You Can't Be A Wimp on the Paris Metro

9/15 - 9/22

What a crazy, crazy week it has been. Paris in the fall is spectacular. It was exactly what I hoped it would be, nothing like I thought it would be, and so much more all in one. It’s cliché to love Paris, but I can’t help myself. Accordion players playing La Vie En Rose on street corners or metro stops, old French men with their cigarettes and tiny dogs perched in café windows, kebab stands and the crepes, don’t even get me started on the crepes. Sugar, nutella, crème de marron, chocolate, nutella and banana, banana and jam, the combinations are endless. You can never go wrong with a good crepe.

All this makes Paris sound like a breeze, but the week was more trial by fire than leisurely stroll down the Champs Elysee. But it was good, It was good and hard and tiring and exactly right all at the same time.

Sometimes, finding a balance on Europe Semester is hard. A balance of schoolwork and sleep, of exploring the city 12+ hours at a time and knowing when to call it a night. We’re all trying to find that balance, and Paris was the perfect opportunity to test our skills. We split sightseeing and nights out with seven museums and ten hours of class this week. I debated stricter immigration laws in our Contemporary Challenges class and tried (somewhat successfully) to keep sickness at bay.

Was I prepared for the week and it’s crazy glory? No, not particularly. But I was open and willing, willing to persevere and experience and let Paris teach me through each little moment, each conversation, and each incident. Good thing, too. Here’s a little taste of the past week:

We kept our eyes peeled and thankfully, no one fell prey to pickpockets or gypsies this week, despite how insane the Paris metro is. First, let me just boast for a second about how good we are at navigating the metro. I may be directionally challenged when operating a motorized vehicle, but my metro skills are way above par. Second, it is certifiably insane how packed the metro gets. On more occasions that not, we packed in like sardines and hoped for the best. Never before have I pushed so hard to fight my way on to or out of public transportation.

You can’t be a wimp on the Paris metro, that’s for sure. Elizabeth and I learned that fact very quickly when, on our first (and most crowded) metro ride, we got left behind, zooming onto the next station while the rest of our group watched with shocked expressions. Trying to get 44 people off the metro on the same stop is a big task, and we fought our hardest, but the metro won. I laughed at our luck, and we doubled back at the next station only to meet up with 3 other Westmont kids who hadn’t gotten off, either. Later on in the week two girls and I were accosted while exploring the city (on three separate occasions in one day), and concluded that not only had we found the sketchy areas of Paris, but for safe measure we should probably go places with guys.

I went to my first opera this week, and what an experience that was. The Marriage of Figaro is a Spanish opera written by an Austrian man, sung in Italian with French subtitles…and we speak English. It was 4 hours of confusion and song and drama and craziness that I wouldn’t change for the world. Staying awake the whole time was a major, major accomplishment.

Versailles was amazing. It lived up to my sky-high expectations of grandiose and gaudy  - I can’t imagine living in a place with so much marble and gold and mirrors. Whatever you do, don’t get me started on those gardens. Beautiful and vast and oh so pristine. I could’ve spent a week wandering and biking and row boating the waterways and grounds of Versailles.

My perfect French moment: stumbling upon a foie gras festival after going to mass at Notre Dame. Picture crowds of people sitting on the banks of The Seine, drinking wine and eating cheese and buttery baguette sandwiches and cantaloupe. We joined them with our sandwiches and crepes, and I felt very, very French.

Friday after class, we enjoyed lunch at the upscale Café de Flore, only to find ourselves caught in a storm on the way to The Louvre. So we did what we could, we embraced Paris in the rain, sans jackets and with two umbrellas for six girls. Sufficiently wet and slightly overwhelmed, I clutched my handy map and set out to conquer the Louvre. Fifteen minutes later, I threw in my invisible white flag of surrender, tossed my list of paintings and room numbers aside, popped my ear buds in, and wandered. I pondered angelic faces, men in armor, babies with chubby legs, and lots and lots of nakedness. Would I have gotten more out of The Louvre had my visit been narrated by an academic audio guide instead of my country crooners? Probably. But I’m ok with that. I’m hoping to cultivate a new appreciation of art and art museums this semester. So far, it’s not looking so hot, considering I did more people watching than art watching in The Louvre. My ‘room for improvement’ category is wide open.

Besides climbing the Eiffel Tower and Arc De Triumph for beautiful views of Paris by night, some of my favorite times were spent in the Latin Quarter and the Left Bank. I bought a watercolor print and browsed the green stalls of the Left Bank, stopping to gaze at Notre Dame or the boats passing through The Seine. I balanced these quiet moments with time in the Latin Quarter, lively and full of good food and laugher. In between these two places was my new favorite bookstore: Shakespeare and Company. It’s a safe haven of books and creative juices and struggling writers living upstairs. It has a piano and mismatched seating squeezed between shelves and shelves of old books for reading, not for sale. Upstairs in Shakespeare and Co., I plopped down on a window seat to take a breath trying to wait out the rain. I did the only thing that made sense in that moment: I picked up a book off the shelf, only to find that I’d grabbed The New Ambassadors by Edwin Gilbert, a book about contemporary Americans in Paris. Fitting, since that’s what I was last week. I saw the good and the bad, the homeless gypsies begging by ATMs, soldiers walking through the train station or the Eiffel Tower, their fingers on semi-automatic weapons. It’s an interesting time to be in Europe, with the euro crisis unfolding and the latest riots thanks to a recent American film critical of Islam and a similar French cartoon.

You win some and you lose some, and that was especially true of Paris. I won some, and I lost some. We only made it up to the second floor of the Eiffel Tower because the top was closed. I barely put a dent in The Louvre. As we drove further and further from Paris, I could hear the Versailles gardens calling me back. There are still so many museums to learn from and streets to wander and crepes to eat. My conclusion? I’ll have to come back to Paris again, no questions asked. I’m content with the week I spent there, and ready for what’s ahead on this grand adventure. But Paris, we will meet again, of that you can be sure.

A few pictures to balance out my lengthy prose:

Crepes and hot chocolate with the girls

All I wanted from Paris was a picnic under the Eiffel Tower, and I got it. 

Versailles!

A Redemption Story

9/11 - 9/14

Geneva taught me an important lesson: don’t judge a city by the street your hostel’s on.

Basically, our hostel was in the ghetto of Geneva. We were told not to walk two blocks in because we’d have walked right into the red light district. Stay by the lake and travel in packs. We were stuck in purgatory. We’d just left Interlaken – beautiful, breathtaking Interlaken – and next we’ll be in Paris. Poor Geneva got the short end of the stick. So for the past four days, we’ve been stuck in this awkward phase, longing to be in Paris and not impressed by Geneva.

But all is a gift, even the gifts or places or situations that seem manna-strange. I’m determined to eat the manna, I’m thankful for the gift Geneva has been. I’ve gotten 8 hours of sleep every night, some good chunks of homework done, and I haven’t felt the pressure, or desire for that matter, to go out and explore the city, because there’s not much around our humble hostel abode. I’m ready for Paris, I think we all are, but I’m reminding myself to live in the moment. I’m in Geneva, Switzerland, Geneva, Switzerland.

And this is a story of redemption, now, remember? The same story of redemption told over and over again, in each of our lives and in the lives of people before us and the people that will come after us. Geneva was redeemed. She was brought out of exile on a beautiful Thursday afternoon. After class we piled onto public transportation and ventured over to the Old Town of Geneva. I breathed a sigh of relief as we hopped off the tram; this is what I was hoping for. Tree lined streets, parks with big white marble gates and rod-iron fences, crowds forming around intense games at life-sized chessboards. Cute shops, dusty antique stores, and cafes dotted the hilly, cobblestone streets.

So I did what I’d done so often with my parents this past summer  – I climbed. Up the windy staircases of the Geneva Cathedral, ducking through dark rooms until finally I emerged in the open air. Need to clear your mind? Climb some stairs and get a panoramic view, a fresh perspective of a city you’ve already passed judgment on. I soaked it all in, the kaleidoscope of roofs and windows and chimneys too numerous to count. The mountains on three sides and the beachy lake on the fourth. I ate my apple and breathed and thanked God that I was wrong about Geneva.

To finish up Switzerland:

·      We hopped the border to France on Friday and spent some time in a glacier ice cave in Chamonix. It was crazy. And cool. And beautiful. I need a new word besides beautiful. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.

·      Swiss currency is probably my favorite currency in the world. Its lovely with its rich, saturated colors and oddly sized coins (the ½ franc coin was the size of a penny), but that still didn’t make up for how expensive everything in Switzerland was. We’re all excited to be back in the Euro and an all -around cheaper lifestyle.

Magic happens when you allow it to, when you clear your palette and open your mind to whatever may come. God has been so gracious to us on this trip. His protective hand is upon us and before us and after us. It’s time for 8 days in Paris. Goodbye mountains, cows, chocolate, and watches. Hello crepes, baguettes, berets, and all things French. I’m ready to see Paris in the fall.

Good night, friends. Thank you for reading this, for investing yourself into my life and my stories this semester. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your prayers and support and friendship. Y’all are the best. 

I Left My Heart in Interlaken

9/7 - 9/11

Oh Interlaken. Interlaken, Interlaken, Interlaken. I left a piece of my heart in that little Swiss town. Nestled in the Alps, our long weekend at Balmer’s Hostel was incredible. We lived simply, enjoying real hostel life with small rooms, red and white checkered bedding, and two showers per floor. We ate bread and jam for breakfast and kebabs for dinner because everything in Switzerland is way too expensive for our student budgets.

Our view for the weekend

There aren’t enough adjectives in the dictionary to describe just how amazing this place is. Besides the beauty of it, there are so many amazing things to do in Interlaken that, if we had an unlimited budget, we could have stayed for a very long time. I did what I could. Paragliding. Biking through the Alps. You know, normal everyday stuff. When your Professor’s tell you it’s playtime, they mean business. You don’t question playtime on Eurosem - you just go.



So we went. The weekend was a nice mix of adrenaline and relaxation. I went paragliding for the first time – running off of a grassy hill until the ground beneath your feet has disappeared and enjoying the peaceful flight back down to earth. The views of the Alps from the air are incredible.

Sophie & I getting ready to go

That's me running off the side of the hill!

The view of Interlaken from the air

I wish I could capture the total beauty of this place, the rugged mountains steep and green, dotted with quintessential Swiss houses, each with different colored shutters. So. Many. Shutters. Peach and deep blue and green, purple and yellow and red.

Our Hostel

This can’t be real. I must have stepped out of real life and into little piece of heaven.
I half expected Heidi to be sitting on a hillside as we biked up from Interlaken to Lauterbrunnen. I had never been on such an intense uphill ride with such crazy scenery in my life. 13 kilometers there and 13 kilometers back, with a quick hike to a waterfall in between. 

Riding through the Alp

Every 10 minutes I had to remind myself, “I am biking in the Swiss Alps.”  This theme of thankfulness is repetitive, but it’s been the theme of my year. I thanked God for 1,000 gifts before coming to Europe, and I’m experiencing so many more of his gifts as I explore this place. This creation is beautiful. The fellowship on this trip is amazing. We had a hot tub, piano, and foosball and ping-pong tables at our disposal in the hostel, and we took full advantage of them. A quick game of ping-ping before bed, listening to someone play a song on the piano before leaving for dinner, spending out last night in Interlaken in the hot tub. And did I mention the relaxation room? Six or seven rainbow hammocks in a wooden room overflowing with natural light.

“I urge you to please notice when you are happy and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” –Kurt Vonnegut

Well, if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is. Yes indeed, I left my heart in Interlaken.

60 Hours in Salzburg

Written Friday afternoon driving through the Swiss Alps

How would I describe Austria? Green. Misty. Lush. Mountainous. Green.  Breathtakingly beautiful. And did I mention green? Peach, mint, and sunshine colored houses all sit in a row, with oversized bouquets of purple and hot pink flowers hanging from the windowsills. After spending a week in a concrete jungle, our short stop in Salzburg was much appreciated.

We had our first hostel experience in Salzburg, and I was pleasantly surprised. The rooms were quite cozy, but very clean and much nicer than I expected. We’ll stay at another hostel in Interlaken, where we’re traveling to right now, and another one in Geneva.

But back to Salzburg. This town is quintessential Europe. It’s small, it’s cute, and it has a castle you can see no matter where you are around town. We went to a concert at Mirabel Palace, where Mozart performed, and trekked up to the castle after dark. We walked through the city and marveled at Old Town with its creamy red marble and interconnecting squares. And of course, it wouldn’t have been Salzburg without taking The Sound of Music Tour. Twenty girls from our trip went on it, and our guide told us we were the most enthusiastic tour she’s ever had. Basically, we rode around to all of the important sights where the movie was filmed and learn fun stories about the cast. Oh, and did I mention that by the end of the tour we had sung every song from the movie? Yes, it was every girl’s little piece of childhood heaven played out in real time right before our eyes.

We saw the two palaces used to film the house, the gazebo, the lake where they tip over in the boat, and took a beautiful drive into the mountains. The church where the wedding was filmed was breathtaking in person, and the lake town of Mondsee was as cute as can be. So, we ate gelato and sat by the lake over looking the Austrian Alps. It was one of those glittering moments from this trip that I don’t want to forget. Because my time here, this trip, it is a gift. A huge blessing. So, I’m taking this glimmering gift and running with it for all it’s worth. 

We just crossed the border into Switzerland, and soon we’ll stop in Zurich for a few hours before heading to Interlaken. We’re onto country #4 on this wild adventure. I’m trying to pay careful heed to God, to recognize that every part of this trip is a gift from him. The days in class, the late nights reading, the wandering adventure to find the most authentic locals-filled place to stop for dinner, all is a gift. It’s hard sometimes, because our days are overflowing with so much that the most time I have alone is in the shower, and even that’s as quick as I can make it. But I see the beauty of creation everywhere, in the misty, misty Alps, so misty that when we went up to the Eagle’s Next yesterday (Hitler’s Austrian hideaway), instead of gorgeous views of the Alps and valley below us, all we saw was fog, white fog and mist so dense I had to squint at times. But I’ve learned to give thanks in all things. Because, a true saving faith is a faith that gives thanks, a faith that sees God, a faith that deeply trusts. It’s my job to receive the gifts, no matter what the Giver chooses to give. So here’s to another city, another country, another opportunity to bring a little bit of the divine into everyday Europe Semester life, and another chance to shamelessly celebrate God’ s glorious creation.

Elizabeth and I at Hellbrunn Castle in Salzburg

Emily & I at the Eagle's Nest 

Out in Prague

Dessert on the terrace at the Charles Bridge in Prague

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

Written Tuesday afternoon en route to Salzburg.

A few things about Prague before I dive into our week in Berlin:

A little shout out to all the Bachelorette fans out there - the marionette shop that Emily and Jef went in on their date in Prague this past season was RIGHT next door to our hotel. Literally, smack dab next door. Several girls and I confirmed it through video footage, and took a picture outside the shop.

The Czech currency was also quite an experience to use because the exchange rate is about one dollar to 20 Czech crowns. So, when six of us shared dessert and hot chocolate on our last night in Prague, the bill was 600 crowns! Sounds like a lot, but really it was only $30. Whenever I bought something, I had to remind myself that I wasn’t spending an exorbitant amount of money. And when I got a 2,000 crown note from the bank, I took a picture with it.

Leaving Prague was also an experience worth mentioning. Imagine 40 Westmont students pilgrimaging across Prague, with a semester’s worth of luggage in tow, to reach our coach. That deserves a whole post in itself. Lets just say, we stopped traffic at a busy intersection with a spontaneous police escort. Thankfully, we all made it safe and sound. It’ll be a miracle if we make it this entire trip without anyone getting hit by a car, bike, or bus. Pray for us friends, pray for us.

Speaking of wild things, our schedule in Berlin was insanity with a shot of crazy. Last week hit all 40 of us with lightning speed. It was a bit disorienting, because we went from playing in Prague to the reality of early morning lectures and concentration camp visits. We were up by 7 and sometimes not back to our apartments until 10, with reading still to be done for the next day. It was a wake up call, loud and clear, but we all made it though, and we made it through together. It was one of our busiest weeks of the entire semester, and I can say with certainty that most of us are ready for the quieter pace of Salzburg.

If our time in Prague was very surreal, the past week in Berlin was very real. The city is bustling and loud and very livable. We went from beautiful, historic Prague to the gritty reality of city life, with streets littered with graffiti and cute coffee shops and lots of construction zones. We stayed in apartments on the corner of Gormannstrasse and Linienstrasse on the edge of East Berlin’s fashion district. We spent most of our time in East Berlin, which was the communist sector before the reunification of Berlin twenty-two years ago.

History came alive before our eyes this week, whether we were ready to face it or not. Even though I know that history is coming alive today and is going to come alive again tomorrow, each time it does it hits me like a little electric shock. We saw bullet holes in the columns of museums because the city got turned into Swiss cheese during the war. We saw the area that used to be Hitler’s Nazi headquarters. If it hadn’t been for our guide, Gabe, we never would have known the historical significance of those blocks. Instead of looking up at Hitler’s balcony, we were looking up at apartment buildings and a Pecking Duck Restaurant. A few hundred feet from that, we saw what was Hitler’s garden and the bunker where he committed suicide, which is now under a parking lot. And a few hundred feet from that is the Holocaust Memorial, with its 2,711 concrete blocks. The deeper I walked into the monument, the higher the slabs got and the more disoriented I felt. The ground sloped in arching waves and it was hard not to drift off to one side and run into the concrete slabs. Just down the street from that we came to the Brandenburg Gate and later saw pieces of the Berlin Wall at Postdamer Platz. Bam, hit with all that history on one walking tour.

Friday, instead of having class at our normal classroom here in Berlin, we took the U-Bonn and a train out to Sachsenhausen Memorial and Museum, the former concentration camp in a suburb just outside Berlin. We had class in the old armory building and spent a few hours walking the camp, hearing stories of hope and faith and strength that helped people survive in these awful places. The wrong thing happened at the wrong time for these people. But, instead of leaving the camp feeling hopeless and defeated, I left feeling hopeful, which may leave many of you shaking your heads in confusion. It was chilling to hear the stories of Sachsenhausen Concentration Camp, but I didn’t feel anger. With the sandy gravel crunching beneath our feet, we walked the same walk prisoners and guards walked, day after day. Prisoner and guard, victim and persecutor, all of a sudden everyone blended together and all that I was left with was a longing sadness, a seed of hope. The average age of the young men training to be guards at Sachsenhausen was 20.7 years of age. The old commandant of Sachsenhausen eventually moved onto Auschwitz. 9 tons of human ashes were thrown into the river nearby. Sachsenhausen was a concentration camp, not an extermination camp (those were only in Poland), so it wasn’t a prime location of the killing of Jews in the Holocaust. Instead, political prisoners, socialists, Jews, career criminals, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and others were forced to stay in the camp and work in the forests or factories near by. Over 10,000 communists were killed on the grounds of the camp in Compound Z and their bodies burned in the furnaces. Walking through the camp, I thought about my grandfather. He fought in World War II, and he was one of the first to come across one of the concentration camps in Germany, most likely Dachau, possibly Sachsenhausen. I can’t imagine what he saw. I had one of those moments that I do every so often, because even though he’s been gone for over 10 years, I wish he was still here, so I could ask him about his experience. I’ll never know if I walked through the same concentration camp that he walked through all those years ago. There’s a part of me that’s convinced that he couldn’t have felt an ounce of the hope that I felt in Sachsenhausen, but then again, maybe he did, because even though awful things happened, they liberated the camps, and many lives were saved. What can be gained from hate and resentment?

What resonated with me from my time in this camp were the stories of hope. How Martin Niemöller, a preacher held in solitary confinement, held an Easter service with the Commandant and 2 guards. One guard, Iron Gustav, murdered more than 400 people with his own hands. After the war, if you can imagine, he found faith in God. He allowed individuals to testify against him without claiming innocence, like so many other Nazi guards did at their trials. Iron Gustav was convicted, spent time in prison, and died in a retirement home in 2004.

Take just a second and stop.

Think about what a story of grace that is, that God would be so gracious on this man, and that he would find faith after being so far away. Harry, the senior prisoner at Sachsenhausen, was in and out of concentration camps for 12 years. As he left Sachsenhausen for the last time, he stole an SS teaspoon. When friends from the camp would come visit him for tea, he would give them that spoon until they recognized it and practically jumped out of their skin, giving Harry a belly laugh every time. There are ways to live strong and happy lives, and the prisoners’ here field-tested them all. From the cabaret Harry put on in the laundry barrack to the cartoons of potatoes on the walls of the kitchen, it’s all about perspective. You can’t deny the terrible things that happened in Nazi Germany, but when you walk into Sachsenhausen, you can’t deny the hope and strength that most of us felt leaving the camp. I’m thankful for Gabriel, our trusty guide here in Berlin, and that he would narrate such stories of hope and faith during our time at the camp. It was fitting, though, that the sun peeked out from behind the clouds and filtered through the trees as we left Sachsenhausen, together, a community 44 strong, and stronger because of the day we spent there.

For how heavy and real this week was, we had plenty of fun in Berlin. The whole group went out bowling on our last night, and earlier in the week some girls and I found a Russian restaurant with the best Russian food we’ve ever had. I got a caprese salad at a little Italian café down the way from us two nights in a row because it was so good. The memories and friendships the group is making over food and drink makes me so happy. We tried to have a karaoke night, but after getting to the karaoke bar (an adventure in itself with 30 of us navigating a sketchy part of town after dark) we found that it was 21+. Since when is anything 21+ in Europe? We improvised, as we have so often on this trip, and managed to have a really fun night despite the lack of karaoke. Some random tidbits to wrap up Berlin:

Sometimes, I feel like we’re on our own version of The Amazing Race. A Europe Semester example of a detour: the U-Bonn you need to take to the Jewish Museum is under construction. Find another way to get to the museum, or you may be eliminated. Everything we do, whether it’s roaming the streets for a place to eat or navigating subways or “minding the gap” and trying to keep our group together, everything we do is an adventure.

We got weeklong U-Bonn passes, so we could ride on Berlin’s extensive subway system whenever we wanted to. By the end of the week, after a few failed U-Bonn attempts going the wrong way, we were navigating the system like pros.

In our nationalism class this week, we’ve been talking about identity. Of course, at church this Sunday “who am I?” was the title of the sermon. Some girls and I went to Berlin International Community Church, and I was so encouraged by how diverse and welcoming the church was. Sometimes I forget that I have brothers and sisters in Christ all over the world, but the warmth and love of God radiating off of BICC was incredible.

Imagine us, a group of 44 Christians traveling Europe, living in East Berlin, one of the most atheist parts of Europe, for a week. We sang worship songs during Vespers at Gabe’s apartment on Sunday night, and people stared up at his open windows, stopping for a double take at the sounds they were hearing.

Today is a travel day, and probably our most complicated travel day of the whole semester. We got out of our apartments this morning by 7:30, all of our luggage was loaded onto the coach and we were off for the quick ride to the train station. It was the epitome of community getting all 44 of us, and our luggage, onto the train in about 3.5 minutes. It felt like game day, all the guys throwing the luggage through the door and everyone jumping on so no one would be left behind. 10 seconds after our last person and last piece of luggage were on board, the doors closed. Europe Semester 1, Train 0. The train went from Berlin to Munich, and now we’re on another train from Munich to Salzburg. I’m currently looking out the window, so thankful for the lush green scenery of Austria rolling past me. After a week in a dirty city, the dense forests and bright green, rolling hills are precious gifts. Fun fact: The Sound of Music was filmed in Salzburg! And they play the movie on repeat at the hostel we’re staying at. Some girls and I are going o try to take the Sound of Music tour! This movie was a huge part of my childhood, and needless to say I’m stoked. We’re onto country #3. I’m thankful for the journey so far, I’m thankful for the crazy times in Berlin, without anytime to process or think or breathe, and I’m thankful for the quiet that this travel day has been. We’re stopped at a trainstein for a minute, and I just saw two women wearing traditional dirndls. We’re in Austria, all right.

“Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” –Miriam Beard

That quote basically sums up how I’m feeling. I’m learning and living in community and my ideas of living are growing and being molded by my experiences on this side of the ocean. We’ll arrive in Salzburg within the hour, check into our hostel, have dinner, and then trek up to a castle. So here’s to a new week, a slower week, a little more time to breathe in the countryside of Austria, and all the lessons we will learn from this beautiful country.

Czech It Out

         I’ve been using the words surreal, wow, and “I can’t believe we’re here!” way too much the past few days, but it’s true. After so much planning, prayer, and anticipation, Europe Semester is finally here. Its been surreal waking up in the morning at the Rezidence Lundborg just steps, steps away from the Charles Bridge. Is this real life? For the next three months, at least, it is.

            On the flight here, somewhere over Michigan, we had front row seats to a thunderstorm. The seat belt light switched on and we watched the powerful lightning pierce through the thunderheads from our plane safe above all the commotion. Somewhere right around there, the magnitude of this trip hit me. Not 100%, but I definitely had a ‘woah, I’m really going to Europe’ moment. Then somewhere over Goose Bay, Canada, I realized that this is a me thing, too. No one in my immediate nuclear family has been on a trip like this. Being the youngest child, I always knew what to expect of things because I was the second go-around. That build-in comfort zone was an incredible blessing and is probably the reason why I love adrenaline and adventure so much. And now, this time, it’s all me. This semester is a lot of new and a lot of unknown and a lot of growth. It already been filled with so many sights, smells, and sounds in the few short days we’ve been in Prague. One country down, ten to go.

         Prague was a great place to start our trip. The city is so beautiful, and each new day brought more adventures. We wandered and walked and got lost in the city. We meandered through the different artists and their wares along Charles Bridge, we’ve been to the Prague Castle, and we had our honorary first scoop of gelato. We’ve been caught in rainstorms, hung out with locals at a jazz club, and spent many moments doubled over in laughter. The jetlag made some of us a little crazy, and the products of that have been some incredible friendships and memories.

         After four days, I’ve come to the conclusion that pictures won’t do this trip one bit of justice. I wish I could capture all these moments and use Harry Potter magic to send them out into the world. I wish everyone could see the architecture and taste the local cuisine and feel the uneven cobblestones beneath their feet.  It’s a comprehensive experience, and pictures only capture one facet of these moments.  I’m still taking pictures, of course, just more pictures of people and crazy adventures that I want to remember forever than picture after picture of architecture.  I take one picture of the church or castle or monument and that’s that. I want to be present for my eyes to see and take it all in, rather than fix myself behind the lens every second and miss what I’m really seeing. I want to let this experience soak into me in deep, deep ways that I never imagined. I’m going to be challenged, and I’m going to grow, but I need to be present in order to do that. So, I’ll try to do one post in every city or country, depending on the duration of our stay. Instead of being on facebook or uploading pictures or blogging excessively, I want to be out wandering and experiencing these cities and making memories. So, if I drop off the planet for a bit these next few months, if I get behind on blog posts or never post pictures on facebook until I’m back in America, please don’t hate on me. I’m only going to have this experience once, and I’m milking it for all it’s worth.

            We had our first day of class today, and yes, this semester is going to be a lot of work. Basically every morning we have two to three hours of class, then museums or excursions in the afternoons.  We have many group dinners and also plenty of time to eat on our own and explore the city. We have thick course readers and papers to write. And while the homework aspect isn’t my favorite, I've figured out a way to make it manageable. Sitting on the terrace overlooking the Charles Bridge, drinking iced tea and working on readings like I did yesterday, is a darn good way to do homework if you ask me.

         Tomorrow, we leave the Czech Republic for a week in the big city of Berlin. We'll take a day to visit Wittenberg and another afternoon at a concentration camp. We'll dig into classes, museums and the food, nightlife, and sights Berlin has to offer. It'll be a week packed with studies, walking, laughter, getting lost, hearty German food, and lots of emotions. 

        My devotional this morning said it perfectly, “As you move through your life today, look for ways to build your faith. Have your own spiritual treasure hunt, looking for those blocks that will make you stronger and more beautiful than ever.” That is what I want from this trip. I want to see and experience God in new ways. He is already challenging me and has been so, so faithful in new friendships and wonderful memories here. 

         So, here's to the amazing beginning of one of the most amazing semesters of my life, and the many weeks still to come. Over and out from Prague.

Kitchen Disasters, Huckleberry Finn, and the Learning Curve

Vacation to…Earth?  You would never imagine some of the conversations I have with the kids at preschool. They range from cute to a little weird to totally bizarre. The days are always entertaining. Example 1 goes as follows:

Emily: You weren’t here last week!

Preschooler: Yeah, that’s cause I was on a va-caaaaaa-tion.

E: Oh cool! Where did you go?

P: We went on vacation…to the Earth!

E: Oh really? That’s great! Now, how did you get to the Earth?

P: Well, we drove. It was a long long ways away. And there was a big hole there and a kid fell in it.

E: Oh my. Well, I hope he got out and was all right!

P: Oh yeah, he was.

E: Good, good. Well, I’m glad you’re back!

After much analysis, I decided that she probably went camping. But any suggestions to decode this conversation are welcomed.

On Becoming a Redneck: Besides work and summer school, my weeks have been filled with berry picking, canoeing, jumping into the river, and learning to shoot. With country music and iced tea in hand, I’ve been sweatin’ it out in the relentless summer. Yes sir, I’d say I’m turning into a regular redneck!

Baking Disasters: I had my very first baking disaster a few weeks ago, and I cannot emphasize how much of a disaster it was. For the first time in my life, pinterest led me astray. It was a sad, sad day.

I love pinning food (who doesn’t with all of those mouthwatering pictures?), and I saw a cookie recipe that was super healthy, and I naively thought, “Wow! Healthy cookies and they look so good, they must taste amazing!” Pin. Check. This summer, when I actually had time and a kitchen to bake in, I asked my mom to invest in a bag of chickpeas. You see, the disaster recipe had no flour, no oil, and no white sugar. In my mind there was just no question: they were going to taste delicious. (Hindsight is 20/20, how in the world did I think these things would taste good?! Come on Emily, get it together)

I was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. They smelled like wet salty peanut dough with chocolate chips, but the chocolate and chickpea mixture just didn’t cut it. And there was no sugar. The lesson I learned that day: desserts need to have sugar. Otherwise, they just aren’t desserts. And it’s okay that they have sugar, because they’re desserts! It’s one big happy dessert cycle. Fear not, said disaster recipe has been deleted from my pinterest. My parents and I had a good laugh after I was crestfallen about the situation, and I threw the mistakes (I can’t even call them cookies) away the next morning.

Tahoe: It’s amazing what one night in a different place can to do you. Our mini-vacation to Tahoe was heavenly. Just one night visiting friends at the cabin they rent every July, but it was a full and satisfying 24 hours. Appetizers on the deck, s’mores and dinner tucked into their little cottage, girl talk and mother-daughter time with a $5 million dollar view on the edge of Lake Tahoe. Cue walks to 7-eleven for slurpies, inhaling the smell of fresh pines mixed with sunscreen and the lake, and I was a happy camper.

New: I love trying new things. I love the learning curve. The feeling of confusion before getting the hang of something, the “well, let’s go for it” mentality. I tried jet skiing for the first time on my mini-vacation to Tahoe and WOAH, that little contraption is the coolest thing ever! So much fun. Seriously, if I ever win the lottery I’m going to buy a jet ski. You can quote me on that one. Seriously. I’m a rebel without a cause on that thing. We zoomed across that lake like Baywatch babes, and it was fabulous.

Huckleberry Finn with a shot of Indiana Jones: I found myself canoeing one Friday afternoon, and the day looked like something out of a page of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Canoeing in the river, berry picking while trying not to tip the canoe, jumping off rope swings into the freezing water. I felt like I could relate to the fictional lost boy, minus the fact that I’m not a runaway drifting down the river. Infuse an Indiana Jones style ride and a bit of Pocahontas’ just around the riverbend for finishing touches and BAM, that was my day.

Unofficial History lessons with my Dad go as follows: for 5 minutes, I ask him all of my stupid Emily-how-can-you-not-know-that-answer history questions. He answers them all, most of the time with a chuckle, probably wondering how he raised a daughter that forgets history as much as she forgets to close drawers. Lord have mercy, I’ve never learned so much about the world in such a short amount of time.

The good old optometrist. It’s amazing what a stronger prescription can do for a girl. I’m an expert at this optometry thing: I blinking when I’m told, I open and close my eyes on command, and I answer the broken record “one, or two?” questions like a champ. I may know the drill of the office, but with a new prescription I feel like a new woman. The world is a little crisper, colors are a little richer, and this planet feels like a better place. It’s amazing what .5 more can do for your little eyes.

Reconnecting: no matter how far we drift during the semester, we come back and its still there. It’s a different friendship, because we are both different people in ways little or big, but this growth makes friendship all the richer. We bring new experiences to the table, new questions and stories and things to talk about, we reminisce about the old and find new ways to terrorize the town. This is sounding all cheesy and nostalgic, but looking back on the summer and all of the great people that I got to catch up with, that’s how I’m feeling. Sometimes, being away makes us forget how connected we are to this place we call home. No matter how excited we were to get outta town to start college, and no matter how much we love our respective universities, there’s something extra sweet about coming back to the Purple Place and Town Center and friends that knew you through your awkward middle school stage (and still love you despite it). I’m on my happy parade again, and I feel lucky to still be so connected with so many friends. People weave themselves into my life and I weave myself into theirs. No matter how much time or distance comes in between, we’re two years out of high school and we’re still here for each other. And I think that’s pretty awesome.

Is it possible to be in two places at once? Lately, I think so. Thanks to Europe semester homework, my mind is already in another continent. I've been spending my days reading textbooks about nationalism and contemplating stricter European immigration laws. Art and city reports and Murder in Amsterdam convince my mind that it's already in Italy and Berlin and Amsterdam. I come up for air from research or reading and remind myself that I'm still here, in good old El Dorado Hills. It's leaving me in this odd parallel universe, though. A universe where I'm both here and there at the same time. It's weird, but like most things, I've just been going with it and it's been working itself out rather nicely.

Tonight’s a thankful night. I’m thankful for Crystal Light Lemonade and air conditioning. I’m thankful for friends and trying new things and being out of my comfort zone. I’m thankful for all this summer has been, and for all this coming semester will be. Less than 2 weeks and I’ll be on foreign soil! So crazy. I’m feeling wonderfully overwhelmed.

So here’s to hot summers in the valley, to remembering the little blessings, and to being wonderfully overwhelmed.