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.

Eat Well, Travel Often

I’ve been back on US soil for 22 days now.

Exactly four weeks from today, I’ll be on a plane to Europe once again, only this trip across the Atlantic will leave me there for almost four months. Even though there are a million and one things I need to do in the next 28 days, I’m ready to go back. I’m ready to breathe deep and trust God and dive head first into a million new experiences this semester will bring. It’s going to be a crazy, wild ride.

I’m not sure why I love to travel so much. All I know is that I have this intense desire to set foot on every continent, to try every local cuisine, and wander down every narrow street. My self-diagnosis? Wanderlust. My cure? Wild boar and venison in Austria, apple strudel and schnitzel in Germany, schneeballen in Rothenberg, and an absurd amount of gelato in every town we visited this summer. We climbed too many steps to the top of church steeples and abandoned fortresses and old castles for insane panoramic views and a burn in our calves that made my dad and I not feel so bad about the extra scoops of gelato.

I haven’t quite gotten the hang of this comprehensive flow that many bloggers have, seamlessly weaving stories together in these great glowing paragraphs. So for now, I’m content with my choppy little anecdotes, little pieces of what’s on my mind, random things I really like, and what my trip was all about.

I love the people you meet in airplanes. A girl with perfect English traveling home to Germany after her first year in college, a Mom with her four children traveling to Vienna to visit her parents, a man from Pennsylvania on his way to vacation in Istanbul. I love the bustle of airports, being a plane ride away from adventure. There’s a sense of community when you’re going through rigid security and trying to navigate unfamiliar airports. 

Double Dutch: It’s a very sing-songy language, Dutch, and it has this distinct rhythm. Arky-varky-du-du-du-du. My dad and I can pretend like the best of them, but this language is trick-y. The guttural “g” and the diphthong “ui” and all of the stinking jk’s. And for once, I don’t mean just kidding. You try pronouncing Gefeliciteerd met je verjaadag, beminnelijk, or ongelooflijk. I’ve made my case.

Vienna Calling: It was a wild, warm, jam-packed 4 days in Austria’s capitol city. In case you don't know, the Official Hagen Family Vacation Philosophy is as follows: walk ‘til you drop. Just walk, because you never know when, or if, you’ll be back in this place ever again. It’s a simple philosophy, but when I can barely move one foot in front of the other, it’s hard to follow. But we do. We sit on a bench for a second, or grab a scoop of gelato, and we’re off again. Because life can be just that simple if we’ll let it: just walk. For 19 days we wandered, no maps, no GPS, and most of the time with no end destination in mind. We wandered the streets and gawked at the pastries in the window and got very, very lost about as much as we ate gelato (and that’s saying something). About every other day we got really, seriously, I’m-so-mixed-up-we-could-be-on-Neptune lost. And I loved that. Purposefully lost. It led to lots of exploration and laughter, some short-tempered remarks, and that confused feeling you get when you’re focusing so hard trying to figure something out.

I’m thankful for authenticity. I love being unfamiliar, a tourist nomad in a far away land. On the one hand, I love seeing the touristy destinations – St. Stephen’s Cathedral, the Opera House, Schonbrunn Palace, or Vienna Hofburg Imperial Palace, just to name a few. I love the perfect facades of these old European cities. The beauty is breathtaking and the history is rich and deep, deep, deep. But the best part about our visit to Vienna was the fact that most of the time, I didn’t feel like the typical tourist. We stayed in a second floor apartment on Borsegasse in the Inner Ring. We had bell peppers, hardboiled eggs, and warm, crusty bread with sweet honey butter and apricot jam for breakfast. We saw the city through the eyes of Ms. Edith, a 72-year-old Hungarian spitfire. We experienced the gritty, watered-down, real Vienna. Kids on the way back from school on the subway, friends without homes hoping for some change on the street corner, children playing in the park, a mother shopping in the grocery store. For four days I walked. I ate gelato and lit candles in Catholic churches and soaked in as much of Vienna as I could.

I love being surrounded by unfamiliar places. I feel right at home when signs are in different languages and I can’t understand a word of the conversations around me. I think I love it so much because it reminds me that I am so small, and God is so big. There is so, so much out there that I haven’t yet seen or experiences. The newness of these places I travel to opens my eyes and my heart to the beat of the world. There is good everywhere. There is gorgeous beauty on every continent. There are friends without homes and crime and hurt on every continent, too. But you can’t let the bad stop you from exploring and living your life. Because the end all and be all is that God is always good.

I overdosed for three weeks on a combination of castles, palaces, vineyards, old people, gelato, schnitzel, and churches. Add four-course meals, a pinch of public transportation, cobblestone streets, and old-fashioned doors, and a sprinkle of polizia with big guns, toilet dragons, and hundreds of years of history beneath my feet, and there was my vacation in a nutshell. But there's more, my time across the ocean went deeper than just my stomach. I felt really torn at times because I was seeing all of these beautiful churches, but I didn't see anyone in them. I had a really hard time, and my heart got really heavy, because I felt like Europe was a godless place. I didn’t expect to feel that way and I didn’t like the way it felt. Are people actually using these churches? Are they coming here to bend their knees and cry out to God in prayer? Or is there too much history, too much blood and conflict, in Europe’s past to celebrate and embrace and walk with God today? The only people I ever saw in church, besides tourists, were around the age of 65. I was strikingly aware of the absence of people my age. Where are the youth? Are they in the church? I felt disoriented, tangled and caught between questions and confusion; I didn’t know where God was or how He could bare to stare at all of the empty pews week after week.

But no, no no no. God, He is there, of that I am certain. I simply need to choose to see Him, even if many people choose not to. I need to live out eucharisteo, this lifestyle that has led me to thank God for 951 gifts in 5 short months. I need to take a breath and live the hard eucharisteo. It caught me off guard, this realization. I didn’t expect to be challenged spiritually while on vacation, but God has a funny way about His timing, and I should have known better than to think complacently about these three weeks, or any time in my life for that matter. There is always room for spiritual growth, at no point will I ever be too full to say no to God’s moving and shaking of my heart.

National Pride. The Germans know what’s up with national pride, let me tell you. Cheering squads at every major American sporting event pale in comparison to the mob of flags, leis, face paint, and anticipation the hours before, during, and after a German soccer victory. We had the privilege of watching the Germany vs. Greece Eurocup football match in a German biergarten. And let me tell you, it was an experience.

Even in the little town of Regensburg, every biergarten was filled to the brim and a handful of big screens were brought into public squares, where people packed in like sardines to watch their beloved players beat Greece. We found enough space in the corner of the biergarten, ordered a few beers, and proceeded to hoot and holler following the locals’ cues. We talked with a really nice girl with perfect English who had just finished medical school. When we apologized for keeping her from her boyfriend and friends, she surprised us by answering that they had just met the people they were sitting with. Her boyfriend was deep in discussion with them, so we assumed they all came together. That’s exactly the national pride I’m talking about – I love that the Germans just sit down at a table with people they don’t know, order a beer, and pretty soon they're friends. There’s comradery, and old-fashioned friendship, and people generally lookin’ out for each other. We could learn a thing or two from these guys.

After the victory, we paid for our beers, said goodbye and thank you to our new friend, and made our way through the maze of people crowded on the streets. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper, and everyone felt like it was their civic duty to honk their horn every 15 seconds, not in agitation of the driver in front of them, but in celebration of their country’s victory. Combine that with yelling, fireworks, and people sprinting through the streets waving the red, yellow, and black flag I’d come to see so often, and the sound just might have traveled all the way to Greece. I loved every minute of that night. The sense of unity and pride and the twinkly lights strung across the biergarten – it was definitely one of my favorite memories of the trip.

Grocery stores are some of my favorite places ever! Everywhere I go, I mosey through grocery stores like a booklover through a bookstore or a woman through a shoe store. Not only do you get to see some crazy unique foods (like large toothpaste-like tubes of mayo and mustard!), but the chocolate is a lot cheaper than the tourist stores. Like, really, really cheap. You see, my dad and I have this thing about chocolate…and pastries…and gelato. Everyone needs a mid-morning snack, so why not make it authentic? That’s our philosophy, and we’re sticking to it.

Amsterdam, the city where bicycles have the right-of-way over pedestrians and you can’t get coffee at a coffee shop. It left me very confused though, because the naïve blonde in me wasn’t sure where you actually could get a cup of coffee. Places would advertise coffee, and I didn’t know whether to believe that you actually could get a hot beverage there, or if it was the other sort of substance the town is known for. I wasn’t about to open my mouth and ask, but I think you actually can get coffee in coffeehouses…but don’t quote me on that one. Besides seeing many of these coffeehouses and the Red Light District (interestingly centered right outside churches in some areas), we visited the Tulip Market and wandered until we found a quiet canal walkway - all the while keeping an eagle eye’s watch for oncoming bikes. If I hadn’t pulled my mom up onto the curb a few times, she would have been bike bait.

Surprise of the day. Remember the First Rule of Hagen Family Vacations? Well, our just walk philosophy particularly shined through in Wurtenburg, Germany at the Residenz we visited. I was tired and hot after a long day trip into Rothenberg, and didn’t really want to take this extra tour. I expected it to be a little museum, frankly, and I didn’t feel like being very studious. Cue the bus pulling up to this giant fortress-palace-mansion and my jaw on the floor. Expectations blown. Attach a gorgeous public garden and festival with food vendors and live music, and it was my own piece of early evening heaven. To think that I was just going to go back to the ship instead of this! No, sir, I’ve learned that you’ve got to just keep walking, keep exploring, because you never know what you may discover around the next street corner.

So here’s to adventure, to tired feet and full stomachs and friends together, whether that’s in your backyard, at your local Chili’s, or across the world. Eat well, travel often, my friends.

And A Happy Fourth of July To You, Too

There is something extremely comforting about being home today. Somehow, I’ve managed to spend the last three or four 4^th of July’s everywhere but the big US of A. When you’re not in America, and no one is waving flags, lighting fireworks, or walking in parades wearing ridiculous red, white, and blue outfits, the holiday loses some of its edge.

But fear not, that edge was back today. The grocery store was filled with people buying watermelons and hot dogs and big bags of ice. Our cul-de-sac was overflowing with camping chairs, tables of food, and little kids running around in swimsuits. Our nation is celebrating today, bleeding red white and blue.

Oftentimes, I am guilty of placing America last in the national pride category. Compared with other countries, I just don’t feel like we’ve got that spontaneous patriotic spunk. Thankfully, today I was reminded that yes, we’ve got some spirit up in this neck of the woods. It may take a little planning, and a certain day marked on the calendar, but judging by the lines at the grocery store and flags in front of houses, we’re doing alright.

You see, I’ve spent the past 19 days wandering Europe, so today I soaked in the feel-good patriotic vibes, restocking my dose of America love. As happy as I would have been to stay put in Europe a little (or a lot) longer, it’s fitting that we made it back home in time for this day.

Jet lag: All I have to say is ouch, jet lag kills. I’m trying to overcome the desynchronosis with a good burger and vanilla ice cream, but so far it’s not working. It’s 10:09, and I can barely keep my eyes open.

Mama: My mama left her voice in Amsterdam, which means that my dad and I have taken over post-vacation household duties. The laundry’s done, groceries are in the fridge, and the dog is home. It also means that we spent quite a few hours today on the couch, catching up on episodes of The Bachelorette. It was quite a productive day.

Fun Fact/Stay Tuned: Sailing the rivers of Europe with baby boomers and grandparents is quite the experience. Brace yourselves because yes, I spent my vacation with 150 grandparents. And yes, I brought the average age of the ship down considerably. Stay tuned for post-vacation ramblings, stories, and photos.

I’m currently watching a fireworks show on TV and another out my front window. Happy birthday, America.

Full Speed Ahead

Summer’s rolling, it’s cooking with gas, full speed ahead – and it has yet to ask my permission as to how I feel about that. If it did ask me, though, I’d tell summer that I’m loving it. It's fitting, in my mind at least, to compare summer to a bright yellow freight train: we’re moving full speed ahead and gaining momentum with each passing day. There’s an interesting vibe to this summer, a unique feel. It’s a disciplined, focused, and steady busyness. Only turning on my computer every 3 or 4 days (quite a feat for a college kid), is evidence that I’m bouncing from place to place perhaps a little too quickly, and a little too often. But I’m cool with that. I think that when this summer comes to a close, I’m going to find that it was exactly what I needed it to be, even if I didn’t know that in the beginning.

The Summer Flu: It seems to happen to me every year. My body’s hot all over and the heat outside just adds to the burn. Desperate times call for desperate measures. True confession: I stood in the garage, with the freezer door open, head against a loaf of frozen French bread, for longer than I'd care to admit.

A Girl’s Gotta Do What A Girl’s Gotta Do: I’ve been banned from drinking out of my normal blue reusable cups (don’t ask), and there’s something about our dark blue opaque glasses that gives me an odd vibe I can’t quite put my finger on. So, I’ve taken to drinking all liquids out of either big German beer steins or fifties diner inspired glass Coke bottles. It keeps things interesting. Hey, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Getting Lost: Let me just tell you, I love getting lost. If I’m ever the designated navigator and you’re driving, we are most likely going to get lost. I don’t do it purposefully, but if the next turn isn’t black and white, I’ll find my own shade of gray and roll with it. I recently went to San Francisco with a friend and had our getting-lost-ness been judged, we’d have received the highest marks in all categories. We got into the city and before you could say woopsie-daisy, we were absolutely, 100% lost. After an hour of navigation help from Tom-Tom the GPS and a few strangers, we finally pulled onto Montgomery Street in the presidio of San Francisco (not to be confused with the Montgomery Street of regular San Francisco). Needless to say, a heavy dose of laughter and a sprinkling of photos to document the occasion put this adventure in my Top 5 Getting Lost Adventures. Yes, that list actually exists. 

What Up, Walt Disney: And the story continues! Surprisingly enough we did not come to the city to get lost, but to visit The Walt Disney Family Museum. Cue angel choirs and bright white lights. I highly, highly recommend this museum to anyone and highly, highly, highly recommend it to dedicated Disney fans. (!!!). Fact of the matter is, Walt Disney’s a pretty cool guy, and the museum is super detailed, and the world’s a better place because of him. So that’s that. I’ll step off of my soapbox now…but really, you should check this place out.

Celebrations: Summer celebrations have been consuming my weeks and weekends. Grad parties, sunsets at the lake, Bachelorette nights, dinners with family friends. All those good summer vibes mixing together, hot afternoon get-togethers overflowing into cool summer nights. Besides all these normal celebrations, we’ve enjoyed some very special ones here in the Hagen household. My brother came to visit before hopping over to Alaska for a conference, my Dad celebrated his birthday, and my grandparents celebrated 60 years of marriage (wowsa!). They’re 82 and as adventurous, mischievous, and funny as ever.

Epiphany of the Week: Working with kids is so, so good for me. Kids smile and laugh and they give good, strong, sometimes awkward hugs. Kids dream big dreams and expect big things from you. There’s no pretense, no low goals. They look at you with big eyes…and they trust you. Five minutes after being back at preschool on day one a girl looked at me and said, “Miss Emily, I love you!” Kids' ability to marvel over things is out of this world. Are they really excited that snack is veggie straws and water? Believe me, they will let you know it. They will eat those veggie straws like they're 5-star kiddie caviar. This honest vulnerability and joy seems to steadily decline into adulthood unless we fight for it.

Most of the time, it seems to me, adults don’t want the world to know how they are really feeling. So they build up these big walls, creating a glass ceiling that very few people are allowed to pass by. You see kids, they don’t have that glass ceiling. It’s pretty obvious how their day is going because they are poignantly truthful. This can translate into (1) giggles, smiles, hugs, constant questions, and “Miss Emily can I sit in your lap?” or “Miss Emily, look at my airplane!” or (2) dramatic tears and tattling because so-and-so took their toy. I’m not saying that it’s a good idea for grown adults to meltdown multiple times a day, but there is definitely a lesson we can pull from here. Kids aren’t afraid to love. Kids are honest and full of joy. They are experts at living in the moment and living true to their feelings. And most importantly, they have grand expectations of life and of other people.

Working with kids is really good for me because they remind me to step out and be honest and real with myself and with others. A big part of my personality is my sweetness and smile, but there’s an outgoing, Emily-with-no-filter, who says a combination of very strange, very blonde, and very naïve things, that few people witness. I’m an introvert, that’s just who I am, and that's never going to change. But the world could use a little more exuberance. It could use my joy and my smile, even if only a few people see and especially if it puts me out of my comfort zone.

Just some food for thought. My mind’s a turnin’ on this Sunday afternoon.

Here’s to kids, and the beauty of their raw, real joy, and the gratitude that can come from spending time with some of life’s tiniest and greatest teachers. Because when you see life through a lens of gratitude and childlike joy, there’s not much left to complain about.