So close, I can taste it!

Initially, when reading that title, you would think I am referring to the fact that I have less than four weeks left in Germany. And in a way, that is not entirely incorrect. I will give you an example of a time when this realization hit home.

Last night, I had dinner with Kelsi, Mia, and Ah Hyeon, the latter of whom had prepared the rest of us an amazing meal of traditional Korean home-cooking. Up to that point, I had taken some pride in my cooking abilities and my knowledge gained from years and years of watching my dad cook. Even if I do not have any personal experience, such as in making a homemade apple pie, I at least know enough about it to be not completely clueless when I finally attempt something (those three apple pies I baked for American Night turned out to be heavenly--thanks Dad!!). But then, as Ah Hyeon laid these incredibly tasty dishes out on front of us, I was justifiably humbled. One of friendly modesty, Ah Hyeon admitted that her experience in cooking was limited, but it did not matter. She had managed to scrounge together one of the best meals I have had in Europe, and that is saying a lot.

Once dinner was over, we sat for a couple more hours making jokes and taking embarrassing pictures for memories' sake. But all at once, staring at the map of Germany on Ah Hyeon's wall, and glancing at all the places I have already been, it hit me like a ton of feather pillows that I was done traveling, and that I was soon to go home, where traveling consisted of the trip to and from AU, and occasionally the trip to and from Ohio Wesleyan to visit my sisters. I knew that our time was coming to a close, but something about that map made it real. And that made me a little sad.

So we spent the rest of the night planning out a photo scavenger hunt we still have the dream of playing before we all go back to our respective corners of the globe. But as time runs short, and we come upon more and more obstacles--namely those darn Hausarbeiten (semester projects)--we are starting to feel, even though we have not had the heart to say it out loud to each other, that it may not happen. I remember one of our first weekends here, when we were exploring the city of Erfurt. I think we were talking about the scavenger hunt even then, but in context I no longer remember, one of us remarked, "It doesn't matter. We have plenty of time." Sitting in a moment of silence last night, I think all four of us simultaneously wondered to ourselves where that time had gone.

In any case, what I was actually referring to in the title is the fact that I am a conclusion away from finishing my first paper of the semester. It has shockingly been six months since I have written one of any length, which is nearly impossible for a student of English, History, and Political Science like me, who has written almost as many words as hours that I have been alive, to comprehend. Thus, the feeling of an almost completed paper after so long of a break is a pretty good one, and one that I thought I would like to share.

And I should remark, on a bittersweet note, that the completion of this paper will bring me that much closer to being finished with the semester.

Perhaps that is why it is taking me all day to write it.

Happy Father's Day

This weekend, I have kept myself more than busy trying to get ready for the end-of-semester crunch, working on papers and presentations and reading more than I ever wanted to on nationalism in the Middle East. But I just wanted to take a break from all that school stuff to pay tribute to the fathers in our lives on Father's Day.

First of all, let me just note that in Europe, Mother's Day is a far bigger deal than Father's Day. Shops and restaurants run specials for the mothers, but the fathers do not even get so much as a card on the rack in the post office. Father's Day in Germany was the 17th of May, and really is only an excuse to visit the "Kneipe" (bar). So as a result, I felt the need to acknowledge those great fathers in our lives, since here in the "Fatherland" they seem to have missed the point. Anyone else notice the irony?

In any case, I happen to know a handful of great fathers, not to mention my own dad. You know you are loved and missed when your dad follows your traveling progress on a map of Europe he bought just for the occasion, and who can be counted on for a daily phone call just to chat. And as the date of my return back to the United States looms ever closer, I would be willing to wager money that he is preparing a list of my favorite foods, all of which will be waiting for me as soon as I step in the kitchen door, prepared with all the love that such a great man can bestow. Dad, your thoughtfulness certainly makes me miss you even more. You deserve every minute of honor that comes on Father's Day, and then some.

So here's to you, fathers of the world, who have given love and support to the next generation, serving as role models and paving the way for a whole new round of wonderful fathers and mothers. It is for you that the tradition of Father's Day keeps going.

The Final Heave

This past weekend, I made my last weekend trip of the semester. Originally, I had planned on doing several smaller trips between now and when I go home in July, but as time and circumstances unravelled from speculation into reality, I had to come to terms with the fact that I was out of time. Sure, there are still plenty of weeks left and plenty of places left to go, but what factor I now need to consider, well, a factor is that it is now time to begin writing three papers and preparing for a presentation and two tests. I have finally reached the point where, heaven forbid, I actually need to concentrate on the schoolwork I came here to do.

So I tried to make my last trip a good one: a weekend in the Swiss Alps around the small and friendly town of Interlaken. And while I cannot exactly say the trip was 100% stress-free, for what trip ever is, I can say that it was an incredible trip to call the finale. When I first got to Europe, I devoured art and history museums like someone dying of hunger or thirst, except the need the museums filled was not as tangible as that. It was a hunger to see and to experience the truly sublime of human culture. And I have found it wherever my footsteps have taken me, from the Uffizi in Florence, the Vatican in Rome, and the Louvre in Paris to the British Library in London, the Charles Bridge in Prague and the Neuschwanstein Castle outside Fuessen. The power of human accomplishments has greeted me everywhere I have turned, and I have not been disappointed.

But as my time waned, my appetite for mankind's art was finally satiated, and it was replaced with a need to see the beauty of nature, to experience phenomenons of landscape that have not been conquered by mankind, but instead have always been quite outside of human control. You can build a railway or a gondola up to Jungfraujoch and Schilthorn, but nature still rules. This is why I never got to see either place; the stubbornly thick clouds denied me every possible chance to see the wondrous secrets of those high places for the entirety of my visit. But to stand at the base and to see the mountains towering above me--making me feel my insignificance and the futility of trying to tame such surroundings--was truly a fantastic opportunity. Growing up in a very flat part of the world, there are no words in my vocabulary to do justice to the power and grace of those mountains. Even film supposedly worth a thousand words cannot capture their magnificence. The Swiss Alps are a form of the sublime completely beyond human comprehension. And depending on who you are, this can either agitate or soothe the soul.

For me, obviously, it was the latter.

So despite many snags in my perfect trip, I had a wonderfully relaxing and satisfying weekend. But the end of my ramblings may mean for you, dear readers, that the excitement has ended for you as well. There will no longer be stories of intriguingly new places, but only recounts of my 'settled life' in Erfurt. Train rides are to be replaced with hours spent pouring over books and resource articles, and weekends in unpredictable hostels with the study of the less varied people of Erfurt.

But anyone who knows me will know that this will not be a true hardship, for these things are still interesting to me. They are just another form of the same curiosity that brought me to study abroad in the first place. It just might not be as exciting for you! But I promise that, when I do find reasons to post to my blog, I will make it as entertaining, witty, and insightful as my talents will allow.

And on a personal note to Amy, Jacob, and Aunt Beth: thank you so much for continuing to read and comment on my blog! I am happy that my experiences have helped you, Jacob, to understand a very important part of our world's history, and that you, Amy, have been so supportive of my adventures and have used them for your children's benefit as well. And Aunt Beth, I am grateful that you have found time on your rainy days to write to me! I have heard about some of John's great experiences as well, which means the next family gathering will be a wonderful exchange of stories on all sides!!

Hard to believe, but I only have 5 weeks left...although, at times, it feels as though I have been here for ages and ages. Anyone read "'Europe'" by Henry James? You may not know me when I get back! ;)

Castles, pirates, and a concentration camp

This past weekend I took a trip to Munich, where I did and saw a surprisingly wide variety of things. When I arrived on Thursday, I did my usual tour of the city, hitting the major sights including Marienplatz and the Frauenkirche, which are the two landmarks of Munich. But aside from that, I did not stumble across anything especially noteworthy, which I suppose in itself is noteworthy for such an important city, historically and demographically speaking...



Anyway, on Friday I took a day trip to Füssen and the infamous Neuschwanstein Castle. As you are all probably well aware, this is the castle that was built by "Mad" King Ludwig II, who had extravagant fantasies of creating the ultimate fairy tale castle. Tragically, he died under mysterious cirmcumstances before the castle could be completed, and it was sold off in an attempt to alleviate some of the tremendous debts King Ludwig II had accumulated. But history has saved it from destruction, and Disney has made it legendary as the model for its own trademark castle. Just downhill from the Neuschwanstein castle is the boyhood home of King Ludwig II, the Hohenschwangau, which is far more modest than his creation, but still owned by the King's remaining family. I had the opportunity to see both, and together they were quite a treat. Like any romantic American, I am fascinated by a history where castles could possibly be the norm and by the embodiment of childhood fairytales, but what made these two castles so incredible and worthwhile were the breathtaking surroundings.



I have learned one important thing about myself while in Europe: I am a mere country girl at heart. Before coming here, I thought it possible for me to live in a big city, and to leave behind my close proximity to nature without much heartache. But since coming here, and traveling from big city to big city, and living in Erfurt with a population of 200,000 I have found that the places I like most have either fantastic views or beautiful parks. I loved Konopiste in Czech Republic because of the rugged, undomesticated nature that kept the castle honest, and I fell in love with Vienna and its huge, picturesque city park. Füssen and the two castles, therefore, won a special place in my heart for the beauty of their surroundings. I think the picture below sums it up pretty well:

This is a view from the path up to Neuschwanstein castle. Just imagine having a view like this out your windows! This is MY idea of a dream come true.

The next day I took another trip out of Munich, but this time a much more somber one: to Dachau concentration camp. Dachau was one of the first concentration camps to open under the Nazis, and one of the last to be liberated at the end of World War II. The policies established here made it a prototype for all other camps under the Nazi regime, and also served as the headquarters of SS training; every officer to enter the SS passed through the SS camp located on the site of the old armory and weapons factory, just outside of the concentration camp. Countless prisoners were held here, and countless innocent people died under the cruelty the SS practiced on a regular basis. Even now as I write this post, I cannot find the words to express my comprehension of this important and evil place, so I will just relay what I wrote in my journal afterwards, in a moment of hard-earned clarity:

'When I got to Dachau, I had great trouble wrapping my head around the terrible atrocities that happened there. Like Stonehenge, it had a presence, but this one was heavy and full of responsibility. When going through the crematorium, I expected to feel haunted by the souls who had been released there, but I felt nothing. And then I realized that they had no reason to linger. They were at peace, free from fear and torment, and had already moved on. The horror was all that remained; not the horror of individual suffering, but the horror of mankind in coming face-to-face with its own potential power towards evil, pain and hatred. The place was a warning and a reminder for humankind--an example of human beings at their best (the incredible power of faith and will to survive under such heinous conditions) and at its worst (in causing so much undeserved pain just because they could). Dachau serves as an important lesson, which becomes even more important as the reality of what happened there passes beyond living memory and into the realm of history.'

These were the two sites I most wanted to visit while on my trip to Munich, and this left me with free time to indulge in a bit of American entertainment: Pirates of the Caribbean! The third movie, I found out from a flyer at my hostel, was showing in its original version not far from where I was staying. So of course I could not pass up the opportunity! This is the first movie I have seen in a movie theater for probably six months, if not more. And for any normal American college student, especially one who loves the idea of going to a movie and eating buttery movie theater popcorn that you can only get at a movie theater as much as me, six months is an incredibly long time to go. It was an evening very well spent; the movie was fantastic, the seats really comfy, and still somehow uniquely German. I did not feel transplated back to the United States at all, especially since I don't know of any theaters in America that serve beer, have assigned seating, or let you bring in your own food (quite revolutionary, I know!).

To conclude, my trip to Interlaken in Switzerland will be my last, and most expensive, trip. After that, I have to settle down and begin writing my papers, preparing a presentation on American folk music (in German!), and pulling notes together for two final exams. I figure it is finally time to do the studying instead of the traveling, or people back home will have to start yelling at me (you know who you are!).

It has been quite an adventure, hasn't it?

Bruges...and an early return

From start to finish, my trip to Bruges was not anywhere close to what I had planned or envisioned. On the train Thursday, I eagerly awaited the border crossing into Belgium. Even though countries border each other, I have come to find that that does not necessarily mean they will look anything similar to each other, and so each new country brings with it a certain level of anticipation and excitement for the first glimpse of the countryside from the train. Belgium, I am sorry to say, was rather a disappointment, not so much in its countryside, which reminded me somewhat of rural America with flat, rolling fields and lots of cows, but in its surprisingly dirty and poorly kept train stations. Even in Brussels, which is a huge travel hub and crossroads for those traversing Paris and London and on into Germany, was not as bright and newish as I have come to expect of big European cities. The city itself, too, had a unexplainable uninviting feel to it. But alas, not every city and not every country can be expected to suit my tastes or expectations! There will inevitably be a dud or two along the way...

When I got to Bruges, the train station there was also dirty, kind of old, and under heavy construction...either that or heavy disrepair, held together by what looked like construction...
But the city, I am happy to say, was charming with its super friendly people and cute canals, which made for fantastic views at almost any given corner. The food was great, and the language barrier, or lack thereof, made it rather enjoyable to wander around and strike up conversations with random people. The city had a good mix of traditional museums and unique sights, and plenty to keep me occupied while I was there. So why, given all that, did I end up deciding the first morning I was there that I could not stay until Sunday? Why did I instead leave on Saturday morning?

Two main reasons: 1.) the city of Bruges was hopelessly overrun with tourists. Not those fun and friendly brand of tourists either, but the tour group variety, who are either super rich and there to snobbishly spend their money on souvenirs that will give them bragging rights back home, or are obnoxiously ignorant of culture differences and are loudly conspicuous about it. This latter type of tourist are the ones who try to bring their culture and their 'enlightenment,' whatever they think that might be, to the given country they are visiting, the type that get loud with a waiter when they say the water is not free or with a sales clerk when they do not have what the tourist is looking for (generally some stereotypical item that they thought would be for sale at every street corner, and are thus shocked and annoyed when they cannot find it). I ran into more of these kinds of tourists in the city of Bruges than I have for the rest of my trip put together. I am well aware that I am also a tourist, but I also pride myself in being one of those respectful tourists who quietly looks at maps or asks for directions, who is just as interested in the cultural differences as in the major sights, and does not make a big fuss if I get water that is carbonated or pop that is warm. I blend in, and I see and experience more of the given culture than any tour group, led by a guide with a purple umbrella or the number 28 on a long stick, can ever hope to achieve. That is one of the great benefits of traveling as a student, and of traveling on a tight budget. I don't get caught up in the souvenirs or the fancy dinners. I travel as a temporary local, getting food from the popular take-out restaurant or the corner grocery store. I sit and enjoy the beautiful views rather than just taking pictures of them. And I don't bring the American philosophy of "I will slow down when I die" with me either.

Reason #2: My hostel was really rather crappy, and I did not want to stay a third night, especially when I already saw everything I wanted to see in one day instead of two. I love having Erfurt to go back to; with a home base, I can decide I don't like a place, and I can just leave early and go back home. When I was backpacking for a month, when I didn't like a city, I had to move on to the next destination, or stick out the crappy place until I was expected at the next destination. I didn't care for Siena, but I still had to stick around until my night train to Paris. So this time, instead of coming to hate Bruges through my worse-than-expected accommodation, I left while I still liked the place.

So I have one week off from traveling, during which the AU in Germany program will be visiting Erfurt (can't wait!) and I will be going to the zoo with my 'Paten' (translated literally it means godmother, so she is somewhat of a host mother...though I don't live with her), and then I will be off to Amsterdam with Mia from Illinois. The week after is Switzerland, and then my European travels will become secondary to end-of-the-semester papers and projects. Wow, that is a little difficult to believe!

DB Delayed?! What?!

So originally at this time, I was going to be on a train to Fulda, which was going to carry me to Hannover, which was then going to put me on a night train bound for Brussels, where tomorrow I was going to spend the day before enjoying two relaxing days in Bruges. Yeah, well, that was the plan...

I got to the station with time to spare; I even had a few minutes to browse in a souvenir shop and a bookstore, but when I came out, I happened to look at the train schedule board, only to discover that my train was delayed by 25 minutes! Anyone who has traveled Deutsche Bahn knows firsthand the speed and efficiency of even the oldest German trains, so imagine my surprise when I learned that not only was my train late, it was very late! Late enough that I was going to miss my night train out of Hannover! But being the seasoned traveler that I now am, I did not panic. Instead, I walked to an automated machine to look up alternate routes to Hannover. But of course, there were none to get me there in time to catch my night train. Even then, I did not panic. So next I went to the Reisenzentrum to ask a live person what my options were. Luckily, I had the same lady who sold me the night train reservation, so she knew why I was there. Unfortunately though, there was no other option that would get me to Hannover in time. At this point three months ago, I would have cried hot, frustrated tears, but instead I asked her for trains tomorrow morning. After a refund and a cheaper reservation for a day train, I walked away completely satisfied about my fate. I was going to Belgium because I wanted a calm, relaxed place with not many museums or castles to see but plenty to make me slow down and just enjoy the loving-life locals, and so rushing or stressing about getting there was entirely senseless. So instead of trying fruitlessly to sleep in a chair (since all the beds were already reserved), I am going to sleep in my own bed tonight, and write a long update for my blog!

Ok, so two weeks ago I went to Copenhagen, which experienced unusually warm and sunny weather the whole time was there--lucky for me! There was not a whole lot by way of formal sightseeing stuff--i.e. museums and very famous landmarks--but there were plenty of neat castles, beautiful harbor and canal views, and friendly locals to enjoy. There was absolutely no language barrier, and every single person I talked to was friendly and eager to help answer my questions or give me directions. At this point in my trip, I am acutely aware when I am in a country that is not overly sentimental to Americans, and so each time I enter one that is not judgmental or indifferent, I can immediately tell the difference. Denmark was such a case, and I cannot help but love the Danish for not automatically hating me.

And then last Tuesday my brother came to visit, which was absolutely wonderful. It was great getting to show a loved one from home where I have been living and going to school for two months, and to just spend time with him. We took a long weekend and went to Berlin and Rothenburg. Berlin is a great German city with so much to see and a terrific amount of history to explore. Berlin is the heartbeat of Germany's turbulent and very recent past, and to see it firsthand made everything we have always read about incredibly real. The city is simply saturated in its history, so one cannot help but to feel that they are a part of that history as well, even if they are just a tourist visiting for the weekend. And Rothenburg is the German version of Carcassonne in France, complete with a medieval wall, spectacular views, and full of wonder. On top of that, Rothenburg is the home of the most ridiculously huge and festive Christmas stores I have ever seen, outside of Brunner's in Michigan, as well as the best souvenir shopping in all of Germany. Alan and I had a great time spending our money here (don't worry, I didn't spend it all on myself--in fact, not even close).

Let's see, what else? The weather in Erfurt turns out to be just as unpredictable as the Ohio weather I have experienced all my life. For awhile, summer seemed to have arrived in fantastic fashion, but now April showers have shown up tardy but still in full force. So who knows what next week will bring, perhaps some snow? hehe

Classes are going if not going well, and my German, I am told, has improved a great deal since I first got here. I do not claim any sort of proficiency at all, except for the amount necessary for survival which I feel is my due. In that respect, I am getting along much better than at the start. In one of my classes, I am the 'token American' which is incredibly embarassing and frustrating at times, but interesting at others. The questions I get asked are completely random, such as: 'where did American men of the 19th century go when they traveled Europe?' or from my one of my flatemates: 'why are sorority girls always so rich, slutty, and big party-goers? (her only experience of America is Beverly Hills...and TV).

And just like at AU, Erfurt has a weekly program where international students from a given country get a chance to present their country, share their culture, and give us a taste of their national cuisine. I have only been to two (for Serbia and for Poland), but both have been interesting and lots of fun. And next week is my turn to present; Tuesday is American Night (Amerikanischer Abend). For someone who has always been part of a majority and therefore completely uninteresting to other people, this is incredibly odd for me. I never in a million years thought I would be a part of a small group of Americans in a foreign country, or that I would be asked to give a presentation on my country to Germans, who are the national majority (as opposed to me as an American in America). The feeling of weirdness cannot be entirely explained, but if you have ever experienced it, you know what I am talking about. So next Tuesday, we are going to try to dispel some American myths and stereotypes, and we are going to have a night of hamburgers, hot dogs, peanut butter and jelly, chocolate chip cookies, and apple pie. Makes me hungry and homesick just thinking of it!

Tomorrow marks 14 weeks since I came to Europe...

What?! It's May?!

So I know I have said this a million times, and yet it never gets old for me (if it does for you, feel free to skip down to the next paragraph!), but seriously, where has the time gone? I will grant you that it feels like ages and ages since I left the United States, but the fact that it is already the beginning of May just baffles my mind. I cannot help but reflect on what I would be doing if I was not here in Germany: preparing for finals, packing to go home, enjoying one of the most beautiful campuses I can think of in full bloom...these are the things that I still enjoy and look on with overactive sensibility, despite the oceans of experience I have crossed since I last saw AU. This week hovers around the halfway point for me, and so I think the beginning of May is even more meaningful to me; it begins the downhill slope towards the conclusion of my adventures!

But don't worry, there are plenty more things to do between now and then. This past weekend, Kelsi, Mia and I made a trip to Jena on Friday, and to Goslar on Saturday. Both, unfortunately were rather disappointing, which is saying a lot because I did not expect much. But they were places to see and offered things to do, even if it was only to wander around a city in search of its quirks and back alleys. Jena can be described as a cute town with cute cafes, and that is all you need to know about it. With a constant view of forested hills at the edge of town, it has a really quaint backdrop. But after a few hours, we had explored without much adventure finding its way towards us, and so we decided to try again the next morning with a new town.

Goslar, on the other hand, came highly recommended as one of the best medieval towns in Germany, and well worth a day trip. And I suppose those recommendations were legitimate; it certainly was a neat town with many typically German medieval buildings, an awesome forested and hilly backdrop, and an interesting witch festival going on (called Walpurgisnacht), but like Jena, it ran short of things to do or adventures to offer.

The highlight of our day, therefore, was the train ride there. We were on an extremely crowded regional train, and spent a portion of the trip standing rather close together squished up against the doors. At Seesen, however, almost half of the people got off, so we ended up sitting in a row facing a middle-aged German couple. At one point, the woman suddenly pulled out a notebook and began to write, which was nothing extraordinary except for the fact that I kept catching her eye. At first I thought it was because she had noticed that I had been staring at her earlier as she ate a piece of bread, which was in such big bites I thought she was literally unhinging her jaw to eat it. But then I quickly realized that she kept looking not only at me, but also at Kelsi and Mia. Only after catching a glimpse of her notebook reflected in the window behind her did I realize that she was not actually writing but was in fact DRAWING US. It was not very long until all three of us noticed and spent several very awkward moments wondering what was the appropriate reaction, at which point the couple started to laugh uncontrollably at regular intervals. I imagine it was at that point that they realized that the woman had been caught in the act. At the time, however, I started to wonder if the picture she was drawing was more of a cartoon-ish caricature than a faithful representation.

But leave it to Kelsi to walk right up the woman and ask to see the drawing! The drawing turned out to be nothing professional, but instead just a rough sketch of an amateur who was struck by something interesting or particularly amusing, which in our case was the fact that all three of us were wearing sunglasses (it was the exaggerated feature in her drawing). Looking back on it, I can only speculate how funny of a picture we presented to this couple; three college girls lined up on a bench, all wearing dark sunglasses, chatting away in English on a German train. Perhaps that one I will never quite understand...

In any case, the five of us shared some moments of awkward giggling--the three of us embarrassed that we were the subject of such interest and crude art, and the two of them uncomfortable with being discovered and called on it. In English, she said to us before we got off the train, "I am sorry. I could not help myself! Please forgive me!" which was accompanied by a half-joking pleading gesture. The whole experience was an entertaining mixture of weirdness, hilarity, and awkwardness, and was by far the best part of our trip.

And lastly, today a student from Ghana asked me about the American dream. He lived in the United States for four years and had always heard this saying, but never knew what people meant by it. So I told him about my grandparents, who were first or second generation German immigrants, who worked as housewives, farmers, and blue-collar workers, and some of whom did not finish their high school education. Then I told him about my parents, who graduated from high school and had skilled jobs, but did not graduate from college. And lastly, I told him about me and my siblings, who are going to be the first in my family to graduate from college. I told him that this is the American dream--to have more opportunities than your parents, and for your children to have more opportunities than you did. It is a chance to be something great, and to be hindered by nothing but the extent of your own ambition. And he said to me, "So you are living the American dream?"

And I replied, "Yes I am."

Two Points Worth Noting

So for the past couple days/weeks, I have been stressing about how much traveling I would like to squeeze into the rest of this semester. I was really bothered about it, trying to figure out how much more solo traveling I could handle (it's a shame the people with whom I wouldn't mind exploring have impossibly different schedules than mine), how much time I should devote to time in Erfurt rather than traipsing the globe, how much more money I am willing to spend, and how much time I should set aside for doing that horrid stuff we all call 'homework.' I asked my friend Mia (who is a soothing comfort to my indecision), my mom (whose objective perspective helps me realign my priorities), and my brother (whose experience and opinion I highly value). All of them had rather different answers, which was helpful and infuriating, because that meant ultimately I would have to make my own decision (I know, such a travesty). But after a really nice, long, and hugely overdue conversation with a friend back home, I went to sleep, and woke up this morning with the answer suddenly very clear and unquestionable. I decided that I am going to all those trips I wanted to, regardless of who can or cannot go with me, and regardless of those papers I will eventually have to write. I will only get the chance to travel like this once, so I might as well make the most of it!

And then this afternoon I had another scare, as I discovered that my Eurail pass would not have enough days to cover all of my desired trips in the time that it is valid. This left me with only a few alternatives: 1.) pay out of pocket for one of the tickets AND skip a night train for one of the trips (which would take two days) and take two day trains instead; 2.) make one of the trips on the next Eurail pass I have to get (which would mean I would have to buy a regional pass rather than the far cheaper Germany pass); OR 3.) cut out one of the trips altogether. After half an hour of elevated blood pressure and careful figuring, I decided that I would take the first of these three options. And while my stomach is still in knots from the last 36 hours of roller-coaster-ride-decision-making, I am relieved that not only will my Eurail pass hold out, but so will my finances and my carefully scheduled homework time.

With that said, here is the line-up for the next 8 weeks:
May 3-6: Copenhagen
May 9-13: Berlin and Rothenburg (with my brother!!:D)
May 17-20: Belgium (still deciding whether just Bruges or also Brussels)
May 24-26 AU in Germany visiting Erfurt!!
May 31-June 3 OR June 14-17: Amsterdam
June 7-10: Interlaken, Switzerland

Looks like a very daunting plan, but I think by now I have proven I can do it. But I do expect to be rather exhausted by the end, in any case!

Second point:
I have gotten to the stage of my time in Europe where things that are American or non-German are starting to strike me with an odd tone. I will give you three examples:
1.) From the hostel in Prague, my friend Mia owes me some money, which she would like to pay in U.S. dollars. When I was checking in my wallet to see if I would have change, the coins looked so strange! They felt like fake money!
2.) On a similar note, in one of the Ashbrook emails, Dr. Foster mentioned the cost of admission to a play showing at AU, and I had to glance twice at the dollar sign. I have gotten so accustomed to seeing only the Euro sign, the dollar sign felt out of place!!
3.) And lastly, I was watching an episode of House online earlier today, and one of the characters had a wedding ring on his left hand. Here in Germany, the wedding band in worn on the right hand, so seeing it on the right has become automatic, while seeing it on the left requires a little extra effort in the thought process to register what it means!

These are rather trivial occurrences, but they just go to show you exactly how much I have accustomed myself to living in a foreign country. In each case, when I finally realized the mental double-take I had to do, I could not help but feel a little shocked...

Registering for Classes

So at home, registering for classes is primarily done online, although I am sure there are people who still fill out the little paper and hand it in personally at the Registrar's Office. In any case, you list the classes you would like to take, get your advisor to sign off on them, and you turn it in. When I register online, I know immediately if there is still room in the class, and if I have a spot or am waitlisted, and I get a confirmation email.

Here in Erfurt, however, the system is rather different. For the first week of classes, you scramble with potentially countless other people to get into the class. There is no registration beforehand; you just show up, sign your name on a paper that does not guarantee anything, and you start taking notes, buying books, and choosing paper topics. The second week, you try desperately to pick up classes to make up for the ones you have already been kicked out of. And then in the third and fourth weeks, you actually register for the classes. Supposedly the start of the semester is intended to give you the chance to 'shop around' before committing to classes. Which is why I have books sitting on my shelf which were for classes I didn't end up taking. I had to buy the books in order to study for a quiz given the first day over some of the course material. This quiz also determined who got to stay in the class; if you scored well, you could stay, if you did poorly, there's the door. Needless to say, buying the books is still no guarantee...

The result is that I have been attending classes for three weeks now, and I have been reading books, doing homework, and researching future paper topics, but only today did I actually register for them. I do not even know for certain that I will actually get to continue in the class. I assume that I am past the stage of getting the boot, even though no one has ever really told me otherwise.

At any rate, yesterday I picked up the paperwork for registering for the classes. For each subject area, such as history or literature, there were stapled sheets listing all of the courses, sometimes twice if the course is offered as both orientation (doesn't count towards degree) and qualification (does count towards degree). Each listing had the course name, the professor's name, the number of credits, the course number, and a barcode. Apparently these barcodes are the 'be-all-that-ends-all' in the course listings. So since I am taking literature, history, and German courses, I had to pick up the listings for all three of those areas, and of the maybe 10 or 15 sheets of paper I got as a result, I had to put a total of 6 checkmarks on them. THEN I had to staple them to another stack of papers, which had my name, student ID number, and my Mentor's [advisor's] signature on it, which also [needlessly] had the interdiscplinary course listings attached to it. So altogether, I probably had a stack of 20 or so papers, with 6 checkmarks on maybe as many pages, if not less. What an incredible waste of paper, and this from a university that charges the students for any copies the professors make, including the syllabus handed out the first day! And all because the barcode is simply the only way to register for classes...

Oh and by the way...How did I turn in all of those papers? Why, dropping them in a wooden box, of course! How else could you do such a thing?

I cannot help but to laugh silently to myself, to find some of these hoops unnecessary, and to contemplate much more efficient and logical systems. But as my brother reminds me, these experiences, even if they are ridiculous, are still part of the reason why I am studying abroad. I am living a different culture, and one that obviously has a different opinion of how to handle the task of course registration!

And I suppose he is right. BUT, I do take pleasure in the fact that whenever I describe the registration system at universities in the U.S., German students 9 times out of 10 say, "That system makes so much more sense! I wish we did it that way..." Somehow this little triumph always makes my patriotism flare...

Week 3 of the Semester

So I survived that crazy 'shopping period' for classes, and managed [unofficially] to get into four of them, besides the two German as a Foreign Language classes. So far, the class on Toni Morrison is very interesting, and surprisingly enough turns out to be mostly in German, besides for the books and I assume the paper at the end. I already understand more of what is going on than I did three weeks ago when I first stepped into the class, which is a good thing (it is sooo much easier to zone out when you cannot understand what is going on). I have a history course on the Middle East, taught by apparently a well-known scholar from Jerusalem. Since this is the first non-American, non-European history class I have ever taken, everything is new to me. The very first day he made the Americans rather uncomfortable with some of his comments about Iraq, but all-in-all he is engaging (and I have long since developed a tough skin; as an American I have not always been well-received during my travels). My other two literature courses are The Gothic Novel and a course on Henry James, which are taught by incredibly different professors. The first is a very scientific, 'let us dissect the meaning of "Gothic"' type person, whereas the second is more of a 'what is the meaning of life' type guy. Both are brilliant in their own way, but whoever came up with the idea of researching for a literature paper and using x-number of secondary sources should be forced to read only instruction manuals for the rest of their lives. I think that is the part about my AU education that I miss most. So AU professors, I should just say that I now fully appreciate your insanely fun and insightful way of going about teaching. Heaven forbid you make me come up with my own ideas and interpretations for what I read, rather than just regurgitating what someone else has already come up with! But, thankfully, I can handle this totally uninteresting way of writing a paper (aka I can BS with the best of them), I just make no promises that I will enjoy it very much.

In any case, the addition of some homework, even though it's a rather small amount, is putting a cramp in my future travel plans. I still have so many places I want to see in Germany and other places in Europe, but I think soon I will have to come to terms with the fact that I eventually will have to write those three papers and prepare for two tests and one presentation (in German, of course). May not sound like a lot, but considering my entire grade is based upon one assignment per class, I have no room for putting it off.

By the way, who can imagine that I have already been in Europe for over 11 weeks?


Anyone?


Yeah, me neither...

Prague and Its People

After three weeks of intense language preparation and Erfurt crash course adaptation, the University saw fit to give us a 10-day break before the official semester began. So what to do? Why, take a trip of course! That is the easy part; the difficulty came in selecting travel companions, especially since we had only known each other for three weeks. But once Mia from Illinois, Ah-Hyeon from South Korea, and I decided that we liked each other enough to travel together, the next difficult decision was: where do we want to go? I suppose that in the telling of this tale, I should admit that I am not always the greatest at compromising with others when it comes to travel plans, especially after three weeks of making all of the decisions on my own. But in the end, after several last minute changes, we finally decided to spend our hard-earned week break in Prague.

Very early last Saturday morning, we embarked on our little adventure, and arrived in Prague that evening. The hostel was conveniently located near the metro stop, but it quickly became clear that it was not really close to anything else, which meant we got our exercise! Since it was too late to explore that night, we tracked down some dinner and snacks and settled down in our dorm to play some cards, in the middle of which we were unceremoniously moved downstairs to make room for a larger group who had pitched a fit about their accommodations and wanted ours. We ended up in a room with three beds…and the computer, which meant people were coming in and out at all times wanting to use the internet. Thankfully, however, it was only for three nights, and was really not that bad but for the long line for the shower every morning.

In any case, we spent the better part of Sunday exploring the Easter festivals going on in Old Town Square. We enjoyed awesome Czech food, including a pizza thing with ketchup and cheese (sounds like a weird combo, but it was great) and a cylinder of fire-baked dough rolled in cinnamon, sugar, and almonds. More importantly, however, we took full advantage of the cheap Czech shopping in the outdoor stalls, and I spent a small fortune on gifts for friends and family back home (sorry, you will have to find out who got what when I come home in July). Not only was this great fun, but the spirit of the festival was lively and happy, and the weather was nothing but sunshine. I think I actually got sun burnt on this trip…Yay for spring!

Prague certainly had a charm that is so different than all the other places I have thus far experienced. The city was teeming with youth and happiness; even those who were older in years had a youthful spirit and looked out at the world with a smile. The rowdy teenagers in the street, who seem slightly threatening in Erfurt, rather felt full of benign goodwill and sweet curiosity in Prague. Street musicians, instead of simply hawking for a coin or two, smiled with the pleasure of the music they played and reveled in the enjoyment they caused in the passersby. On Charles Bridge, I found myself fascinated by an older woman who quietly danced and swayed to a blind man’s accordion. Even though I knew they were a team and she was not a perfect stranger, I was drawn in by her peaceful and benevolent smile that traced her features with enchanted happiness. In comparison to the harsh and cautiously suspicious manners of many Germans I have met, the Czech people are open, eager to help, apologetic when they accidentally bump into one another, love to practice their English with a stranger, and are ready to smile at all those they meet, even including the annoying tourists. They rejoice in their culture and are enthusiastic when sharing it with others. They are proud of their country and their history, and have every confidence in the legitimacy of that pride. Many of Europe’s hot spots offer great museums and fantastic sights, but I think the Czech Republic’s greatest attraction is its people.

Three Weeks In!

Seven weeks ago today, I left behind my safety net--my parents, my country, my familiarity with the most seemingly trivial elements of day-to-day life. I tucked the net tidily into my closet, and took only one glance over my shoulder as I departed for the single greatest adventure of my short life. I boarded a plane, endured the turbulence that reminded me of why I wasn't sure I liked flying, and waved goodbye to the continent as it disappeared into the setting sun. For four weeks, I rambled about this new continent, taking in a small portion of the greatest sites the history of mankind has to offer. I marveled at the tribute across the millenia at the temples of Paestum, looked into the eyes of understanding in terrific art throughout Florence, Paris, and Rome. I explored one of the darkest and most glorious moments of human history in Normandy, and was reminded of the undying human genius at Stonehenge. I struggled with language barriers and cultural norms. I lost my way and my sense of direction at the most frustrating moments, and I evaded dubious locals and questionable situations. After those four weeks, I came out so very much the opposite of green (whatever that would be) when it comes to travel, I probably would not have recognized myself four weeks ago. I have changed so much, and yet remained exactly the same--a phenomenon I never considered, and certainly never considered possible.

After so much excitement and constant motion, I settled here in Erfurt, exactly three weeks ago. That first weekend, I had to cope with the greatest contradictory sensations of loneliness and relief, of excitement and anxiety. I met one flatmate, a German who was the epitome of friendliness and good tidings, but who also warned me not to expect such welcome from the rest of Germany--in her words, "Germans are mean!" Perhaps this is true, but more likely it is just one opinion of many, and I will have to determine for myself what my own opinion will be.

Language classes end tomorrow, and while I am not fluent or even self-sufficient, I have learned a great deal in this short time. Of course, the hardest part is still all elements of conversation, but I have at least made progress. I will be very curious to see where I stand at the end of July!

On Saturday, I will again leave behind this settled life, and put aside the progress I have made on my new comfort zone, and with two other girls I will head out to Prague for a week. Already, the difference between solo travel and group travel is both painfully and pleasantly noticeable. Painful, because my autonomy is gone, and compromises have already been made (I am not the greatest at compromise); pleasant, because I get to look forward to sharing my experiences with others, a part of my first month that was depressingly lacking at times. It is one thing to enjoy some great view or museum, but it is entirely another to enjoy it with someone else and to derive additional joy from the joy of another.

I look forward to this new chapter of my experiences here, and even more so to the new places I will see, the people I will meet, and the rocks I will overturn.

Two Weeks and my Impressions

So two weeks ago, I moved in at Erfurt. When I look back on it, I think that the time has come and gone in the blink of an eye, but at other times it seems months since I last traveled and years since I left home. My roommate and I have decided that the days here in Germany are not actually 24 hours, but instead some smaller number. Each night, as I turn on my lamp to either read or do a puzzle while I listen to the news on my iPod, I cannot keep myself from muttering, 'Well, another day gone.' I can only imagine how fast the days will go when I am filling them with hours of classes and homework, social events, and weekend trips around Germany. They cannot possibly get much shorter!

So far, I have found the city of Erfurt truly fascinating, an odd mixture of old and new, with the stereotypical German architecture competing with modern buildings for the bigger statement. Fashion is cutting edge (I have never seen so many truly ugly shoes in my life), rebellious (what do you think, should I dye my hair purple and orange, or should I just get a lopsided buzz cut?), and painfully old (those skin-tight leopard print tights should rest in peace forever in the 80's). Hip teenagers with big sunglasses rub shoulders with cute retired Germans shopping for flowers. And certainly, the old East Germany still has a lingering presence in many of Erfurt's citizens, a fact that cannot be proven or explained. I am not sure many who have lived through it can even pinpoint the differences. It can only be felt in this thriving city's pulse and in its diverse character.

I would have to say that thusfar the greatest adventure has been the task of shopping for groceries. Anyone who has lived in a foreign country can probably relate to the combination of emotions that arise from such an expedition: overwhelmed by the very smell of the store as the door swings open, claustrophobia from the unusually tight aisles and hordes of fellow shoppers, isolation in not understanding the conversations around you, confusion in not knowing how to read the food labels, frustration in not finding the comfort foods you most long for, hesitation in seeing products stored in ways different from home (seriously, milk not refrigerated? This just seems unsafe to me). I have now been shopping several times for myself and with friends, and while I have grown more accustomed to the German idea of groceries, I still have not gotten over the rows upon rows of various meats, cheeses, and breads. Slowly and cautiously, I am trying the weird meats and unfamiliar cheeses. But I still always have the urge to carry a dictionary with me.

Pictures Now Available

Well, it took me the better part of the day, but all of my pictures from the last four weeks are now online. Simply follow the link "Pictures: My Travels and Discoveries" on the top right-hand side of this window.

I should warn you, however, that I have not yet organized them or added comments to most of them, in order to make them easier to view. They are simply put in albums by city (or by day when I visited more than one city in a day), and only my pictures from Venice and Florence have been organized. Look forward to that chore getting slowly completed over the next several weeks.

Erfurt At Last

So let's see, Wednesday I left Bath to go back to London, after a few hours of book shopping and indulging in my biggest weakness (I now have several more books than I started with). Instead of making my way back to the hostel near St. Paul's, I booked a cheap hotel near the coach (aka bus) station, and after getting a sandwich and some apples for breakfast, I retreated to a corner with Jane Austen and Anne Elliot (Persuasion is just as good on a second read as the first), and spent my last night in slightly lonely relaxation.

Today I was up at 5 a.m. and in the airport by 8 a.m. Besides getting delayed, the flight was uneventful but for the complete apprehension I had in the realization of what new adventure I was about to enter. I had gotten comfortable to hearing English all about me, being able to call up a hotel and book a reservation without any problems, and to ask for help without that embarassing sign language. Even in the airport, almost instinctively, I started listening for German, straining my ears and brain to understand what was going on. And so while it still is a little foreign to me, it is certainly more familiar than I had originally expected. I do not feel overwhelmingly intimidated as I did when I first arrived exactly four weeks ago. Perhaps it is partly survival instinct, partly the result of four weeks of quick-and-dirty lessons in life, culture, and travel, or perhaps it is a good indication of better things to come.

Once in Germany, I took a bus to Leipzig, from there a train to Erfurt, and finally a tram to the university. I slightly rushed, because I wanted to catch the people in the International Office before they left for the day. I had chiefly one goal: to get my luggage out of their store room, so that I could enjoy my own music and have my computer back!! It is so sad that I have found myself this attached to my electronics, but it is fruitless to deny that it is any other way. They are at once my comfort objects, my easiest connection to home, and my portal to the rest of the world. Now, as a result, you can look forward to many, many pictures of my trip in the next few days...

In any case, I managed to catch them, and they gave me some tips on grocery shopping and other Wal-Mart-type shopping places for everything else. I imagine that part will be fun and intimidating at the same time, so luckily I am saving that for tomorrow and this weekend.

I am now settled in my room, which I will eventually share with another foreign exchange student, in an apartment with a total of six girls. Of the other four living here, only one is actually in residence at the moment. But Carolynn (proper spelling coming soon!) has proven to be not only welcoming, but also friendly, helpful, English-speaking, and every other trait that could possibly ease my transition. She went with me to get some groceries for the weekend, and was most eager to see my pictures of home and my family. So far, it appears that I am going to have a good living situation, and with people who are more than excited about sharing their space with an ignorant American.

So I am very glad that I decided to travel for a month beforehand. It makes any resting place, even one this far from home, a welcome sight. I do not feel the pangs of homesickness as acutely as I would have otherwise, and I am no longer a green traveler with a dazed look in her eyes. I have seen far more of the world and its people than I ever thought I could, and many of its tribulations are no longer major stumbling blocks, but only interesting curves in the road. To come straight to Erfurt would have been a significant culture shock and very difficult to recover from, if it had not been for these last four weeks. Upon my arrival here, it already felt so familiar, and my trip to the university was not as strenuous as the first time around. It was a relief to arrive, and to recognize where I was. It is still a little difficult to imagine the next five months here, but the short term so far shows itself to be very promising and welcoming.

Charms of Rural England+Amazing Weather=Happy SIGH

Today I took a day trip with a tour group called Mad Max Tours, which was absolutely phenomenal. Not only was the weather the epitome of perfect all day long (it started raining the minute we arrived back in Bath, by the way), but the tour guide was knowledgeable, humorous, and great fun.

We started out the morning by going to Castle Combe, a quaint little village with one street and picture-perfect cottages along a swollen stream. We snuck a peak at the Manor House, now an extremely expensive hotel, from the grounds of which our guide has been banned after a run-in with Michelle Pfeiffer not long ago. It certainly added an extra charm to this unassuming, perfectly typical middle-aged Englishman.

Next we stopped in Avebury, which is a bigger, more accessible, and less expensive version of Stonehenge. Despite the mud, we were able to walk all around, and even touch, the stones of the nearly one-mile-circle of huge stones. Charles (the tour guide) added great commentary to the sight, including a rather tragically hilarious story of a barber-surgeon who was crushed by one of the stones in the Middle Ages when the locals, under directions from the area church, were burying the stones and thus their pagan references. The charm of the sight was richly apparent.

Over lunch we stopped in Lacock, another (although slightly larger) cute town, which has been the sight of scenes from Harry Potter and the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, not to mention the pub with the longest, uninterrupted license in the whole of England. The food was just ok.

For the finale, we went to Stonehenge. While Avebury was neat in its accessibility, Stonehenge is, well, THE Neolithic sight of all time. Though we were hindered by a rope from getting very close, you do not need to touch the gigantic stones to feel their historical power and energy. Even the memory of them recalls a sense of importance. The pains it took to get the stones there, the ingenuity they demonstrate, and the knowledge of the surrounding world that they reveal are incredibly intense. I joked to friends at home that I had to travel for a month because I had to see Stonehenge, and once I got here I thought it would be a plan unfulfilled. Now, I am extremely happy to say that I got what I came for.

Tomorrow, back to London, so that I can fly back to Germany on Thursday morning. Don't worry, Dr. Schramm, Erfurt IS my ultimate destination and settling spot, and I will eventually take a class or two, amidst further travels and adventures.

Bath: Lots and Lots of Water

I arrived in Bath via bus yesterday, at about 13:00, and of course it was raining. After a little searching I finally found the YMCA where I am staying, which is surprisingly comfortable and well-furnished in many respects as well as being well-located. So I dropped off my stuff, shook out some of the rain, and headed off for some food and some rainy exploring. My wanderings eventually took me over to the Jane Austen Centre, which is a must for all fans. For non-fans or casually interested, don't even bother. There was no much substance beyond an in-depth analysis of Austen's psychological state during her stay in Bath, and the effects this had on her writings, particularly Northanger Abbey and Persuasion. But in any case, it had a deep impression on me, so much so that I fell in love with her wit and genius all over again. I was once again discovering an author I loved and admired. By the end of the short exhibit, I had the strongest desire to reread Persuasion, and luckily the gift shop sold a relatively inexpensive copy, which I have been enjoying ever since. I am about 35 pages in, and the characters have already mentioned places in Bath which I have now personally seen, which adds a whole new dimension to one of her greatest novels.

After that, the pouring rain and the fact that it was Sunday and most shops and sights were closed effectively defeated any further attempts to explore Bath, so I withdrew to the peace of the Bath YMCA to enjoy a long night with Anne Elliot and Jane Austen. I cannot imagine a better way to spend a rainy Sunday.

This morning I was up early and managed to see the Roman Baths and Museum, the Pump Room, the Costume Museum and the Assembly Rooms, the Bath Abbey, and did a two-hour walking tour of Bath's better sights (in the rain, after it had been nice all day, of course). The Roman Baths were surprisingly interesting, and many of the area was impressively intact. I learned perhaps more than I wanted to know about Roman lifestyle and bathing habits, but the artifacts and the actual hot springs were historically appealing. And the hot springs were picturesque, which is always a plus. I can see why the Baths are the biggest attraction here. Just like 2,000 years ago, the city of Bath is a nice spa resort and place to relax. The only difference between now and then is that there are more cars, and they charge you an arm and a leg to sit in very hot water with supposed healing powers, whereas in Roman times you had to have only one arm and one leg to begin with (which you can take one of two ways: either you were filthy rich, or you were in need of some healing in order to come here).

Attached to the Roman Baths was the Pump Room, which was a very upscale place to see and be seen in Jane Austen's Bath. When I walked in, I was greeted by the sweet tinkling of expensive dishes, quiet conversation, and the most amazing string quartet I have ever heard. I could not help but to feel out of place in this posh cafe, and I certainly felt a small portion of Jane Austen's aversion to its wealthy attractions. But like a good tourist, I tried the renowned water from the healing hot springs, and was disappointed to find that it wasn't as gross as I was told to expect. For anyone who has tasted well water, it is essentially the same, except for the fact that instead of freezing cold it was as warm as bath water. For that, yuck. But that was its biggest fault. And I can't say that I felt miraculously healed from all of my long traveling aches either.

The Costume Museum was supposed to be this amazing examination of the history of fashion from the last 400 years, but I was sorry to learn that most of the extensive exhibit was closed for some reason. So the most I got to see was about 1800 to the present. It was not really anything new, although it was interesting to see the fancy dresses up close, and I was all for it until the exhibit reached roughly the 1970's. After that, I looked at the clothes and was shocked to see such dissimilarity with what was popular in the U.S. at the same time. Sure, they had a pair of flare jeans, but everything else did not look familiar. The clothes from the 80's and 90's did not really capture the rock and roll culture, the big hair, or many of the embarassing clothes from my youth. In comparison to what I expected, the exhibit was rather tame. This led me to wonder whether those decades in England were significantly different from our experiences in the U.S....

The walking tour was with one of the Mayor's Honorary Guides, and I think he was also one of the oldest men in Bath. But his commentary of the Crescent and the Circus were interesting, if not a little hard to hear. The biggest downfall of the excursion was that it was rainy and windy the whole time, which seems to be the story of the season for Bath (compared to London, which was sunny and beautiful). I would not have gone trapsing all over Bath otherwise, so in this sense, it was a good excuse. I even bought a couple books at the Guildhall Market as a result!!

Finally, the Bath Abbey had amazing stained glass, perhaps the best I have seen beyond the Chagall windows in Reims in France, and it was a welcome relief from the rain and wind. The sculpture on the facade was also very interesting; on both sides of the portal were sculptures of angels climbing a ladder back and forth between heaven and earth. This subject was truly unique, and so memorable in its playful depictions (angels returned to earth by climbing face-first down the ladder...just picture that and try not to laugh!)

Tomorrow I am taking a day-trip to Stonehenge, Avebury, Lacock, and Castle Combe with a tourguide service. Hopefully the weather will cooperate better than my last tour in Normandy, and the weather in Bath thusfar!!

Phase One of England Complete!

Tomorrow morning I leave for Bath, which I hear is beautiful. Can't wait!!

Today I slept in the best I could, what with rather rude roommates, and headed off to the British Museum. This one was incredible; I can now say that I have gazed upon the Rosetta Stone, the treasures of the Sutton Hoo ship burial, the Assyrian Lions, and the Elgin Marbles of the Parthenon, among many many other historical delights. Like the Louvre, I went on and on until I could take no more, and I loved every minute of those almost five hours. It was a morning well-spent in exploring the history of civilization, in all of its complexities.

After that, I did a walk around Trafalgar Square, saw the Horse Guards (poor guys, sitting on horses all day and getting stared at and photographed by countless giggling tourists), stood outside #10 Downing Street (I thought for SURE that I was going to get a glimpse of Tony Blair, but no such luck), said hello to Churchill outside the Houses of Parliament, took some pictures of Westminster Abbey, and walked down to Buckingham Palace. I have to say that the White House is more impressive-looking, but the memorial to Queen Victoria out front is really neat. Although, I will give the royals this, I do envy them for the absolute beauty that surrounds their 'humble' abode; St. James Park and the Mall were absolutely out of this world! They were a touch of peace and quiet in a tumultuous city, a spark of green in a sea of pavement. I stood and gawked at this artificial patch of wilderness far longer than I did the actual palace. The Mall was fantastically lined with the vibrant colors of the British flag, which on such a sunny day made the entire area picturesque and worth the very long walk it took to get there.

Ok, armed with more internet time...

So yeah, the War Cabinet Rooms were pretty cool, to see them in their original state, to feel the immense history and tough decisions that were played out in this underground safehaven for the British war effort. It was amazing.

Even better, the Cabinet Rooms also included a small museum dedicated to THE man of Great Britain: Winston Churchill. It followed his entire life, but focused mostly on the World War II era and the incredible force he was for the Allies. I listened to his speeches, read his letters to his wife, saw the pro- and anti-Churchill propaganda from both sides, looked at his trademark clothing, and viewed footage from his splendid funeral. That museum captured not only the greatness of this fabulous Prime Minister, but also the man behind the greatness. I saw his paintings (which were surprisingly good) and teared up at his childhood letters to his parents, begging them to come visit him. It is easy to fall in love with the legend, but this exhibit made it possible to cherish his struggles and sacrifices, his wisdom and his courage. I spent four hours total in both museums (until they kicked me out at closing time), and I think about 3 of the 4 were spent with Winston. Yet it was not enough time. Fans of Churchill are usually diehard fans, and now it is very easy for me to see why. Consider me one as well.

When I left there, it was dark and raining (surprise surprise, except that it had been beautiful and sunny ALL day!!), and so pretty much any continued sightseeing was not really an option. I made my way back to the hostel, and had a very expensive British burger in the cafe (they use cucumbers instead of their very close relatives the pickle!), which brings you up-to-date on my day. Tomorrow, I am off to the British Library, Westminster Abbey, and hopefully other adventures, as time allows..

So much for that...I should have known better

So my plan last night was to start my day with the Tower of London, then do a little self-guided walk of the area of Westminster and Trafalgar Square, broken up with a visit to the Churchill Museum and War Cabinet Rooms, and then finishing up the day with the National Gallery. Yeah. Right. I should know me better than to attempt such a thing!

I think the main problem is the incredibly short hours of London's top sights. You are lucky to find something open at 9 or 9:30, so forget about 8. I made it to the Tower of London before 8:30, but it didn't open until 9. However, you can bet your last dollar that I was the first one in that wonderfully moat-surrounded, intensely rich piece of British history! I had a great time exploring the past of the entire complex surrounding the Tower of London, including the old medieval palace of Edward I, the rooms of Ralegh and other prisoners, the site of many infamous executions including Anne Bolyn, and the overwhelming collections of the White Tower and its Armoury. But I think I have to draw the line when it comes to the Crown Jewels. I will admit, I was taken in by the expensive sparkliness of the displays, but I could only shake my head in wonder that the very existence of such...extravagance in wealth. I suddenly felt the great divide that separated me from the British people, for no American would ever dream of worshiping those objects, or immediately bowing to whomever happened to wear them. Sure, I was touched and had goosebumps when I watched the footage from the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, but I think that had more to do with the chilliness of the room, and the incredibly dramatic music that played in the background. I left stunned by how different we truly are from the British, even though we appear rather close in many other circumstances. My love of equality runs too deep to be impressed by very, very, very big diamonds on a rather large and heavy-looking piece of ancient headgear.

After spending hours and hours in the Tower of London, I knew I had to scratch the four-sights-in-one-day plan. So I headed off for Westminster, with the intention of following the walk until I came to the Churchill Museum, and then picking up with whatever time I had left. The Churchill Museum is part of a larger exhibit in the fabulously restored underground War Cabinet Rooms from which Churchill ran the British armies of World War II. The War Cabinet Rooms in themselves were awesome, left in their original states from the 1940's. I had the chance to imagine Churchill and his Cabinet sitting in front of me in the Cabinet Room, complete with original furniture and lighting, and to hear Churchill on the phone with Roosevelt and Truman, in a completely top secret room on one of the first transatlantic secure phone lines.

Oops, out of internet time! Sorry for the teaser!

London

By 7 o'clock this morning, I was waiting to check in at the Carcassonne airport, and after much waiting and turbulence, I touched down in Great Britain a little after 11. Going through customs and passport control was so much easier this time around, perhaps because I knew better what to expect and how to answer the seemingly random questions, or perhaps it was because I was so excited to be back in an English-speaking country. As much as I enjoy French friendliness and Italian culture, there is just something special about coming back to a place where you can understand the announcements on the subway, you can read all of the signs, and you can ask almost anyone for directions without having to make embarassingly universal gestures. I was getting to a point in France where I was hesitant to ask for help, because there is no way to tell by looking at someone whether they will be able to understand you, or whether a few words in French will get them started on a tyrade of gestures and words I cannot comprehend (much to my dismay on several occasions). So in that respect, I feel a sense of relief and even a lower level of stress, just in the knowledge that I can connect so much easier with others.

Of course, I had my first shocking realization that I am not actually back in the U.S. when I got on my bus from the airport, and I boarded it from the opposite side. And as we headed off, and cars sped past on the right, it felt so counter-intuitive, it was jarring. I was surrounded by things seemingly familiar, but yet at the same time, rather different. It is great to be in London, but it was the smaller things that reminded me that I am not yet home.

The only sightseeing I fit in today was a visit to the British Library, and an evensong service at St. Paul's. As a person absolutely in love with books, how could I not love the British Library. For several minutes, I had the opportunity to just stare at the Magna Carta, Jane Austen's writing desk, one of the first editions of the complete works of Shakespeare, and drawings by Leonardo da Vinci. I saw Handel's Messiah and a copy of the Gutenberg Bible!! It was incredible to be in the presence of some of the greatest literary history ever collected into one place. Surrounded by scholars of much more extensive education than me, for the first time I felt my youth and my inexperience. In a room with just accomplishments, I realized how much further I have yet to go.

From the Library I did a quick rush over to St. Paul's in order to catch the service, and found it to be deeply satisfying. The cathedral is a true artistic accomplishment; the mosaics on the ceiling above the altar captured the very essence behind the medieval gold background. As I looked up at Christ and the Apostles in the soft evening light, I really felt as though I was gazing on heaven, and that those distinguished figures were looking down upon us all with love and wisdom. Put together with the wonderful choral music, and you have a topnotch spiritual experience. To escape the teeming streets of London to such a quiet and peaceful place was a welcome break.

Tomorrow is my London marathon, with a visit to the Tower of London, the Westminster area, the Churchill Museum, and the National Gallery. A post tomorrow will essentially indicate that I have survived it, with energy to spare.

Relaxing in Carcassonne

Carcassonne has turned out to be the ideal end to my trip in France. This medieval city, completely surrounded by walls dating back to Gallo-Roman times, is a wonder to behold. It is picturesque, easy-going, and a joy for any historian. I met a girl named Hanna from Australia, and together we were two kids in a giant medieval playground. We climbed walls and ramparts, explored every nook and cranny (including a few that were marked off limits--shh! don't tell!!), and saw literally everything there was to see in this tiny town. It was nice to spend some time here, ambling about, and to escape the high intensity scene of pretty much every other area I have been to thus far. Hopefully someday I will make it back here again for another day of medieval fantasy and much needed R&R.

Oh, and by the way, just take one guess as to how we topped off our sightseeing day! Why, there is really only one answer, and I am sure you have all guessed it already....we went to Carcassonne's one and only...........HAUNTED HOUSE!!! Yeah, I know, I couldn't believe they had one either, but it turns out that alongside the medieval treasure trove is a whole slew of cheesy attractions, which oddly enough include a museum dedicated to the torture devices of the Inquisition, and a funny-more-than-scaring haunted house. The whole thing was on this automatic, timed system, where you walked into a room, received some sort of thrill (whether it was a shrinking room, someone jumping out at you, or someone/something rubbing against your legs in the pitch dark), another door would open, and you scooted quickly through, in order to avoid getting trapped behind the action. We were warned before entering to just play along, and as a door entered, to move as quickly as possible through it, and wouldn't you know it, the full-grown French woman in our group was the first one to have a problem with this. We came to a point where there was a door to the front of us, and one marked exit leading outside. She decided to push on the outer door several times, to peek her head out, and generally lose sight of all the guidelines we had been given. So needless to say, we missed it when the door opened and shut for real, and we were trapped there until the next group of visitors came through. This happened a couple more times in varying fashions, and as we went along we picked up other stranded and scared French people, until finally our group was quite large, and could not fit through the doors within the allotted time. In the end, Hanna and I had as much fun watching everyone else scream and get stuck between rooms as anything else. It turned out to be surprisingly worthwhile.

Tomorrow, bright and early, I am boarding a plane headed for London. I think going to Britain will be the closest thing to actually going home, so I look forward to that touch of familiarity, but am also disappointed to leave behind the interesting cultural differences that continental Europe has to offer. It is hard to believe that three weeks of adventures have come and gone, and that settling down in Erfurt is just around the corner. But knowing me, 'settling down' will really only be the beginning of my travels and discoveries.

Hmm, where to start...

So when I was in 8th grade, my mom and I decided that it in order to accelerate my education, and to free up my schedule to take geometry and algebra the same year, I should skip out of Home Economics and Keyboarding. Now, after years of learning to type the old fashioned way (and a fair amount of IMing) I can now type sufficiently well, and am currently using a French keyboard to type in the American system. So the keys in front of me no longer line up with what shows up on the screen, making the task of posting quite challenging. So if there are typos throughout this post, blame that Keyboarding class I never took.

On Saturday, I left Paris for Bayeux, a city that I loved for its medieval buildings, friendly locals, and small town feel. I saw the cathedral, where the Bayeux Tapestry originally hung, as well as the Tapestry itself. For art and history lovers, that tapestry was a goldmine. Not only is it a piece of linen that has survived almost 1000 years (just imagine!!) but it also is a wonderful artistic accomplishment and rich in historical detail. I couldn't get over its age, and its clear and concise storytelling. I think I could have figured out the tale even without a really awesome audioguide. I viewed it once with the audioguide, and again without, and both times it was incredible. A trip to Bayeux is worth it just for that.

On Sunday, I made the trip to Caen to the World War II Memorial Museum, from which I took a tour of the D-Day beaches. While I have to say the public transportation system worked against me very well that day (and surprisingly I could not find any English-speaking people to help me), and the weather was the absolute worst (cold, windy, and raining) I managed to have a great day. At the Pont du Hoc, at the end of the exhausting day, I stood at the edge of the cliff and looked up the coastline to the beaches of Juno and Gold, and could not help but to picture the events of that day. I could see the beach littered with small black dots, slowly crawling towards the cliffs, and the sea overcrowded with ships and makeshift pontoons in an ever encroaching approach to the beach. Overhead, I could hear the roar of planes and bombers, and an incessant echo of shells and gunfire. The very soil of that wide area is permeated with history, so much so that you can feel it by just walking past the abandoned bunkers and pill boxes (some of them still housing the original guns). It was wonderful, regardless of the weather.

My time to be online has run out, so I shall save the most recent adventures for another time...

Blasted French keyboards

I am currently in Lyon for a short stop on my way to Carcassone, and struggling with my first French keyboard. So needless to say, I will save most of what I discovered for another time. This morning I plan to make an attempt to explore the city, which looks amazing out of my window. On March 1, I am flying to London, to spend my final leg in London, Bath and York. As luck would have it, I will be in Bath for their annual literature festival!!

More to come....

Versailles and Chartres

Well, now that my blog seems to be gaining in popularity, I feel the pressure to live up to a high standard of wittiness! Let's see if my experiences today are up to the challenge.

To start, last night I had an interesting chat with one of my hostel roommates, who is fresh out of high school from New Zealand and here on a work program. He mentioned that Americans have a general reputation for being the highest tippers in the world, and wished to know the reason. After much debate, I suppose I am not surprised why we are. I explained in extremely exhausted language that wait staff at restaurants rely mostly on tips, since their wages are much lower than other hired help. So tipping is expected as a result. I decided at the end that it very much relates to our philosophy of equality; just because I am the one being served does not mean I am any better than the person who is serving me dinner. So I feel a responsibility to compensate them for their services. I mean, I cannot even bring myself to stiff a terrible waiter! Again, exhausted language gets the best of me, so feel free to return comments on how better to describe this extremely cool phenomenon, which only just recently occured to me!

Anyway, this morning I woke up early and took a day trip to Versailles and Chartres. Versailles was amazing, even in the less than gorgeous weather I have been enjoying. As I toured the palace, I was impressed by the French extravagant style, even if I did not quite admire it. To think that so much wealth could create such incredibly rich gaudiness! But still, an incredible palace. Outside, I could not help but start to contemplate what made the French royalty think that they needed so much space! The thing is huge! You can see it from miles and miles away! Of course, I helped to justify it a little by remembering that the palace did, after all, hold not only the royal family, but also the newly centralized government and everyone who was anyone of the French nobility. So I suppose hundreds of room was the bare minimum they could get away with after all (slightly kidding). And once I had concluded thus, I turned back to the gardens, which are just as extravagant, if not more in a different way. Countless fountains, millions of gallons of artificially pumped in water, and an immense fake canal for afternoon gondola parties, not to mention the orangerie, are just a small part of the 25 miles (or some such number) that make up the estate. As a country girl, I could look at the miles of perfectly manicured lawns and forced wilderness and go, 'Yeah, I can see why you needed all of this.' Had it been a nicer day, you could bet I would have explored every corner of it. Perhaps later this summer, I could convince some people into accompanying me for another trip...

As I left the gardens, I took probably the longest shortcut in the world (a recurring theme of my adventures so far) back to the train station, only to find out that APPARENTLY the other station can only be reached on foot...not train or bus though there were many. So off I went, and arrived (amidst numerous buses, just for the record) at the information counter one minute before the train left. And you would think I would just wait for the next one? Nope, the most wonderful woman behind the counter jumped up, told me she would take me, and off we ran together, and I made it there with time to spare. Not only did she take all the work out of figuring out where to go, but she also took my word for it that I had a valid Eurailpass. She just handed me a ticket to get me through the turnstiles, and sent me on my way. Now that is what I am talking about! It was a great time.

Chartres was a great cathedral, with terrific stained glass creating a soft glow on the inside, and impressive sculpture making it a historic and artistic landmark on the outside. I walked all around it, and was rewarded with breathtaking views and excellent art throughout. Despite its significance both in religion and in art, I was a little surprised by its general lack of interest from tourists and slight state of disrepair from locals. Still, a worthwhile trip for anyone touring the Paris area, and definitely a feasible sidetrip from Versailles! It was a busy day, and I earned my shower at the end of it.

Tomorrow, I leave Paris behind (sad sigh), and head off to Normandy, to see Bayeux, Caen, and the D-Day beaches. Not sure about the internest access there, so until the next post!

Orsay, Rolls Royce, and Arc de Triomphe

This morning I made my way to the Orsay Museum, which has a terrific collection of Impressionist paintings. Since my experience of this genre is limited, I was not sure how much I would like it. So imagine my delight when I found the art to be not only delightful, but awesome in its energy and its peace. Some of it was pushing the button of not being my cup of tea, but overall I enjoyed the art on the first floor the most. But I would have to say that my enjoyment was a little bit lessened when I figured out that the art on the first floor was actually only Pre-Impressionism, and the later, less enjoyable stuff was the real deal. Oops. Well, at least now I know my limitations as an art connosieur. Impression=not for me.

After the museum, I decided to wander my way--somehow--to the Arc de Triomphe. I knew its general direction, and I had a bus map. I figured that would be enough...and thankfully for my mom's blood pressure (no doubt, when she reads this), it was. I ended up waiting for the bus in front of the Hotel de Chillon, which is a very upscale hotel, complete with fancy-dressed bellhops, lines of taxis waiting to serve the rich and famous, and rows of Beemer after Mercedes after Porsche. In fact, there was one guest who arrived in a vintage, mint condition Rolls Royce, navy blue, and beautiful to even my eyes. It was wildly amusing as tourists paused to stare and get pictures of it/with it; and even the savvy Parisians were impressed. As far as I was concerned, I enjoyed watching the people gawk, and I patted myself on the back for simply knowing it was a Rolls Royce without being told. A highlight of my day.

Lastly, I went to the Arc de Triomphe, which was fascinating for its size as well as being another symbol of the Parisian boastfulness. Together with the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, and Sainte-Chapelle, Paris is a walking posterboard for the expensive and the elaborate. I suppose these are all some of the reasons why we all love this city so much. I look forward to a return visit in the future.

Speaking of the expensive and elaborate, tomorrow I am taking a day trip to see Versailles and Chartres Cathedral. I mean, come on! I did not even know this was going to be a theme until five minutes ago! Is anyone else as fascinated with this obsession as I am?

Love the Louvre

I somehow managed to spend 5 and 1/2 hours in the Louvre this morning, and I did not come close to seeing it all! Egytian, Greece, Roman, Mesopotamian, French, Italian, Baroque, Gothic, Renaissance, etc etc...I saw A LOT!! Towards the end, though, as I was going into art overload and my legs were getting tired of my slow circling progress, I started to notice the other people in the museum. I looked to see how they traveled, whether it was straight out of a guidebook complete with fanny pack and sun bonnet, or laden with cameras, maps, guidebooks and audioguides, or simply with nothing at all. You can tell a lot about a fellow traveler by what he or she decides to carry. Camera=anxious to bring back a slew of show and tell photos, OR they love art and want to capture it for their own betterment and enjoyment (I can usually tell the difference given a few other factors); fanny pack=a conscientious traveler who takes the advice and expertise of others seriously, especially when venturing into the unknown of other cultures, places, and languages. Then of course you have the annoying tour groups and school groups, only a small portion of whom actually care about the art. Lastly, I noticed the kind of footwear my fellow Louvre visitors were wearing, and as each interesting ensemble meandered by, I could not help but wonder if their feet were killing them as much as mine. Surely my Timberlands are more suited for the floors of the Louvre than the high heels that constantly clicked by! But I got to a point that I thought everyone's feet appeared better off than mine, and that was when I decided it was time to find the closest 'Sortie' i.e. EXIT...But it was SOOO worth it.

Also ended up by the Eiffel Tower by chance, and did my tour of it at sunset, when Paris became a mesmerizing city of lights and spectacle. At the top of the hour, the Tower lit up and sparkled with the remnants of its Millenium celebration decorations for ten full minutes. Talk about a marvelous monstrosity!

Last day in Paris tomorrow...

Now in Paris

So I took a night train from Florence to Paris last night, and already I am liking this country, and it somehow surprised me how excited I was when I arrived. The people are not as cold as I expected (perhaps it is just that the Italians are worse) and the city is so clean! How does a city this big manage it?

So far I have seen Notre Dame, which was beautiful, Sainte-Chapelle, which wasn't as wonderful as I anticipated, the Deportation Memorial, which was moving in its compellingly simple construction, and the Roudin Museum, which has introduced me to a new favorite artist. The Thinker was powerful..heck, ALL of the sculptures were powerful in their rich emotions. I took pictures of some of my favorites. Look forward to those once I am in Erfurt!

Tomorrow, I am off to the Louvre. Good luck retrieving me!!

I Totally Got Lost in Siena

Siena, the Gothic art rival of medieval Florence, the city that everyone in the office of travel expert Rick Steves rants and raves about how wonderful it is. The beautiful and magical city at sunset. Well, they must mean that other Siena, because the one I am in is a maze of sloping streets (so steep it is a miracle I haven't fallen down any yet) and impossible to find sights. I came in yesterday afternoon, and after illegally riding the bus for a good while, I finally got a driver who pointed out the correct stop for my hostel. I get there to find the best room I have stayed in yet, plus the opportunity to do laundry later in the evening. Anxious to see one attraction before everything closed, I asked the unfriendly, marginally helpful guy at the desk, and managed to get to the Duomo in the city center. It was amazingly busy with art and decoration. It was not my favorite cathedral, but still pretty impressive and awe-inspiring.

As I left, it was starting to rain, and remembering my last experience in that kind of weather, I immediately set off for the bus stop. Keep in mind, I am still riding illegally, because the ticket the hostel gave me expired after an hour, and there was nothing open on a Sunday for getting a new one. So thinking logically, I go to the stop across from the one where I got off, thinking it would be the same bus lines, just the opposite direction. Good in theory. Number 10 did not stop there. So I headed off down the street, thinking that there were tons of stops, and I would eventually come to one that had bus 10. Again, good in theory, severely wrong in practice. So I got lost in Siena, trying to figure out how to get back to my hostel. But thanks to some friendly, non-English speaking locals, and a wonderful driver on bus 3, who took me back to where I had started to catch bus 10 (surprise, surprise), I made it back to the hostel to do some laundry and to take an amazing shower.

This morning, I was re-energized and ready to tackle the steep streets of Siena. After finding the main square, I set off to go to the art museum. And wouldn't you know it, I got lost again, and was tired enough with my heavy backpack that I just decided that Siena would be my city of doing nothing and relaxation before I get on a night train to Paris later today. As much as I would have liked to have seen so many of the artists that I studied in Western Art first-hand, I am sorry to report that sore knees, confusing streets, a heavy backpack, and unreliable maps and directions won out.

Sam told me not to have too many crazy adventures without her. I am sorry to report that the crazy adventures have only just begun.

The joys of small town Italy

So I will be the first one to admit that I was getting pretty darn tired of the unfriendly city-folk that inhabit Rome. So when Sam and I left for Paestum yesterday morning, I think we were both relieved and excited about the change.

We left for the station a little later than we had planned, so we got to experience for the first time the joys of literally running to catch a train. We made it in plenty of time, but it would turn out that that train would be delayed somewhere that started with "MON"--that was all I could see of the sitgn--for over an hour. This meant, of course, that we missed our connection in Salerno. I have decided that these are the kind of snags in travel plans that get me the most stressed out, because they are beyond my control and it sucks when there is nothing I can do to fix it. But it worked out that we caught a train to Paestum almost immediately after getting to Salerno (by some miracle I decided to double-check the board and discovered ALL the trains were running late).

As we traveled further and further south, the sweeping apartment buildings and overall cloudy atmosphere of the big cities gave way to beautiful mountains and rolling farmlands. The people grew friendlier and the air cleaner. I was enjoying the ride when our stop came, and my anxiety returned, for our stop was downright close to the definition of 'the middle of nowhere'. There was a station, sure, but not a person in sight, and it seemed the only way to leave it was to drive off, which obviously we had no possibility of doing. But by our luck, there was a map, and the Greek ruins of Paestum were not more than a mile away, and so we made it there safely.

When we got there, however, what seemed to be the entrance was already closed, and so my next greatest fear appeared to be realized; we had come all that way, with all those delays and everything else to discover that the ruins were already closed. But again, to our luck, a British mother/daughter combo came strolling up with the same intention of seeing the ruins. They quickly read the sign, which said something about the entrance was 50 meters north of the Neptune Bar, and they set us off in the right direction. They were not at all interested in making two very nice friends, but they helped us a bit anyway.

So in the end, we got in to see the absolute greatest ruins I could ever imagine, topping even the Colosseum. The site had not only three of the most intact Doric temples from all of Ancient Greece, but also the ruins of an entire city built around them, including houses, an ampitheater, and forum. It was absolute historical heaven. And to top it all off, the weather was dreamy: sunny skies, green grass, flowers, and almost 70 degree weather (eat your hearts out, snowy Ohio!) All of our pictures are terrific...look forward to those in the future. Yesterday was by far the greatest adventure thus far.

Sam and I have both decided the Paestum is the perfect place to retire; work at the ruins by day, walk the quiet, pedestrian filled streets by evening. And the people were so much more approachable and freiendly. It was such a nice change from the continuous chaos that accosted us in Florence and Rome. Each has its place, but in the end, we are small town girls after all.

Today, we are headed off to see the ruins of Pompeii, before we head back to Rome, and before Sam leaves for home tomorrow morning. I will miss her, but in her going, I get to move on to the second phase of my trip, which I look forward to as well.