The Land of Smiles...

My hotel room doorbell just rang, two reverberating yet pleasant gong chimes that after only 2 days staying in my Bangkok hotel I've actually gotten used to. Despite the towel wrapped around my head like a turban and the black streaks of mascara stained on my cheeks from having just washed off the day's make up in a cool shower, I opened up the door. A teeny tiny Thai man stood there bowing politely and holding out his hands where two bras lay nicely folded in a clear plastic bag. I knew right away...these were my bras. He then thanked ME (uh, for letting you give me my bras?!), handed them over with pride, and before I could remember the correct form of "thank you" in Thai (korp kuhn kah for a woman), he was gone. 

Ok, so that sounds really random that some Thai guy had my undergarments. But I shall explain, and in doing so, begin to describe my growing admiration and appreciation for this beautiful country and its kind people. 

Last night, I hand-washed my clothes in the bath tub for the second time this trip (was lucky enough to have a washer at Lucia's and then again at Rita's) and when I went to hang my sopping wet clothes before bed last night, I realized there was literally no airflow in the room (other than the heaven-sent A/C vent which I needed to be blown directly on me, not my clothes, at all times), and the windows were tightly locked so hanging them outside to dry was not an option. I stared at my predicament for a few minutes, and then sighed and told myself I'll deal with it in the morning, thinking I'd give them the night to dry a bit and then have to use the tiny travel-size hair dryer to do the trick. Next morning - still dripping. I procrastinated yet again thinking to myself, I just cannot be bothered right now. I didn't want to waste time blow-drying my clothes on my first full day in Bangkok...so of course I left them wet in the tub, again, knowing that I'd likely regret it in a few hours. 

When I got back to my room after a hectic, exciting, hot Bangkok day, the clothes were dry, ironed, and meticulously folded on the bed, the way Mom used to do it when we were little. Except, my bras were missing. I'm assuming now that they hadn't dried fully when the maid (or whoever) returned my other clothes, resulting in the hilariously awkward encounter just now. No - I am not staying at the Ritz or the Four Seasons or anywhere too fancy-shmancy where they will literally treat you like royalty and likely do something like this. This is a bigger hotel but still considered "budget". I went to the little info booklet on the hotel to see how much laundry services, which I didn't even know they offered, was gonna cost me. Couldn't find a thing about it. Ah, Thai people are so accommodating and oh, SOOOO nice! I know I said that about the Greeks I met, but these Thai may just have one-upped them. I can totally understand why someone coined the term The Land of Smiles to describe Thailand. Everyone here, at least the Thai that I have encountered, smiles and smiles and smiles (even my toothless tuk-tuk driver) and just wants to help you and make you comfortable. Maybe they are just trying to get as much money from tourists as possible, but I am going to go ahead and believe that is NOT the case. Just stay with me on this one. 

So today was great...100% different than anything I've experienced so far which is exactly what I wanted. First, I walked to the Myanmar Embassy to apply for my tourist visa. The room I had to go into was even more boiling inside than it was outside and swarming with flies (perhaps a preview of the third world country I will soon be visiting...?) Oh yeah, some of you may not know this yet, but I added Myanmar (Burma) to my list of countries for this trip...the Thailand-neighboring country is one of the most isolated in the world and only recently opened up to tourism, so I'm taking full advantage of experiencing a McDonald's-less place. I highly suggest you watch the 2012 documentary, They Call it Myanmar, as it will likely give you a much clearer and comprehensive picture of life there, more so than my blog will be able to! Anyway, back to my day, after freaking out that I had to actually leave my passport at the embassy for a few days while they proccessed my application, I jumped in a taxi and went across town to the soothing, spiritual Grand Palace. Got there in 30 minutes for under $4 USD. Sweet deal.

I was proudly prepared to go in with my closed-toed converses, ankle-touching cargo pants and shoulder-covering shawl, yet when I walked in, the not-so-smiley Thai guard pointed to the exit and said what I concluded must have meant "no" several times. Perplexed, I think I just stood there for a few minutes, and then another woman guard ushered me into a building with a long line where I saw a sign in English (one of the only ones I've seen so far here!) that said that you could borrow appropriate clothes for a 200 baht deposit. Even though I thought I was dressed fine, I just did what they told me without question and put on this HUGE short sleeve men's button down blue shirt that was down to my knees. I handed over 200 baht and part of my dignity and walked outside. The guards nodded and bowed in approval and then whisked me inside the Palace gates to wait on yet another queue. 

I bought a ticket, walked around madly snapping pictures of the glimmering, ornate temples, and suddenly felt I was going to faint, either of awe of the intricacy of the art and architecture around me, or from the humidity. I think I may have been leaving a trail of sweat behind me, it was so hot and humid (sorry to be so gross...but just want you to have an idea of what I experienced!).  A not-bad-looking Austrailian guy walked over and asked if I was OK when I sat on some temple steps, wiping my forehead. Meh, embarrasing. His girlfriend (I assumed it was his girlfriend) a voluptious, tan woman with long blonde hair, was wearing a very low cut, suggestive short-sleeve dress that just barely touched her knees....Uh, yet they made me walk around looking like an awkwardly skinng boy, wearing ridiculously over-sized clothes, and who looked like "he" just got watered down by a hose or fell in a pool. You will notice I have no pictures of me during that walk around the temples. That was so I could save what dignity I had left. I did survive and the temples were gorgeous. 

I left the Palace and immediately walked out to the curb to wander aimlessly. I stumbled upon what I later learned was Ahmulet Market, a bustling market with vendors selling pretty much anything you can think of, where I met a toothless, dark-skinned, smiley man in a ripped tee and cargo shorts who insisted I sit down for some lunch. I declined and bowed, as I do really well now by the way, but he would not have it. His "friend", an older Thai gentleman in a white button down and red tie came over and began speaking English to me better than I can speak it myself. This was "free" information for tourists. Nice! I sat down at a run-down picnic table underneath a bright blue tarp attempting to block out the sun, as he went to get a map from across the street and the toothless guy brought over some Pad Thai. 

No meat, right? 

[Toothless smile. Unusually long stare.]

OK, no cow? 

Ah, no cow!  

No chicken? 

No, no tikken. [Toothless smile]. 

I picked through it and found some green beans and some corn...so, I cautiously took a bite, only partially confident it was OK (first time eating Thai street/market food!). Yum.... delish!!! Unfortunately, as the stray cats started to continuously brush up against my legs and hungrily meow under the table, I couldn't help but think, Shit, I didn't say 'no cat?' and then lost my appetite. 

Anyway, the English speaking guy came back with a genuinely satisfied smile on his face as if he was about to give or tell me something that he knew would knock my socks off; he chatted with the toothless guy, alternatively pointing to me and then various places on the map. Long story short, my afternoon turned into precisely what I had been warned about.  Before I knew it, I was then ushered around in a "private" tuk-tuk by Toothless smiley guy for nearly two hours. I saw a ton of great things: the standing Buddha, various canals, etc. and actually had a really fun time, all things considered. I must take a quick pause here and apologize to Greek drivers, for I ignorantly wrote in a previous post that they were terrible, careless drivers (or something like that) without having ridden on a tuk-tuk in Bangkok before. I don't even want to try to describe it; in fact, I think I blacked out a bunch of it. I just know that on several occasions I found myself staring straight into oncoming traffic and constantly realized we were the recipient of several honking horns and hand gestures I didn't understand. The tuk-tuk broke down a few times, and Toothless guy resassured me that "She just resting." Anyway, as part of the "unspoken" deal for a cheap ride around town, I was to help Toothless guy get free gasoline. To do so, I agreed to go into several different "factory" shops and pretend to be interested in buying a silk dress, a ruby ring, a glass Buddha, etc., whatever they were selling. These stores would later pay for Toothless guy's gas since he 'promoted' their stores. Good times. Some may look at it as if I fell for a scheme; but I look at it like I made a new Thai friend, and that both I and Toothless guy won. 

I am off to a Thai-boxing match tonight - hope my view of the pleasant, sweet Thai people doesn't change too much. 

Lessons from the Bug. Part 1.

So I'm not going to pretend that I'm the wisest world bug traveller out there yet, but having gone over 5,000 miles and having been to 5 countries in less than a month, I've managed to learn a few things - both about myself and about being on the road, traveling Europe. I'll likely learn ten times more when I arrive in Asia in the next week or two, but for now, this will do :) 

Table for one, please. 

Traveling alone is amazing. Maybe it isn't for everyone, as it does require a significant amount of effort, but it certainly is for me. And hopefully revealing this will pre-empt any future questions from concerned family about whether I am lonely ;) While I loved spending time with friends and family in London and then in Paris and Switzerland, it's really just a very different type of trip when you are completely on your own. It is truly a vacation. In some ways, it is much more relaxing, and of course in some ways it is more much more challenging; But my favorite part has been being able to get away from it ALL which is sometimes hard to do when you are away with people from your daily life. There is nothing and no one to remind you of your "real life" back home (besides yourself and of course, your iPhone, which I have begun to have a love-hate relationship with). And while all the alone time does inevitably force some deep introspection (and a LOT of it, especially if you are a Scorpio like me), personally, I've found that it is much easier to live in the moment and not get stuck in the "woulda-coulda-shoulda" wheel of regret that sometimes happens during self-reflection and when you are trying to figure out your life. Instead, at least for me, travelling alone makes me more focused on what I am seeing, who I am talking to, how I will get from point A to point B, etc. and not about whether quitting my job was the right thing to do, what I will do when I get back, if someone just text messaged me, etc. At any given point throughout the day, at least 4 out of your 5 senses are stimulated. The refreshing sea breeze, the crashing waves on the shore, the intricate foreign languages being spoken all around, the bright blue cloudless sky, the taste of fresh red tomatoes with pure olive oil...it's just impossible to not sit and enjoy the current moment. I am relieved I ended up bringing my camera - despite it being a pain to carry around - because it allows me to capture the moments I want to remember and share. It's me saying: I want to freeze this moment, what I am seeing, what I am experiencing, and I want to be able to share it with others when I can. I've also been able to meet so many different, interesting characters along the way; many of whom I probably would never have struck up a conversation had I been with someone else. 

Budget to pee. 

I knew we were spoiled in America, but didn't realize it in this sense...In many European countries, you must pay to use public facilities. I loaded my purse with packs of tissues in case they didn't have toilet paper (which I do anyways in the US) but didn't realize I constantly needed to have change on me - 1 or 2 pounds, euros, or francs - to actually be allowed to pee. I have found, however, that with a big smile and request in the native language, some restaurants and cafes will happilly let you use their WC, free of charge. 

Thoughts on Grub and Libations. 

When on the island of Crete in Greece, do not order dessert. You will get a piece of cake no matter what AND a shot of Ouzo...even if you don't ask. (And no, it's not because I'm alone and they pity me...they literally do that for every diner I've seen. It's great.) 

Skim milk sucks. I've found that Europeans don't even know what it is most of the time (unless you go to a Starbucks) and I'm actually thankful for that. Cappuccinos and lattes taste better with REAL milk. And they serve much smaller portions (less than a 'tall' at Starbucks) so it doesn't feel heavy. I still like my sweetener, though...which they do have and I've learned how to say in Greek.

There are places in Europe where a glass of wine in cheaper than a bottle of water. Enough said. Maybe they price it knowing you will likely have to pay again to use the restroom later. 

Etiquette - let the native lead. 

Especially when it comes to the number of cheek kisses when greeting or saying goodbye to someone. One in London, two in Paris, three in Switzerland (most of the time), two in Greece. So, my sister and I went to the oldest vegetarian restaurant in Europe (Hitl), and upon sitting down, the two guys at the neighboring table insisted we join them and had the waiter move our things. I was reluctant (just tired and hungry), but my sister encouraged that we should...why not, buggy?! So we did. And then it turned into a two-on-one-date (the two guys with me flying solo) when Lindsay's friend arrived and they started to catch up in full girl fashion. Anyway, they turned out to be very nice guys and I enjoyed the playful, often sarcastic conversation we had for an hour (one apparently was a Dolphin Trainer at the Zurich zoo, and one was a Dolci and Gabanna underwear model....they were clearly bankers but could tell they felt like playing around...). At the end, we exchanged goodbyes and all that good stuff, and started the cheek kissing exchange. Feeling confident I finally figured out the proper Swiss etiquette in this sense, I went in for the third and final kiss to the underwear model. But he had stopped at two. I don't know why. We ended up in this awkward position where he was standing up straight again but I was bee-lining for his lips (would have been his cheek had he been doing the normal turn of the head!). We laughed it off and Lindsay of course had a hayday with that...but from now on, I've decided to be passive and let whoever lives there dictate the number of kisses. Or maybe ask them ahead of time? Is that weird? 

Don't go to Europe to expecting to escape America. 

Be prepared to see gorgeous, intricate, ancient sites across Europe, built thousands of years ago by bare hand. These are the things your history teacher raved about in class and that you saw in textbooks as pristine and astonishing. Then imagine pretty much all of them swamped by kids wearing Adidas and Nike, imagine them covered in litter, coke cans, grafitti, and then imagine these are all right next door to a McDonalds or Starbucks with lines out the door. Then imagine sitting at an open door cafe overlooking the Mediterranean, sipping on a cold, refreshing beer. Now imagine Carly Rae Japsen asking you to call her, maybe. Over and over again. I'm not trying to complain but rather just point out that America's reach is pretty far and wide. Sure, it made for interesting juxtapositions, but I personally cringed at it. Ah well, such is globalization (Er, or...Americanization...?)...

Communication is Key. 

Learning even a few basic words of the native language can go a very long way. Add in emphatic hand gestures and the correct voice inflection and you're IN.  Here's how I learned this: Cab drivers in Greece (or at least in Athens and in Crete where I have been so far), apparently do not need to take drivers license tests. I just made that up actually, but basically I just want you to understand that in my opinion, they are just crappy, fast, insane drivers who love using their horn at any chance they get. When my taxi driver from the Port took me back to the Village of Kastelli, he nearly hit two stray dogs and almost ran off the cliff. I looked up in my handy-dandy Greek Language Map how to say "slower, please" and used my hand to do that Italian pinch sign. He paused, then laughed and apologized, slowed down and drove like a normal person, and gave me 2 euros off the fare telling me he was impressed. Note: Neither the dogs nor I were injured in the making of this part of the blog.

Don't judge a book by its cover. 

Actually, just don't judge anything or anyone by its, uh...anything. I've learned you should never judge a country or city by its airport, a man's character by his car, a cafe by its music, a young American girl by her petite size and friendly nature (hehe), or a middle-aged man with a child "staring" at you (obviously use your common sense on interacting with those kinds, but just don't judge too quickly!)...you will likely be wrong 99% of the time. 

The Cretan airport is, well, run-down and isolated. The island itself is, well, lively and amazing. 

The man who gave me a ride to my hotel in Kissamos had a dirty run down mini-van that I was afraid wouldn't even reach the few kilometers we had to go; he ended up being the owner of one of the best restaurants I've been to and extremely accommodating, intelligent and generous. 

I almost decided not to go into that Middle Eastern place for lunch in Amsterdam due to it's insane club-like music when I approached it, but like I said in an earlier post, thank goodness I did because that was one of the best falafels I've ever had. 

I pity the fool who judges the bug as a clueless, naive Connecticut girl... Europeans didn't know what was coming. Asians have yet to find out ;) 

And my last but not least brief experience about pre-judgements...

Yesterday I took a day trip boat with a group of tourists to the island of Grandvousa and then to Balos Lagoon. I sat on the top deck to milk the sun as much as I could (as a bug does in the Mediterranean...) and on the bench next to me was a middle-aged man with his son, who kept looking my way for extended periods of time. I hid behind my large sunglasses and was hoping his wife would come back from the bathroom at last, but instead, the little kid, maybe 4 years old, walked over to me and pointed to my camera that I had around my neck (yes, like an embarrassingly obvious tourist). I asked him if he wanted me to take a picture of him with it and he just stared back at me. The guy jumped in, speaking in Spanish and said "Ah, no gracias. It's OK. No, no." Just then the boat rocked and the little boy fell on his bum. He started laughing as did I, as did his father. The ice was broken. Anyway - long story short, he turned out to be a very nice guy and my heart went out to him. He was likely in his late forties and had lived in Madrid his whole life but did some type of international business (didn't really understand what he said he did) so he spoke English quite well. His wife had just died of lung cancer earlier this year and he had taken a leave of absence from his job and was traveling Europe with his son, looking for his silver lining (obviously, he didn't say that, but I'm convinced that is what he was doing). He had been staring at the beautiful view of the sea and Greek islands behind me (uh, so was not at all staring at me...felt like a jerk) because to him, it meant a beautiful, new beginning. Couldn't agree more :)  

A Cretan Welcome!

So far on this trip, I've been letting a week or so pass before writing a new post so that I'd be sure to have enough cool/funny/interesting things to write about, but yesterday was such a wonderful, unexpected day that I can't help but share it in [almost] real-time. 

After surviving a pre-dawn 45 minute taxi ride driven by the Athenian Speedy Gonzalez to the airport on dark and barren roads, a 50 minute flight on a half empty Aegean plane, a crawling 30 minute bus ride to the City Center of Chania, another 1 hour jam-packed bus ride to the beach town of Kissamos, a 10 minute desperate walking quest to find anything or anyone with a pulse to ask for directions, and then an uplifting 5 minute ride by a sympathetic, dark-skinned, heavy-set, gray-haired, short and old Gerard Butler look alike in his mini-van.....I finally arrived at the Galina Beach Estate in Kissamos, Crete: Sweaty, cranky, tired, dehydrated and famished. 

After thinking the Estate was a mirage that I somehow stumbled upon in some desert, I walked into a wave of refreshing air conditioning and unexpectedly, the arms of a different dark-skinned, white-haired, Greek gentleman who introduced himself as the "father" of the Estate, Manolis. No, I am not staying with Greek Mafia. This is a family-run hotel (though they referred to it as an "Estate") where they welcome only a limited number of travellers at a time so that they can "get to know their new friends, who then become family." I checked in, met the father's son, Giorgious, who also works there, had some casual, introductory chit-chat and was ready to head upstairs until they whisked me away into the dining room and asked me to sit and relax. 

Uh...really guys? All I want to do is crash in a bed. I have no personality right now! (I didn't say that, obviously, was trying to be open-minded and patient). 

Manolis brought in a tall glass of fresh squeezed orange juice along with 2 slices of some type of cake (pound cake, maybe?). He then brought out an old photo album of his family and their Estate after I casually asked about the history of it. So glad I did! 

This guy is so passionate about what he does and about the life he has built. He and his wife live just upstairs, and they market the Estate as a "home away from home" versus a hotel or apartment complex. Apparently, as a young guy, Manolis spent a hot minute in Manhattan working at a few prominent hotels to gain some experience, but returned to his hometown in Crete when the NYC bustle became too much. He craved the more personal, authentic, and relaxed lifestyle he grew up with in the Greek Islands. He then literally built this place with his brother from the ground-up beginning in 1980, and has since helped it blossom into a 3-story Estate right on the glistening waterfront of the Mediterranean, called Telonio Beach (check out the picture of the album I snapped - a bit blurry but you'll get the gist!). His son, wife, and nephews (and a few cleaning ladies) are the only people that work there. 

After learning that I was travelling alone and just before he had his son escort me upstairs to my room (carrying ALL of my bags, thank goodness), Manolis insisted that I join them for dinner at The Cellar down the road that night. I must have given him a perplexed look.

"The Cellar, the restaurant that Stelios owns," he clarified. 

"Stelios..?" I repeated, still not following. I awkwardly giggled and felt slightly uncomfortable that I had no clue what he was talking about. 

"Yes, the man who drove you here from town. He is my dear friend and owns the restaurant and we will go there tonight and enjoy a food and a drink."

Knowing that I'd have a few hours to sleep before then, I accepted. Fast forward to a refreshed, post-napped-and-showered-bug.... 

I walked with his nephew, also named Giorgious, to the restaurant. I learned that Galini is Greek for serenity and tranquility. Perfect. Exactly what I was looking for! We sat overlooking the glimmering, calm ocean as several stray puppies roamed around our feet, confidently knowing how cute they were and as a result managing to get quite a good amount of leftovers from various tables, including ours (read: from me). I immediately regretted not bringing my camera to dinner. I already felt like the oddball in group and wasn't sure if bringing a giant camera and snapping pictures while people ate was proper etiquette. Darn. Anyways, the family kept slipping between Greek and English so I only partook in the conversations when I could....but it didn't really matter. I enjoyed everyone smiling and laughing, reaching out to me as best they could, and of course, taking in the amazing scenery on the waterfront. The conversation was refreshing for me. They never talked about (at least not in English) money, the economy, or anything materialistic. It felt very genuine and down to earth. They took turns telling lots of jokes (which I didn't understand, but laughed anyway), lots of stories from the past about the hotel and guests, and lots of advice on where I should go and what I should see during my travels. Not one question about my job (or lack thereof), about why I'm not married and do not have kids, or anything like that. I felt so accepted just as I was. One thing I learned was that I don't think I said "no, thank you" correctly in Greek (and/or that Stelios, who clearly understands English, does not take no for answer)... 

"Do you want a starter, some mezethes, and your main dish?" 

"No, thank you. I will have just the main meal." Out comes some type of fish soup, followed by stuffed aubergines and tstasizki. 

"Do you want another glass of wine?" 

"No, thank you. I'm getting a bit sleepy!" Out comes a carafe of white wine. 

"Do you want some dessert?" 

"No, thank you. I'm quite full." Out comes dark chocolate cake with a slice of orange for garnish. 

"Do you want tea or coffee or anything else?" 

"No thanks, I think just the bill." Out comes a mini bottle of "Cretian Water", i.e., Ouzo with shot glasses. Everyone but me jumped in excitement...Kah-lee-nee-tah, Katy :)  

Pain, fromage, and vin.

I feel like someone hit the fast-forward button on my life. It's going by too quickly. What have I been up to lately? A lot. Below is my best effort to recount most of what I have done and seen since Amsterdam. Everything has been surreal and can't help but think that the best is yet to come! But in case you don't feel like reading the whole thing, as this post is quite lengthy, the abridged version is that every day, I feel like a little kid in a Disney World made of candy - Willy Wonka style. I've been walking around all day and night, eating delicious cheese and fresh bread, drinking French wine, taking a ton of pictures, and then walking and eating and drinking more wine. C'est la vie. The bug is happy.

Thursday, May 6. High speed train to Paris. Tried to squat in First Class.  Ate a free chocolate croissant. Got kicked back to Second Class. Managed to write my first on-the-road blog post despite losing a ton of brain cells in Amsterdam from those Northern Lights. Metro to Saint Michel station. Got lost in Jardin de Luxembourg with all my luggage. Didn't mind at all...the beauty of the place - vibrant green grass, stunning flowers - kept me calm. Made friends with some Irish ladies who gave me their map. Stumbled upon our hotel. Found my sister in the lobby with an ear-to-ear smile. Walked to an outdoor cafe around the corner.  Met up with my cousin, Rita and her boyfriend, Michael. Shared some wine over lunch.  Wandered the Marais district. Browsed the shops. Had dinner at Derriere, an unmarked restaurant decorated like a Parisian's apartment. Decided to sit at a table instead of the upstairs king size bed bed or ping pong table. Yes, those were options. Ate goat cheese and vegetables. Wandered back to hotel and passed out. 

Friday, May 7. Overcast and a bit chilly. Had a fruit, granola, and croissant breakfast in the hotel basement. Accidentally spoke Spanish to the waitress. Walked about 5 miles to the Eiffel Tower. Took an embarrassing amount of pictures of each other from pretty much every angle. Negotiated with a street vendor and got 5 Eiffel Tower key chains for 1 euro. Took more pictures. Stared in awe. Got pushed around and bumped into by the many tourists all around. Stopped at a cafe to use the toilette. Bought a cappuccino for 8 euros. Climbed 164 feet to top of Arc de Triomphe. Got winded. Rested at top. Took more pictures. Marveled at view of the entire city of Paris. Made our way down. Paid our respects at the tomb of unknown soldier from Wold War I. Strolled the plus belle avenue de monde, AKA, Avenue des Champs-Elysees, apparently one of the most expensive strips of real estate in the world. Saw about 5 Starbucks over just a few blocks. Resisted the temptation to go in for a skinny latte (which is twice as expensive in Europe than CT, in case you were wondering). Walked to Rue de Fauborg - the 5th Avenue of Paris. Tried on scarves in Hermes. Rested on a 12,000 euro chair. Walked to Musee de Louvre. Said what up to Mona Lisa. Dinner at a random cafe. Back to Louvre to see the lights at night. Spectacular. Mercedes taxi back to hotel. Passed out.

Saturday, May 8. Sun poking through the clouds but on the chilly side again. Apricots, granola, and croissant for breakfast. Lots of hot coffee - again without splenda or skim milk. Sad face. And no, I'm not used to it yet. Walked to the dazzling Lover's Bridge over the shimmering Seine River. Was memorized by the thousands and thousands of padlocks symbolizing the eternal love of the couples who put them there. Sigh. So romantic! Got a kick out of taking pictures of my sister's golden curly locks against the golden padlocks. Took a ton more pictures. Walked to Musee de L'Orangerie. Marveled at Monet's works. Had my sister distract the guard while I sneaked in a few photos of the water lilies, spread across 8 walls in two oval shaped rooms. Admired Picasso's and Renoir's work. Walked to Musee de Orsay. Bought cheese sandwiches and chocolate and ate on the museum's steps. Left when a creepy guy started staring at my sister. Went inside. Got really upset when I saw a Van Gogh portrait there and thought the Rijksmuseum's one i had seen in Amsterdam was a fake. Realized he painted a few portraits and that he distinctly wore a hat in the Amsterdam one. I calmed down and felt slightly stupid. Walked to Notre Dame Cathedral. Regal. Got in when evening mass started. Amazing experience. Angelic singing, candles everywhere...pretty intense. Went to top of Pompidou museum (skipped the museum and went straight to the roof top bar) for Prosecco aperitifs. Again marveled at the view.  Ate crepes for dinner. Returned to Eiffel Tower for nighttime light show. Stood in line with Rita for an hour in the freezing cold as Michael and Lindsay ran up the stairs of the Tower. Got to top. Consoled Rita during her mini panic attack, a result of the height we were at plus the ridiculous amounts of people at the top (I shared the anxiety too!). Took lots of pictures.  Saw the Tower sparkle. Quite cold but very worth it. Shared a Mercedes cab back to hotel. 

Sunday, May 9.  Black coffee and fruit for breakfast. Walked the Marais alone with Lindsay for some girly shopping. Realized majority of stores are closed on Sundays. Fail. Went to Mariage Freres Tea Room. Walked through an open market selling birds, bunnies, mice, flowers, and more birds. Odd. Had lunch at random cafe. Shared a pitcher of wine.  Got a banana and nutella crepe for dessert. Bought mini bottles of wine and paper cups. Train to Geneva. Drank the wine.  Played iPad scrabble with Lindsay, Rita, and Michael. Won. By a lot. Boom. Arrived in Geneva. Had 11pm Falafel at fast food Lebanese joint. Delicious. Walked through Red Light District. Saw women in lingerie suggestively posing in the windows. Wondered what their mother's would think. Strolled back to their apartment and slept like a rock on the pull out couch. 

Monday, May 10. Sun shining. Tempurature in upper 60's. Drank coffee sans Splenda. Still not used to it. Sprinted uphill to United Nations. Convinced the guard to allow us on the morning English tour despite being 15 minutes late. Caught my breath. Stared in awe at U.N. conference rooms. Saw African ambassadors in traditional attire discussing (what I was convinced would be) the solution to the situation in Sudan with other important looking men in tidy suits. Asked the French tour guide a lot of questions like a nerdy student.  Bought a book on the U.N. from their book store. I cannot wait to read it. Walked down hill. Went to Coop for groceries. Sat in a garden in front of picturesque Lake Geneva for a picnic surrounded by red and yellow tulips. Ate gruyere cheese, fresh baguettes and dried figs, and drank a bottle of wine on the grass. Was convinced the backdrop was fake. Strolled along the Lake post-lunch. Watched the Jet d'Eau fountain shoot up 132 gallons of water in a single second up 460 feet into the Lake. Snapped a few shots. Walked to Parc de Bastions. Watched old men play life size chess and smoke pungent cigars. Walked to the famous Reformation Wall. Got a refresher onReformation (thanks, Rita). Realized I hardly retained a thing from high school AP Western History (sorry, Mr. Kaufman). Saw Swiss teenagers with their shirts off, drinking beer and skateboarding. Wandered the maze of cobblestone streets in Old Town. Felt like I was in Disney World. Peered in to the many antique boutiques lining the streets. Saw a colorfully clad Japanese tour group. Took pictures of them taking pictures. Found it quite amusing. Had an aperitif at outdoor cafe. Dinner with Rita's Colombian and Mexican friends, Jorge and Cassandra. Practiced my Spanish. Walked back. Avoided a sketchy guy who tried to pick-pocket Jorge. Passed out on pull out couch. 

Tuesday, May 11. Sun shining again. Bright blue skies. Train to Cully - across the Lake. Wandered vibrant green wine vineyards for hours from Riex, Epesses, to Rivaz (adorable little villages with nothing but wine cellars and little classic Swiss homes). Took a million pictures. Pretended I lived there. Felt happy. Met cute French people who I couldn't understand. Learned smiling is a universal language. Took pictures of them. Had grilled aubergines, pizza, and Parmesan salad (and bread, of course) for lunch at an Italian place on the water. Got turned down for wine tasting at a cellar since we hadn't made a reservation. Bought a bottle of wine and had our own tasting in the backyard of a Chateau. Listened to Si tu vois ma mere by Sidney Bechet on Rita's iPhone. Wine went down like water. Train to Ouchy, quaint little town right on the water. Chuckled immaturely at a sign for Creperie D'ouchy. Rented a paddle boat on Lake Geneva. Drifted on glass-like water for a half hour. Stared at the bright white capped Alps in the distance. Returned to shore safely. Watched blindingly white, elegant swans graciously floating on the water and felt jealous that that was their daily routine. Back to Geneva for some grocery shopping. Loaded and edited pictures on my iPad. Loving it. Ate two helpings of Rita's homemade zucchini lasagna. Went to a jazz bar. Met her Zimbabwean friends. Drank red wine. Another solid night sleep on the pull it couch. Dreamed of the Burnese Alps, rolling hills of the vineyards, and of course, bread. 

Wednesday, May 12. Got up at 7am. Train from Geneva to Bern. Missed connecting train. Bought German pretzels from Brezelkonig. Train from Bern to Interlaaken. Train from Interlaken to Lauterbrunnen. Walked throughout the village.  Almost got trampled by cows on the road all with loud classic bells around their necks. Ate cheese sandwiches as we hiked. Saw goats. Lots. And more cows.  Hiked up a side of a mountain. Got winded. Stared in awe at the bright green grass, meadows of yellow dandelions, and scattered wooden Swiss cabins set against the towering mountains. Felt like we were in a postcard. Watched as a strong waterfall crashed against the mountainside, pure white stream against the dark gray mountain. Took more pictures. Walked back to town. Took Gondola up to 5,613 feet above sea level. Took a rickety old train to the ghost-mountain town of Murren, population 50. Walked to Hotel Alpina. Met Roger, the Receptionist. Ordered wine. Shared the bottle on the porch. Watched the clouds slowly float over the peaks. Listened to Jack Johnson. Took lots of pictures of each other. Watched the clouds some more. Walked to only open restaurant in town. Ate cheese fondue. Drank beer. Ate rostis, salad, and of course, bread. Drank wine. Chatted with manager of restaurant. Drank schnapps. Played with manager's French bulldog. Walked home. Watched part of Midnight in Paris with my sister. Passed out.

Thursday, May 13. Woke up 5:51am to watch the sunrise. Walked outside, saw a gray sky, went back to bed...Happily. 9am granola and yogurt breakfast in the hotel. Packed up. Hiked the North Face trail. Prespired. A lot. Pretended I wanted to take pictures of the views but really was just out of breath and needed to stop. Finally caught up to the group. Played in the snow. My hands went numb. Hiked back. Got the train. Took gondola down the mountain to Lauterbrunnan. Took the train to Interlaken. Went to a Euro diner and had a salad buffet and an order of soup. I think I insulted or confused a German waitress by asking to share the soup with Lindsay. Felt awkward. Speed-walked to train station after picking up some wine. Shared it with my sister as we watched the miraculous mountains and lakes of the Swiss countryside. Pure bliss. Someone please pinch me. 

Conquering Western Europe.

NYC - LONDON. 

Wow. Only one week in and feel like it's going WAY too fast! I'm writing this on the hi-speed train to Paris to meet my sister and cousin; will be nice to have come company after a few days of exploring Amsterdam solo. Earlier, I got on the 1st class car by accident and managed to fly under the radar for about 2 hours until the ticket guy came by and escorted me back to 2nd class. Oops. At least I managed to get a free chocolate croissant and cappuccino from them!  

My first few days with Tinus and Lucia (and her sister, Vikki) in London were just brilliant! It was a perfect overseas warm up for my long travels in that they are practically family so I felt super comfortable the whole time, and was able to speak English to everyone. They were such great hosts and took me to the best restaurants, an awesome show, and really just ALL over the place (Central London, Richmond, Camden, Chelsea, etc)! Highlight of the trip (other than spending time with those two) was the weather! I had braced myself for crappy, cold, rainy days as they and others who had been to London warned, but when I got there - jeez -  felt like California! Everyone was out and about...sidewalk cafe's open, lots of people walking around, overall very lively and just gorgeous! Visiting Camden was certainly an experience. It was like St. Marks Place in the East Village....times ten. Good times. Thanks again Tinus and Lucia! xo.

 LONDON - AMSTERDAM. 

I LOVE AMSTERDAM. It's unlike any other place I have been so far and I did my best to soak up each and every moment!  Although I had a map handy, I decided to just walk around and discover the various places on my own. It's a pretty small city to be honest - was able to walk the cobblestone streets around the canals in just a few hours. The first thing I stumbled upon was the famous Flea Market, Waterlooplein. I let myself roam around the 250 stalls brimming with unique, vintage treasures for nearly 3 hours. I wish I could have just taken everything but obviously have limited space so only picked up some small things for a friend. In chatting with a few Australian girls who had asked me to take a picture of them, they told me I HAD to go to this Middle Eastern lunch place called the Bazaar which is where they had just come from. It was about a 20 min., walk, and when I got there, I was quite bemused. Was expecting a quant little lunch place for some iced tea and a salad, but this place was chock-full of mirrors on every wall, Christmas lights, disco balls, and LOUD techno music. Had a falafel and hummus (ah, probably the best I've ever had - better than Tabouli Grill!) and they went on my merry way.

Next, I found myself in a coffeshop...to have some COFFEE. Uh...They had coffees I couldn't even pronounce. I went ahead and settled for "Northern Lights" (Mom - it's just like a skinny vanilla latte from Starbucks, just a different name...). Wow - that was a strong coffee. Went straight to my head. After staring into space for a while and then chatting with some Spanish guys, I gathered myself and began to slowly roam the canals all the way to the Red Light District (it was still light and relatively early so I think I saw more of an R-rated versus XXX-rated version of the place). By that time, I realized my tummy was growling and I was pretty out of it so I headed straight to a cafe back in Leidesplein to get something in my stomach. On the way, I paused to watch a skinny, awkward looking street performer with a nasty mullet who claimed he was going to do some amazing magic with fire. I thought, hey, this will probably make a cool picture, so got right in the front row. Then he started to babble on with a heavy Australian accent making jokes and getting the audience rowdy when he asked for a volunteer. There were so many people in the crowd so I looked aroundwaiting for someone to jump out, and OF COURSE, low and behold, he walks straight over to me and literally grabs my arm and pulls me onto the "stage." My timid cries "oh no, not me! I can't!" were fruitless.  Queue Bug sweating, blushing, shaking...So, In my not-so-with-it-post-coffeshop-state, I somehow had to tie him up in Saran Wrap and chains (I did it really slowly and awkwardly so that fueled even more jokes) and then stand there as he made crude jokes about it to about 100 foreign people who hopefully didn't understand English! He managed to get out of the chains and Saran Wrap safely, by the way. Thank god I didn't kill the guy. Then I practically sprinted to the cafe and immediately ordered a glass of wine to calm my nerves. 

Yesterday, wanted to make sure I was NOT the center of attention, so went straight across the street for a morning of relaxing museum touring at the Rijksmuseum and Van Gogh museum.  Ah, too much to say - I'm still digesting everything that I saw. Amazing. 

The afternoon brought on more meandering and this time I found myself in a packed canal cruise surrounded by ONLY Asians (No, I am not that culturally acute yet to place which specific nationality!) and elderly Scottish women (about 50 of them).  And you know what -- it didn't matter that the tour was not in English because I made BFF's with the Scottish women and hardly even looked out of the boat. They cracked me up the whole time! I sort of felt like I was in that Twilight Zone episode where the people in the Retirement home turn into kids during the night and play....these women were likely 75-85 years old and had such a great sense of humor! We ended up playing eye-spy for the last 20 minutes and then they bickered over whose grandson they should set me up with. I couldn't really understand them through their heavy accents, but there was sure a lot of laughing.

Tough to say goodbye to that beautiful place but obviously excited to see all that Paris has to offer! XO