shack
next to a swamp. One of the most
hardcore NOPEs I’ve ever done and a 180 degree turn later, we were walking back
to the wall. I spotted a house (with
intact windows) through the trees up a hill.
It was an insanely lucky find.
Now imagine this:
You are sitting in your gazebo, in your quiet
neighborhood, on a warm Saturday afternoon with your two daughters and your good
friend. Suddenly, out of the woods come
three sweaty, dirty young adults with matching I <3 Hrvatska bandanas, large
hiking packs, and probably a severe case of crazy eyes, admitting to camping in
the wilderness and not having any idea of where they were. Yup.
I’m pretty sure the guy thought we all had severe mental
issues for thinking our plan was a good idea (I still think it was a great
idea, just needed a little tweaking).
Anyway, he showed us that we’ve managed to hike off the map that we had and then directs us to the highway. About three miles later and we’re all sitting
on a bench near the pizza bistro where we ate at the night before. And I kid you not, this is exactly what
happened: a car pulls up, window slowly lowers, and… “Caaaan I heeellpp
yoouuu?” This lady is persistent! We smiled and shook our heads no, shortly
erupting into laughter as Room Lady and her husband drive away.
“Guys, I think
we’ve just found Google Images”
Sunday morning: hot breakfast, HOT COFFEE! And we were ready for more waterfalls. I definitely saw people who recognized us from the day before. I particularly enjoyed watching everybody’s reactions after they smelled us. Glorious. I didn’t mind. I was busy thinking about how much I could get fined for jumping into the pristine water and whether or not it was worth it. You see, the government doesn’t want the “mineral content” of the lakes to be messed with, so they banned swimming in the lakes. Yet the park runs ferry tours. DIESEL ferries. Go figure…
Sunday morning: hot breakfast, HOT COFFEE! And we were ready for more waterfalls. I definitely saw people who recognized us from the day before. I particularly enjoyed watching everybody’s reactions after they smelled us. Glorious. I didn’t mind. I was busy thinking about how much I could get fined for jumping into the pristine water and whether or not it was worth it. You see, the government doesn’t want the “mineral content” of the lakes to be messed with, so they banned swimming in the lakes. Yet the park runs ferry tours. DIESEL ferries. Go figure…
After we had our fill of immaculate, natural beauty, we
headed to the bus stop for our ride to Zadar.
And lo and behold: “Whhhyy you no liikkeee my rooms?” Room Lady is a trooper, I’ll give her
that. Probably spends a good deal of her
time stalking that bus stop. I bet if
you go there now, she’ll be there. Same
outfit, too. She changed clothing just
as much as we did that weekend (we didn’t).
We explained to her how we were staying in a “place” a little ways “off
the road”.
Zadar (Reprise)
The bus arrived, we got on, and I experience a T.K.O in
the back row, waking up in time to watch as we rode over the appropriately
named Dalmatian Mountain range. We got
back to Zadar and checked into Hostel Elena.
I asked the owner why it was named that.
He looked at me and smiled as he said, “it’s named after my
daughter”. This man = Champion. Right after check-in, we headed straight west
and dove into the Mediterranean Sea.
This was my first full-body contact with water since Wednesday
night. That’s nearly four full days
without a shower. Pretty righteous.
The rest of the evening was vastly enjoyable; we walked
around the Old City, debated the benefits of having an underwater forum,
checked out souvenirs, ate ice cream and seafood, and watched the sunset.
My time in Croatia was a monumental moment during my
summer abroad in Europe. I love the
country, the culture, and the scenery. I
would do it all over again if I had the chance. Oh, the infinite wonders of Croatia!
13 July 2012
Being Berliners
Berlin is mayhaps the trendiest place on earth. The only people who live there are stylish young thangs, museum curators, and kebaberie owners. Truth.
While in the city, we saw some pretty amazing, pretty historical things, but that's not really all that important. What IS important is food. And we ate some good food. My favorite meals? Glad you asked.
Maria Peligro: We did not plan to go to this restaurant. We planned to go to a burger restaurant in a repurposed public toilet under the S-Bahn tracks, but it was flooded. The irony. However, that unfortunate happening led us to Maria Peligro, where this Texan princess feasted on some quality Mexican food. Of course we started with guacamole - good - and I had potato and red pepper tacos - goood. I was in dire need of that little taste of home.
Whats-her-Bucket: I forgot the name of this restaurant, but it was really good Vietnamese food. Take that worth a grain of salt (or rice...), though, because it was my first experience with Vietnamese food. All I know was that it was tasty, and they brought out my green tea in the cutest little teapot. Points.
White Trash Fast Food: Better believe it. This is a restaurant/bar/punk club that took it's decor from the tackiest furnishings from a Chinese restaurant and an Irish pub. If you're not scratching your head already, their specialty is hamburgers. Darn good hamburgers. And they bring you a whole lotta jalapenos for .50 euro.
Other than eating, we had some wild walking tour escapades, we showed ancient antiquities who's boss, I had a "clairely molly" encounter with a museum guide, we sang happy birthday to Leo(Leon?), we browsed an outdoor flea market, we matched clothing more than once, and we bought replacement pants for 7 euro. That last one was just me.
While in the city, we saw some pretty amazing, pretty historical things, but that's not really all that important. What IS important is food. And we ate some good food. My favorite meals? Glad you asked.
Maria Peligro: We did not plan to go to this restaurant. We planned to go to a burger restaurant in a repurposed public toilet under the S-Bahn tracks, but it was flooded. The irony. However, that unfortunate happening led us to Maria Peligro, where this Texan princess feasted on some quality Mexican food. Of course we started with guacamole - good - and I had potato and red pepper tacos - goood. I was in dire need of that little taste of home.
Whats-her-Bucket: I forgot the name of this restaurant, but it was really good Vietnamese food. Take that worth a grain of salt (or rice...), though, because it was my first experience with Vietnamese food. All I know was that it was tasty, and they brought out my green tea in the cutest little teapot. Points.
White Trash Fast Food: Better believe it. This is a restaurant/bar/punk club that took it's decor from the tackiest furnishings from a Chinese restaurant and an Irish pub. If you're not scratching your head already, their specialty is hamburgers. Darn good hamburgers. And they bring you a whole lotta jalapenos for .50 euro.
Other than eating, we had some wild walking tour escapades, we showed ancient antiquities who's boss, I had a "clairely molly" encounter with a museum guide, we sang happy birthday to Leo(Leon?), we browsed an outdoor flea market, we matched clothing more than once, and we bought replacement pants for 7 euro. That last one was just me.
05 July 2012
DAMSTER!dam
There was one thing I wanted out of a weekend in Amsterdam: PEANUT BUTTER. Believe it or not, the delectable spread is not a worldwide phenomenon, and Europeans often find us wacko for lamenting the tiny jars and ginormous prices in most countries. Not the Netherlands, though. They deliver. And they deliver right.
Our first act in the city was not peanut butter related, though. Our first act was Vincent van Gogh related. Now, I'm not a huge Fan Gogh, but the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam does a really nice job of chronologically presenting the works of the famous artist. I found it extremely interesting to watch the progression of his style and aesthetic as he advanced in his craft. There was also a really neat temporary exhibit of posters, flyers, and prints. Eye candy for girls who browse typography online in their free time. After the museum, we headed to a nearby grocery store. It was there, at that moment, that the world was set right again, all thanks to Calve Pindakaas and a Dutch woman who explained which lid color meant "crunchy" and which meant "smooth". And if that weren't enough, we also stumbled across muesli bread, arguably in the running for the most wonderful bread on this planet. Dense, moist, filled to the brim with dried fruits, nuts, and grains. Y'all, this bread is the stuff. It's so full of fruit that peanut butter sandwiches don't even need jelly - it's already built right into the bread. Amazing. Laden with our finds, we took a quick picture stop by the I Amsterdam sign before settling down to a picnic* in Begijnhof Courtyard.
*Dear Mr. Steves, as a member of the Stevesian Society and a second degree Steves Scout, I believe I have earned my Picnicking Merit Badge, as shown by my several picnics in several countries. I await your approval and endorsement. Thank you and good day.
After our picnic we went on probably the worst bike tour in the world. Thanks a lot, Lee. The bikes didn't even have names. What's up with that? Our next destination totally made up for it, though. Never in a million years did I guess that I would one day stand in the Secret Annexe that housed Anne Frank and her family during the Nazi occupation, but that is exactly what happened. Talk about unbelievable. Not only do you get to walk through the annex, but pages of Anne's journals are on display, which is just unreal. Reading The Diary of a Young Girl is what started my journaling, which is what has inspired my writing style, started my blogging, and kept me relatively sane for a number of years. Unreal. For me, though, one of the most moving parts of the entire museum was a photograph of Otto Frank, taken in the attic some years after the war; written on his face is the somber, serene acceptance of knowing that he remains while all the others have gone. It's powerful.
Just around the corner from the museum is a Pancake Bakery where we stopped for dinner. "Pancakes" - these things are more pizza than pancake, and they have every topping, sweet or savory, imaginable. And the poffertjes! Holy smokes these little cushions of sugary buttery dough are delicious. Somehow we managed to waddle back to our hostel where I promptly fell asleep, forgoing the chance to tour the Red Light District with the rest of my homies. ~`~*#wYldChYld*~`~
On our second day in Amsterdam, we went to perhaps one of the best art museums I've been to. The Rijksmuseum is full of paintings from the Dutch Golden Age (and more, but due to construction only the masters are on display). Hals, Steegen, Rembrandt, Vermeer - all there. Man, those Dutchmen were incredible capturers of light and shadow. But the best part was the information that the museum provided. One the plates next to each painting, not only were the name and artist listed, but also a paragraph about the techniques used, how they worked to bring the desired effect, and ways to notice them in the painting. So cool! It makes people who know nothing about art feel as if they could carry on a conversation all about it. I've seen somewhere that "Italian art is made to study, Dutch art is made to enjoy", and I have to admit, enjoying art is a bit more my speed than studying it. So enjoy I did. Most exciting? Vermeer. Three paintings. Not many, except when you consider he only painted 34.
A canal tour and one more trip to the grocery store to stockpile peanut butter later, and we took our leave of the city. And there were no damster sightings, whatsoever.
Our first act in the city was not peanut butter related, though. Our first act was Vincent van Gogh related. Now, I'm not a huge Fan Gogh, but the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam does a really nice job of chronologically presenting the works of the famous artist. I found it extremely interesting to watch the progression of his style and aesthetic as he advanced in his craft. There was also a really neat temporary exhibit of posters, flyers, and prints. Eye candy for girls who browse typography online in their free time. After the museum, we headed to a nearby grocery store. It was there, at that moment, that the world was set right again, all thanks to Calve Pindakaas and a Dutch woman who explained which lid color meant "crunchy" and which meant "smooth". And if that weren't enough, we also stumbled across muesli bread, arguably in the running for the most wonderful bread on this planet. Dense, moist, filled to the brim with dried fruits, nuts, and grains. Y'all, this bread is the stuff. It's so full of fruit that peanut butter sandwiches don't even need jelly - it's already built right into the bread. Amazing. Laden with our finds, we took a quick picture stop by the I Amsterdam sign before settling down to a picnic* in Begijnhof Courtyard.
*Dear Mr. Steves, as a member of the Stevesian Society and a second degree Steves Scout, I believe I have earned my Picnicking Merit Badge, as shown by my several picnics in several countries. I await your approval and endorsement. Thank you and good day.
After our picnic we went on probably the worst bike tour in the world. Thanks a lot, Lee. The bikes didn't even have names. What's up with that? Our next destination totally made up for it, though. Never in a million years did I guess that I would one day stand in the Secret Annexe that housed Anne Frank and her family during the Nazi occupation, but that is exactly what happened. Talk about unbelievable. Not only do you get to walk through the annex, but pages of Anne's journals are on display, which is just unreal. Reading The Diary of a Young Girl is what started my journaling, which is what has inspired my writing style, started my blogging, and kept me relatively sane for a number of years. Unreal. For me, though, one of the most moving parts of the entire museum was a photograph of Otto Frank, taken in the attic some years after the war; written on his face is the somber, serene acceptance of knowing that he remains while all the others have gone. It's powerful.
Just around the corner from the museum is a Pancake Bakery where we stopped for dinner. "Pancakes" - these things are more pizza than pancake, and they have every topping, sweet or savory, imaginable. And the poffertjes! Holy smokes these little cushions of sugary buttery dough are delicious. Somehow we managed to waddle back to our hostel where I promptly fell asleep, forgoing the chance to tour the Red Light District with the rest of my homies. ~`~*#wYldChYld*~`~
On our second day in Amsterdam, we went to perhaps one of the best art museums I've been to. The Rijksmuseum is full of paintings from the Dutch Golden Age (and more, but due to construction only the masters are on display). Hals, Steegen, Rembrandt, Vermeer - all there. Man, those Dutchmen were incredible capturers of light and shadow. But the best part was the information that the museum provided. One the plates next to each painting, not only were the name and artist listed, but also a paragraph about the techniques used, how they worked to bring the desired effect, and ways to notice them in the painting. So cool! It makes people who know nothing about art feel as if they could carry on a conversation all about it. I've seen somewhere that "Italian art is made to study, Dutch art is made to enjoy", and I have to admit, enjoying art is a bit more my speed than studying it. So enjoy I did. Most exciting? Vermeer. Three paintings. Not many, except when you consider he only painted 34.
A canal tour and one more trip to the grocery store to stockpile peanut butter later, and we took our leave of the city. And there were no damster sightings, whatsoever.
02 July 2012
Why I Love Croatia: Essay Two by BA Two
Molly needs no introduction. And probably the only place the preceding statement will ever be valid is this blog.
Here are some of the reasons why I love Croatia:
Here are some of the reasons why I love Croatia:
kuna. Talk about exchange rate, my friends. Big bags of Haribo are 6 kuna. 6 kuna are one dollar (or, were, while we were there). Therfore, big bags of Haribo are one dollar. Our first money spent in Croatia was "have-to" money. We had to get from the airport to the town, so we paid bus fare whatever it was. We had to eat dinner that night, so we paid for pizza and the convenience of a nearby restaurant without trying to scout for better deals. It wasn't until climbing in bed at the hostel that night that we looked up the exchange rate. Exuberance followed. The rest of our money spent in Croatia was I'm-a-millionaire-gonna-make-it-rain-kuna money.
konzum. This is the mother of all Croatian supermarket chains. It comes in three sizes: Konzum, Konzum Maxi, and Konzum Super. We definitely hit up the Super Konzum by the bus station at least three times. Best Konzum purchase? Matching "Ja *heart* Hrvatska! (I *heart* Croatia!)" bandannas. Because a team of adventurers without matching bandannas is not a team of adventurers.
zadar. This coastal town is hopping. The water is beautiful, clear, and blue. The world's oldest sea organ wheezes somewhat underwhelmingly, but is still neat. Old men dressed as Summer Santa Claus walk around. Juice is called nectar, which makes it seven fold more fancy. The forum was built underwater (that's a lie).
gelato. I feel like everywhere on the planet touts world famous ice cream, and that's fine by me. Being just across the sea from Italy, Zadar delivers some world famous quality ice cream, and for only a dollar a scoop (roughly). This might or might not have resulted in Breakfast Ice Cream before taking to the woods and 5 Scoops in 5 Hours after coming out of the woods.
hammocks. For all the times I've napped in hammocks, I've never for real slept in one. Until now. It was a delight. After getting over the initial, ugh-I'm-about-to-monumentally-embarrass-myself feeling that comes with jumping into a hammock for the first time, comfort abounded. Except, of course, until halfway through each night when the temperature turned frigid and I had to swaddle in a rain jacket and towel and put socks on my hands and wake up shivering+sweating due to the swaths of synthetic material surrounding me on all sides.
anarchy. Our Croatian experience was a slap in the face to the norm. Not showering for four days? check. Not changing clothes for four days? check. Breakfast Ice Cream? check. Camping in unmarked woods? check. Lighting fires in restricted areas? check. Socks and Chac's? check.
chacos. Yes, I ended up with gnarly blisters all over my feet, but were I to do it all again I would still wear the Chaco's. They're by far my favorite adventure sandals in the world. Once back in Metz, I flossed these bad boys for the first time since acquiring them many moons ago, and nasty globs of dirt surfaced from who knows what trail, puddle, or country. Not saying I deserved the blisters, but I promise to take better care of you from now on, Chaco's.
croatia shirt. My outfit plan for the trip was simple and, dare I say, ingenious. I purchased a t-shirt for a mere 4 euro at Cora prior to leaving, and wore that puppy out. Being me, that means more than your average camp wear and tear of sweat, dirt, soot, and mosquito carcasses. It means olive oil, chocolate, kebab grease, ice cream, apple juice, nectarine juice, and trails of toothpaste. Sorry, Mom.
signs. In Europe, people speak lots of different languages. Hence the importance of descriptive, unambiguous signage......not. We made an Olympic sport of deliberately misreading signs as literally as possible. Because what else would a national park be saying, other than "Don't Stand in the Water and Throw Snowballs Whilst Wearing a Backwards Cap"? What else would an airline be saying on its safety cards, other than "Clear All Severed Arms Before Opening Emergency Exit"?
firsts. This was a trip of firsts for me. First time cutting another human's hair. First time flying RyanAir. First time in Croatia. First time sleeping unprotected in the wilderness. First time sleeping in a hammock. First time peeing in the woods multiple times in succession. First time eating a fish eyeball - it was a challenge, and who was I to ruin the week's theme of obliterating challenges?
Basically, there are many reasons why I love Croatia. Probably the most important reason is that I came out of those woods feeling that much stronger and braver for having survived, and survived well. One thing's for sure, this trip will forever be in my memory as a once in a lifetime experience.
zadar. This coastal town is hopping. The water is beautiful, clear, and blue. The world's oldest sea organ wheezes somewhat underwhelmingly, but is still neat. Old men dressed as Summer Santa Claus walk around. Juice is called nectar, which makes it seven fold more fancy. The forum was built underwater (that's a lie).
gelato. I feel like everywhere on the planet touts world famous ice cream, and that's fine by me. Being just across the sea from Italy, Zadar delivers some world famous quality ice cream, and for only a dollar a scoop (roughly). This might or might not have resulted in Breakfast Ice Cream before taking to the woods and 5 Scoops in 5 Hours after coming out of the woods.
hammocks. For all the times I've napped in hammocks, I've never for real slept in one. Until now. It was a delight. After getting over the initial, ugh-I'm-about-to-monumentally-embarrass-myself feeling that comes with jumping into a hammock for the first time, comfort abounded. Except, of course, until halfway through each night when the temperature turned frigid and I had to swaddle in a rain jacket and towel and put socks on my hands and wake up shivering+sweating due to the swaths of synthetic material surrounding me on all sides.
anarchy. Our Croatian experience was a slap in the face to the norm. Not showering for four days? check. Not changing clothes for four days? check. Breakfast Ice Cream? check. Camping in unmarked woods? check. Lighting fires in restricted areas? check. Socks and Chac's? check.
chacos. Yes, I ended up with gnarly blisters all over my feet, but were I to do it all again I would still wear the Chaco's. They're by far my favorite adventure sandals in the world. Once back in Metz, I flossed these bad boys for the first time since acquiring them many moons ago, and nasty globs of dirt surfaced from who knows what trail, puddle, or country. Not saying I deserved the blisters, but I promise to take better care of you from now on, Chaco's.
croatia shirt. My outfit plan for the trip was simple and, dare I say, ingenious. I purchased a t-shirt for a mere 4 euro at Cora prior to leaving, and wore that puppy out. Being me, that means more than your average camp wear and tear of sweat, dirt, soot, and mosquito carcasses. It means olive oil, chocolate, kebab grease, ice cream, apple juice, nectarine juice, and trails of toothpaste. Sorry, Mom.
signs. In Europe, people speak lots of different languages. Hence the importance of descriptive, unambiguous signage......not. We made an Olympic sport of deliberately misreading signs as literally as possible. Because what else would a national park be saying, other than "Don't Stand in the Water and Throw Snowballs Whilst Wearing a Backwards Cap"? What else would an airline be saying on its safety cards, other than "Clear All Severed Arms Before Opening Emergency Exit"?
firsts. This was a trip of firsts for me. First time cutting another human's hair. First time flying RyanAir. First time in Croatia. First time sleeping unprotected in the wilderness. First time sleeping in a hammock. First time peeing in the woods multiple times in succession. First time eating a fish eyeball - it was a challenge, and who was I to ruin the week's theme of obliterating challenges?
Basically, there are many reasons why I love Croatia. Probably the most important reason is that I came out of those woods feeling that much stronger and braver for having survived, and survived well. One thing's for sure, this trip will forever be in my memory as a once in a lifetime experience.
29 June 2012
Why I Love Croatia: Essay One by BA One
K-Fed almost always finishes the jar of Nutella, has never lost a game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, and is opposed to the clubbing of baby seals - except, of course, for when the seals deserve it.
Day 37: Mercredi 20/6/2012
...following dinner, Molly gave Danny and I much needed haircuts with a pair of scissors and a comb in Danny’s room...when all was said and done, the haircuts turned out quite well, especially since it was the first time Molly had never cut people’s hair before. Danny was the first human guinea pig because he lost a best 3 out of 5 rock-paper-scissors match to me in a final score of 3-0. I won with scissors, scissors, and then paper...
Day 38: Jeudi 21/6/2012
We woke up and went to a sporting goods store near Cora to get some supplies...one of our big plans for this weekend was to not book a hostel, but instead, camp in the woods somewhere in/near Plitvice Lakes National Park. In the store, they found and bought 25 meters of nylon rope (2 of them) and cheap but sturdy hammocks (3 of them). With those purchases, we then went to Cora to get our travel day’s supply of food (baguettes and other easy-to-eat entities). Our first train took us from Metz to Luxembourg. Then, we had to go from Luxembourg to Namur, Belgium. Finally, we went from Namur to Charleroi, Belgium where we had our flight...while we were waiting in line at the Charleroi airport and during our flight to Zadar, Croatia, we met a mechanical engineering major from the University of Florida. I don’t know if we ever exchanged names, but we talked with her for a while. It was nice to see new American faces and share travelling stories with them....upon landing in Zadar, we took a bus from the airport to the city and then walked to our hostel. The city of Zadar, being right on the Adriatic Sea across from Italy, had a very Italian feel to it (architecture, food, etc.). For dinner, we all got very delicious pizzas at a very low price. The current conversion rate is about 1 US Dollar to 6 Croatian Kuna, so we had tons of purchasing power. As such, I could get by for meals, hostels, and transportation with having withdrawn less than $90 USD over the entire trip. For our hostel that night, we were on the 5th floor of a building that was right on the coast. Our room didn’t have a waterfront view, but it was really easy to find the building because you could simply walk along their shoreline until you found it. However, heat rises and our hostel didn’t have air conditioning, so we were very hot and sweaty the entire night.
Day 39: Vendredi 22/6/2012
Today, we woke up and had ice cream for breakfast. That’s always a good start to a day. Then, we went to a store called Super Konzum which sold pretty much anything you could think of. While walking there, we saw this one tour bus that couldn’t make it down a tight road because somebody had parked their car poorly. To fix this problem, the bus unloaded its 10 strongest men who literally lifted and relocated the car out of the way of the bus. Croatians are crazy. At this supermarket, we bought a small cooking pot, a knife, a lighter, a can of beans, a can of Mexican corn, pepperoni, 3 loafs of dense bread, a jar of Nutella, a jar of peanut butter, a small bottle of olive oil, a 6 liter jug of water, and a bag of instant coffee mix. All of these food stuffs were carefully chosen because we needed energy dense meals (calories per unit volume) that weren’t perishable because we were going to have them with us in our backpacks the entire time. With this, we began our journey into the wilderness. For the equivalent of $15USD we bought a bus ticket that took us 3 hours east across Croatia to the national park...upon arriving, we greeted by this nice old lady wearing a purple sweater who asked if we needed help finding a hotel. Clearly, she was trying to get us to stay at her place...we told her we already had a place to sleep (lies!) and that we were all set. We then found a bistro nearby and got dinner. When we got the bill and saw it was 60 Kuna, Danny freaked out thinking they were trying to rip us off, only then to hear me tell him that it was collectively $10 USD for all three of us to eat. After dinner, it was starting to get dark, so we had to begin preparing for nightfall. The entire park was on the west side of a “highway”, so we went just across this street into the woods, set up our hammocks about 200 meters away from the road, and prepared for sleep. We weren’t in an actual camping site, so we don’t know if we were legally allowed to be camping there, but we didn’t get caught, so all is well that ends well. We put all of our food into a “bear bag” and tied it up between two trees a good distance away from us so that any animals that may be attracted to the scent wouldn’t be attracted to us. Danny and I are both Eagle Scouts, so we sort of knew what we were doing. We used one of our 25 meter ropes to tie up our hammocks. We cut it into thirds (because there are three of us) then each of those pieces in half (because each hammock has two ends that need to be tied). Using a series of clove hitches, bowlines, square knots, and various other knots, we were able to quickly tie up all of the hammocks into a triangular formation. Being our first night in the woods, we were at first scared by every noise we heard as we were in a relatively vulnerable position. We ended up falling asleep somewhere around 10 PM (because it was dark) only then to end up waking up several times throughout the course of the night because it was really cold. We knew the daytime temperatures in Croatia were 70 to 90 degrees Fahrenheit, but we hadn’t anticipated the night
time temperatures dropping as low as they did. By time we woke up at 4 AM (sunrise), we were all wearing almost every article of clothing that we had with us. It was rough, but we made it.
Day 40: Samedi 23/6/2012
Waking up at 4 AM, the first order of business was getting our bear bag out of the tree and taking down our hammocks. Then, we began with our breakfast (one loaf of dense bread, the jar of peanut butter, and a hot cup of instant coffee). This required making a fire which was against the law (forest fires aren’t cool). Nevertheless, we did it with a reasonable amount of ease and were able to get the water for our coffee to boil in a few minutes. After breakfast, at only 7 AM, we began our big adventure of the trip. We had seen on Google Maps that we were about 10 km away from Bosnia and Herzegovina. With a park map and a map of the country, we set off on what in hindsight was a really stupid hike. No one else knew where we were, we hardly even knew where we were, and all we had to guide ourselves was a compass. We walked and walked as straight eastward as we could for hours before finally giving up around 10 AM. The terrain was filled with massive bowls, steep hills, and thick forestation making it very difficult to move fast or in a straight line. Eventually, we gave up without ever knowing if we had (illegally) made it to Bosnia or not. Finally, deciding that we had ventured far enough, we turned around and headed westward as best as we could in hopes of making it back to where we had started. Something happened along the way (either while going there, coming back, or probably in both directions) and we ended up drifting a bit off from our intended east-west line. The woods all looked the same, so we had no identifiable landmarks to go by and no trail to follow. After a few more hours of wandering westward, Danny miraculously spotted a house off in the distance. Smelling like a mixture of sweat, wilderness, campfire, and nasty, we knew they would be in shock when we came walking out of the woods into their backyard. Regardless, we needed to find our way home, so we approached the house. There were two guys sitting at a picnic table smoking and chatting with each other as they watched their kids play together in the yard. They knew English and thought our story was very funny. We pulled out the Plitvice Lakes National Park map to ask them where we were and they said “you’re somewhere around here,” pointing a couple inches below the map. Somehow we ended up about 6 km south of the park and they were happy to give us direction on how to get back there. At around noon, we left their neighborhood and headed north along the “highway” back to the park. Shortly after 1 PM, we made it back to the park where we run into none other than the purple sweater lady (it was the same purple sweater, but then again, we were also wearing the same clothes as the previous day) who pulls up in her car and asks us: “Can I help you, do you need a hotel?” Again, we told her that we were doing fine and didn’t need her help, so she reluctantly drove away. Then, we had a well-deserved lunch of another loaf of dense bread, olive oil, half of our pepperoni, and trail mix. Following lunch, we snuck into the park (because the 80 Kuna entrance fee for students seemed stupid and there were already well-defined paths made by other people who had done the same thing before us) and we toured the southern half of the park. The waterfalls there were beautiful, but not quite what Google Images had led me to believe we would be finding at the park. All along the trail, the other tourists were all looking at us, probably because we were a mess, but probably also because we smelled disgusting. By time we were done with the southern loop, it was around 5 PM and we needed to get back to our camping location to prepare dinner, put the bear bag back up in the trees, get our hammocks set up, and get ready for sleep before the sun went down. The campfire for dinner was much easier to build than the one at breakfast because we had a proven system this time of a way to get the campfire started with what we had to work with. We ate the can of beans and the can of Mexican corn along with the second half of the pepperoni that we started at lunch. Again, putting the bear bag up was very easy because we had that down to a science following the somewhat long ordeal of trying to get the rope up in the trees the first night. Hammocks too were very simple for the same reason. By around 8:30 PM we were in our hammocks and just waiting for it to get progressively darker. We talked for a little bit just to kill time but were probably asleep by around 9 or 9:30 PM. It was just as cold as the previous night but we were so tired that we slept right through it. Also, after having survived the first night, we weren’t concerned about the animals or noises that we may have heard
throughout the night.
Day 41: Dimanche 24/6/2012
Again, we woke up at around 4 AM. We got the campfire going, boiled water, made coffee, and drank the coffee along with our breakfast consisting of a loaf of dense bread and Nutella. Molly and Danny were exhausted and wanted to just have an easy day of travelling back to Zadar, then relaxing. However, I really wanted to see the northern half of the park. The southern half was alright, but it wasn’t what I had been expecting, so I was hoping the northern half was going to be better. I was right. We went/snuck into the park at around 8 or 9 AM and explored the northern half of the park. It was amazing. But of course, we run into another recurring character. One of the two guys who gave us directions when we walked out of the woods 6 km south of the park happens to work as a tour guide at the park. He saw us while on a tour and couldn’t help but laugh as he told us: “I see you found your way”. We also saw several tourists from the previous day who clearly remembered us as well as new tourists who were also put off by our disheveled appearance and increasingly more potent smell. There were caves, bigger waterfalls, and a lot more great scenery than the southern half had to offer. We ended up staying there until about noon when we had to start heading back to the bus stop. We made it to the bus stop around 1 PM, ran into the nice lady for what was now a third time. She was still wearing her purple sweater and talked with us for a bit as we waited for our bus. She tried to make her pitch to a few new people then told us her life story and how she couldn’t afford to advertise her hotel on the internet. We got on the bus around 1:50 (?) and made it back to Zadar at around 5 (?). We bought a loaf of bread and some food for our Monday travelling, ate ice cream, found our hostel, checked in and went straight to the water (about a block away). Fully dressed in our dirty clothes that we had been wearing in the woods for almost four days, we jumped into the Adriatic Sea (or at least some channel/bay/straight/sound thereof. There are many islands belonging to Croatia that surround the entire mainland coast, so this wasn’t exactly the Adriatic Sea, but it was an open body of salt water that was directly connected to the Adriatic Sea. Following a short swim and drying off period, we then went back to the hostel to take real showers (our first since Thursday morning or Wednesday night). Then, we ate our loaf of bread with the remainder of our olive oil, got some ice cream, then went to watch the sun set over the sea near Zadar’s Sea Organ. We then ate a very nice dinner trying to spend the remaining Kuna that we had and finished it off with a little more ice cream (the ice cream was not only really good, but was also really cheap). We then went back to our hostel where we got quality sleep in a real bed.
Day 42: Lundi 25/6/2012
We woke up around 8 AM and headed to the Zadar bus stop. We boarded sometime around 9:30 AM and went back to the airport for our flight back to Charleroi, Belgium. When we get there, we meet none other than the UF mechanical engineer from our Charleroi–Zadar flight. She had finished her stay in Croatia at the same time as us and was on our flight back to Charleroi. We talked some more and shared stories about our Croatian adventures before boarding our flight back to Charleroi. We landed and took the bus from the airport to the train station. There, we waited for a long time as the trains got further and further delayed...apparently there were many European train lines that were having protests and someone said the computer system at the Metz train station was malfunctioning. Whatever the cause, we eventually did pull in at around 10 PM. Hungry, we decided to go straight to a kebab place rather than take the bus back to campus. The food was good, but when we left at around 10:30 PM, we didn’t feel like waiting a half hour
for the next bus at the closest bus stop. So, keeping up in the tradition of our long weekend of outdoor adventure, we walked the 2 km back to campus and got back around 11 PM. Exhausted, I showered, unpacked, pulled two ticks off my body (major downside to camping), and went to sleep.
Day 37: Mercredi 20/6/2012
...following dinner, Molly gave Danny and I much needed haircuts with a pair of scissors and a comb in Danny’s room...when all was said and done, the haircuts turned out quite well, especially since it was the first time Molly had never cut people’s hair before. Danny was the first human guinea pig because he lost a best 3 out of 5 rock-paper-scissors match to me in a final score of 3-0. I won with scissors, scissors, and then paper...
Day 38: Jeudi 21/6/2012
We woke up and went to a sporting goods store near Cora to get some supplies...one of our big plans for this weekend was to not book a hostel, but instead, camp in the woods somewhere in/near Plitvice Lakes National Park. In the store, they found and bought 25 meters of nylon rope (2 of them) and cheap but sturdy hammocks (3 of them). With those purchases, we then went to Cora to get our travel day’s supply of food (baguettes and other easy-to-eat entities). Our first train took us from Metz to Luxembourg. Then, we had to go from Luxembourg to Namur, Belgium. Finally, we went from Namur to Charleroi, Belgium where we had our flight...while we were waiting in line at the Charleroi airport and during our flight to Zadar, Croatia, we met a mechanical engineering major from the University of Florida. I don’t know if we ever exchanged names, but we talked with her for a while. It was nice to see new American faces and share travelling stories with them....upon landing in Zadar, we took a bus from the airport to the city and then walked to our hostel. The city of Zadar, being right on the Adriatic Sea across from Italy, had a very Italian feel to it (architecture, food, etc.). For dinner, we all got very delicious pizzas at a very low price. The current conversion rate is about 1 US Dollar to 6 Croatian Kuna, so we had tons of purchasing power. As such, I could get by for meals, hostels, and transportation with having withdrawn less than $90 USD over the entire trip. For our hostel that night, we were on the 5th floor of a building that was right on the coast. Our room didn’t have a waterfront view, but it was really easy to find the building because you could simply walk along their shoreline until you found it. However, heat rises and our hostel didn’t have air conditioning, so we were very hot and sweaty the entire night.
Day 39: Vendredi 22/6/2012
Today, we woke up and had ice cream for breakfast. That’s always a good start to a day. Then, we went to a store called Super Konzum which sold pretty much anything you could think of. While walking there, we saw this one tour bus that couldn’t make it down a tight road because somebody had parked their car poorly. To fix this problem, the bus unloaded its 10 strongest men who literally lifted and relocated the car out of the way of the bus. Croatians are crazy. At this supermarket, we bought a small cooking pot, a knife, a lighter, a can of beans, a can of Mexican corn, pepperoni, 3 loafs of dense bread, a jar of Nutella, a jar of peanut butter, a small bottle of olive oil, a 6 liter jug of water, and a bag of instant coffee mix. All of these food stuffs were carefully chosen because we needed energy dense meals (calories per unit volume) that weren’t perishable because we were going to have them with us in our backpacks the entire time. With this, we began our journey into the wilderness. For the equivalent of $15USD we bought a bus ticket that took us 3 hours east across Croatia to the national park...upon arriving, we greeted by this nice old lady wearing a purple sweater who asked if we needed help finding a hotel. Clearly, she was trying to get us to stay at her place...we told her we already had a place to sleep (lies!) and that we were all set. We then found a bistro nearby and got dinner. When we got the bill and saw it was 60 Kuna, Danny freaked out thinking they were trying to rip us off, only then to hear me tell him that it was collectively $10 USD for all three of us to eat. After dinner, it was starting to get dark, so we had to begin preparing for nightfall. The entire park was on the west side of a “highway”, so we went just across this street into the woods, set up our hammocks about 200 meters away from the road, and prepared for sleep. We weren’t in an actual camping site, so we don’t know if we were legally allowed to be camping there, but we didn’t get caught, so all is well that ends well. We put all of our food into a “bear bag” and tied it up between two trees a good distance away from us so that any animals that may be attracted to the scent wouldn’t be attracted to us. Danny and I are both Eagle Scouts, so we sort of knew what we were doing. We used one of our 25 meter ropes to tie up our hammocks. We cut it into thirds (because there are three of us) then each of those pieces in half (because each hammock has two ends that need to be tied). Using a series of clove hitches, bowlines, square knots, and various other knots, we were able to quickly tie up all of the hammocks into a triangular formation. Being our first night in the woods, we were at first scared by every noise we heard as we were in a relatively vulnerable position. We ended up falling asleep somewhere around 10 PM (because it was dark) only then to end up waking up several times throughout the course of the night because it was really cold. We knew the daytime temperatures in Croatia were 70 to 90 degrees Fahrenheit, but we hadn’t anticipated the night
time temperatures dropping as low as they did. By time we woke up at 4 AM (sunrise), we were all wearing almost every article of clothing that we had with us. It was rough, but we made it.
Day 40: Samedi 23/6/2012
Waking up at 4 AM, the first order of business was getting our bear bag out of the tree and taking down our hammocks. Then, we began with our breakfast (one loaf of dense bread, the jar of peanut butter, and a hot cup of instant coffee). This required making a fire which was against the law (forest fires aren’t cool). Nevertheless, we did it with a reasonable amount of ease and were able to get the water for our coffee to boil in a few minutes. After breakfast, at only 7 AM, we began our big adventure of the trip. We had seen on Google Maps that we were about 10 km away from Bosnia and Herzegovina. With a park map and a map of the country, we set off on what in hindsight was a really stupid hike. No one else knew where we were, we hardly even knew where we were, and all we had to guide ourselves was a compass. We walked and walked as straight eastward as we could for hours before finally giving up around 10 AM. The terrain was filled with massive bowls, steep hills, and thick forestation making it very difficult to move fast or in a straight line. Eventually, we gave up without ever knowing if we had (illegally) made it to Bosnia or not. Finally, deciding that we had ventured far enough, we turned around and headed westward as best as we could in hopes of making it back to where we had started. Something happened along the way (either while going there, coming back, or probably in both directions) and we ended up drifting a bit off from our intended east-west line. The woods all looked the same, so we had no identifiable landmarks to go by and no trail to follow. After a few more hours of wandering westward, Danny miraculously spotted a house off in the distance. Smelling like a mixture of sweat, wilderness, campfire, and nasty, we knew they would be in shock when we came walking out of the woods into their backyard. Regardless, we needed to find our way home, so we approached the house. There were two guys sitting at a picnic table smoking and chatting with each other as they watched their kids play together in the yard. They knew English and thought our story was very funny. We pulled out the Plitvice Lakes National Park map to ask them where we were and they said “you’re somewhere around here,” pointing a couple inches below the map. Somehow we ended up about 6 km south of the park and they were happy to give us direction on how to get back there. At around noon, we left their neighborhood and headed north along the “highway” back to the park. Shortly after 1 PM, we made it back to the park where we run into none other than the purple sweater lady (it was the same purple sweater, but then again, we were also wearing the same clothes as the previous day) who pulls up in her car and asks us: “Can I help you, do you need a hotel?” Again, we told her that we were doing fine and didn’t need her help, so she reluctantly drove away. Then, we had a well-deserved lunch of another loaf of dense bread, olive oil, half of our pepperoni, and trail mix. Following lunch, we snuck into the park (because the 80 Kuna entrance fee for students seemed stupid and there were already well-defined paths made by other people who had done the same thing before us) and we toured the southern half of the park. The waterfalls there were beautiful, but not quite what Google Images had led me to believe we would be finding at the park. All along the trail, the other tourists were all looking at us, probably because we were a mess, but probably also because we smelled disgusting. By time we were done with the southern loop, it was around 5 PM and we needed to get back to our camping location to prepare dinner, put the bear bag back up in the trees, get our hammocks set up, and get ready for sleep before the sun went down. The campfire for dinner was much easier to build than the one at breakfast because we had a proven system this time of a way to get the campfire started with what we had to work with. We ate the can of beans and the can of Mexican corn along with the second half of the pepperoni that we started at lunch. Again, putting the bear bag up was very easy because we had that down to a science following the somewhat long ordeal of trying to get the rope up in the trees the first night. Hammocks too were very simple for the same reason. By around 8:30 PM we were in our hammocks and just waiting for it to get progressively darker. We talked for a little bit just to kill time but were probably asleep by around 9 or 9:30 PM. It was just as cold as the previous night but we were so tired that we slept right through it. Also, after having survived the first night, we weren’t concerned about the animals or noises that we may have heard
throughout the night.
Day 41: Dimanche 24/6/2012
Again, we woke up at around 4 AM. We got the campfire going, boiled water, made coffee, and drank the coffee along with our breakfast consisting of a loaf of dense bread and Nutella. Molly and Danny were exhausted and wanted to just have an easy day of travelling back to Zadar, then relaxing. However, I really wanted to see the northern half of the park. The southern half was alright, but it wasn’t what I had been expecting, so I was hoping the northern half was going to be better. I was right. We went/snuck into the park at around 8 or 9 AM and explored the northern half of the park. It was amazing. But of course, we run into another recurring character. One of the two guys who gave us directions when we walked out of the woods 6 km south of the park happens to work as a tour guide at the park. He saw us while on a tour and couldn’t help but laugh as he told us: “I see you found your way”. We also saw several tourists from the previous day who clearly remembered us as well as new tourists who were also put off by our disheveled appearance and increasingly more potent smell. There were caves, bigger waterfalls, and a lot more great scenery than the southern half had to offer. We ended up staying there until about noon when we had to start heading back to the bus stop. We made it to the bus stop around 1 PM, ran into the nice lady for what was now a third time. She was still wearing her purple sweater and talked with us for a bit as we waited for our bus. She tried to make her pitch to a few new people then told us her life story and how she couldn’t afford to advertise her hotel on the internet. We got on the bus around 1:50 (?) and made it back to Zadar at around 5 (?). We bought a loaf of bread and some food for our Monday travelling, ate ice cream, found our hostel, checked in and went straight to the water (about a block away). Fully dressed in our dirty clothes that we had been wearing in the woods for almost four days, we jumped into the Adriatic Sea (or at least some channel/bay/straight/sound thereof. There are many islands belonging to Croatia that surround the entire mainland coast, so this wasn’t exactly the Adriatic Sea, but it was an open body of salt water that was directly connected to the Adriatic Sea. Following a short swim and drying off period, we then went back to the hostel to take real showers (our first since Thursday morning or Wednesday night). Then, we ate our loaf of bread with the remainder of our olive oil, got some ice cream, then went to watch the sun set over the sea near Zadar’s Sea Organ. We then ate a very nice dinner trying to spend the remaining Kuna that we had and finished it off with a little more ice cream (the ice cream was not only really good, but was also really cheap). We then went back to our hostel where we got quality sleep in a real bed.
Day 42: Lundi 25/6/2012
We woke up around 8 AM and headed to the Zadar bus stop. We boarded sometime around 9:30 AM and went back to the airport for our flight back to Charleroi, Belgium. When we get there, we meet none other than the UF mechanical engineer from our Charleroi–Zadar flight. She had finished her stay in Croatia at the same time as us and was on our flight back to Charleroi. We talked some more and shared stories about our Croatian adventures before boarding our flight back to Charleroi. We landed and took the bus from the airport to the train station. There, we waited for a long time as the trains got further and further delayed...apparently there were many European train lines that were having protests and someone said the computer system at the Metz train station was malfunctioning. Whatever the cause, we eventually did pull in at around 10 PM. Hungry, we decided to go straight to a kebab place rather than take the bus back to campus. The food was good, but when we left at around 10:30 PM, we didn’t feel like waiting a half hour
for the next bus at the closest bus stop. So, keeping up in the tradition of our long weekend of outdoor adventure, we walked the 2 km back to campus and got back around 11 PM. Exhausted, I showered, unpacked, pulled two ticks off my body (major downside to camping), and went to sleep.
28 June 2012
Why I Love Croatia: Introduction
This past weekend was my program's five day break. Most people go to Italy. Some cross the Channel. The few that miss the memo explaining Spain is for the 4-day and Italy is for the 5-day go to Barcelona. And then there's me. (I've been told that if I were I river I'd be the Nile, because I flow in the opposite direction of everyone else...)
Planning for these five days with my bros Danbot and K-Fed started with this question: where is the strangest place we could possibly, feasibly go? Our answer? Croatia. Sounds good. Stay in the capital city, see some sights, maybe set out on a day trip to see waterfalls in a national park, the like. But after awhile that started to sound a little too normal. More days in the park? All the days in the park? Camping in the park? Camping in the unmarked and unprotected woodlands alongside the park, BearGryllsing it in the wilderness for three days? Bingo. Interlaken was going to be an Epcot village compared to this.
Our preparations included a lot of logistical work to get us from Metz to Zadar and eventually to the Plitvice Lakes National Park region, a lot of list making, a lot of supply shopping, and a lot of hair cutting. The boys wanted some fresh cuts before going extended periods of time without showering, so I stepped up to the challenge and turned a dorm room into a de facto barber shop. The cuts might not have been perfect [read: the cuts were borderline awful]. The hair was shorter, though, which is really what it all comes down to, right? Right? It's nerve-wracking to cut the hair of people that you're going to be trusting to keep you alive in the Croatian wilderness.
Once hair was cut, bags were packed, and hammocks and Twix were bought, we were ready to begin our trek. What happened from there? oh. so. much. In an attempt to tell the full story of this adventure, I've enlisted the help of my Broatians to take the blagosphere by storm and deliver my first ever blog series and guest bloggers - at the same time. Woah, dang. And so begins "Why I Love Croatia: Three Essays by Three BAs".
Planning for these five days with my bros Danbot and K-Fed started with this question: where is the strangest place we could possibly, feasibly go? Our answer? Croatia. Sounds good. Stay in the capital city, see some sights, maybe set out on a day trip to see waterfalls in a national park, the like. But after awhile that started to sound a little too normal. More days in the park? All the days in the park? Camping in the park? Camping in the unmarked and unprotected woodlands alongside the park, BearGryllsing it in the wilderness for three days? Bingo. Interlaken was going to be an Epcot village compared to this.
Our preparations included a lot of logistical work to get us from Metz to Zadar and eventually to the Plitvice Lakes National Park region, a lot of list making, a lot of supply shopping, and a lot of hair cutting. The boys wanted some fresh cuts before going extended periods of time without showering, so I stepped up to the challenge and turned a dorm room into a de facto barber shop. The cuts might not have been perfect [read: the cuts were borderline awful]. The hair was shorter, though, which is really what it all comes down to, right? Right? It's nerve-wracking to cut the hair of people that you're going to be trusting to keep you alive in the Croatian wilderness.
Once hair was cut, bags were packed, and hammocks and Twix were bought, we were ready to begin our trek. What happened from there? oh. so. much. In an attempt to tell the full story of this adventure, I've enlisted the help of my Broatians to take the blagosphere by storm and deliver my first ever blog series and guest bloggers - at the same time. Woah, dang. And so begins "Why I Love Croatia: Three Essays by Three BAs".
20 June 2012
Adventure is Out There
Just stepping off the train in Interlaken, Switzerland makes you feel ten times more sporty and outdoorsy than average. It is outdoor adventure wonderland, and this past weekend the Titanic Tip and Daring Dash Adventurers Slash Explorers (because every good travel group needs a catchy name, right?) took advantage of all the adventure we could wrap our sunburned arms around.
First: Adventure Picnic No. 1. The goods were bought at coop. The location was found by following streams of metal heads in bathing suits carrying cases of alcohol. Then we feasted on a dock overlooking the clear, blue, Brienzersee, with a backdrop of clear sky and imposing mountains.
Second: Glacier Bungee. Yes. We had been wetting our pants for about three weeks in anticipation of bungee jumping off a glacier in Interlaken, especially since we found a sweet deal through our Hostel. We ran through every single possible fatality multiple times, debated whether or not the rope would be most dangerous first, before anyone had tested it out, or last, when it was already strained from being used 5 times prior, and planned brightly colored outfits. We packed into the minivan and rode up to the jump site. We signed the liability waivers. We harnessed up. Then our adventure company told us that Glacier Bungee was sort of lame...?
Second, 2.0: Canyon Jump. Apparently, Canyon Jumping is the way to go in Interlaken. It's about 80 meters of pure free fall through a glacier ravine, leading into a swoop as the rope gently catches and changes your direction without changing your speed. Or, in my case, about 80 meters of pure free fall through a glacier ravine, leading into a frantic flailing as the rope slams into your face and changes your direction without changing your speed. I am so lame, y'all - I suffered a bruise on my cheek and having my upper lip swell to a Who-esque size all for being a spaz and using my face to brace the fall.
Third: Hiking Up a Mountain. On Saturday, we pointed at a mountain. On Sunday, we hiked to the top of it. The Titanic Tip and Daring Dash Adventurers Slash Explorers split up, and since it was just me and the boys doing the hiking, I took it upon myself to take a slower pace in order to let the fellows rest periodically as they waited for me to catch up. Selfless, I know. Once we reached the top, I spoke in German to ask an elderly Swiss man to take our picture. Except, instead of asking "Will you take our picture?", the best I could muster out after hours of physical exertion was "Can you photograph us?" His response was to laugh and turn to his buddies and say something along the lines of, "Of course I CAN, but who knows if I WILL!" Oh, the embarrassment of incorrect modal auxiliaries. Cut me some slack, Swiss man.
Fourth: Adventure Picnic No. 2. When we reached the summit, we celebrated with PEANUT BUTTER! and Nutella spread on some stale bread we found (fo' free!) in leftover boxes outside of our hostel's kitchen. What a snag. Seriously, though, that peanut butter was probably the only thing that got me to the top of that mountain.
Fifth: Hiking Down a Mountain. Going down mountains is sevenfold more fun than going up. Because you can run and prance from obstacle to obstacle and slide on loose gravel and leaves but still keep your balance. Going down mountains was made for those weird people who habitually walk on the balls of their feet...ahem, me.
Sixth: Swimming in a Glacier Lake. Instead of showering off after the full day of hiking, we swam in a lake. Because we're just outdoorsy like that.
I am earning my Chaco's, KAVU, and Nalgene, y'all.
First: Adventure Picnic No. 1. The goods were bought at coop. The location was found by following streams of metal heads in bathing suits carrying cases of alcohol. Then we feasted on a dock overlooking the clear, blue, Brienzersee, with a backdrop of clear sky and imposing mountains.
Second: Glacier Bungee. Yes. We had been wetting our pants for about three weeks in anticipation of bungee jumping off a glacier in Interlaken, especially since we found a sweet deal through our Hostel. We ran through every single possible fatality multiple times, debated whether or not the rope would be most dangerous first, before anyone had tested it out, or last, when it was already strained from being used 5 times prior, and planned brightly colored outfits. We packed into the minivan and rode up to the jump site. We signed the liability waivers. We harnessed up. Then our adventure company told us that Glacier Bungee was sort of lame...?
Second, 2.0: Canyon Jump. Apparently, Canyon Jumping is the way to go in Interlaken. It's about 80 meters of pure free fall through a glacier ravine, leading into a swoop as the rope gently catches and changes your direction without changing your speed. Or, in my case, about 80 meters of pure free fall through a glacier ravine, leading into a frantic flailing as the rope slams into your face and changes your direction without changing your speed. I am so lame, y'all - I suffered a bruise on my cheek and having my upper lip swell to a Who-esque size all for being a spaz and using my face to brace the fall.
Third: Hiking Up a Mountain. On Saturday, we pointed at a mountain. On Sunday, we hiked to the top of it. The Titanic Tip and Daring Dash Adventurers Slash Explorers split up, and since it was just me and the boys doing the hiking, I took it upon myself to take a slower pace in order to let the fellows rest periodically as they waited for me to catch up. Selfless, I know. Once we reached the top, I spoke in German to ask an elderly Swiss man to take our picture. Except, instead of asking "Will you take our picture?", the best I could muster out after hours of physical exertion was "Can you photograph us?" His response was to laugh and turn to his buddies and say something along the lines of, "Of course I CAN, but who knows if I WILL!" Oh, the embarrassment of incorrect modal auxiliaries. Cut me some slack, Swiss man.
Fourth: Adventure Picnic No. 2. When we reached the summit, we celebrated with PEANUT BUTTER! and Nutella spread on some stale bread we found (fo' free!) in leftover boxes outside of our hostel's kitchen. What a snag. Seriously, though, that peanut butter was probably the only thing that got me to the top of that mountain.
Fifth: Hiking Down a Mountain. Going down mountains is sevenfold more fun than going up. Because you can run and prance from obstacle to obstacle and slide on loose gravel and leaves but still keep your balance. Going down mountains was made for those weird people who habitually walk on the balls of their feet...ahem, me.
Sixth: Swimming in a Glacier Lake. Instead of showering off after the full day of hiking, we swam in a lake. Because we're just outdoorsy like that.
I am earning my Chaco's, KAVU, and Nalgene, y'all.
12 June 2012
Munchin'? Muenchen. (and munchin'.)
Germany is calling, and I must go. I think I've fallen a lot in love with this country, thanks largely in part to this last weekend in Munich. We got to the city by taking an overnight train from Metz. An overnight train, but in a compartment without couchettes/bunks. This means that sleeping conditions got pretty creative. (I tended to stick with right angles, either on my side with my back to one row of seats and my legs stretched across the aisle or on my back on the seats with my legs propped against the wall. Comfy!) It's all good, though, because our first order of business in Munich was a walking tour, allowing us to work out all our cramps. Despite being drizzly and dreary, the city was beautiful to walk through and felt just plain friendly overall. The tour had a small break around noon, and our guide directed the group to "Starbucks, the best coffee in the world" - but made sure we all knew to follow her in the opposite direction for some authentic German brats and beer from a butcher's shop. Mmmm. Tasty. And my kind of tour guide. Her name was Virginia-Not-Victoria and she was excellent. (If you find yourself in a city offering Sandeman's New Europe Free Walking Tours, take advantage of them. Their basic offered tour is free, so the guides work especially hard to make the tipping at the end worthwhile. Plus, the tour catered to a younger/aint-nobody-got-money-for-that audience. Perfect for us.)
After spending the morning seeing and learning about Munich, we took the afternoon to visit nearby Dachau, the longest operating concentration camp. Words cannot really express the atmosphere at Dachau. The air felt saturated with such sorrow, such cruelty, such frightening power. Barracks built to house 200 people housed 2,000 by the end of the war. A second, larger crematorium stood just yards away from the first, which proved too small for the camps needs by the end of the war. I walked through the roll call courtyard, through the intake rooms and disinfecting chambers, through the crematorium, even through the gas chamber. Indescribable. Harrowing.
Back in Munich that evening, we searched for a lively crowd to join and watch the Germany-Portugal soccer game. Unfortunately, our senses for lively crowds aren't very acute and we ended up with a host of subdued diners and Shirtless Guy. The biergarten happened to be on a square where a street festival was set up, so we found some liveliness with the band there, along with an ENTIRE COW roasting on a spit, whole fish grilled on giant skewers, and pretzels bigger than our faces. The band ended around the same time as the game - with a W for Deutschland! - so we got to join in some revelry on the streets as we made our way back to our hostel. Since I was the only member of our coalition to have experienced the beauty that is Auburn Gameday, I took it upon myself to be the ambassador, yelling "Ja! Deutschland!" to any and every group of people garbed in jerseys and flags. The streets were celebrating that night, y'all, and I was right there with them. The only problem with this was that apparently my German accent is pretty convincing to drunk fussball fans, so sometimes they'd keep exclaiming in German or asking me directions. Obviously the best reaction was another hearty, "Ja! Deutschland!" before walking away.
Day two of our Bavarian weekend was spent primarily in Fussen, at Neuschwanstein Castle. It was built by Mad King Ludwig and is supposed to be the basis for Cinderella's Castle. Neuschwan-sweet! We walked up the hill and around the grounds, taking pictures of the beautiful-though-grey day. Then we walked a little farther to an expansion bridge across two cliffs. On our way up to the bridge, we were asked to take a picture of a group. When asked where they were from, the answer was Texas. Everyone in my group whipped their heads around to me, and I relished in the chance to talk to some fellow Texans - especially since one of these ended up being the Dean of Students at Baylor University, my parents' Alma Mater. wut wut. The main fellow I talked with, though, was not the dean but I think his wife was a professor, and he happened to be retired and living in Athens, TX. Small world. On our way down the mountain, we found a nature trail and I put my Chacos to good use, splashing in creeks, dodging massive snails, and whatnot.
Coming back into Munich for the evening, we ate an early dinner at the Hofbrauhaus, meeting up with an exchange student from Tech actually living with a host family in Germany this summer. She took us around the city after dinner, and it was really neat to hear a pseudo-local's view of the city. Of course we stopped for ice cream - Spaghetti Eis. It's ice cream, that looks like spaghetti. And is delicious. We also walked by the part of the river where people surf in the middle of Munich. The best part of her tour, though, was that she took us to the University of Munich, where she goes to class and also where die Weisse Rose resistance movement took place. Now that was another unreal thing to see. I was in the back of the group and didn't hear her introduce the university, but I knew exactly what it was from recognizing the street where Hans and Sophie Scholl were arrested in the movie. Unbelievable. And after that it was time to catch another overnight train back to Metz (this time with couchettes, though) arriving a mere 2.5 hours before class. YOLO.
After spending the morning seeing and learning about Munich, we took the afternoon to visit nearby Dachau, the longest operating concentration camp. Words cannot really express the atmosphere at Dachau. The air felt saturated with such sorrow, such cruelty, such frightening power. Barracks built to house 200 people housed 2,000 by the end of the war. A second, larger crematorium stood just yards away from the first, which proved too small for the camps needs by the end of the war. I walked through the roll call courtyard, through the intake rooms and disinfecting chambers, through the crematorium, even through the gas chamber. Indescribable. Harrowing.
Back in Munich that evening, we searched for a lively crowd to join and watch the Germany-Portugal soccer game. Unfortunately, our senses for lively crowds aren't very acute and we ended up with a host of subdued diners and Shirtless Guy. The biergarten happened to be on a square where a street festival was set up, so we found some liveliness with the band there, along with an ENTIRE COW roasting on a spit, whole fish grilled on giant skewers, and pretzels bigger than our faces. The band ended around the same time as the game - with a W for Deutschland! - so we got to join in some revelry on the streets as we made our way back to our hostel. Since I was the only member of our coalition to have experienced the beauty that is Auburn Gameday, I took it upon myself to be the ambassador, yelling "Ja! Deutschland!" to any and every group of people garbed in jerseys and flags. The streets were celebrating that night, y'all, and I was right there with them. The only problem with this was that apparently my German accent is pretty convincing to drunk fussball fans, so sometimes they'd keep exclaiming in German or asking me directions. Obviously the best reaction was another hearty, "Ja! Deutschland!" before walking away.
Day two of our Bavarian weekend was spent primarily in Fussen, at Neuschwanstein Castle. It was built by Mad King Ludwig and is supposed to be the basis for Cinderella's Castle. Neuschwan-sweet! We walked up the hill and around the grounds, taking pictures of the beautiful-though-grey day. Then we walked a little farther to an expansion bridge across two cliffs. On our way up to the bridge, we were asked to take a picture of a group. When asked where they were from, the answer was Texas. Everyone in my group whipped their heads around to me, and I relished in the chance to talk to some fellow Texans - especially since one of these ended up being the Dean of Students at Baylor University, my parents' Alma Mater. wut wut. The main fellow I talked with, though, was not the dean but I think his wife was a professor, and he happened to be retired and living in Athens, TX. Small world. On our way down the mountain, we found a nature trail and I put my Chacos to good use, splashing in creeks, dodging massive snails, and whatnot.
Coming back into Munich for the evening, we ate an early dinner at the Hofbrauhaus, meeting up with an exchange student from Tech actually living with a host family in Germany this summer. She took us around the city after dinner, and it was really neat to hear a pseudo-local's view of the city. Of course we stopped for ice cream - Spaghetti Eis. It's ice cream, that looks like spaghetti. And is delicious. We also walked by the part of the river where people surf in the middle of Munich. The best part of her tour, though, was that she took us to the University of Munich, where she goes to class and also where die Weisse Rose resistance movement took place. Now that was another unreal thing to see. I was in the back of the group and didn't hear her introduce the university, but I knew exactly what it was from recognizing the street where Hans and Sophie Scholl were arrested in the movie. Unbelievable. And after that it was time to catch another overnight train back to Metz (this time with couchettes, though) arriving a mere 2.5 hours before class. YOLO.
07 June 2012
Paris Holds the Key to Your Heart!*
*yes, I have had this scene from Anastasia on repeat in my mind all week.
Threes were the theme of our visit to Paris.
We took three bike tours. Three. Now, I am not a bike tourist, but I did my best. The first was a day tour of the city, hitting most of the highlights and big sights. The second was a tour of the grounds and gardens of Versailles, and by far my favorite despite the chilly/drizzly weather. After biking along wide paths through the grounds and we got to stop alongside the channel for a picnic. An Australian shared her nougat with us and a Pittsburghian told me the best way to learn French was to get a French boyfriend. (By this logic, the best way to learn emag is to get an electromagnetic boyfriend. Hit me up, all you electrifying fella's.) The third tour was a night tour, meaning we were navigating the streets of Paris during the busiest time for both motor and pedestrian traffic. On bikes. In a herd of people (mainly flight attendants). All in yellow vests. Except me, who for some unknown reason was given an orange vest. This was not my favorite, but I did it. I bike toured thrice in three days. And patted myself on the back and bought a Fat Tire Bike Tours cap to congratulate myself. Huzzah!
I went three times to art museums. Our first night (Friday) the Louvre was open late, so my parents and I went for a preliminary walk through. This ended up being one of our best ideas, since the crowds around the Mona Lisa, Winged Victory, Venus de Milo, and other bigshots were nowhere near what they were like when we went back Monday morning. And since we had already checked those off the list on Friday night, we got to spend our visit on Monday morning in the less crowded wings where we saw the Lacemaker and Hammurabi's Code. (Call me crazy, but I was jump-up-and-down excited to see Hammurabi's Code whereas the rest of my family took it like champs. I credit Mrs. Marler.) Double the Louvre, double the love. Visit number three was to Musee L'Orsay, where Impressionists and others are displayed in an old train station. Saw some Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, and my favorite, Degas. Pretty dang cool.
We had glaces from three different shops. One was a sidewalk stand on Rue Cler - our home base. I got chocolate and berry cheesecake. The next was another cafe on Rue Cler (that ended up being a chain, but what evs, they made the ice cream look like flowers in the cone). I got chocolate and nutella. The third was during our night bike tour - definitely the highlight of the tour - from a little cafe near the neighborhood where Johnny Depp either lived or lives. I got Cacoa Intense 65% Noir (uhh - yum) and the inevitable mis-order. Mirabelle. It sounded so lovely, but ended up being a sort of peach sorbet. That's not ice cream, y'all. So I ate the chocolate scoop off the top and gave the rest to my mom.
I ordered three drinks from three different Starbucks on three different days in order to utilize their free wifi to check Twitter (a must) and avert crisis, aka, buy Feast For Crows after finishing Storm of Swords. Earl Grey, caffe latte, caffe noir, if you were wondering.
Brandon asked me three times where I got my sweater vest. It's from the Gap.
And of course other things happened that weren't in threes. Such as seeing the Eiffel Tower, buying pants when my legs were cold, eating lots of chocolate, buying corkscrews double the cost of wine, eating lots of bread, strolling through gardens, browsing street markets, many metros, sibling Game of Thrones reading siestas, and the like.
Threes were the theme of our visit to Paris.
We took three bike tours. Three. Now, I am not a bike tourist, but I did my best. The first was a day tour of the city, hitting most of the highlights and big sights. The second was a tour of the grounds and gardens of Versailles, and by far my favorite despite the chilly/drizzly weather. After biking along wide paths through the grounds and we got to stop alongside the channel for a picnic. An Australian shared her nougat with us and a Pittsburghian told me the best way to learn French was to get a French boyfriend. (By this logic, the best way to learn emag is to get an electromagnetic boyfriend. Hit me up, all you electrifying fella's.) The third tour was a night tour, meaning we were navigating the streets of Paris during the busiest time for both motor and pedestrian traffic. On bikes. In a herd of people (mainly flight attendants). All in yellow vests. Except me, who for some unknown reason was given an orange vest. This was not my favorite, but I did it. I bike toured thrice in three days. And patted myself on the back and bought a Fat Tire Bike Tours cap to congratulate myself. Huzzah!
I went three times to art museums. Our first night (Friday) the Louvre was open late, so my parents and I went for a preliminary walk through. This ended up being one of our best ideas, since the crowds around the Mona Lisa, Winged Victory, Venus de Milo, and other bigshots were nowhere near what they were like when we went back Monday morning. And since we had already checked those off the list on Friday night, we got to spend our visit on Monday morning in the less crowded wings where we saw the Lacemaker and Hammurabi's Code. (Call me crazy, but I was jump-up-and-down excited to see Hammurabi's Code whereas the rest of my family took it like champs. I credit Mrs. Marler.) Double the Louvre, double the love. Visit number three was to Musee L'Orsay, where Impressionists and others are displayed in an old train station. Saw some Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, and my favorite, Degas. Pretty dang cool.
We had glaces from three different shops. One was a sidewalk stand on Rue Cler - our home base. I got chocolate and berry cheesecake. The next was another cafe on Rue Cler (that ended up being a chain, but what evs, they made the ice cream look like flowers in the cone). I got chocolate and nutella. The third was during our night bike tour - definitely the highlight of the tour - from a little cafe near the neighborhood where Johnny Depp either lived or lives. I got Cacoa Intense 65% Noir (uhh - yum) and the inevitable mis-order. Mirabelle. It sounded so lovely, but ended up being a sort of peach sorbet. That's not ice cream, y'all. So I ate the chocolate scoop off the top and gave the rest to my mom.
I ordered three drinks from three different Starbucks on three different days in order to utilize their free wifi to check Twitter (a must) and avert crisis, aka, buy Feast For Crows after finishing Storm of Swords. Earl Grey, caffe latte, caffe noir, if you were wondering.
Brandon asked me three times where I got my sweater vest. It's from the Gap.
And of course other things happened that weren't in threes. Such as seeing the Eiffel Tower, buying pants when my legs were cold, eating lots of chocolate, buying corkscrews double the cost of wine, eating lots of bread, strolling through gardens, browsing street markets, many metros, sibling Game of Thrones reading siestas, and the like.
30 May 2012
Moseying through the Mosel
This past weekend I met the 'rents and my brother in the Mosel Valley region of Germany. (First trip across the pond for 3/4 of the Cook Clan shout-out!) Our tour started in Cochem, where we ate ice cream - that I ordered in German, y'all - and strolled through the streets until catching a train to our accommodations in Moselkern. Disclaimer: most of our activities this weekend can be found in Rick Steve's Guide to Germany. Rick Steves says "jump", we say "how high, and when should we do it to avoid the most crowds and get the best deal?"
Here's the thing about training around the Mosel Valley (and probably many other places in Germany): there are castles everywhere. Just like banks in Tyler. One on every corner. Our first full day of the weekend was split between roaming Burg Rheinfels in St. Goar and wine tasting in Bacharach. Rheinfels was amazing. It's basically the ruins of the largest castle overlooking the Rhein. And it has no structured tours or rule enforcement whatsoever. Which means anyone who chooses to can scale turrets, climb through windows, descend into underground tunnels, and army crawl through crumbling passageways. Yes, please. Danny - who braved the daunting task of traveling with the Cooks - and I ended the morning caked in German Castle Dust and having found ourselves more times on the wrong side of boundaries than the safe side. In other words, it was a success. After hiking back down we caught the train to Bacharach for some more hiking/exploring and a lazy-Susan filled with glasses of the wines that the region is known for.
It would seem that the day couldn't have been any better, but the train ride back put the cherry on top of this travel sundae. We happened to share a train car with a group of Germany's Special Olympics athletes as well as a group of partying middle aged Germans. After filling the car with rounds of German drinking songs and toasts, the three or so couples started talking to the Olympians and asking them all about their medals and events and the like. Soon enough, one of the ladies turns around in her seat, looks straight at Danny, and starts rattling off in German. Danny responds as anyone would when being talked at in a foreign language - smile, shrug, look around, stammer, plus any combination of the four - before saying, "I'm American." Fortunately for us, this lady speaks "excellent English!" and proceeds to ask, "ahnd vwaaht shport do you play?" to which Danny responds and they talk about soccer for awhile. At this point, my entire family is in tears for laughing so hard, and after the party de-trained at the next stop we explain to Danny how he was just mistaken for a Special Olympics competitor. One that didn't medal, to boot.
The next day we hiked up a nature trail to Burg Elz and took a tour before leaving Moselkern for the medieval walled city of Rothenburg. We'd been seeing folks in medieval dress all over the train stations, and Rothenburg just so happened to be their destination. The city was hosting a huge, four day renaissance fair that weekend, adding even more charm to the city in the form of campfires, drums, folk songs, etc. We took the Rick Steves recommended Night Watchman's Tour and then ate dinner in Hell. Right outside of it, rather. Later that evening Brandon and I walked around the fair, enjoying the local culture and the musical stylings of a band with members ranging in age from 20-67 and repertoire stretching from Adele covers to Summer of '69 to oompa-pa's. The next day we walked the city wall and my mom and I poked around the renaissance craft fair, a bakery, and a Christmas store before starting the long haul back to Metz.
In short: I love Germany. All of the people I came in contact with were super nice. Germans like to have good, clean, fun. They actually do dance the do-si-do-swing-around-to-the-boring-part-of-the-chicken-dance-dance. Everyone sings. And they have castles. Let's all be a little more German.
par avion
I love to get mail, I love to send mail, and I especially love to get and send all kinds of postcards. If you're interested in receiving one from my travels this summer, check out the brand spanking new "postcards please" link. Fill out the form with all of the necessities, and I'll be sure to send something your way!
And if you're interested in sending me mail...
Molly Cook
Georgia Tech Lorraine
Summer Program
2 Rue Marconi
57070 Metz, France
Let's keep letter writing alive!
21 May 2012
Brussels and Bruges
And so it has come to pass. The first weekend. The first trip. The first of many to come. And it was gooood.
Seeing as our first weekend was a 2-day weekend (FYI: the semester is set up with mainly 3 day weekends, some 2 day weekends, and one 4 and one 5 day break), we wanted to go somewhere relatively close and doable in two days. Cue Brussels, The Land of Four: fries, chocolate, waffles, beer. Plus a few peeing statues here and there.
I traveled in a group of 7, and we all woke up bright and early Saturday morning to catch trains first to Luxembourg, then on to Brussels. All in all, it ended up being about a four hour trip. Once in Brussels, we just wandered around on foot, taking in the sights and getting our bearings in the city. (Yes, this does in fact mean that we got a little lost and had a whale of a time finding our hostel. To be fair, the hostel was not well marked at all.) We were staying in a hostel just off of the Grand Place, which is probably one of the prettiest 360 degree views of ornate buildings anywhere, especially when you emerge from an alleyway expecting another quaint row of houses but instead get turrets and steeples. It was on this trek that we conquered our first of the four - authentic Belgian freits/frites/fries. (That's another thing: in Brussels, people speak either French, Flemish, English, a combination of the three, or are crazy tourists like us, so everything comes with at least three names. This makes directions difficult.) My friends, these fries were tasty and the perfect thing to hold us over until we figured out the hostel situation. While figuring it out, we talked to Brussels Hostel Guy and got the skinny on everything worth knowing in Brussels. He highlighted maps for us and starred the places that we wanted to see. If ever you find yourself hostel jumping in Europe, take advantage of those front desk people! They know their stuff. I know this because he sent us to what he called "the best waffles in the city" and after eating one, I believe him. Mine was stuffed with solid bars of chocolate before the final press, so the waffle was just crispy and caramelized enough on the outside, chewy enough on the inside, and the chocolate was that perfect half-melted-gooey-but-still-solid state. Mmmm. Number two: check.
Since our plan of action basically called for eating our way through the city, we made sure to walk as much as possible to justify things. We hoofed it across Brussels on a grand tour of cathedrals, parks, palaces, parliaments, street fairs, parades, you name it. We found Manneken Pis, the little peeing boy statue that is so famous for who knows why, dressed in an odd robe and with a red block covering his head. That was a little disappointing, but right at the time we came to the statue, the parade that was the reason for his garb was turning the corner, so we stood and watched and some of us ate escargot. I did not partake. Since Pis was the last stop on our self led tour, we headed back to the hostel, eyes peeled for number three. On a little side street, we ducked into a chocolatier and picked a sampling of chocolates to share later after we settled into our hostel rooms.
For dinner, we found some street sandwiches - kebabs are all the rage, y'all - and kept things quick, easy, and cheap. Then we set out to find Delirium, a huge bar with an equally huge selection of beers, determined to finish the four. So we each picked a different Belgian brew and savored the flavor before heading out once again, in search of a place to watch the Chelsea/Munich game. And then all we wanted to do was sleep after a day of walking walking walking.
But the next morning, we rose bright and early in order to do it all again! Thank heavens for the Eurail pass, because we decided on a whim to include a side trip to Bruges. We looked for mermaids, but couldn't find them. We did find both the Fry and Chocolate Museum, and toured them purely for educational purposes. And maybe free samples. Then we spent the rest of our visit walking down canals, through cathedrals, and around parks. Every single street and building in Bruges is ripe for photography. Everything looks like a post card. It was beautiful. When the time came, we hopped back on the train, made our connections, and arrived back to home sweet Metz just in time to get some beauty sleep before classes in the morning.
Seeing as our first weekend was a 2-day weekend (FYI: the semester is set up with mainly 3 day weekends, some 2 day weekends, and one 4 and one 5 day break), we wanted to go somewhere relatively close and doable in two days. Cue Brussels, The Land of Four: fries, chocolate, waffles, beer. Plus a few peeing statues here and there.
I traveled in a group of 7, and we all woke up bright and early Saturday morning to catch trains first to Luxembourg, then on to Brussels. All in all, it ended up being about a four hour trip. Once in Brussels, we just wandered around on foot, taking in the sights and getting our bearings in the city. (Yes, this does in fact mean that we got a little lost and had a whale of a time finding our hostel. To be fair, the hostel was not well marked at all.) We were staying in a hostel just off of the Grand Place, which is probably one of the prettiest 360 degree views of ornate buildings anywhere, especially when you emerge from an alleyway expecting another quaint row of houses but instead get turrets and steeples. It was on this trek that we conquered our first of the four - authentic Belgian freits/frites/fries. (That's another thing: in Brussels, people speak either French, Flemish, English, a combination of the three, or are crazy tourists like us, so everything comes with at least three names. This makes directions difficult.) My friends, these fries were tasty and the perfect thing to hold us over until we figured out the hostel situation. While figuring it out, we talked to Brussels Hostel Guy and got the skinny on everything worth knowing in Brussels. He highlighted maps for us and starred the places that we wanted to see. If ever you find yourself hostel jumping in Europe, take advantage of those front desk people! They know their stuff. I know this because he sent us to what he called "the best waffles in the city" and after eating one, I believe him. Mine was stuffed with solid bars of chocolate before the final press, so the waffle was just crispy and caramelized enough on the outside, chewy enough on the inside, and the chocolate was that perfect half-melted-gooey-but-still-solid state. Mmmm. Number two: check.
Since our plan of action basically called for eating our way through the city, we made sure to walk as much as possible to justify things. We hoofed it across Brussels on a grand tour of cathedrals, parks, palaces, parliaments, street fairs, parades, you name it. We found Manneken Pis, the little peeing boy statue that is so famous for who knows why, dressed in an odd robe and with a red block covering his head. That was a little disappointing, but right at the time we came to the statue, the parade that was the reason for his garb was turning the corner, so we stood and watched and some of us ate escargot. I did not partake. Since Pis was the last stop on our self led tour, we headed back to the hostel, eyes peeled for number three. On a little side street, we ducked into a chocolatier and picked a sampling of chocolates to share later after we settled into our hostel rooms.
For dinner, we found some street sandwiches - kebabs are all the rage, y'all - and kept things quick, easy, and cheap. Then we set out to find Delirium, a huge bar with an equally huge selection of beers, determined to finish the four. So we each picked a different Belgian brew and savored the flavor before heading out once again, in search of a place to watch the Chelsea/Munich game. And then all we wanted to do was sleep after a day of walking walking walking.
But the next morning, we rose bright and early in order to do it all again! Thank heavens for the Eurail pass, because we decided on a whim to include a side trip to Bruges. We looked for mermaids, but couldn't find them. We did find both the Fry and Chocolate Museum, and toured them purely for educational purposes. And maybe free samples. Then we spent the rest of our visit walking down canals, through cathedrals, and around parks. Every single street and building in Bruges is ripe for photography. Everything looks like a post card. It was beautiful. When the time came, we hopped back on the train, made our connections, and arrived back to home sweet Metz just in time to get some beauty sleep before classes in the morning.
17 May 2012
First Impressions
It took awhile, but I've finally made it to a mental state to start telling travel tales.
First of all, remember when I went to Las Vegas? Yeah, well, what I didn't tell anyone was that after sitting on the plane for an hour or so, my flight was delayed to the point of me missing any and all connections that I needed in Chicago, so I had to go home and wake up extremely early the next morning to catch another flight. It was miserable. So of course I'm worried about not being able to fly out of Pounds Field in time to catch my flight from Dallas to Frankfurt. Lucky me, that 25 minute flight went without a hitch! Then I just sat in the airport for three hours or and waited to board the flight to Frankfurt. In the process, I met other GTL kiddos on the same flight and formed a coalition. We joked that if the plane were delayed and we missed the bus to Metz, at least we wouldn't be alone! Then the plane was delayed. We didn't joke anymore.
Apparently some fellow got on board, felt sick, and decided that he didn't really want to fly to Germany anyway. So he got off the plane. But one cannot simply walk off of a plane. The airline has to go into the bottom where all of the checked luggage is kept and fish out his bag. This takes awhile. While they were fishing, it came to the airline's attention that there were some metal shavings in the ball bearing of something pertaining to the lavatory. So that had to be fixed, too. Two and a half hours of sitting on the tarmac after our scheduled take-off time, we finally got into the air. The good news: I had an aisle seat. The bad news: the fellow beside me had extremely broad shoulders that spilled over into my zone. Oddly, he had really short legs. So when I told my parents I was hoping to sit by someone "normal-sized", I guess this guy averaged to normal. He was uncomfortable to sit next to, though.
We did miss our shuttle, but lucky for us there was a later one scheduled. We just had to sit and wait some more. And, voila!, I'm in France. The first night was a welcome dinner, the second day an orientation, and classes started on the third day. For the orientation, we got to bus into downtown Metz and walk around for a bit before eating dinner (at an Asian place?), hopping aboard the tourist train for a guided tour, and then attending a reception with the mayor.
My first impressions of Metz:
-cora is amazing
-where is the peanut butter
-how can one consume this much bread without becoming bread themselves
-it's colder than I thought
-I wish it would stop raining
-the mayor is extremely punctual
-these French people are so trendy
-soccer all the time
-these crows have got to be Crebain
My first impressions of GTL:
-class? what?
-so. much. lunch.
-so. many. vectors.
-homework assigned the first day, due the second, quiz on the third. lawdy.
First of all, remember when I went to Las Vegas? Yeah, well, what I didn't tell anyone was that after sitting on the plane for an hour or so, my flight was delayed to the point of me missing any and all connections that I needed in Chicago, so I had to go home and wake up extremely early the next morning to catch another flight. It was miserable. So of course I'm worried about not being able to fly out of Pounds Field in time to catch my flight from Dallas to Frankfurt. Lucky me, that 25 minute flight went without a hitch! Then I just sat in the airport for three hours or and waited to board the flight to Frankfurt. In the process, I met other GTL kiddos on the same flight and formed a coalition. We joked that if the plane were delayed and we missed the bus to Metz, at least we wouldn't be alone! Then the plane was delayed. We didn't joke anymore.
Apparently some fellow got on board, felt sick, and decided that he didn't really want to fly to Germany anyway. So he got off the plane. But one cannot simply walk off of a plane. The airline has to go into the bottom where all of the checked luggage is kept and fish out his bag. This takes awhile. While they were fishing, it came to the airline's attention that there were some metal shavings in the ball bearing of something pertaining to the lavatory. So that had to be fixed, too. Two and a half hours of sitting on the tarmac after our scheduled take-off time, we finally got into the air. The good news: I had an aisle seat. The bad news: the fellow beside me had extremely broad shoulders that spilled over into my zone. Oddly, he had really short legs. So when I told my parents I was hoping to sit by someone "normal-sized", I guess this guy averaged to normal. He was uncomfortable to sit next to, though.
We did miss our shuttle, but lucky for us there was a later one scheduled. We just had to sit and wait some more. And, voila!, I'm in France. The first night was a welcome dinner, the second day an orientation, and classes started on the third day. For the orientation, we got to bus into downtown Metz and walk around for a bit before eating dinner (at an Asian place?), hopping aboard the tourist train for a guided tour, and then attending a reception with the mayor.
My first impressions of Metz:
-cora is amazing
-where is the peanut butter
-how can one consume this much bread without becoming bread themselves
-it's colder than I thought
-I wish it would stop raining
-the mayor is extremely punctual
-these French people are so trendy
-soccer all the time
-these crows have got to be Crebain
My first impressions of GTL:
-class? what?
-so. much. lunch.
-so. many. vectors.
-homework assigned the first day, due the second, quiz on the third. lawdy.
11 May 2012
Adventure Mode
Things I have done so far to prepare for my summer in Europe:
-bought an e-reader. Heaven help me. I feel like a traitor to the literary world. Alas, this thing is pretty awesome, as well as being super light and space efficient. Perfect for a traveller.
-made piles and piles of clothes. I pile before I pack.
-stocked up on jeggings. Y'all, I cannot lie. I love jeggings. Plus, you can wear them round the clock without being uncomfortable, bunch them up in the bottom of a backpack, wash them in a sink, layer them for warmth, string them up on a tree branch as a distress signal, stretch them across chasms, etc. Basically, they rock. Bandwagon, joined.
-made a new blog header. Because we all know that's rull important.
-watched several episodes of Friday Night Lights. I must finish Season Five before leaving. Consider it a personal goal.
-ate Mexican food. And I'll be back for more before Sunday rolls around.
-made several trips to several stores. To get several things.
-hung out with family and friends. This usually involved food.
-ordered textbooks. Because apparently classes are involved in this whole study abroad thing. Who'da thunk?
-took care of bi'ness (or business, for those not down with my jive). Bi'ness is no fun.
Just a few more days...
-bought an e-reader. Heaven help me. I feel like a traitor to the literary world. Alas, this thing is pretty awesome, as well as being super light and space efficient. Perfect for a traveller.
-made piles and piles of clothes. I pile before I pack.
-stocked up on jeggings. Y'all, I cannot lie. I love jeggings. Plus, you can wear them round the clock without being uncomfortable, bunch them up in the bottom of a backpack, wash them in a sink, layer them for warmth, string them up on a tree branch as a distress signal, stretch them across chasms, etc. Basically, they rock. Bandwagon, joined.
-made a new blog header. Because we all know that's rull important.
-watched several episodes of Friday Night Lights. I must finish Season Five before leaving. Consider it a personal goal.
-ate Mexican food. And I'll be back for more before Sunday rolls around.
-made several trips to several stores. To get several things.
-hung out with family and friends. This usually involved food.
-ordered textbooks. Because apparently classes are involved in this whole study abroad thing. Who'da thunk?
-took care of bi'ness (or business, for those not down with my jive). Bi'ness is no fun.
Just a few more days...
04 May 2012
On Being Multilingual
Well, finals have come and gone and I'm pretty sure I have the kummerspeck to show for it.
I've been wanting to use that word all week. I took four years of German in high school, and always appreciated how literal the language is. I tried and failed to continue learning the language at a college level, but I know I'll always attempt to throw out phrases as often as I can. Same with my limited Spanglish. And my virtually-nonexistent-but-there's-still-a-little-there Russian and Italian. And now French, since in t minus nine days I will be on a rather large plane headed for a bus that will take me to Metz. Cue this teeny lifestyle blog becoming a teeny lifestyle blog with some travel thrown in. Invigorating. For those of you who've spent summers/semesters abroad, packing advice would be greatly appreciated! Hit me up. Je m'apelle Molly. (Useful French phrases would be greatly appreciated, as well, since at this point all I'll have in France is a lot of cheese omelets and a lot of French people knowing my name.)
I've been wanting to use that word all week. I took four years of German in high school, and always appreciated how literal the language is. I tried and failed to continue learning the language at a college level, but I know I'll always attempt to throw out phrases as often as I can. Same with my limited Spanglish. And my virtually-nonexistent-but-there's-still-a-little-there Russian and Italian. And now French, since in t minus nine days I will be on a rather large plane headed for a bus that will take me to Metz. Cue this teeny lifestyle blog becoming a teeny lifestyle blog with some travel thrown in. Invigorating. For those of you who've spent summers/semesters abroad, packing advice would be greatly appreciated! Hit me up. Je m'apelle Molly. (Useful French phrases would be greatly appreciated, as well, since at this point all I'll have in France is a lot of cheese omelets and a lot of French people knowing my name.)
18 April 2012
What Happened in Vegas
Um, so, I went to Vegas. Party on, Wayne! The American Nuclear Society Student Conference was held at UNLV this year. Yes, I went to Vegas for a nuclear convention. Nerd alert.
Apparently, you can find a measure of the radioactivity of the soil in a set radius by testing the honey that comes from the bees gathering pollen from plants in that radius. And Westinghouse has really big cranes. And pinches are cool. And that's just a sampling of what I retained, y'all.
I made a buddy from Idaho National Lab. Not that I called a half-day and left the seminar early or anything, but I did happen to be at In-and-Out Burger instead of in an afternoon technical session on Saturday. (I've heard so much about the place, I just had to try it out. Consensus? Good! but not Whataburger good...just sayin'.) As I stepped back from the counter to wait for my order, a man in a suit, who presumably noticed my extra fine $30 lady suit and official name badge, asked where I was from, if I was enjoying the conference, etc. After my initial concernat being caught skipping, I relaxed and struck up a conversation. Then a table opened up and he invited Katie and me to join him. So he told us all about Idaho and interning at INL and hiking and snow drifts and research. Pretty snazzy, especially for a chance meeting. Then I kept running into him off and on throughout the remainder of the conference, and we exchanged pleasantries and everyone was super impressed that I had a friend from Idaho. Well, they should have been, at least.
Like any good Tweetmaster, I covered that conference up and down. I tweeted puns. I tweeted pictures. I utilized the heck out of the official hashtag. I should have won an award.
I walked up and down the Strip. I looked at the lobbies of many famous hotels. I watched the Bellagio fountain show twice. I went to M&M World. I saw The Shins live in an open air rooftop nightclub pool. They were awesome. The opening act was awesome, but not really for the reasons they intended to be. First off, the lead singer wore a quiver. Filled with flutes. He had a quiver of flutes. Every song, he'd whip another one out and start toodle-dooing away. A totally obsolete member of the band was the one who took it the most seriously. He looked like someone's slightly annoying younger brother who they owed a favor so they let him stand behind some equipment and shake a tambourine. But he did so much more than that. He tambourined, maraca-ed, bongo-ed, SPAAAAACETIIIIIIIIMed, danced, you name it. It sprinkled throughout the opening act, then picked up at the end of their set so we had to stand in the cold, rainy, smoky night for a good bit until the rain let up and the Shins came on stage. So. Good. They were just flawless. And super indie trendie.
And now I'm one awesome experience, 100 Peanut M&Ms, 2 Atlanta-to-Las-Vegas-sized doses of cosmic radiation, and one pair of Vegas socks richer.
Apparently, you can find a measure of the radioactivity of the soil in a set radius by testing the honey that comes from the bees gathering pollen from plants in that radius. And Westinghouse has really big cranes. And pinches are cool. And that's just a sampling of what I retained, y'all.
I made a buddy from Idaho National Lab. Not that I called a half-day and left the seminar early or anything, but I did happen to be at In-and-Out Burger instead of in an afternoon technical session on Saturday. (I've heard so much about the place, I just had to try it out. Consensus? Good! but not Whataburger good...just sayin'.) As I stepped back from the counter to wait for my order, a man in a suit, who presumably noticed my extra fine $30 lady suit and official name badge, asked where I was from, if I was enjoying the conference, etc. After my initial concern
Like any good Tweetmaster, I covered that conference up and down. I tweeted puns. I tweeted pictures. I utilized the heck out of the official hashtag. I should have won an award.
I walked up and down the Strip. I looked at the lobbies of many famous hotels. I watched the Bellagio fountain show twice. I went to M&M World. I saw The Shins live in an open air rooftop nightclub pool. They were awesome. The opening act was awesome, but not really for the reasons they intended to be. First off, the lead singer wore a quiver. Filled with flutes. He had a quiver of flutes. Every song, he'd whip another one out and start toodle-dooing away. A totally obsolete member of the band was the one who took it the most seriously. He looked like someone's slightly annoying younger brother who they owed a favor so they let him stand behind some equipment and shake a tambourine. But he did so much more than that. He tambourined, maraca-ed, bongo-ed, SPAAAAACETIIIIIIIIMed, danced, you name it. It sprinkled throughout the opening act, then picked up at the end of their set so we had to stand in the cold, rainy, smoky night for a good bit until the rain let up and the Shins came on stage. So. Good. They were just flawless. And super indie trendie.
And now I'm one awesome experience, 100 Peanut M&Ms, 2 Atlanta-to-Las-Vegas-sized doses of cosmic radiation, and one pair of Vegas socks richer.
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