Week 1 of 3

Monday, 22^nd

We got up at 6:45am to give ourselves enough time to eat breakfast, get ready for the day, and do one last floor sweep before Alessandra came to check us out at 8. We were in the middle of our yogurt and cappuccino when our doorbell rang. It was 7:38. What! Italians are never on time, much less early! Our breakfast was strewn all over the table, our computer was on, our belongings were still sitting beside our half-full backpacks waiting to be packed, and the floor still had traces of dust. But what could we do but let her in? By the time we handed over the keys and left the apartment for the last time at 7:55, we had discretely finished eating, done dishes, packed up all our belongings, and gotten the compliment “perfecto” for our cleaning skills. Quite proud of ourselves too.

We made it to the 8:30 train to Como. The guy sitting across from me serenaded me with such gross nose-blowing I was afraid one would pop out and hit me in the face. Shane silently laughed out the window. The stop in Lake Como was disappointing, as it was foggy and raining. Our happiness being more important than a few cruddy pictures, we opted to get back on the train and continue on our journey into Switzerland. The train was late by 30 minutes, and just as we settled in for the ride, we stopped at our destination. The border was only 5 minutes away and we had sat in the freezing cold for so long just for this?? I guess so.

After another half hour wait in the border station, we continued on to Luzern, Switzerland. While Swiss trains are very nice, they make me motion sick because they bank on the corners. As if the simple turning weren’t bad enough, we had to tilt too. It was like a roller coaster ride that didn’t go fast enough to make the excitement overcome the nausea. I finally lay down and tried to sleep away my images of hurling. I woke up to sun-bathed snowy mountains. We finally made it to Luzern, where we took a Panoramic View train the 2 hours through the mountains to Interlaken, our stop for the night. The view was amazing. The only thing we disliked was that a lot of the snow was already melting. But we had a gorgeous sunny day and that made up for it. Hopefully our tons of pictures turned out well.

Our hostel in Interlaken was less than impressive. Apparently the good reviews were from those partaking in the extreme outdoor activity packages offered who were so exhausted upon returning to the hostel that they didn’t notice the sagging beds, lumpy excuses for pillows, awkwardly cramped rooms, or lack of curtains to keep street and car lights from blinding you out of sleep. And during the day they were gone enough to not notice how annoying it is to share a tiny bathroom with 6 others in your room, the sketchy internet connection, or the fact that you can get locked into your room when some idiot locks it behind them while you’re in the shower. Yes, that happened to me. I sat in that room by myself until Shane, who had the key, came upstairs from using the internet to find me sitting in bed looking morose. It’s a fire hazard, really, not having any way of unlocking yourself from inside without a key. Other than those things, the staff was friendly and the common area was cozy. But it didn’t make up for awaking to see a stranger’s sleeping face 15 inches from mine in the bunk next to me. Believer in personal space, anyone?

That night we walked around looking for a bite to eat, and found nothing for less than 15 francs per person. That’s about equivalent to dollars. It was more likely to see a 1-person meal for 25-35 francs. Because of this, we ate out of a grocery store again like we had been doing all day, and I suffered from that depressing feeling I always get when I haven’t had any hot food for a while. The feeling like I’ll never be full again, and that I’m withering away to nothing. For that reason, I can’t wait to get out of Switzerland.

Tuesday, 23^rd

In the morning we got back on the Panoramic View train to go back to Luzern, our second night destination. On the way to the station Shane bought a Swiss army knife, because “you just can’t go to Switzerland and not buy a Swiss army knife!” With Luzern being only 2 hours away, we were able to get settled in our hotel early and go sightseeing a bit. We even ate at Burger King, getting two sandwiches, onion rings, and a drink for a whopping 20 francs. Expensive junk food, but it made me full and I felt more nourished. Unfortunately it gave both of us headaches, and we spent half the afternoon napping them off.

Afterwards we explored the town a bit. It’s very scenic; I actually liked it better than Interlaken. We sat on some benches beside the river and soaked in the fresh air and the mountain view. That evening we bought more grocery store food for supper, booked hostels for our next few nights in Amsterdam and Berlin, and figured out train schedules.

Wednesday, 24^th

We got up early, ate the hotel’s breakfast, and opted to leave an hour later than planned so we could go see a lion statue Shane kept talking about. We got on the 10am train and headed into Germany. At a train station layover we ate McDonalds for a lot cheaper than our previous Burger King meal. But it still gave us headaches again.

We arrived in Bacharach where we planned to stay in a hilltop castle converted to a hostel. The problem was the climb to get up there. Looking at it from below it didn’t seem that bad, but 330 steps and several feet of uphill climb later, we were both sweating profusely and dying of burning leg muscles. I’m pretty sure that climb would be adequate for a professional athlete’s grueling work-out. Not to mention it was muddy from the rain, making it slippery and harder yet. Once at the castle, Jungenburg Stahleck, we were thankfully able to get a room even though we hadn’t reserved first. It was a cute 3-bed dorm room overlooking part of the valley. Just enough of the original castle interior had been saved to make it feel real, and we congratulated ourselves on staying somewhere cool and unique.

The town didn’t have much to offer other than cute, quiet streets and a gorgeous view of the Rhine. We took several pictures before heading back up (pant, gasp, wheeze) for supper. Supper was surprisingly good and consisted of either noodles or rice with a topping of pork-laden sauce….thankfully they also had a tofu sauce for those who didn’t eat pork, which we don’t. The side dishes included asparagus soup, corn salad, and canned pears. It was all very tasty and I got so full Shane had to finish my pasta for me.

In the reviews of the castle we were forewarned that it is a popular place for school groups to visit, and that they were often very loud. There was a group there with us, but we were assured that they were in a different wing and therefore wouldn’t be bothered by them. That night right after we went to bed around 10pm, we were rudely disrupted by the loudest yelling, screaming, door-slamming group of early-teens I’ve ever heard. No help in the fact that the castle interior echoes like a canyon. But regardless, these kids were LOUD! And rude. I couldn’t believe that they didn’t think to consider other guests, especially since some of them knew we were staying on that hall. Apparently the desk clerk forgot that one of the group’s rooms was on our hall instead of downstairs with the others. We put our earplugs in, prayed for mercy, and were given it. Only one short ruckus after that and we were able to sleep undisturbed.

Thursday, 25^th - Saturday, 27^th—Amsterdam, Netherlands

We awoke at 6:45, got ready to leave, and ate another simple yet tasty breakfast. A few pictures later and we were down at the train station, my legs shaking from the downhill climb with my heavy pack. Something is actually wrong with my knees. They’ve been having an internal intermittent ache for months now, but that hill made them feel old and dilapidated. When I have money again I’ll have to get it checked out. Maybe give myself physical therapy.

We hopped on the train and headed to Amsterdam, marking it the third day we haven’t missed a single train. Once there we found our hotel, which was in the World Trade Center. We picked it because it was unique—the rooms were lighted with colored LED lights, and had a switch that you could use to make the colors change, blink, or remain on a single color. Our room’s main color was red. It also had a TV which I discovered had 50% English channels such as MTV, news, cartoons, and movies. The beds were plush with down comforters, and I was tempted to just stay in bed all day watching TV. A downside to the room was that the glass shower had no shower curtain, and the bathroom itself had no door. Period. What hotel has no door on their bathrooms!? Not even married couples want to be able to hear or smell what’s going on in the bathroom. Thankfully I discovered public bathrooms out in the hallway, which I used gladly. The second downside to this particular room came the first morning at 6am. We had been unlucky enough to be placed in a room right above and beside a workshop of sorts, so our view from the window was just that—the inside of a shop. Not only that, but at 6am Friday morning all the workers came to work, and we discovered that the door leading from the shop to the WTC was right below our room….and SLAMMED shut every time someone went through it. Which had to have been once or twice every minute. It was so ridiculously loud that it jarred me awake every time. It gave me bad memories of my first college roommate. I tried to fish for my earplugs but they were wedged in the container so tight I couldn’t get them out without completely waking myself up. So I persevered in my attempt to remain asleep for another 3 hours while that stupid door slammed over and over again. The second night was better, since it was Friday night and no one works on Saturday. But I have a few choice points to make in my hotel review.

Amsterdam is a city made for those who like nightlife. But it’s also a city made for those who don’t want to feel sequestered by society’s rules and norms. Take, for example, the fact that both marijuana and prostitution are legal there. That being said, every souvenir shop you go into will be teeming with gag gifts centered around pot and the red light district. Amsterdam’s symbol is XXX, which you will see everywhere you go. It makes Vegas look like a kiddie playground. I have to admit though that we both liked the laid-back, happy attitude portrayed by everyone here. That could come from either the lack of rules or the fact that everyone was high, I don’t know. But either way, Amsterdam sets a good example in the good attitude department, if nothing else.

While there, we walked around the city streets taking pictures, ate a really good meal at O’Reilly’s Irish Pub, toured the Anne Frank house, and walked through the red light district. Now that was an odd experience. It’s not every day that you’re surrounded by something that is shunned by society in any other country or state that you go. And because of that, it feels very foreign and surreal. The red light district (centered around a church, of all things) is recognizable by just that—the red LED lights surrounding the doors to what reminded me of indoor stalls on both sides of narrow alleyways. In each of these glass doorways, the red light girls stand there in scanty lingerie for the viewing pleasure of whoever walks by, waiting for a customer. Behind them in their small, private, LED-lighted rooms is a simple yet inviting bed, a bathroom, a few decorations, and other…necessities…needed for them to do their job. No pictures are allowed of these girls; if they see a camera, they will slap the curtain over their door. After a round through these alleys I felt like I was in a different world. I wasn’t quite sure whether to feel shocked, intrigued, sad, or sinful. Maybe a combination of all. I couldn’t help but wonder, as I looked at these girls—some raising their eyebrows beckoningly at men, some standing there quietly looking out, and still some others puttering around acting bored—how they got into this business, and how happy they were being in it. I read that these girls make an average of 500 Euros a day. That’s pretty good, but it’s sad that so many girls do it because they feel there’s no other option.

On a more wholesome note, the Anne Frank house was simple and kind of sad. The rooms were bare, save for the museum’s descriptions on the walls, original pictures pasted on Anne’s bedroom walls, and the occasional sink or toilet. The hiding place was a lot larger than I had expected…an entire upstairs floor actually. I had always imagined it to be a tiny room. Nevertheless, it made me want to read the Diary of Anne Frank. I’m so glad we are past those terrible days too.

We spent all day Saturday on a train to Berlin. Once at our hostel that night, the Generator, we spent the evening eating, bumming online, and watching TV shows on the computer. I miss the luxury and comfort of the last hotel…

I'm in Italy, I see France, I see Mont Blanc's large expanse.

Shane and I decided to spend our Sabbath in God's beautiful nature--the Italian Alps of Aosta Valley.

To do this, we woke up at 5:30am this morning (so much for a day of rest!) to catch the 7:15 train. We transferred halfway to another train that took us to Aosta, and from there a bus which took us the remaining way to Courmayeur, home of the famous Mont Blanc (which is actually in France but can be seen from Italy).

The scenery was beautiful along the way, with several castles proudly sitting atop hills with snow-capped mountains as a backdrop. Courmayeur was amazingly sunny and clear, although yesterday's snow piled almost as high as my waist! The views were stunning--360 degrees of majestic snowy mountains sparkling in the sun. A mainly touristic/ski resort, Courmayeur can easily be toured in about 3 hours, which is what Shane and I did.

So by and by I felt the urge to use the bathroom. Luckily for us there were men and womens bathrooms free of charge near the bus stop. As I walked into the women's, I heard the rather loud sounds of a woman "dropping off the kids"...complete with respiratory noises that I could only associate with a massive heart attack. Disgusted, I thought to myself how people needed to just practice verbal silence while using public restrooms. Then I walked into a stall....and understood completely. The "toilet" consisted of this:
Now think back, ladies, to that time(s) in your life when you were at a public restroom in which there were no seat covers, not enough toilet paper to put down, or you just plain couldn't bring yourself to place your bare skin on that seat that has housed who knows what diseases. So you assumed "the stance", which consisted of hovering an inch or two above the toilet seat while you completed your business. After a while your toneless thighs might have started to quiver as you defied gravity at all costs. Terrible memories, right?

Well.

This so-called toilet was ten times worse. Not only do you lack the luxury of resting your tired feet, your poor legs have to work 90% harder to suspend your body a mere 2 inches from the floor, all the while trying to ensure proper aim lest you have to stand there for 5 minutes pushing the flush button, praying everything will eventually go down. No hand rails even to hang on to for dear life when you just can't take the muscle burn any longer, and believe me you do need to persevere, because this is one toilet you CAN fall into. The last straw is having to take off all coats, scarves and long sweaters, lest your day is ruined when they fall into the path of destruction.

It is obvious to me that the committee who voted for that type of toilet contained very few or no women. Needless to say, I was quite miffed to discover that the men's bathroom had regular toilets.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully on buses or trains back to Milan, all of which worked out very nicely for us time-wise. Although we didn't get home until 9pm. We spent about 9 hours today traveling for 3 hours of sightseeing. But it was worth it to me to see all that beauty. Thank God we had a decent trip this time that actually went according to plan. :)

Exhausted now, I am heading off for bed. Tomorrow is the big (and last) day to pack up before moving out of our apartment on Monday morning...after which we will be commencing our 3-week adventure around Europe. :) I will attempt to post blogs occasionally during, but no promises, as we only have one computer to share and hit-and-miss internet.

Venice Trip: Epic Fail

Be forewarned: this is a really (really) long blog.

Our first mistake of the weekend was waiting until the night before we left to try to book a hostel in Venice. Not that I hadn't pushed to do it since the beginning of the week, we just hadn't actually done it. Being carnival weekend, we were unable to find a single place to lay our heads under $300/night, $100/night if we wanted to stay an hour away by train and hike 2.5 miles to a B&B in the middle of nowhere. No thanks. So we appealed to some of Shane's smart classmates--who were going and had booked hotels back in December--to allow us to sleep on their floor. By the time we left on Friday for our jaunt across Italy, we still hadn't received a reply. But hey, we're young and adventurous, so we'll just make decisions as things play out, right? Haha...

So with this mindset, we hopped the 9am train for our first pit stop in Bergamo, Italy. We weren't staying here, just looking around, so we still had to juggle our backpacks all over the place. I packed light (Shane will disagree because my bag was so huge--however, it was an entire sleeping bag in there, how can you say I packed too much if I could fit that?!) but as the day wore on my pack demonstrated a progressive brick-like heaviness that gave me muscle aches like none other.

First impressions of Bergamo: lots of dog poop, quiet & peaceful, fog completely covering the mountains we had come to see, and absolutely no idea where to go. Thankfully, the weather decided to grace us with sunshine at least. We found an information booth which housed a map and a very nice lady. We used this map to find out how to get over the great stone wall on the hill, which held all and any sights of importance. In between wandering around getting lost and actually making it to the top, we stopped to check our email, hoping.... And we got the exciting reply: Sure, no problem, you can stay on our floor! by Milan, a really nice Canadian guy in Shane's class. YES! We had a place to stay in Venice that night! What a relief! Now we could enjoy the rest of our trip without having to worry about it.

This being done, we took a cool little train/pulley car up the side of the mountain and over the wall.

Once up there, the view was gorgeous.

Unfortunately after puttering around the top side of Bergamo for only an hour or so, we already had to start back down to catch the train. But Verona was mormportant, as it's the pace of Romeo and Juliet.

By the time we got to Verona, it was mid-afternoon, and our tourism time was fading fast. We bought 2 bus tickets each, one for the trip to the hostel and one for the trip back in the morning, but the bus was so packed we couldn't get to the validation machine even if we wanted to. We also had no way of knowing which bus stops we were stopping at. We had directions to our B&B, but without knowledge of where to get off, it did us no good. We finally hopped off around the area we thought we should be and decided to do the rest on foot.

I was surprised and delighted when we stumbled upon a huge party! Crowds of costumed people flooded the street throwing around confetti and dancing to the loud bands in the middle of the street. Sweet! We'd stumbled upon their carnival! We decided to hurry to our hostel, drop off our stuff, go back to the train station to buy reservations for a train to Venice (which we had forgotten to do when there), go back to the carnival for a while, then see some Verona sights before dark.

Easier said than done. Because we didn't get off at the right bus stop, our directions were nearly useless. We finally found the street we thought we were supposed to be on, only there was no B&B at #10. I finally asked in a kebab shop directions, and he pointed me down the street, saying that he knew but didn't speak English, and to ask some English speaking people down there. Riight. So we walked a bit further and I asked a guy who ran a clothing shop. He was Chinese; of course he didn't speak English, that would make it his 3rd language. But he pointed us back the way we came. The kebab owner saw us walking by again and motioned for us to come over. He had gotten another guy to help him. Unfortunately this guy didn't speak English either. So they asked an older man hanging out in a doorway. He in turn went in and got a map to look at. In the meantime, they flagged down a girl driving by in her car to ask her if she spoke English. She did, and parallel parked there to get out and help us. Then there they stood, 4 Italians pouring over a map and my scribbled directions, all trying to figure out where Shane and I should go. I found it funny and sweet that the guy would go to so much trouble to help two strangers. Finally, decision made, the girl was able to explain to us in English that there were two different "Settembre" streets, and the other one was farther down the street, around a corner, and so on. We thanked them and moved on, hoping she was right. She was, and we found the correct street. Man, we never would have found it on our own!

It took us a while to find the right building, but when we did and buzzed in, no one answered. We buzzed a second time, then a third. No one was home. Great!! We had put on the reservation that we would get there at 6pm, but had emailed the host that morning to tell her it would be more like 3:45-4:00. It was now around 4:30. Our only stroke of luck was that we did actually have internet and Shane was able to call the woman via Skype. They got cut off mid-conversation, but we thought she got the idea that we were in front of her house. Sure enough, a few minutes later Paola--a smiley, talkative, bubbly lady--came walking down the street, waving and shouting out her apologies from several feet away. She had never gotten the email about us arriving at 4, therefore wasn't expecting us until 6. She let us in, showed us the place, and gave us the keys. We quickly got settled, then left to go see the carnival.

It became apparent to us that the carnival was nearly over by the time we got there. Most of the people were gone, but they did still have a parade of several floats and people throwing confetti all over the place. I marched right up to the front of the crowd to where a float was rolling by, smiled at the man who was strolling by dressed in the float’s themed attire, and promptly got a faceful of confetti. I was a bit shocked, but then saw that he was doing it to everyone. As the evening went on, we were showered more than our share of confetti, which we were still finding in our clothes the next morning. We stayed out until it was dark, realizing that we had really made a trip to Verona for nothing because we weren't going to be able to see any of the sights. The carnival was fun though.

The next morning we ate breakfast around 8. Breakfast consisted of hard-boiled eggs, rolls and croissants, coffee, yogurt, juice, a granola bar, and cereal. I was excited about the egg, but when I broke into it, raw egg yoke ran out onto my plate. Nasty! I cannot stand undercooked eggs. I tried to eat the white part, but even it was kind of mushy and wet. I didn't want her to feel bad about it if it was a mistake (I've never seen hard-boiled eggs this way so I didn't figure it was a preference issue), so I covered the gooey mess with my egg shells and napkin. In the end, I stuffed it all in my yogurt container and discreetly threw it away. Shane later said that the cereal was stale too. Poor lady, she was so sweet, I feel bad for saying her breakfast sucked, but it kinda did.

We didn't end up using our other bus tickets either because Paola told us about a train station close to her house. We made our way there, but the fog was so thick we couldn't see where it was! We ended up following another girl who was also trying to find it, doing loopty-loops all over the highway. When we made it there, we saw that our train was delayed 15 minutes. Ok, no biggie. But progressively as time went on, the delay rose... 15.... 20.... 25.... 30... 35... back to 30... In the end, a huge crowd had gathered in the station, some of which were wearing full costume and already carrying half-empty beer bottles at 9am. The few older patrons sat in the corner looking quietly disgruntled at the younger generation.

By and by, the train arrived. We could tell that it was packed to full capacity, to the point that people were standing in the aisles. Shane and I went a ways down the train to try to find a less-crowded car. The door we finally stopped at had so many people pressed against it inside that no one could open it. A man on the outside helped them, and the door finally popped open to reveal numerous partygoers hopelessly squished sardine-style against each other, two of whom were men dressed in full king costumes. It was the funniest sight I've seen! The second the door was opened they nearly fell out due to lack of standing support. Shane and I decided amongst our humored laughter that we would just catch the next train for Venice that should be coming through in just a few minutes. Apparently nearly everyone else decided the same thing, and we all watched, laughing, as the faces squished against the windows rolled on by. (We later learned that Ryan was on that train, and had seen us as he went by!)

The second train, while full, was much less packed, and Shane and I were able to both get seats in the same car. By the end of the 2-ish hour trip though, there were people standing in the aisles, and I felt stifled from lack of fresh air.

Upon arriving in Venice, we got train reservations back to Milan for the next day at 1:50pm. We also bit the bullet and bought 24-hour boat passes (nearly the only mode of transportation here) for 18 Euros each. Ouch. Once that was taken care of, we looked at the directions for our friend’s hotel and jumped on the boat heading that way. Well, we jumped on the wrong boat apparently. Instead of meandering through the grand canal to our stop, we meandered in much more open waters, and by the last stop we hadn’t yet seen Rialto. Since that ride alone had taken a good hour or so, we opted to walk the rest of the way to the hotel, since it was on that same side of the river. Bad idea. We didn’t have a map, and we got lost.

We were hopelessly wandering around, asking people for directions, grimacing at the aches in our backs (or was that just me?), and inwardly grumbling as we watched the hordes of people enjoying their carnival. Then, out of the blue, we passed our friends!! Wow! In a place like Venice, which was currently wall-to-wall people, we found our group of friends. Finally some luck thrown our way! But it didn’t last for long. They weren’t even staying at the hotel we were trying to find, they were staying at one right next to the train station! Which meant we had to go all the way back by boat…another hour wasted. Not only that, they had gotten there too early to check in, so had just left their bags and were planning to go back to check in “in a few hours”. Well our backs hurt!! We finally were able to get the name of the hotel, their receipt of payment just in case the hotel gave us problems, and Milan’s cell phone to use when trying to find them again. Milan had said that the hotel had told them if they wanted “extra beds” they needed to pay for them. Perfect! We would just pay for extra beds to be put in the room. And if not, we would beg them to let us at least store our bags there so we didn’t have to carry them around Venice. We didn’t want to have to sneak into their hotel room, but if it meant not spending the night on the train station floor, we would do it.

Next mistake: we got on the wrong boat…again. By the time we got on the right boat and got back to the train station, it was close to sunset. We found the hotel after a while, situated in a tiny alley. Shane agreed that I would do the talking, and we went into the tiny reception area. The desk clerk was a woman wearing a bright purple shirt and bright purple eyeshadow. But she did speak English. I began my spiel about how our friends were staying there and had been told that they could pay for extra beds to be put in the room to accommodate extra people. When I was done, she shook her head. “There is no extra beds and no space in the rooms for any extra beds.” My heart sank. Shane asked her if we could sleep on the floor. No. Of course not…what did we expect? We then asked her if we could store our luggage with our friend’s luggage since that had been the plan had they been checked in. She said yes, there was a patio outside that we could put our stuff in, but it wasn’t secure, they took no responsibility for our luggage, and we shouldn’t leave any valuables in it.

We said thank you and went to the back where the patio door was. It literally was just a pile of luggage sitting out there for anyone to go and grab. We stood there debating for a minute. Shane called Milan to tell him the bad news, and I got out my brush to brush my hair. Shane then put some of his stuff in my bag and kept the valuables in his bag to take with us. Then we went out and put my bag in the farthest corner where we thought no one would bother it. On our way out we said thank you.

And that is where we ceased to know what happened. After I said thank you as I was opening the front door, the woman started talking. I can’t even relate to you what all she said because she was talking so fast and making almost no sense. She was rambling about “no thank you” or something like that, and finished with “you can go get your stuff and leave”. What! I thought maybe she had thought we were ungrateful to her for letting us leave our stuff, so I reiterated. “I just said ‘thank you’…” She answered that by saying yes she knew and this was her hotel and they weren’t going to be responsible for our stuff and she didn’t trust us and we could just take our bags and leave and blah blah blah. That being said, she waddled her way around the desk and opened the patio door for us to do just that, still rattling in a combination of English and Italian. I have never been so utterly shocked and confused in my life! How can she just suddenly turn on us like that for no reason? She rambled on about how she didn’t know which bag was ours but we could just get it and get out of her hotel (yes, you’ve said that before). As we bewilderedly got my bag, giving each other shocked looks of confusion and moving in slow motion for the door as she talked to herself in Italian like a crazy person, Shane asked her, “Can you please just tell us what we did wrong?” She answered by opening the hotel door and going on and on some more about how this was her house and she would tell our friends when they came and we just needed to get out, thank you. She said somewhere in there about how we could go stay in any other hotel, and at this point I told her bluntly, “Ma’am, they’re all FULL.” She answered again with her typical nonsensical ramble, nearly a shout now, until we finally passed her and walked out, still in shock. Did she think we were trying to steal things?? That was our only clue…

We stopped a few feet from the hotel in the alleyway while Shane called Milan to tell him what happened. I was so overwhelmed by the thought of having to carry my luggage for the rest of the day, not having a place to sleep, not being able to fully enjoy Venice with our friends, and being talked to that way that I started silently bawling like a little girl. I just couldn’t make sense of how she could switch her attitude like a light bulb and then be so utterly rude to us! Never in my life has anything like this happened to me and I was absolutely bewildered.

Milan said that he would call us when they got ready to go back to the hotel to check in, which would be within the next hour or two. By now it was pretty dark outside, and we hadn’t done a single thing but get lost, ride boats, get yelled at, and get aching muscles. I hadn’t even gotten a single picture of the coolest parts of Venice…the tiny water canals snaking in between buildings and under arched bridges, sporting fancy gondolas. I painted a picture of it once….

….but the one time I was actually there I didn’t even get a real-life picture of it.

We decided it would be best to just head home that night, so we checked train schedules and saw that the last train left for Milan at 9pm. It was already nearly 6. We sat in a partially dead city square then, morosely watching people walk by laughing and having fun, wearing masks and face paint. I was so depressed. Nothing on this trip had gone well. We hadn’t seen anything really, in any of the towns we’d stopped in. And this weekend was supposed to be so much fun, because we were in a happy atmosphere with lots of happy people, and best of all, with friends…something I haven’t had for months now. But so far we hadn’t spent any time with them and probably wouldn’t.

By and by, Milan called and said that they had checked into the hotel and we could come by. We were skeptical about going inside, but were willing to give it a try. Milan said that the woman had told him that his friends had been very rude. What! No way. But we took deep breaths and walked into the hotel. The second she saw us, she started yelling. “NO! NO! This is MY house! This is MY house and you need to leave, thank you!” She immediately jumped up and raced over to the door to open it. We tried to tell her that we were just going to go up to see our friends, but she wouldn’t let us get a word in edgewise.

So we left. And stood right outside the door while we called Milan. He was in disbelief that she wouldn’t even let us in the hotel, and promised to come down. As we waited for him, I listened to the woman cheerily saying hello and goodbye to guests coming and going, and couldn’t help but think, If they only knew…

I saw Milan heading for the front door, and also saw the woman glance up at him, then do a double take. He hadn’t even said a word to her but she immediately started babbling at him too. I stood there and watched as they argued for a good 4-5 minutes. She was treating him just like she’d treated us—not even letting him speak or explain. When he finally came out, he said that she had said we’d asked for the room key earlier. Not true! She also said we’d been “uneducated”. I think she meant badly mannered. In either case, I felt like telling her to go learn proper English before she tried to insult people with it.

Overall, we decided that the only explanation for earlier was that as we were arranging our stuff, she thought better of her decision and decided that we were going to try to sneak in and spend the night, so she got rid of us while she could. Well, she didn’t have to be so rude!

Milan, being the sweet guy that he is, tried his best to figure out a way for us to stay, or at least have a later ride out so we could stay and hang out with them for a while. I was kind of annoyed because I just wanted to leave and not inconvenience anyone else. My happy spirit was completely gone anyhow. Milan ended up securing two seats on a bus that some other classmates were taking out at 3am, but it would have cost Shane and I over 30 Euros, and our train ride was “free” because of our Eurail passes (we did waste 20 Euros for that reservation the next morning though). We opted to just count our losses and take the 9pm train.

This being said, we left them and went souvenir shopping, ate some supper, and made our way to the train station a little early to find out if we could change our reservation to that night’s train. Once it was our turn in the long line at the ticket counter, the man unexcitedly informed us that there were no trains leaving for Milan that night. Huh?! We whirled around to look at the train schedule. Sure that he was mistaken, since there were at least 2 trains going to Milan on the schedule, I asked if there were any commuter trains going. He blandly and annoyedly repeated his earlier statement, enunciating each word. “THERE ARE NO TRAINS LEAVING FOR MILANO TONIGHT.” He might as well have been saying, “You stupid blonde Americans.” We half smiled patronizingly, said thank you, and left to check the schedule again. That’s when we saw it. “Arrivals—Milano Centrale” NOOOOOO!!! We had been looking at arrivals the whole time, not departures!!! We looked at each other and laughed the humored laugh that only two people who have been completely and utterly unlucky can laugh. What made it worse, was that the next train for Milan left at….5:15am. Uuuugghhhh!!!! Not another “Paris” night!! But what could we do? We had sealed our own fate.

Then we saw that there was a train to Padova, the town about an hour out where we could have spent the night in the $100 B&B. Maybe they had a train to Milan tonight! We thought, why not, we’re screwed anyways, this can’t hurt. So we hopped on this train to Padova. We were entertained on this train by about 5 guys dressed as women, as apparently there had been a drag queen contest at the carnival. These guys, though we couldn’t understand what they were saying, were hilarious. Even the elderly people in the seats across the aisle were cracking up.

On the way, Shane had a bright thought. It was the weekend--no wonder the train schedules weren’t the same! This thought was followed closely by the next one: probably there will be no trains going to Milan from an even smaller station, either. Sure enough. Once we got there, there were no trains going anywhere remotely close to Milan. What now? Well, the only reasonable option—if we’re going to be stuck in a train station all night, better to be stuck at the one with all the action and fun! So we hopped back on the train to Venice.

I actually felt happier now, knowing what to expect: my heavy backpack burdening me all night, freezing to the bone, no place to sleep, and probably no sleep even if I wanted it. We decided that since we had all night and had a 24-hour boat pass, we would take a nice ride over to the square where they were supposedly having a big carnival ordeal. Maybe, just maybe, we would see our friends there too. At least the boat kept us a bit warmer, since they have seating inside. When we got to our stop, we walked to the square and saw a huge crowd of….nothing. Everyone was gone. There were a few groups here and there, and there was a big center stage full of lighted-up things that told the story of what used to be going on there, but obviously it was over now. Great. How much more unlucky can we get? Plus, it wasn’t even midnight yet! What was wrong with everyone? Had they started drinking too early and retired early too? That was our only explanation. So since we didn’t know when the boats stopped running and I didn’t care to be stuck walking back for an hour, we got back on and made our way back to the train station.

Shane made an amazing discovery right about when we got back to the station. It was a small room near the tracks full of sleeping people! That meant it must be warm! We rushed inside and felt a blessed heat rush over us!!! Ahhh!!! I could spend the night in a place like this! We were just getting ready to happily spread my towel on the dirty floor to serve as a mat when security walked in...to kick everyone out for the night. Figures, I thought. It’s just not our night. Obviously those guys had a warm bed to go to!

This is how I felt...

So we staked out a spot in a corner of the freezing cold train station, sitting on newspapers like bums, literally. Gradually more and more people came in and set up camp near us. Thankfully, we were smart enough to have brought our travel sleeping bags, and boy was I happy we had them! Nasty floor or not, we were going to stay as warm as we possibly could. Others were huddled under coats, sheets, and each other in an attempt to escape the frigid air. Our toes were freezing, but I kept thinking that if we were still cold, everyone else must be close to freezing point. I huddled in my sleeping bag, wrapped my feet in my cap, put my scarf over my eyes, and actually half-way slept for about an hour.

When I woke up I was miserable again, thinking this had to be the longest night of my life. I don’t know how homeless people can do it! Shane and I huddled together to try to keep warm for a while, watching everyone else and wondering why so many people kept going out towards the trains. Around 4 or a little after, we decided to go see if our train was there to possibly get on and be a little warmer. So we packed up and left, and sure enough! The train was there. Yay!!! We got on to find that nearly every seat was already taken up by sleeping people. What! How long had this train been here!? We walked from car to car, not seeing any free seats, or if they were, people we stretched across them sleeping. Finally I saw a couple stretched out across four seats, and decided they weren’t going to have that luxury anymore. I woke them up and they moved for us, slightly grumbling.

The second we sat down, a horrible odor wafted over us. It smelled like poop, literally! We looked at the guy next to Shane, who looked like he’d been to hell and back. Blue circles surrounded his eyes and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was on drugs…either that or had gotten beaten up. Finally, after several minutes of scrutinizing him I saw a small sparkle and realized it was just the residue from his carnival face paint. Shane perched on the edge of his seat for the longest time just eyeing the guy, wondering if the poop smell was coming from him and if we should move. When more people started crowding into the car, we decided we should take these spots or risk the possibility of having to stand up.

By and by, the train started up and the heat came on. We both slept the whole 3+ hour ride home, as did the rest of the occupants. By the time we got to Milan around 9 or so, I felt terrible and exhausted still. I looked terrible too, I know because I saw myself in the mirror when I got home. We ate a small snack before shutting the blinds, inserting ear plugs, and sleeping the day away until around 4pm.

That night we made One-Dish-Meal; a Troyer tradition of pasta, vegetables, meat, and mushroom soup mixed together and flavored with chicken seasoning. Happy Valentine’s Day to us.

The Non-Travel-Related Blog

I know that this is a travel blog, not a place to vent. And I know that I'm supposed to feel happy and lucky that I get to be in Europe for 3 months, and I really am, but at some point in time during everyone's international adventures, they feel unhappy and long for home. I'm feeling that way today. It's not that I'm not enjoying myself immensely here, I just miss the conveniences and familiarity of America.

I just pulled a load of whites out of our washing machine to discover that one of my wardrobe's staple shirts had been splotched with a light brown, and black fuzz coated everything else. How did that happen?! I have no dryer to get the fuzzies off everything, and I don't trust the washer to re-run my shirt through.

In addition to this annoyance, I have no measuring cup to really cook, no book to read when I'm bored out of my mind, no computer (Shane's been taking it to school) to look up the things I don't understand in my study book, and no money to go shopping even if I knew where to go.

The list could go on, but it only took me that long to realize that my unhappiness really stems from my stress. Stress over board exams. Stress over trying to study in between week and weekend-long trips. Stress over the fact that I still can't seem to remember basic, repetitive information that I've been seeing since the beginning of my PTA program. Stress over the knowledge that I HAVE to take the exam within 3 weeks of getting home and I don't feel the least bit prepared. Stress over the possibility of failure. And I can't even allow myself to think beyond the stress of boards...finding an apartment, paying loans and bills, finding a job to pay those bills, fear of sucking at my job, the monotony of an 8-5 job for the rest of my life...I would go insane if I stressed over everything at once.

And I'm not sure how to handle my stress. Today I'm tired, my mind is lethargic, and I can't seem to focus on review material, much less new information. Shane has the computer, so I can't type my notes on previously covered material, or take a practice test to see how much I really need to be stressing out. (But when I do have the computer, I do anything but study.)

I've decided that other than my immediate family (and of course Shane), I'm not going to tell anyone when I go to take the exam. No friends, no classmates, no one. That way if I fail, no one will know--which is probably a large portion of my stress. Failure is one thing, public failure is another. So please pray for me as I wade through my studies and anxiety. I guess all I can do right now is keep trucking and pray for a miraculous memory these next few weeks.

On a different, brighter note, Shane and I have been having a mild war over what pets would be acceptable to own a few years down the road if we got married. A few months ago, I wanted a bunny. He didn't like that idea. Then I wanted a cat. He didn't like that idea either. Then I wanted a puppy. And you guessed it--he didn't like it. Now, Shane doesn't read my blogs very often (shame on you) but for the sake of when he does, I should be clear that I'm not trying to put him in a bad light (aka the animal-hater light). Shane simply has a problem with indoor pets. He doesn't like stepping in pee on his living room floor any more than he likes being covered in hair when he gets up off the couch. And I agree with him 100%. But that's not where it stops. Whether indoor or outdoor, he also doesn't like the cost of pet food, vets, kennels when we want to go on a trip, or the time spent running them, training them, feeding them, etc.

On the other side of the coin, I want nothing more than something furry and cute to cuddle when I get home. I'm a fairly moody person (hey at least I can admit it!) and I just know that a pet would keep me smiling more often. It worked when I went home to my parents' for Thanksgiving and was introduced to the cutest teacup chihuahua I've ever seen.

I had a glimmer of hope a while back when we visited a cat shelter for leisure one Saturday afternoon and Shane found, out of the million there, a gray, short-haired (very important to him) cat that reminded him of the only cat he's ever loved--Atticus. (I know, I was shocked when I found out he loved a cat too.) Atticus was his childhood cat and I have a feeling no other pet will ever hold such a place in his heart. Maybe that's why, as he and this cat looked into each others eyes, I could feel a bond forming. I could also feel a glimmer of hope forming in me. Maybe we could have a pet after all! But alas, my apartment didn't allow pets without a fee, and his house's landlady didn't either (even though HER cat left disgusting black hairs all over that I was still finding when cleaning the kitchen right before Shane moved out.) So we left with no kitty, and once outside all his signs of love for cats disappeared.

We have now been talking dogs. I would love His and Hers dogs. Shane has of late been acting set on a miniature pinscher like his sister's, (the one below isn't hers though)...

...and I really want a cute little pug (it was a spur-of-the-moment desire...but how can you resist that face??!)
Shane has since vetoed the pug idea, based on how fat they are. :( So my next hope is a teacup chihuahua like my parents'. Look how cute they'd be together!!

I also want a gray Atticus kitty that Shane will fall in love with too...
...and a white bunny.
But that is to be determined...and probably vetoed by Shane. :)

P.S. Shane--I promise they'd all live outdoors!...if you build them a cozy house. :)

Barcelona, Spain--Part 2

We woke up the next morning at 5:30am. There was no way we were going to miss our plane this time!! We packed in the dark and were out of the hostel by 6:15. We had to catch the 6:24 train into the city or we would have to wait another half hour. Despite the hill, our luggage, and my high heels, we got to the platform just as it pulled in, and we breathed a sigh of relief that at least the first leg of our journey was working out. Two train and metro rides later, we were at the airport, walking down to our terminal.

It was then that we saw it: Flight to Milan Malpensa—Cancelled. What!! After doing everything right this time our flight was cancelled?? It was also the ONLY flight that was cancelled. Why us!! We resigned ourselves to the fact that we wouldn’t have a nice relaxing afternoon at home after all, and got in the long line to change our tickets…again. Upon reaching the counter, we were told that there was a flight that afternoon…but only had one seat left. The other one left at 4pm, and still another one at 10:10 the next morning. We opted to take the 4pm one and proceeded to have the lady change our tickets, already inwardly moping about the prospect of sitting in another airport all day long. But then she handed us what has become my favorite piece of paper of all time when dealing with airport problems: our rights to compensation. Our eyes latched on the words “hotel compensation” and “meals.” We asked just to make sure…yes! They provided lodging and food if we chose to take the next morning’s flight! Since we had no pressing need to be home before Monday morning, we opted to treat ourselves. (You have to remember that we have been living very cheaply during our trips, so no matter where they put us, it was sure to be a bit nicer than where we’ve been staying.)

We went to the ticket counter for the guy to arrange our lodging. It took him forever…or rather it took London forever to call him back. I’m guessing this doesn’t happen to them very often, or they would be more on top of things. But by and by a group of 6 of us formed and Shane and I were the first in line to be told that we were staying at hotel Alfa, there was a van to take us to the hotel and back to the airport in the morning, and we would receive lunch, dinner, and tomorrow’s breakfast. Sweet!! Free lodging, free food, and free transportation! What more could we ask for?!

So we went out and waited for the van…and waited, and waited. I was freezing in the shade, and that van wasn’t coming every 10 minutes like the guy had said. Finally, we saw a white van approaching. As it passed our group of six, we all saw that it was our van. A collective “ALFA!!” was shouted out by every one of us as the van drove on by. What! All that waiting for nothing? Thankfully though, it parked farther down the road….right in front of the airport where we could have been standing in the sunshine all along.

The ride to the hotel was nice. It was the first time we have been in a vehicle since we got to Europe, which we realized with amusement. Once to the hotel (which was a Best Western), we got our room keys and reveled in the partial luxury of it. Nothing special (no carpet in the rooms, which seems to be a European trend) but the bathroom felt slightly rich. We immediately went downstairs to see if we were allowed breakfast…we weren’t, until the next morning, so we took naps instead while waiting for lunch.

I awoke to Shane’s noise of dismay. “Well, we just missed lunch.” Huh? Lunch was from 12:30 to 3:00 and we didn’t start sleeping until around 10 or 10:30. But he was right. It was a little past 3. Talk about being exhausted! We debated what to do. We were starving, supper didn’t start until 8:30 (they eat late here), and the hotel wasn’t what you would call within walking distance of anything you would term food. So we decided to go down anyways and maybe they would still let us eat.

They did. And boy am I glad they did! With our free voucher cards, we were allowed a three-course meal and a drink. All of which was exciting, because we usually just get an entrée and nothing else because it’s so expensive. I had a really delicious rice and vegetable starter, the tastiest grilled chicken I’ve ever had for an entrée, and crème caramel for dessert. Shane had a starter of pasta, a veal entrée, and fresh fruit for dessert. By the time we were done, we were both so full we could barely move. We went back to our room and bummed around until supper time.

When supper time did come, neither of us were hungry, but how can we pass up free food?! So we went down and ate again…I was so stuffed by the time I finished my starter of soup that I barely choked down half of my sandwich and fries entrée. Plus Shane was experimenting with a salmon dish and the smell alone made me want to vomit. I ended up leaving half of the fries and most of the bread on the plate, feeling wasteful. I did eat my entire ice cream dessert though! Afterward my belly was stuffed to overflowing it felt, and I was actually in pain. On the bright side, we realized that we had been very well fed the entire time we were in Barcelona. And that makes me like it!

We went to bed and the next morning ate a breakfast that was lavish, sporting fresh and canned fruits (including kiwi and apricots, my favorites), cereals, breads, cakes, chocolates, eggs, meats, and Shane’s favorite: fresh squeezed orange juice. We kind of had to shove it down because our van was taking us to the airport at 8:30.

We got to the airport, checked in, and went through security. I wasn’t able to salvage my shampoo from the trash this time because I was too busy being frisked. At least we made it through until we were on our way home! When we got to our gate they announced that it was delayed 30 minutes. But it wasn’t too bad, and we finally packed in the plane with everyone for the 1 hour 50 minute flight home. Once in Milan we took a bus to central station, which was cheaper than the train. We arrived safe and sound to a very messy house. I know, I slacked this time.

And that was our week-long adventure! This week will be very short, because we are headed to Venice this weekend! Stay tuned. And once again, Paris and Barcelona pictures are posted to Photobucket. Enjoy. :)

Pictures Have Arrived!

Check out my Photobucket account for the pictures of Paris and Barcelona...also a few more in the Milan album.

I am still getting around to finish the Barcelona blog....but you'll have to be in suspense for a while. :)

Barcelona, Spain--Part 1

Once again, after getting off the plane we had to cross over the entire airport to the train station, where a kind worker helped us decide which tickets to get and where to go. We did a lot of switching between trains and metros again, since our hostel (INOUT) was kind of OUT of town. By the time the train dropped us off at our final stop, it was about 10:30am. We followed the abundant signs toward our hostel, which was up a small road. And kept going, and going, and going. Did I mention that this (rather rough) road is up a very steep and winding hill, with no sidewalk for the convenience of rolling suitcases? By the time we reached the top it had started raining big drops, and I was annoyed due to lack of sleep and the strain of dragging my suitcase up that ridiculous hill. No wonder this hostel was so cheap!

Once there at check-in, the woman pulled out the email we had sent the night before about not being able to make it for the first night of our reservation. She also pulled out the print-off of our reservation, which had a big NO SHOW written across it. She then proceeded to tell us that they had gotten our email, but we hadn’t specified which date we wouldn’t be there for. I pointed to the email. “The date is right there on our email. We sent it last night, as soon as we found out we couldn’t make it.” She laughed what I like to think was a nervous laugh and said, “Yes, but we didn’t know when you would get here.” I bit my tongue and refrained from pointing out they had our name and reservation date IN THE COMPUTER, and instead settled on thinking in my mind how she was making herself look really dumb and incompetent right now. She still charged us for the previous night since we hadn’t cancelled 2 days prior, and a 10% fee because we weren’t members of the “Hostels Club” or some nonsense like that.

As if the trek up the horrid hill wasn’t bad enough for their reputation, the actual rooms and “restaurant” were even farther up the hill. We did find our room of 10 bunk beds nice and clean. The surroundings really were pretty, as we were up on a hill with a lot of trees, technically in a park of some kind. I assume it’s a lot nicer in the summer time. The hostel did have good reviews, and for the most part, other than that hill, I could see why.

Lunch was somewhat challenging. The staff is mostly all comprised of people with Down’s syndrome, which I think is really cool. However, that combined with the language barrier made ordering for lunch a bit more difficult, as you had to buy a ticket at a different front desk, then present it to the workers serving food from a buffet. The other option was to look on a menu at the front desk and order what you wanted…which we originally did. I ordered lasagna and Shane ordered pizza. But through a lot of language barrier confusion, the lack of lasagna in stock, and the discovery that they serve frozen pizzas instead of homemade, we opted to choose the buffet option. This consisted of noodle soup, fried chicken, salad or potato chips, and fresh strawberries. We got full enough, but decided that other than our free breakfast the next morning, we would seek food elsewhere.

After lunch we settled in for a nice long nap until about 4pm, when we decided we needed to get out and do something productive in Barcelona, or at least eat supper. I felt I could have slept the whole night through. But since we had lost a whole day basically, we felt we had to at least do SOMETHING with our evening.

We ended up going downtown and eating at a cafeteria type place that offered an all-you-can-eat buffet of salads, main courses, desserts, and drinks all for a little under 9 Euros each. I got plenty full and satisfied, which made getting out of bed worth it to me. Because it was still raining and we were just plumb tuckered out still, we decided to head back to the hostel for the night and just plan on a full next day. I slept like a baby again.

The next day we ate breakfast, which in my opinion wasn’t the best. We set out for town kind of late, around 10 or so. Thankfully we were blessed with a sunny and pretty warm day, which was a welcome treat from the harsh coldness of Milan and Paris. We set out for the most famous cathedral in Barcelona, Santa Maria del Mar. It’s free between certain hours in the morning and evening; otherwise it’s 5 Euros each to go inside. We found it and entered what looked like a mildewed, dank church that really wasn’t that spectacular. Five minutes and maybe five pictures later, we were thankful we hadn’t spent five Euros. Upon looking at a map though, we realized that this wasn’t the cathedral at all! Whew. So we found the actual cathedral, which still looked mildewed but at least was much more elaborate. Still, we were glad we were getting to see it for free because it still didn’t evoke feelings of being worth 5 Euros.

Next on our list was the Ramblas, which is a touristy, quaint, wide walkway in between two streets sporting everything from pet shop stands to painters and street mimes. (I have several pictures which unfortunately aren’t shrunk to post yet, but soon they will be up on my Facebook and Photobucket.) As I walked along this lively street, I fell in love with Barcelona. I actually have to say it is the best thing I did there. The bunnies in the pet shops were adorable, the mimes were superbly entertaining, and the painters’ artwork made my heart skip a beat. The thing to watch out for, however, are the thieves that are most likely to con and rob you on the Ramblas. We have proudly not been robbed or fallen for any cons of any kind, but we have been tried. One man approached us on the Ramblas with a frantic look on his face. “Speak English??” (In a Spanish accent, nonetheless.) We looked at him and passed by without saying a word. Behind us, we could hear him following us for a few steps. “Please, my bags have been stolen!” We kept on walking and eventually he gave up to try his lame tactic on some less suspecting soul. I mean, let’s think this through. If you have an accent, and you’re in Spain (aka it is probably safe to assume you speak Spanish), why would you ask some random tourist to help you with your stolen bag problem…in English!? We laughed at his dense con logic and saluted ourselves to once again escaping the naïve tourist pothole.

Next stop: Segrada Familia, an extremely unique, unfinished cathedral funded solely by donations and the fees from tourists to go inside. Fees being 12 Euros to go in, and 2.50 to go up the lift to the top. We paid this 14.50 Euros apiece. And our recommendation is: don’t do it until the building is finished! When looking at pictures of the outside, you would think that the inside is normal, with perhaps a bit of extra work still to be done. Not so. There is a single tiny walkway around one half of the inside for you to look at the ceiling. The rest of the space is taken up by top to bottom scaffolding, building materials, machinery, and concrete dust. Oh, and the jackhammer busting up a hole in the concrete, which made it so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think, much less carry on a conversation. I felt bad for the people who paid for an audio guide. When we did get to the top of the tower after waiting in line for a good 30 minutes or more, it consisted of a tiny space resembling a castle top with tiny openings to look out on. It held about 5 people, max. The view wasn’t even that great. The only cool thing about it was the endless winding staircase to get to the bottom, which made you feel claustrophobic and a little fearful of falling through the hole in the middle. All in all, it wasn’t worth the money, but it will be amazing to see when finished. We’ll just go back in 20 years.

Last on our list of things to see (that we could get to or afford) was the sea. Tons of sailboats spotted the bay, and we walked across a bridge full of people lying in the sun to get to a shopping mall. That was nice, because there really aren’t many malls in Europe. Of course this was small compared to America’s, but decent for Europe. While there I bought two shirts for 1 Euro each.

Since we didn’t have anything else to do, we strolled along the sea walk, sat on benches in the sun, and people-watched at the Ramblas. During one of our siestas on a sea wall, I looked up to see two guys slowly strolling by, staring intently with smirks on their faces. And they didn’t look away, even when I stared back and pasted a glare on my face. When Shane caught one of their eyes, the guy laughed and kept walking. But after a ways they both looked back. In my opinion, they were walking too slow and staring too deliberately for it to be a simple attraction issue. It was more like they wanted to rob us blind. It was actually the second time while sitting there that I’d caught a guy blatantly and rudely staring. Whatever it was, we decided to make our way to a different spot. I couldn’t help but keep looking behind me to make sure they weren’t following us. For some reason they really weirded me out.

We settled on eating at a small place that Rick Steves recommended in his guide book. Juicy Jones was a small, quiet little vegetarian restaurant that served fresh fruit juice and a 3-course meal for a little under 9 Euros. The owner was very friendly and translated the menu for us. Between the two of us, we got potato soup, homemade hummus, a tasty plate of rice and Indian curries, gluten shish kebabs, chocolate pudding, and apple crisp. By the time we were finished, we were absolutely stuffed! The food was delicious and it was really nice not having to worry about picking out strange meats out of our meal. We went back to our hostel after that, fat and happy.

To be continued…

Sleepless in Paris

Well to continue where I left off, Shane and I wandered down the darkened halls of the Paris airport losing happiness by the minute as we discovered that all the stores, restaurants, and cafes were closed for the night. Our happiness was saved only by the discovery of a nicer terminal waiting area in AirFrance, which was sporting cheery lights, clean surroundings, homeless overnighters like us, a cleaning crew, and a night-shift construction crew. The bathrooms were clean and fancy compared to the ones in EasyJet, and we were able to find some decent seats right beside a plug-in, which was a must considering we had bought 24 hours of WiFi for our laptop.

However, as the night wore on, it became obvious to me that this would be a repeat of our flight over to Italy. Sleepless. Let me rephrase that. Sleepless for me. Shane spent a good hour or more sleeping on the seats beside me, wrapped around the armrests. On the bench back-to-back with us were two other men who also chose to wait out their night there. Between the three of them, I was serenaded by a chorus of snores that gave me chills. How they could sleep through the electric saw being used to construct a booth 15 feet away, I don’t know. I myself was entertained by staring at my lifeless Facebook page, observing the monotonous custodial crew, and browsing the internet for the strange things you only have time to browse during situations like these.

By about 4am Shane had woken up and the rotating door nearby was allowing in chillier and chillier air, so we opted to walk back down to our terminal for the remainder of the wait. We could begin checking in at 5:30, as our plane left at 7:55. Unfortunately our terminal was still blocked off for the night, but we saw a few other earlybirds sneaking in so we did too, and found a decent bench to sit at while watching more TV shows.

Around 6:30 or so we went and checked in. We’d had to buy a bottle of shampoo in Paris because only 3.5 ounces are allowed on EasyJet and I had no small containers to pack shampoo in from home. I went ahead and put this bottle in a baggie, even though I knew it was way too big for them to allow through. Fortunately for us, the two women checking the scanner were laughing and joking to each other and really didn’t do a very good job of inspecting our stuff, so I was able to stick the shampoo back in my bag without them saying a word! That’s a first. Luck finally decided to grant me something nice.

After a short wait in which I realized that this day was going to be extremely long and exhausting, we boarded a bus, which took us to the plane. Lame. Yet another reason why EasyJet is so cheap. But on the plus side, you’re allowed to pick your own seat on the plane, so Shane and I were able to snag a front-ish row and ended up having the third seat to ourselves too. I was so exhausted by this point that I laid my head on Shane’s shoulder, closed my eyes, and half slept during the entire taxi and takeoff. Also a first. Our flight was about 1 ½ hours and I quickly made myself as comfortable as possible stretched out in the two seats. Shane laid his head against the wall and we were both out within seconds.

Halfway through the flight I slightly woke up to realize that the side of my face that I wasn’t sleeping on was entirely numb, including half of my mouth. I’m not talking about when your arm goes to sleep or something, I’m talking about the dentist giving you a shot in the gums and you can’t feel your mouth or face for the rest of the day. It was so weird. My only clue is that my ear on that side was also plugged up really bad from the pressure, and perhaps had something to do with my numb face. Regardless, it wasn’t enough to keep me from falling back asleep, and I slept until the pilot began announcing our descent into Barcelona.

Can't get enough of Paris? Miss a flight!

Sooo yeah, we missed our flight to Barcelona. First flight either of us has ever missed. Here's how it went down...

We woke up this morning, ate breakfast at the hostel, packed up, checked out, and stored our luggage. We had about 5 or 6 hours to kill before we needed to be at the airport, so we visited the Louvre museum (Mona Lisa is surprisingly smaller than expected), climbed the stairs to the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur, bought a few souvenirs, and picked up some more yummy quiche and pastries from the patisserie.

By and by, we swung by our hostel to pick up our luggage and made our way to the train station. Destination: Charles de Gaulle airport. Unfortunately, the platform we were supposed to leave from had rescheduled to a completely separate section, which we got lost trying to find. After some friendly directions, we found and boarded the train. While sitting there waiting for it to leave, we realized that perhaps we just might not make it to the airport in time. The ride took about 30 minutes, plus an excruciatingly long 15-minute walk through the station/airport to get to our gate. Our flight was leaving at 6:25pm, and check-in strictly ended 40 minutes prior. Well, it was 40 minutes prior when we pulled in to the station, where we promptly took off for our gate...in the wrong direction. Due to a mounting suspicion which led us to ask a worker where EasyJet was, we raced back the other way, mentally cursing our 3 layers of coats, sweaters, scarves, and long johns.

By the time we FINALLY reached our section dripping with sweat, it was 6:00. We were told at the ticket counter that the guy's "associate will help you at check-in for gate 7." After getting lost again trying to find check-in for gate 7 (wasn't it check-in where we were just at??), we breathlessly requested check-in again, only to be told that it was too late. The next flight, she calmly told us, didn't leave until 7:55am the next morning, and we needed to pay another 52 Euro each for the schedule transfer. Say what! I'm pretty sure we only paid 48 each for the original tickets. We ignored protocol and somehow ran past a guard and to our actual gate check-in, where we were again told very unsympathetically that we were just too late. This said with a disgusted raised eyebrow as she eyed our sweaty faces. No pity for the poor and weary? No, not a single sign of sympathy. Defeated, we went over our other options and decided that any other flights leaving earlier would just be too expensive; waiting it out was our best option.

So we've staked out a spot near the only plug-in we've seen and settled in for the long, promising sleepless night on the one trip we've taken without our pillows or travel sleeping bags. Not even any chairs without armrests to stretch out on. No rest for the weary. On the bright side, we paid about 10 Euro to have 24 hours of internet, and we have plenty of movies and TV shows to watch. No promises on our moods tomorrow though! I guess we'll find out.

For now though, we're going to go explore this huge airport and see what interesting things we can find for the next 9 hours....

Bienvenue à Paris!

Church went well on Saturday. We arrived without getting lost, listened to an Italian sermon, listened to Italian singing, Italian children's story, Italian announcements...you get my point. We managed to get in and get out having only spoken 3 words to two different people: "I speak English." There must have only been about 100 people there, but it was still nice being in a church atmosphere, language barrier or not.

Monday morning we flew out to Paris without a hitch after figuring out the metro/train system to the airport. Once there, we realized our mistake of not really figuring out the details of how to get to our hostel from the airport...for that matter, we didn't really know the details of getting into Paris from the airport! A map and 17 Euros each for a 2-way ticket into Paris later, we realized that this city would slightly break our bank.

Nevertheless, after our expensive 30-minute train ride, we found our hostel...a huge, modern place right on the river with huge windows and a hopping common area. We took advantage of the nightly dinner special for 6 Euros...which turned out to be HALF of a stuffed pepper (it was really good though) and a salad generously flavored with vinegar. This wasn't very filling, but it sufficed. Since we were tired from our all-day journey to Paris, we opted to turn in early and do our sightseeing the next day.

Nature decided it hated us the next day, however, and proved it by raining and shoving a cold wind in for good measure. It had been sunny and clear the day before. :( But we made the best of it and gritted our teeth through the weather misery as we visited Notre Dame, the Louvre (which happened to be closed that day), Arc de Triomphe, and the Eiffel Tower. It was nice to actually go IN these things this time, as Lydia and I were unlucky enough to either go on a day they were closed, or not have the money to pay to go in.

In the afternoon we opted to take a much-needed nap and go back out in the evening for some necessary Eiffel Tower night shots. It proved to be a great decision, because we were graced with no rain and warmer air. The tower was gorgeous in all it's nighttime majestic-ness, and we even splurged and paid the 9.50 Euro to go to the 2nd level (the 3rd level was closed for maintenance). Unfortunately our previous idea to eat at the restaurant there was squelched when we looked online and discovered that it was outrageously expensive. I'm talking up to 85 Euro for a STARTER item. The full course meal was no less than 200 Euro. We wrinkle our noses at full meals that are more than 10-15 Euro, so this wasn't even really up for discussion.

Nevertheless, it turned out to be a great night, and we finished it off by a good yet simple meal from a near-by patisserie.

Pictures will be arriving at the photobucket site in hopefully just a couple days!