Tag Along To Italy

The Conclusion

2010-03-25T23:29:00.001-07:00

Jumping back a few days, Shane and I got up early to head to the airport in Milan. We had between us two large suitcases, two huge backpacking backpacks, a rolling carry-on suitcase, a camera bag, and a parcel box containing his Venice mask. I was happy to be leaving, one of the more minor reasons being to get away from the cleaning guy who was starting to annoy both of us. (Shane went back to the room one night around 9pm and he was in there cleaning our windows! Really? At 9pm? He also knocked half of our plastic spoons on the floor.)

To get to the Linate airport we had to take a metro and a bus. It wasn’t too difficult, and we didn’t get in bad moods over the effort this time, probably because we had a lot of time and therefore weren’t rushed. We had to rearrange stuff once there to make the 23 kilogram limit, but we did it, and we didn’t have any problems getting our carry-ons through. Whew! One obstacle down! We met up with Ryan at the airport, who we are finishing out the trip with.

Once to London we discovered that the metro we needed didn’t go all the way to our stop on the weekend due to construction work. Because of this we had to take both a metro and a bus. The traffic was terrible, probably mostly due to the construction, and by the time we got close to our destination after what seemed like days, people were getting so aggravated the driver was letting them out in the middle of traffic.

Once we found our hostel and dropped off our stuff, we went sightseeing. London was so nice in that everything was in English! It also has some cool architecture. I’d like to go back and spend more time there some day. This particular day it was windy and slightly rainy, so we didn’t stay out long.

That night the light in our 20-bed dorm room stayed on until around 3am, and the music from the bar right below us got progressively louder and louder. Thankfully this hostel had personal curtains to pull around your bed for privacy and darkness. I was especially grateful for this around 5am when some people came into the room and were talking and laughing as if it were day and they were the only ones in the room. It was so annoying. I can’t believe how people can be so inconsiderate sometimes.

Sunday, March 21^st

The next morning we spent quite a while trying to buy online tickets to get from London to Oxford, Oxford to Luton airport, and back to London from Dublin. The bus ride to Oxford was great because it was a double decker and we snagged the front seats in the top floor. It was a great view.

Once to our hostel, which conveniently was very close to the bus station, we dropped off our stuff and explored Oxford. I really like it there. It’s a college town to say the least, and has that small relaxed feel to it. No wonder so many writers stationed themselves in the peaceful corners to write books. Shane and I watched a funny couple of fire performers in the middle of the street. We also ate at a Mexican fast food restaurant very similar to Chipotle, which I love.

That evening we did something that was a first: we worshiped in a Catholic cathedral. To be more clear, it was Evensong, a very popular type of choir well-known in England. It was a little under my expectations actually, as the choir was good but not excellent; I felt my academy choir could have easily out-sung them (but we were extra good, not to brag or anything…!) In between them singing random hymns, the congregation (us) had to recite quotes in the bulletin, listen to the priest read Bible texts, and kneel to pray 4 times in one hour. (They have it good though, they give you padded mats to kneel on.) It was more of a vespers program, the way I see it. And while the choir was a bit un-breathtaking, they were still good, and I’m glad I experienced it. The end where the priest somberly floats out with a predecessor carrying some type of wand or stick out in front of him was kinda creepy though. Almost felt like I was in a cult. Maybe it was just because of the fact that we were surrounded by candles.

Once back at the hostel we started talking to the 3 girls who’d just settled into the room and discovered quickly that one of them lived in Redlands, California! When I told them that I went to Loma Linda University (practically in Redlands) they exclaimed, “So did we!!!” Turns out they all went there for the Dental Hygienist program and graduated the year before I got there. If that wasn’t crazy enough, Shane asked them if they knew one of his friends he went to high school with who had taken that program at LLU. Not only did they know her, one of the girls had lived with her for a year! They also knew her husband, another high school friend of Shane’s, and they had gone to their wedding (Shane had considered going but hadn’t.) Wow!! Such a small world! I don’t think they’re Adventists, but I should have asked.

We ate at a Thai restaurant that night, and slept pretty good other than one of the guys in our room whose cell phone rang LOUDLY at about 3am and he took the call right there in bed! When he finally left the room, I’m pretty sure he locked himself out because I thought I heard a knock a bit later. Maybe it was mean of me but in my grogginess I thought it served him right. I didn’t hear anyone let him in, but I didn’t think to look at his bed either when I got up the next morning, because it was early and dark.

Monday, March 22^nd

Like I said, we got up early the next morning, around 5:45, to make the 6:30 bus to Luton airport. We made it there without a hitch, both to the bus stop and the airport. The flight to Dublin was a short one, only about an hour, and there were no free refreshments because it was a cheap-o RyanAir flight.

Once in Dublin, it was raining. And cold. Boo. We found the bus we had to take, and made it to our Kinley hostel after passing it once. It was a big place, and we were on the top floor of about 4. No elevator. Our “room” was actually a big long one with partial wall separations containing 2 bunk beds each, and that was our room. It wasn’t bad, except the light was for the entire room, not just ours.

We went to eat then. We ate at a Mexican restaurant that gave really small amounts of food for quite a bit of money. I wasn’t satisfied. Then we went out sightseeing. I was cold and not very happy because I was exhausted over too little sleep the past couple nights. I knew in my mind I was going to possibly forego sightseeing for the whole day just to keep my sanity. Plus I frankly just didn’t care. After a while one cathedral looks just the same as the past 50 you’ve seen, and documenting your trip via pictures loses its appeal. Not only that, I was ready to go home! I didn’t want to be in yet another country still, even if it was Ireland. In my opinion, Dublin isn’t the best representation. So later on when we went back to the hostel to check online where to go, I opted to go take a nap while Shane and Ryan went to see the castle and a park. Turns out it was a good choice on my part, because I slept wonderfully and Shane said I hadn’t missed much anyways. I felt rejuvenated after that, and we went food shopping since the hostel has a self-service kitchen. We made full plates of pasta and bought snacks for the next day for less than our Mexican meal earlier had been.

Shane and I went to the front desk to buy shampoo for showers after that; the friendly and helpful desk worker gave us some instead of making us pay for it (we hadn’t brought our own because it was too big to pass security at the airport.) That night we turned in fairly early, around 9:30 or 10. Even though I had taken a nap, I slept great, and the noise was very minimal due to being above everything else. Thank you front desk worker!

Tuesday, March 23^rd

We were able to sleep in a bit, getting up around 8:30 or 9. Breakfast was slim—toast and drinks—but we ate a lot. We took another bus to the ferry, which would get us over to England again, and from there we would take a train to London. The ferry decision was a bit of a dumb move on my part, as I forgot that I get motion sick. And the ferry ride was about 3 hours long! Actually until this point I never really knew how long the ride was—I left all the planning up to Shane and Ryan, I was just along because I had to be. As the boat pitched and shook its way across the sea way more than any ferry I’ve been on, I took advantage of the plush bench seat, Ryan’s herbal muscle relaxants, and my wadded up jacket. This made the trip shorter, and if I daydreamed enough through my semi-consciousness, I could forget where I was and therefore not get sick.

We ate soup while we waited for our train after the ferry. Once on we had to make a pit stop halfway to London, and just our luck we discovered all trains to London were being cancelled. Shane and I got hot chocolate and muffins to eat at a coffee shop, then spur-of-the-moment were made aware that we could take a different train which connected to another train headed for London. Since we didn’t fancy being stuck in this little pit stop all night, we took that option, and it worked in our favor. Not only did we sit with a friendly Irish guy with a thick accent who liked to talk, we were actually ahead of our previous schedule too.

That night we stayed in the same hostel and same room as before, and the lights were turned off (by Shane) at a decent hour this time. The noise wasn’t bad, and we got some decent sleep.

Wednesday, March 24^th

The day we’d been waiting for!! We got up and took our time getting our things packed up and ready to go, since our plane didn’t leave until 2:30ish. Two metros and not much hassle later, we were at the Heathrow airport checking in. Once our bags were in tip-top shape after losing some weight (haha) we headed for security. That wasn’t too bad. In fact, we couldn’t have gotten by any easier. Neither of us lost anything, made the beeper go off, or got patted down. We are seasoned travelers.

Once through security, Shane and I bought a smoothie and some Pringles to tide us over. Checking on to the plane was a bit more of a hassle, as this was where they went through our carry-ons and did a mandatory pat-down. Women in one line, men in the other. The woman who looked through my bag was a bit curt and unfriendly. I put my bag on the table and looked at her. She looked back at me. “Open it.” I opened it. “Open the laptop.” Opened it, put it back in. “Close the bag.” Closed it, opened the next pocket, and the next. Came to the large interior, which was stuffed with souvenirs packaged up for safekeeping. “What’s in the small bag?” “Souvenirs. All souvenirs.” “Open it.” I opened it, a curt nod from her even though everything was packaged up in bubble wrap and paper—either I must have seemed trustworthy or she was too lazy to rip open every little thing. After being patted down, during which she literally could have missed a football-sized bomb hidden in my shirt for the lettuce-leaf-effect patting she did, I waited for Shane. His person went through every little thing, even cutting open the box to see our Venice mask. But he made it too, and neither of us had to part with anything.

Once through with security, they loaded us onto a bus (I hate this European system) to go to the plane, and once at the plane they left us in there like sardines in the sun for 5 minutes while they apparently readied the plane. Once they opened the doors I was the very first one running up the stairs and into the plane. I have a thing about that. I like to get my spot and luggage area staked out. Luckily for us—I don’t know how—but Shane and I were in World Traveler Plus seats, midway comfort between First class and Economy…or Coach, not sure what the correct term is. But we had more leg space in front of us, a leg rest on our seat, and better headphones for our movies. In general I didn’t feel cramped at all, which made me extremely happy. We also got an entire luggage compartment to ourselves.

We spent the flight purposely staying awake so as to get on the Pacific time zone schedule. It wasn’t hard because it was daylight during the entire flight this time. We watched movies, ate Pringles, and watched more movies. By the time we landed I felt pretty awake still.

Getting our checked luggage took forever…not because they weren’t sending it out, but rather because there was so much luggage it just took forever for ours to appear. Once we got it and walked a few steps, they took it right back again on another belt line because we had to take a train to a different section of the airport! Inconvenient and annoying. We found the second luggage claim belt and Shane’s uncle who was picking us up, and thankfully the luggage appeared fast this time.

On the way to Shane’s dad’s, where we were staying for a couple days before driving back to Cali, I called family, then laid down because I wasn’t feeling the best. Flights then car rides always make me feel a bit nauseous. I must have been more tired than I thought, because I kinda fell asleep for the rest of the 2.5 hour drive. When we got to the house, I went straight to bed—lack of a night was finally really catching up to me.

I slept wonderfully, even waking up once and having no clue where I was. I thought I was back in Europe, but when I realized I was in America at the farm, I had one of those happy moments like when you see you have several hours left to sleep before you have to get up.

We have one more day here before driving back to California. We went to Costco and Ross today, and I also got to drive my car. It feels like it’s been a whole year! And best of all, we got some yummy Grandma food once again, and I am now getting to use my laptop without having to share with Shane! Ahh, the things you take for granted unless they’re taken away. Appreciate them always.

Well, this concludes my blog, as of course the Italy trip is over and I don’t have anything else to say. It was a great experience. It was a hard experience. It was an experience I will never forget about. And I’m glad I could share it with you…thanks for tuning in and for your faithful support throughout our Italy and Europe adventure! Ciao! :)

One step closer to home!

2010-03-20T14:53:00.000-07:00

We officially made it from Italy to London! Even with all our massive suitcases while switching from hotel to metro to bus to plane to metro to bus to hostel.We met Ryan at the airport; we're all finishing out these final days in the UK together.

Tomorrow we all head out to Oxford where we'll spend the night then hop a morning bus to Luton for our flight to Dublin, Ireland. One night there, a long scenic train ride back to London, then off to America Wednesday morning!

I will backtrack and give the details later, but I thought everyone might like to know we're safe and sound, one leg of the final journey down. :)

America The Beautiful

2010-03-18T06:15:00.000-07:00

I'm more than ready to go back to America. It's time.

I miss the conveniences, such as knowing exactly what something is when I look at it in the grocery store, or being able to go to just one store--preferably Wal-mart--and get everything I could possibly need rather than going on a mad hunt through 5 tiny, measly-stocked shops. I'm tired of trying to decipher restaurant menus to determine if the pasta contains pork, and I'm tired of the coperto (cover charge) that comes with the luxury of sitting while I eat.

And the hotels....the price of the one we're staying in would get us a grand room with a jacuzzi tub in America. But no, the hardwood floors (they don't seem to believe in carpeted rooms here) are frighteningly saggy, the large beds are actually two twins pushed together (another typical European shortcut), and the toilet is the kind you actually turn a knob on the wall to make water gush into the bowl until everything [hopefully] goes down.

My mom sent me an email last night with a book excerpt that I found really hilarious because it's so true:

Don't get me wrong, after being back in America for a few weeks or months, I'll probably be whining about how I wish I were back in Europe. In fact, I think 3 months is about the turning point; the first two months you're still in novelty-land, but the third month is the homesick month. After you pass that time hurdle, it starts to feel more normal to be living in a foreign country, and you actually begin feeling more at home. At least that's how it was for me when I was in Poland for a year. As happy as I was to be going home, I had begun to feel at home in Europe.

Notes to self for next time though:

#1--Don't travel for more than 2 weeks at a time

#2--Travel more like a business woman with a hotel room and rolling suitcase rather than a homeless waif with a youth hostel and muscle-spasm-inducing backpack

#3--Go when you have more money...it will help accomplish #2

Six more days. I can do this. For now, I'm going to try to avoid the cleaning guy who peeks around the corner at me every time he goes to use the elevator.

Week 3 of 3

2010-03-14T13:15:00.000-07:00

[I guess I never actually said on here that we found out we can’t travel in Poland because it’s one of the ONLY countries our Eurail pass doesn’t cover! I was pretty disappointed, as we were right beside it and couldn’t go in. Strange that the country I spent a year of my life in is the one place I can’t go back to this trip. On the bright side, I found Yogobella yogurt in Czech Republic—my favorite when I was living in Poland.]

Saturday, March 6^th

We spent the morning on the train to Budapest. At least our Sabbaths on this trip are usually filled with sitting on a train looking at nature, where we already have snacks to eat and don’t have to pay for anything. I will certainly be happy to be back in America though where I can dress up and go to church every week and the sermon will even be in my language. I don’t know how people who have no weekly “rest day” set aside do it; when my days and weeks run together like this I feel like something is missing.

We found Activity Hostel easily enough once we got to Budapest, even though the reviews complained that it was hard to find and not well marked. Well it wasn’t well marked, but we like to think of ourselves as smarter than most. It was a small place on the 4^th floor of a bland gray building, but it was cute and cozy. Our 10-bed room was booked to full capacity with a group of Asian girls and American girls. Shane was the only guy in that particular room. Makes up for the time in Interlaken when I was the only girl in a 6-bed room. Awkward is the word. The two rooms on either side of ours were fully booked too. Must have been because it was the weekend.

That evening we went out in search of food and night pictures. We ended up giving in to familiarity and eating at KFC. Shane wanted to find the chain bridge and the Parliament building, so we hopped on the metro, got off and headed in the direction of the lighted buildings. Some pictures and a cool castle-looking thing later, we realized that we really weren’t in the right spot, so we got back on the metro and went the other way. By this time I was freezing (Budapest is almost as cold as Vienna, but without as much wind), so we headed into California Coffee café (yes, tourism sucked us in again) to get something warm to drink. We ended up ordering a veggie bagel sandwich with tomatoes and chive spread, a blueberry muffin, and hot white chocolate. It was probably one of the best snacks I’ve ever had, or maybe it was because I was really hungry. Either way, it was a relaxing café and I got warmed up by a yummy drink. After that we got discouraged by the fact that we still weren’t sure where the sights we were trying to find were, and that it was getting colder, so we went back to the hostel.

My night didn’t start out too well. Our room was full, which meant lots of extra noise both at night and in the morning. When I finally did go to bed I happened to be next to a closed-off door to the room of the group of guys who were watching a soccer game over their laptop speakers. And you know how that goes. I could hear every little sound even with my earplugs in. To make it worse, our doors had frosted glass panes, and the 24-hour reception desk light on the other side shone through the whole night. The pillows were tiny and slightly lumpy, but at least they were softer than Hostel Elf’s. I finally fell asleep and it wasn’t too bad. Around what had to be 3am two girls came back from partying.

Sunday, March 7^th

We slept in a bit and got up around 10, took showers, and set out to find breakfast. It wasn’t the best of mornings. We were both somehow annoyed and frustrated, especially over the ever-present debate over where and what to eat. Shane says that it’s easier for me to decide because I’m pickier about what I want to eat, whereas he’s the one with the money so I always feel that it’s up to him to decide what we can afford. The end result is both of us getting really frustrated and annoyed at each other, which begins an hour or so of either the mutual silent treatment or conversations that consist of short, snappy, sarcastic sentences. I’m pretty sure we have this same spat in every single city we go to. But we have been getting better since, thanks to a serious conversation regarding what we really HATE the other doing when it comes to restaurant decision-making.

We ended up going to the California cafe again, where I had exactly what I’d had the night before, minus the hot chocolate and a caramel muffin instead of blueberry. I did that because Shane had wanted to try it the night before, so I figured maybe sharing it would make him happier. It didn’t really work, and I got a headache because it was so sweet. Later on the metro I decided to swallow my pride and be the first to make amends. Sightseeing together really sucks when you’re at odds.

We found the chain bridge and the Parliament building, taking pictures briefly before headed to St. Steven’s cathedral, where we paid to go to the top for a view of the city. These two days we were in Budapest were forecasted to be sunny, but partway through the morning the sun disappeared and it started SNOWING! Huh?! Where’s the blooming SUN??!

Back at the hostel later, we heard the others talking about how the House of Terror was free that day because it was the first Sunday of the month. We had opted to not go because of the cost, but if it’s free…..! I pawed through my blogs of Poland to try to find the name of a really awesome smoothie/pie café Lydia and I had found last time in Budapest, but to no avail; I hadn’t written the name down. While browsing though I read that I had actually been to the House of Terror before…and had found it boring and a waste of building space. But being free, we went anyways.

I felt the same about it this time as I had last time. The explanations weren’t even in English, and the vast number of rooms containing pithy little plaques and occasional videos made both of us feel that they were making something out of nothing just trying to fill up the rooms. At one point it felt like an art exhibition. You know, the kind that contains one painting per wall and you wonder how they sell anything. The most exciting part of the whole thing was the downstairs jail cells, including a tiny claustrophobic stand-up one that Shane thought would be fun to lock me into. What a great boyfriend.

That evening we ate at Pizza Hut, sitting next to an American guy in marketing and advertizing for the film industry. Within the first couple introductory sentences we found out that he lives in San Diego and went to CalPoly just like Shane! Of course that was several years ago, but still, what are the odds?! We had a nice conversation throughout the meal. It was apparent that he was 10 times wealthier than us when he mentioned staying at a 5-star hotel down the road, his scheduled 1-hour massage later that evening, and his advice to pay just 2000 Forints ($10) extra at restaurants to get exceptional service. He also cautioned us about safety and theft when we mentioned we were staying at hostels. That kind of annoyed me. It’s obvious that hostels are way more secure now than they were back when he stayed at them, but still, his friendly warning sounded slightly uppity to me. Not like we can afford your 5-star hotel which “pays off the gangs and mobsters to stay away from their guests”. We’re lucky just to be here!

When it came time to pay the bill, the waiter handed it to us and pointedly brought to our attention a paragraph written in 5 languages on the inside of the bill cover: “It is customary in Hungary to tip your waiter 15% for service.” We didn’t tip him.

Following Pizza Hut we went back to the bridge and Parliament building for night pictures, then decided to check out a pub that was supposedly a big tourist attraction in Budapest due to its uniqueness. I relied on Shane, as usual, to deliver us to the correct place. It was snowing again. After he said 3 times in 3 different blocks that it was “somewhere in this block”, I began to notice that we were venturing into what looked like gangster land, and suggested that we walk toward some lights instead of dark alleys. We eventually found the place, and it looked for all appearances to be a deserted, run-down building that housed axe-murderers or the occasional homeless. But we followed another couple into the doorway, through 3 sets of thick rubber flaps, and were suddenly in the midst of a cave-like, darkened pub. This pub is unlike any place I’ve ever seen, in that it is so random. High tables covered most of the floor, while a back corner was occupied by low red velvet couches. Candles were lit everywhere, and colored lights shone above the bar. The only other lights in the place were very dim, some coming from odd nick-nacks covering the walls, such as a cat-scan of a skull, and a mannequin wearing underwear made out of a candy-necklace. Nothing in the place matched; it was a hodgepodge of this and that. Some of it was unique, some was romantic, and some was disturbing.

After we had taken in our fill of the low lighting and cigarette smoke, we headed back to our hostel, making a spur-of-the-moment detour to Burger King for a late-night snack.

That night the room on the other side of us was loud, and once again the receptionist did nothing about it. She actually even told me, when I went to ask her to turn off the overhead light, that it was ok for me to tell them to be quiet if they disturbed my sleep. Uh…..isn’t that what YOU’RE getting paid for? I just said, “Yeah, they are pretty loud” and went back in my room. Let her deal with them, it’s her job. I’m not sure if it was her doing, but about 30 minutes after I went to bed the noise in the next room suddenly quieted.

Monday, March 8^th

We slept sorta late again and got up after everyone else was already making tons of annoying noise packing their suitcases for checkout. The first thing we did was take a bus to a park of sorts outside the city….it took a looong time, but the bus was warm and the sun shining down on me made me happy, so I actually enjoyed it. The park turned out to cost money—at lot of money actually, for what we actually got. Basically the “park” was just a bunch of statues and sculptures that you took pictures of and then left. But Shane and I made the best of it by making goofy poses in our pictures with the statues. We even climbed on a few…probably would have gotten reprimanded or kicked out had we been caught, but the place was like a ghost town. We waited for the bus back into the city after that, which took just as long as it took to get up there.

We explored an indoor market after that, which was colder than it was outside. Following this we humored me by visiting the second-hand shop right next to our hostel. I’m a sucker for those things, but I was disappointed this time. It contained nothing but old-lady coats and dresses (no offense anyone), and didn’t even have any shoes. Probably a good thing in the long run; I don’t need the extra stuff nor do I need less money.

When we got back to the hostel everyone was gone except for the slightly creepy-looking 40-ish man in our room who had gotten there the night before. Oddly all he seemed to do was sit on his bed all day sleeping or bumming around on his laptop.

Shane and I had been looking forward to one thing in Budapest the most: the thermal baths. This was the night we planned to do it. And I have to say it went a lot better than the last time Lydia and I tried this—when we both accidentally left our bags full of crucial things on the metro. (We found them in the end.) Shane and I found the baths without a hitch. It was freezing cold, but the baths were oh so warm!

The baths consisted of a lukewarm pool, a cooler lap pool, and a hot steaming pool. We stayed mostly in the hot steaming pool, which was hot enough to enjoy without me feeling like I was going to suffocate. (I can’t take hot tubs for very long because they make me lightheaded after a while. Sad.) Men could be seen floating around poring over a chess game, and others enjoyed the sprays of water flowing from a statue of a naked woman and a goose. The lukewarm pool was fun because in the middle was a circular canal containing jets to propel you through. Shane and I had fun being goofy in that one, making everyone either smile at our youthful enthusiasm or stare like we were stupid. We didn’t care. It was fun.

The sauna was extra hot too—unfortunately my flip flops broke in Berlin, thus only Shane had his and he stubbornly refused to wear them out to the pool. So we both burned our feet and acquired who knows what fungus from running in and out of the sauna, and I’m positive I burned my butt before I got smart and sat on my towel. Hands down the hottest sauna I’ve ever been in. I could only last 5 minutes, both because of the heat and the sight of 90-year-old men in too-small speedos lying out like lizards in the sun.

We watched a movie AND a show when we got back to our hostel that night. Reward for a long and good day. The man who had been in our room was gone when we went to bed, and never came back that night.

Tuesday, March 9^th

We got to the train station an hour early (we will never miss a train again!), and decided to have Burger King for breakfast in the interest of staying warm. We supplemented our cappuccinos and fries with the groceries we had gotten that morning.

When we finally did get on the train, we found a good table seat and were stowing our backpacks away when a bald man pushed passed us in the aisle. Noticing that he seemed a bit disgruntled, I watched him as he reached a scrawny younger guy coming up the aisle from behind me. There was a moment’s silence while the older man grabbed the younger man’s collar and said something to him in a low voice. Then he started almost silently punching him in the face! (I guess it doesn’t ever sound loud like in the movies.) My first reaction was wanting to stop this shocking turn of events, as well as to remind the guy that he WAS beating someone up in the midst of others. So the first thing that came out of my mouth was a profound, “WhooOAH!!” You know, the kind that changes pitch in the middle because you’re appalled. I don’t think it helped things, but after this the younger man cowered in a seat while the other man stood over him, speaking in low tones and occasionally throwing a punch. Shane and I stared for a while before he pulled me back down the aisle away from them. We wanted to stop it, but there was nothing we could really do, especially without knowing the situation. No one else in the train car did anything but stare either. It didn’t last long—after a while the man pulled the guy up by his collar and roughly shoved him ahead of him down the aisle and off the train.

I was just mute with shock for a while. Being fairly sheltered throughout my life I’ve never actually seen anyone get punched in real life, and it was disturbing, Especially since the man was so much bigger and the other guy was obviously not trying to fight back. We came to the conclusion that perhaps he had been trying to stow away on the train and the man, who was dressed in a white collared shirt, was a train authority who had been trying to catch him. If so, it was still a very unprofessional move to punch the guy in public, or at all for that matter. I couldn’t get the image out of my head for several minutes after the train left the station. I felt so bad for the younger guy.

After what seemed like the entire day (it nearly was), we reached Salzurg, Austria. We found our way to YoHo Hostel (which turned out to be the same one Lydia and I stayed in, but I didn’t remember until I got there and recognized it…weird) and got checked in to our room. A girl was sleeping in her bed. It was like 4pm. What’s with every room we stay in having a random girl sleeping at all hours of the day? Plus she was sleeping with all her clothes in the bed around her, like a nest. Even more weird.

We went out in search of a restaurant, opting for an organic one we read about online. After passing it up several times, we found it and got ready to order…until we found out they didn’t take credit card. We didn’t have cash with us so we decided to go somewhere where they took cards. We ended up giving up on anything spectacular and went into this crowded Italian place. The ONLY thing they had there, besides salads, that wasn’t laden with seafood or pork was lemon pasta. We both tried it and…it was delicious! It was basically fettuccini with some type of white lemon sauce, with 3 huge slices of lemon sitting on top. I was pretty proud of myself for liking it, as I have discovered the older I get, the pickier I get. (Shouldn’t it be the other way around?)

I called my parents via Skype that night. Can’t wait for cell phones again!!! By the time we went to bed, our room was full. With girls, minus Shane. Haha!

Wednesday, March 10^th

We got up around 10. Seems to be a reoccurring thing of late, and I gotta say I think it’s because we’re simply drained. Three weeks straight of jumping from place to place is just too much. I lost the desire to get out of bed in the mornings right after Vienna. It’s just too cold. And I’m tired of having to go outside and take pictures all day in that cold.

We set out for the train station, which would be our landmark for starting our self tour. Unfortunately we hadn’t brought our Rick Steves book, so we had no idea where to start. And Shane hadn’t worn his gloves or his hat, a fact that I hated; it had snowed the night before. We ate at McDonalds for breakfast because it was the closest thing. Becoming a more common occurrence lately it seems. After that we decided we should go back for our book, and I secretly decided Shane wouldn’t go back out without his gloves or hat either. By the time we got to the hostel we had talked over what we really wanted to do. It was cold outside. The wind was blowing and frankly a self-tour didn’t sound fun. The Sound of Music bus tours were expensive, but they were an option. I’ve always wished I’d gotten to do one the last time I was there.

Eventually we decided to bite the bullet and do it. I was excited. I heard that they show the movie on the bus, which was good cause Shane couldn’t even remember if he’d seen it! You can’t go on the Sound of Music tour if you haven’t seen the movie! But guess what, he did. The tour bus turned out to be an 8-passenger van, and there was no movie on board, just a jovial man who had an oddly funny sense of humor. We were joined by 3 women from California, a girl from New Zealand, and a couple from….we never found out where. The tour took us through the town, to a few spots the movie was filmed, and then out of town to the lakes. The lakes were absolutely gorgeous, nestled in between mountains and cute towns. We stopped for an hour at one of these towns--the town that sported the wedding cathedral featured in the Sound of Music. Our tour guide kept raving about the apple strudel in a café there, so we all ended up going to have some. Shane and I made a meal of that and soup. It was good. The soup that is. The apple strudel was, well, better in America. The cheese one was incomparable as I’ve never had it before, but it was good. In addition to being good, it was all so sweet that I got a terrible headache.

The rest of the evening after getting back we spent hiking up to the ridge bordering the river and taking gorgeous pictures of the city. Much better camera than Lydia and I had when we were there, so I’m sure the pictures turned out great. Once back at the hostel I tried to read a book (A BOOK!!) that I got from the book exchange shelf, but my headache had turned into a mean migraine so I ended up going to bed after a sweet Shane rubbed it for me.

Thursday, March 11^th

We were at the train station getting ready to leave for Verona, Italy when Shane realized that he’d left the camera charger plugged in the wall at our Amsterdam hotel. We’d wondered about this previously, but the camera has such a long battery life that we were just now needing to charge it again. Unfortunately the battery probably wouldn’t make it through the rest of our trip. Bummed about this, we decided we could only take a few pictures in Verona and Venice (yes, we were doing them over again). But on the train to Verona Shane mustered up his courage and asked a young couple sitting near us if he could use their Canon battery charger. They said yes, and we got to charge it for a little under 2 hours; plenty to last the rest of our trip. Yay!!

Once to Verona, we were able to use the bus tickets we hadn’t gotten to use the last time around. The B&B we were staying at this time wasn’t hard to find, but there was no one there when we rang the doorbell. (Seems like a reoccurring thing for B&B’s in Verona.) We found an internet café and used Skype to call them, but no one answered. It was around the time we’d told them we’d be there, so we went back to try again. Luckily there was a woman there this time, taking the place of the owner as I guess he couldn’t make it. She didn’t speak too much English but she spoke enough to get by. She was very helpful and informative. The B&B was nice. It had a huge kitchen which was self-service, meaning we could cook in it, which we did. We bought angel-hair pasta and sauce and ate like kings that night. The breakfast was also set out all day, so we were able to snack as we pleased. We actually only saw the owner once the entire time we were there for 3 nights. It was more like living in a house. There was another couple there from England/Canada who were really friendly.

Friday, March 12^th

The next morning we toured Verona. It was beautiful weather, warm compared to what we’d been going through, and the day was fabulous for that reason alone. We bought the Verona card for 10 Euros, which allowed us to enter 15 sights “free” of charge. We didn’t get to them all, but we got to the main Romeo & Juliet sites. Verona is a nice peaceful city, and we got some great pictures.

We ate the leftover spaghetti that night, again having a feast.

Saturday, March 13^th

We used this day to take a day trip over to Venice once again. It was a beautiful day there too, much warmer than our previous trip to Venice. We spent the afternoon walking around taking pictures and enjoying the sunshine. That night before we left for Verona again, we scurried around buying souvenirs before the shops closed. We (or I should say Shane) bought a beautiful Venice mask, famous here. (But if we get married someday it will look great on OUR wall :)

The day was pretty good--relaxing and stress-free other than wasting time on boats getting to the other little islands that were unimpressive. Maybe we just didn’t go to the right one, I don’t know. The second stressor came when we got on the boat to head for the train station. About 2 minutes into it I realized that I’d left my gloves in the boat waiting area….again!! Now if you remember, I left my LAST pair of gloves on a boat last time we were in Venice. I’d bought the new pair in Berlin and had loved them. We jumped off the boat 2 stops later and ran back to the place I’d left them, but alas, they were gone. Someone must have taken them, which burned me up. I at least hope they needed them more than me. I was pretty bummed about my gloves this time around, maybe because of my own negligence, or maybe because I’d just bought them and they weren’t cheap and flimsy but rather nice warm wool ones. Shane tried to cheer me up, saying we would get even better ones in America, but I was kicking myself for being so irresponsible again. Note to self: never put down my gloves when I’m in Venice!

Despite the delay, we got to the train station in time to take an earlier train, which was good because it made more stops and took longer than the one coming to Venice. We took turns reading out of the book we’ve been sharing and eyeing the drunk guy who was talking way too loud. I slept amazingly that night.

Sunday, March 14^th

We took our time getting out of the B&B, since no one was around to kick us out at the 10:00 checkout time. Upon waiting for our bus, we realized that we’d have to wait half an hour; possibility of missing our train not a happy thought, we walked to the other train station, only to find that the 12:00 train didn’t go there--just one at 12:30. We were heading back to Milan. Finally. I can honestly say I’m ready to be done traveling. We only have one more week in Milan, then 4 nights in London and Ireland before flying HOME!!! I’m so excited. My excitement is only lessened by the ever-looming thought of having to cram for boards. Oh, and the fact that we have no home to move into in California yet. But God will provide.

On the train home I got annoyed at these two guys sitting across from us who acted like I was a TV. Them and the woman behind me singing out loud to her music that sounded like a creepy tribal chant.

Once “home” we found our hotel that we’ll be staying at for 6 nights. It’s not that great compared to what we could have gotten in the U.S. for that price, but it will do. The most annoying thing is having to go to first floor to get internet.

We went over to Ryan’s to get the rest of our luggage he’d been keeping for us, ate pasta at a restaurant, and went out in search of more souvenirs and groceries. Milan isn’t great for souvenirs we discovered, but we did stumble on a fun-looking carnival to browse through. On the way to buy groceries several more men on the metro stared at me. Do I have food on my face? Do I look extra attractive today…or extra ugly? I didn’t think it was either, but regardless it was extra annoying to me for some reason. I finally did what I’d been wanting to do all day and gave one frizzy-long-haired guy the raised eyebrow look that said, “Uh, excuse me, can I HELP you??” He turned and stared blankly out the door at a dark tunnel wall for the rest of the metro ride after that.

We bought food and stuffed it all into our tiny mini-fridge and outside on the window ledge. Home Sweet Home. I miss having a kitchen already.

And that concludes our 3-week trip! Hope you’ve enjoyed it! But there’s still a bit more to come of course. For now though, I will hunker down and attempt to get back into the groove of studying for Boards.

Week 2 of 3

2010-03-06T00:44:00.000-08:00

Sunday, 28th
We got up that morning and ate a surprisingly filling breakfast at the hostel, then set out to rent bikes and do a bike tour! I was super excited about this, because Berlin is a big city and it’s just not fun walking everywhere. The place we had wanted to rent bikes and possibly even join a guided bike tour was currently closed because they were, well, on their bike tour which we had missed. So we rented bikes from another place and went out on our own. That was a fun day. We got rained on and our bums were sore by the end, but it was worth it.
We went back to the hostel and ate another really good meal, then watched more TV shows on the computer. As we did this, a couple girls with thick English accents came into their room beside ours. (Our “room” was actually divided into 3 dorm rooms with no doors on the individual rooms, but one main door leading to the hallway.) After a while we smelled what we knew was cigarette smoke, and rolled our eyes at the fact that they were smoking in the rooms when it was obviously not allowed. But they soon left. An hour or so later they came back in with about 3 guys, and again we smelled smoke. That was it. I wasn’t going to sit in my bed and choke to death from inhalation. So I went over and asked them rather timidly if they were smoking. In hindsight I should have just said, “Hey guys, please don’t smoke in here” (you’re ruining my life), because after a loooong pause, one of the girls said, “No.” Uhh….ok, do they really think I’m that stupid? I paused and then blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Ok well, it’s just that every time you guys come in here it really smells like smoke, and it kind of wafts over to our room…” The same girl waved her hand nonchalantly, “Oh, well we smoke outside and then the stench just…sort of follows us.” I said ok sorry, or something apologetic like that, then went back to my room, feeling stupid for how I’d gone about it. They were probably rolling their eyes at me now. Oh well, we decided it didn’t matter as long as it kept them from doing it again. Who knows, maybe they really were telling the truth, but I doubt it.

Thinking that the girl was probably talking bad about me (I’d heard her talking trash about other girls earlier, swearing up a storm), I was surprised when they both stopped by our room on their way out the door. “Hello! Are you guys going out tonight?” “No….we have to get up early in the morning to leave.” Plus we’d just done two loads of laundry and were in the process of folding it all. “Well so do we!” they appealed. Then Shane asked where they were going, and the girl said, “We don’t know yet, probably just going to find a place and get totally [sloshed].” They were already drunk. “Well have fun!” we said. They left and we continued folding laundry and washing clothes.

Not two hours later there was a loud banging on the door, and for the next 15 minutes or so people were going in and out of the room, which we ignored for the most part. I happened to notice at one point though that one of the guys was Security. During all this I heard the girl who had lied to me earlier swearing up another storm, obviously mad at some girl and sounding very upset. Not long after, there was another loud banging on the door and we looked up to see men rolling in a stretcher! After a while we saw a limp form being carried out and placed on the stretcher. It was the other girl who had been pretty friendly earlier, and she was passed out, “looking like death” as Shane said. We could only assume alcohol poisoning. My guess is they didn’t get to leave early the next morning as planned.

Monday, March 1st
We were headed to Prague, Czech Republic in the morning, first eating breakfast and making some extra cheese and egg sandwiches to go. We got on the metro and headed to our train station about 30 minutes early, but about halfway through we realized we probably weren’t going to make it—there were a lot of transfers and it felt like the metro was stopping at every single metro stop in Berlin. So we decided to get off a couple stations early in hopes that the Prague train would stop there on its way through. No such luck. So we got back on the metro after several attempts. It seemed every time we ran up the stairs to catch the metro we needed, the doors were closing and it was pulling away. We finally got to the station about 10 minutes after the train should have left. Just to be sure, we went to the platform….and didn’t see on the schedule where the train was supposed to go to Prague at that time at all. That’s when Shane looked at our schedule again….and we realized that the train had left at 36 after, not 28 after! We could have made it if we hadn’t stopped at that one station!! GAHHH!!! We had nothing to do but count it as our loss and be proud that at least it was the only train we had missed thus far. We sat in front of shops in the station sipping Starbucks to keep warm while Shane worked on a paper for school.

Once we actually arrived in Prague it was so nice for me to know exactly where to go to get to Hostel Elf, the same hostel Lydia and I stayed at twice previously. We had claimed Prague and Hostel Elf to be our favorites of all, and I really wanted Shane to love this place too. Unfortunately it wasn’t quite as great as I’d remembered. Perhaps it’s because I’m getting older and pickier, or maybe it was because I wanted Shane to love it too, but I was disappointed in a few things.

#1—Worst. Pillows. Ever. Like an oversized pillowcase stuffed only half full with hardened, clumpy cotton balls. I slept terribly. I realized that Lydia and I always brought our own pillows, so we never had to use theirs. #2—Hard beds. Shane is actually the one who thought this, I was fine. But he says he had to roll like a rotisserie chicken all night to keep from getting sore. #3 and probably the worst—the cigarette smoke. The upstairs lobby is a smoking area, and the hallways, rooms, and downstairs common rooms are non-smoking areas. However, the smoke wafts all over the place whether it’s smoking or non. Shane and I couldn’t sit downstairs and use the internet without choking to death on the smoke. It literally gave us both headaches and contributed to the sore throats we were developing. We opened the window and gritted our teeth against the frigid air in favor of airing the smoke out. You’d think they’d put some curtains at least over the doorway to the stairs. And even though the doors to the hallways were thankfully kept shut, one girl in our room spent the day in bed because she was asthmatic and the smoke flared it up. I just don’t remember the smoke being that much of a nuisance. Maybe it’s because Lydia and I were always gone during the days.
Thankfully Shane and I both had extra sleeping bags or the blankets would have gotten a measly grade too. Either way, I have a feeling maybe that was the last time I’ll stay in Hostel Elf. Kinda makes me sad.

We ate that night in a cool place up the street with great food. And it was a feast for what we paid, really. At least compared to what we’d been paying in other countries. Yet another reason why I love Prague.

Tuesday, March 2nd
We ate breakfast, which consisted of the same things they’ve been serving for 4 years—cornflakes, sandwiches, and donuts. I think the donuts are new actually, and the sandwiches are more than just cheese and meat now…they’re more like a subway sandwich. Unfortunately I opened mine and found a huge chunk of moldy cheese, and that was the end of it. Poor Hostel Elf, it’s just not getting very good marks this time.

We set out and had a great sightseeing day, even paying to go up to the top of the clock tower opposite my favorite building to take pictures of the city. We ate lunch at Bohemia Bagel, the same place Lydia and I ate once and loved. I loved it again this time too. I had the best yummy sandwich ever. I wish they had those in America.

A nap followed our sightseeing, and that evening we set out again for night pictures. We never actually found a place to eat for supper. We tried going back to Bohemia Bagel for their breakfast menu, but by the time we got there the kitchen was closing and it was too late to order elaborate things, so we just opted to forego eating since we were still filled from lunch.

Wednesday, March 3rd
We set out for Cesky Krumlov, a tiny town Lydia and I had also visited in the winter when snow covered the ground. Right now it’s just cold with no snow. We had to switch to about 3 different trains to get there, one of them being a slow but scenic 2-car deal that stopped in every little podunk town not on the map. I don’t remember doing that before. They also made everyone get off the train at one stop, switch to buses for about half an hour, and then get back on the train at a different station to continue on to our transfer destination. Weird. We finally got there and I was able to recognize the route to the hostel for the most part. Hostel 99, once again the same one Lydia and I stayed at. (Our whole trip in Czech Republic was a re-creation of Lydia’s and my experiences actually.)

We settled in at the hostel with the help of the dreadlock-haired, friendly receptionist guy. A sightseeing jaunt after that which lasted about 30 minutes (the Old Town is tiny), and lunch at Laibon, a vegetarian restaurant that turned out to be quite tasty even though the building itself had the feel of an Iraqi bomb shelter. The guy also said a big Thank You when he thought Shane was giving him a tip when he paid for the 133 Crown meal with 150 Crowns due to lack of proper coins. Shane just laughed and looked at him until the guy fished out the change. I know in Italy you aren’t supposed to tip, but I’m not sure about here. Oh well, we’ll never see them again.

We took naps again after that (hey, traveling and sightseeing every day for 3 weeks is tiring!), and for dinner went to the Katakomby restaurant at the Old Inn, the same one that…you guessed it, Lydia and I went to. It’s an underground place that feels like a cave with the waitresses dressed in medieval gowns. The food is cooked over an open flame in front of you. It wasn’t quite as good as I’d remembered (I’d gotten the same thing as before) because it was a different chef, but it was still very tasty. The waitress was a girl of very few words and gave me corn when I’d asked for garlic bread, so the cook had to toss it I’m sure.

Once back at the hostel I happened to notice in the living room corner a wicker basket that said “Lost and Lost!” I asked the receptionist guy if it was all things people had left. In other words, could I take stuff?!! Lo and behold was a pair of flat brown boots that fit me like a glove! (I’ve been wanting boots like that ever since I got to Italy.) Digging deeper in there, I also found a pair of earmuffs—the exact kind I’d also been looking for!! I could have bought some new in every country, but they were all too huge for my head. These were small and perfect! And upon even more digging, I uncovered a Billabong beanie for Shane and a long gold cardigan for me. The only thing I left in that basket was a single glove, a gray sweater that was too small for me (I’d considered it too though), and a bungee cord. Thank you Hostel 99!! I’m not at all above free handouts or cheap deals…garage sales and secondhand stores are my secret love in life. So this was a huge treat!

By now two other people had moved into the hostel, and I only saw the guy emerge from the room once the entire night.

Thursday, March 4th
We got up bright and early, leaving over half an hour to get to the train station, aka climb that wretched hill that caused Lydia and I to miss our train last time. No need to rush, because we actually got there with about 25 minutes to spare, so we sat in the warm station (I don’t remember that being available last time?!) until the tiny 2-car train arrived.

It took quite a while to get to Vienna it felt, and once there we had to take both a metro and a bus to get to the Palace Hotel, which is slightly out of town and located on a hill overlooking Vienna. We were placed in a 2-bunk dorm room facing away from the view (figures, with our luck) and there was no food around unless we went back into town. Which we did, eating at a traditional cuisine place where Shane had chicken weinerschnitzel with potatoes and I had grilled chicken covered in mushroom sauce with potato croquettes. Those croquettes were delicious—basically breaded mashed potatoes. That meal was kind of expensive and we were finished in probably 15 minutes.

We went straight back to our hotel and bummed there for the rest of the night, booking our hostel for Salzburg and figuring out train schedules. By this time I was feeling pretty sick with clogged sinuses and a headache. As usual, I got sick as Shane was getting well, and I had it worse. We decided we wouldn’t run ourselves ragged the next day. Thankfully we had the room to ourselves and I was looking forward to a peaceful night’s sleep for once.

Friday, March 5th
I slept amazingly but woke up feeling terrible. Sore throat, half-clogged half-runny sinuses, and still a headache. We ran down to breakfast 15 minutes before it ended at 9, having hurriedly made ourselves presentable and nothing more. Breakfast was pretty good for being free.

We dressed warmly with all the fixings and headed out to the bus stop. I could tell immediately that today was not going to be a good day for me. Even though I had taken some sinus medicine so as not to be drippy and miserable, the cold air was as frigid as I had remembered Vienna to be the last time I was here, and my sickness didn’t make anything better. Once on the bus and metro I felt a lot better, but the second we stepped out into the city from the metro station, that biting air hit me and I wished I could miraculously already be done seeing Vienna. The wind was mercilessly strong and frigidly cold. It really was the same as I remembered—the kind that went straight through your clothes. I remember saying last time that it was so cold I felt like crying. Well this time I did too. I officially hate Vienna in the winter.

Shane had the map and the guide book, but we still got lost trying to find the Opera House, me just trailing behind him trying to suck it up but doing a terrible job. I wanted to die. I just knew that I was going to get even more sick from this, and I worried Shane would too. He commented that I could just go back to the hostel while he toured Vienna, but I felt terrible leaving him there by himself to sightsee, so I insisted I was going to stay. As we made little progress and continued to get lost, I second-guessed my decision. I was trying not to cry. I felt horrible and my chin was numb from the cold. My nose was dripping and the medicine I’d taken was making me sleepy, but the wind whipping around me prevented me from really thinking about it. Shane stepped into a mall of sorts for me to warm up, and asked if I wanted to walk around inside. Even though he was doing it just for me, my eyes were filling with tears of self-pity so I didn’t answer. When he asked me again, sounding slightly impatient, I snapped “I don’t know!” then burst into tears. I hate crying in public, but there are just some times when I can’t hold it in. This was one of those times, and I stood there with my face to a center display bawling my eyes out, mad at Shane because he just stood there not doing anything. I wanted him to act like I thought a boyfriend should and comfort me, hug me or at least shield me from the public’s curious eyes. But he didn’t, and my self-pity gradually turned to surprisingly strong anger until I spitefully snapped at him for just standing there. This in turn made him annoyed at me, saying he just didn’t get me sometimes, and when he asked what I wanted to do, I said I just wanted to go home.

So he led the way to the metro, gave me a metro map, my ticket, and a 20 Euro bill in case I needed it. He refused my gloves even though he didn’t have any, and I walked away feeling miserable not only because I was sick, but because I was on my own to get back and I was leaving Shane to see Vienna by himself after I’d been nasty and ungrateful to him. I did make it back to the hostel just fine, and sat upstairs to write this blog. I realize now that it was probably a good thing I went back to the hostel, not only to maintain my health but because Shane and I just need our space every once in a while. Traveling together takes a toll because you’re together nearly 24/7 with pretty much no alone time. Lydia and I never would have made it through traveling together if each of us hadn’t just gone off and done our own thing every once in a while.

The great thing about Shane is that he always does something sweet to make it up to me after we’ve parted on bad terms. A few hours after I got back to the hostel he showed up with a McDonalds lunch and my favorite Starbucks drink, which he’d had them make extra hot so it would still be warm by the time I got it. He explained that he hadn’t done anything in the mall because he’d thought that would draw attention to the fact that I was crying, and he didn’t want to make a scene. It makes perfect sense and I appreciate his attempt to keep the spotlight off of me, but we’re now clear that I’d rather feel comforted than not have people staring at me. We both apologized for being unkind to each other, and everything was good again, just as it always is.

We spent the rest of the afternoon at the hostel before going to an opera at the famous opera house. Standing room tickets, but it was cheap and the opera seats were sold out anyways. We hadn’t dressed nicely since we really didn’t have nice clothes with us, so we figured our nice pea coats would be a good mask. That is, until we were told by the ticket lady that we had to check our coats. We tried going in through a different door, and that lady said the same thing. So much for covering our grunginess. But coat check was free and it was apparent we couldn’t get in with them, so we did it. At the standing room balcony, we were told we would have to stand in the aisles because all the standing room “spots” were taken. Then upon further discussion, the guy told us he did have one spot. It was right dead front and center of the balcony, so Shane stood there and I stood behind him. It was perfect because not only were there no heads in our way, it was great for pictures and we had a translation screen whereas others in the aisle didn’t. The opera was 3 acts long and I’m glad we went, even though my feet hurt afterwards. It made Vienna worth going to for both of us.

Week 1 of 3

2010-02-28T08:42:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-02-20T14:27:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-16T05:26:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-09T10:34:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-08T11:30:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-02-08T08:57:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-07T07:26:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-07T06:31:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-02-03T12:35:00.000-08:00

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!

2010-02-03T12:06:00.000-08:00

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!

This and That

2010-01-29T11:20:00.000-08:00

I have successfully gotten up-to-date in my photobucket albums, so peruse away! I've discovered that I can only link each individual album to my blogs, so I think it's just better to find them yourself as I described in my last blog.

Well, after 4 days of getting up early and going to bed late, I am officially exhausted. However, I have felt very accomplished. I am currently fully packed for our trip next week, and I hope to get some much-needed rest before then. I studied some today, did 3 loads of laundry, cleaned, and am now relaxing by reading Rick Steves' "Europe Through the Back Door"....2006. I found it humerous to see that apparently an ant perished back then.
The man next door keeps listening and singing to Christian songs that I haven't heard in years and had forgotten even existed. Right now it's "Father I Adore You" in English. Sometimes I sing along...I mean, it's loud enough. Often he can also be heard shouting--turns out he's apparently practicing a speech, which makes me wonder if he's a pastor. It sure sounds like a sermon. But I hope he's not Adventist because there's only one SDA church in Milan and I don't want my ears boxed tomorrow if I can't understand what's being yelled at me.

Speaking of church, 3 people all found and gave me the information for the same church...so thank you! From those 3, I was able to find the church name, service times, and location. It's an easy metro ride away. I have to admit I feel awkward going to a church where I won't know anyone OR understand anything being said. Maybe they'll have translation devices. Either way, I've felt like a "Badventist" for having not gone to church since we got here (although we were away traveling all but one time). So it will still be nice to go since we know about it now.

Last night was interesting, but not really in a good way. Wednesday night we went to an aperitivo with Shane's classmates again. It was a crowded, noisy place but had good food. Last night a few others were going to a different one called "Royalto", a luxurious, white, fancy place with 7 buffets and servers, all underneath a humongous crystal chandelier. (But still only 8 Euro for a drink and all you can eat.) It took us 3 switches on the trams (a system we hadn't yet tried) and a long frigid walk to get there. Once inside, Shane's classmates were nowhere to be seen, and all the empty couches were reserved. We were told we could sit at the bar, but it was full too. On further exploration, we discovered most of the buffets (consisting of 1-2 dishes each) contained meat we didn't care to experience, so we opted to leave. As we left, we saw his classmates coming in, but based on the food selection, we left anyways. The trip back was slightly horrid due to the outside temperatures. You don't get the semi-comfort of being underground when waiting for trams, and we usually had to wait up to 10 minutes. Seemed to me the night was more frigid than most. To make a long story short, we trammed, walked, and metroed all the way home, looking for other aperitivos along the way with no luck. By the time we reached home it was nearly 10pm...we had headed out around 7. And we still hadn't eaten. We ended up going down the street to an "Old Wild West" restaurant, where we ate a good ol' American meal of burgers, fries, and "Old Wild West Peanuts" out of the shell.

Thank you to everyone who emailed me about my blog! I enjoy your comments. However, for future reference, that gmail address is only in existence because it's required in order to have a blogger account, so I rarely ever check it. My primary email is ashelle_troyer@hotmail.com, and I check it daily . Or you can post comments on the blogs themselves--those go to my hotmail address too.

Paris and Barcelona start on Monday, so if you're itching to have a souvenir from there, let us know soon!

Photobucket Link

2010-01-27T14:48:00.000-08:00

I realize that my link to the photobucket pictures isn't working. I haven't yet found the correct url to link it to here, so instead you can do it the manual way or wait until I figure it out.

Go to: www.photobucket.com
In the images search box at the top type in "AshelleT"...it will say that no matches were found, but at the bottom it will give you the option of going to the profile: ("Are you looking for the Photobucket user ashellet? Click here to see this user's profile")
Once there, I think it's easiest to click the "All albums" view because I've arranged them in chronological order by which vacation period.

Enjoy!

Accomplishment

2010-01-27T14:28:00.000-08:00

The past two days have been very productive. Yesterday I got up around 7:30am, made Shane and I a cup of Italian cappuccino, and saw him out the door to class. I made him take the computer with him so I would be forced to study. It's a magic formula. By the end of the day when Shane got home around 6pm, I had:

Finished the chapter in my study book that I've been snailing through for the past 2 weeks
Did 3 loads of laundry
Washed a huge pile of dishes in the sink
De-cluttered the apartment
Put clean sheets on the beds (and made them)
Scrubbed the bathroom, kitchen table, and counters
Swept and mopped the entire apartment
Sat down with a Rick Steves guide book and wrote out sightseeing spots and tips for our future visit to Amsterdam (which promises to be....interesting)

In the midst of all this I took a shower, got ready for the day, and ate lunch.

Today I got up around 8, went grocery shopping (which included a 30 minute walk), studied half of another chapter in my book, did another load of laundry, did last night's dishes, ate, and made polenta for tomorrow's breakfast. It's only 1:00. Can I say I'm proud of myself? Ok. I'm proud of myself!

On another note, our trip is postponed until Monday because Shane has seminars to go to tomorrow and Friday. I guess that means we'll finally be scouting out a church this week. Cross your fingers that we find it!

We've also started scouting around for souvenirs for our families (parents, grandparents, sisters, and my friends Andi and Luis--we don't really have the money or space for anyone else) so if you fall into those categories start your wish list and help us out with some suggestions!

I am still in the process of uploading pictures to photobucket, but here is the link and you can keep checking back, as it will eventually be up-to-date. http://s997.photobucket.com/home/AshelleT/allalbums

Now, back to studying!

P.S. We were informed the other day that our "urinal" is actually a bidet. Whoops. Although who would want to use it rather than a good old-fashioned shower or wet wash cloth, I don't know. To each his own...

Tuscany get-away

2010-01-26T10:16:00.002-08:00

I've been silent lately due to an impromptu weekend in Florence! We originally were going to take our Tuscan siesta during Shane's one-week break (starting at the end of this week) but when we found out that Ryan, Jane, and Kristin were all going this weekend, we decided a group trip would be fun. I found out about this on Wednesday evening. It wasn't until close to bedtime that I found out we were leaving the next day, not Friday.

Now, for those of you like me who tend to commence packing a week in advance simply because it takes you that long to convince yourself you haven't forgotten anything, the thought of packing for a 4-day vacation that you leave for in just a few hours is a bit daunting. I mean, I still had laundry to do just to have clean socks, and you know how long our laundry system takes... But my excitement for spur-of-the-moment adventure overrode my fear of forgetting something important, so I took on the challenge and had 3 loads of laundry done by the time Shane got home from a meeting the next day. That's when he informed me that we had tickets for the train leaving in 1 1/2 hours. What! I forgot to say that I also like to leave a clean house behind when going on vacation, and this time it just wasn't possible. I did at least get our beds made and the dishes washed.

We boarded our train and discovered that Ryan, Jane, and Kristin were only three compartments down from us. We wished we could sit with them instead of the Asian woman and man in our compartment. By the middle of the trip we were really wishing that when the man opened his mouth to answer his cell phone. Within seconds, the entire compartment was filled with a horridly sour, almost sewer-like stench...from his breath! You think I'm exaggerating, but it was so bad Shane had to discreetly put his face in his shirt, and I'm pretty sure I gagged once or twice. This was a 3 hour trip to endure. Blessedly for her, the other girl slept the whole way.

Once in Florence, we actually had to catch a smaller train to get into the heart of the city, which involved running up and down stairs, missing the first train, and hopping on a second one just before it departed. This all kind of put me in a bad mood, because I was the only one with a rolling suitcase rather than a backpack. How was I supposed to know there would be 4 sets of stair races?!

Ryan, Shane and I found our hostel and agreed to meet the girls for dinner later, as they had different lodging. I was disappointed they weren't staying with us. We ended up going to a quaint little restaurant with good food and a friendly waitress, where we took our time eating and socializing. I was so happy to finally be around girls! It's a rare opportunity these days.

After eating the girls went home and we went on a picture mission of the bridge.

I love Florence. The main streets are touristy and fairly wide, but when lit up at night they have a strange, quiet peacefulness about them, like how snow muffles sound. I wish I could live there instead of Milan. (But that's why travelling is so nice, right?)

Our hostel was nice but nothing special. It consisted of a twin bed and a king bed...which we discovered was actually two twin beds pushed together. Normally this would be fine....you each technically have your own bed and plenty of space. But, read on. The bedding on this "bed" was appalling in it's scarcity. It consisted of a fitted sheet, a top sheet, and the thinnest bedspread ever--made for a twin bed! The "fix-it" technique was to turn it sideways to cover both beds...but it only came up to the waist! Eh, no problem really. Shane and I had our own travel sleeping bags that were quite warm. So I gave the extra blanket meant for our bed to Ryan, whose noisy cot looked a bit sparse as well. In hindsight, I regret that generosity, because my little sleeping bag and a sheet did not do the trick. What made this problem worse came when we discovered that during the night, the two beds slowly trundled their way apart. Once again, normally this would have been fine, but try sharing bedding while this is happening. It gives new meaning to the phrase "stealing the blankets."
"Honey, you stole all the blankets last night."
"Well, no, actually the crack stole them. I never had any."
I might be exaggerating a bit, but it really was annoying, as it pulled my fitted sheet off, left me with inadequate, crooked blankets, and opened a crack wide enough to swallow me during the night. It didn't help that Shane slept on the far edge of his bed, dragging the covers with him. I couldn't help but long for my warm comforters in America, which are big enough for three people but are all for me. (I have to admit it's the one thing I dread about married life--having to share my covers.) Meanwhile, cozy Ryan and oblivious Shane snored loudly in peaceful slumber as I shivered and shook my way through the night.

The morning dawned bright and clear. Sadly for me, we couldn't get ahold of Jane and Kristin. Turns out that dinner the night before was the one and only time we saw them the whole weekend. :( We spent our day sightseeing, visiting the Uffizi art museum (first attraction we've paid for) and climbing the steps to the top of the duomo (second attraction we've paid for). The museum housed hundreds of paintings by famous artists, as well as what had to be hundreds of naked men and topless women statues. That really gets old after a while. Weren't clothes already in style back then? I have to admit I got a little bored at this museum, as it's just not really my type of art. Although it was fun seeing a few paintings I'd studied in History of World Art class. I snapped a few illegal pictures of those.

The climb to the top of the Duomo was exhausting yet hilarious, as all you could hear was the echo of panting and helpless gasps of fatigue coming from unseen tourists both above and below you. Not meant for those with heart disease or claustrophobia.
The climb was totally worth it though. We were lucky enough to get there when the sun was setting, and the view was gorgeous.

For supper we went to an aperitivo situated right beside the river. It was gorgeous, peaceful, and romantic, right down to the candles on the table and the huge windows to take in the view. Ryan was embarrassing by busting out his huge TRIPOD and camera to take pictures of everything from our food to the other guests sipping drinks. So much for peaceful and romantic. But I'm sure he got some great pictures, and I'll probably be jealous.

The food was the opposite of the bill--small. Apparently it was fancy enough to not believe in large bowls of help-yourself-pasta. Instead they served bite-sized selections of quiche, tortellini, fresh vegetables, and seafood. That's one thing I hate about being here, is not knowing what I'm eating half the time. I ate a really good ball of something I thought was vegetarian, then found out it was a crab cake. Since I claim to be 75% vegetarian, only eating chicken and occasionally turkey, this revelation grossed me out. Also, they put pork or ham in everything. Nevertheless, I ate my fill of what I could and was able to leave happy.

The rest of our time in Florence consisted of minor sightseeing and another aperitivo, where I accidentally ate squid, or something equally nauseating.

We walked along the river...

...and I saw a painting that I loved. Don't ever show your interest though. That hand holding the painting belonged to the painter who was in the process of haggling me over buying it so much that I finally just walked away. Too bad though; he offered it to me for 15 Euro. I probably would have been willing to pay 5, since we're kinda broke. Some day I'll come back with money and decorate my house with gorgeous Italian art.

We opted to take off early Sunday morning to stop in Pisa before heading back to Milan. Not much to see besides the tower, but we had fun taking cliche touristy pictures and eating at a little snack shop before catching the train home. (I don't have pictures edited of Pisa yet, but they'll come soon.)

Our next adventure begins this Friday and lasts for a week! Destination: Paris and Barcelona. I'm excited to be going to Spain, a new country I've never been to before. This time we are also flying instead of taking a train. Hopefully it works out well.

For those of you who don't have a Facebook, I am in the process of uploading all my travel pictures to a photobucket account. Hopefully I can finish it within the next couple days and post the link to it in my next blog.

Also for the non-Facebook users unable to see my announcements, if you would like to receive automatic emails of my new blogs, email me at ashelle_troyer@hotmail.com with your email address and I will add you to the list. :)

Happiness (and apartment pictures!!)

2010-01-19T01:42:00.000-08:00

Perhaps it's because I'm living in a foreign, unfamiliar country in a less-than-homey apartment, or maybe it's because I really haven't had any friends to hang out with ever since I graduated from my PTA program 7 months ago, but I've found myself thinking a lot lately about how much a location can affect my happiness.

I've lived in a lot of great places throughout my life, not the least of which is San Luis Obispo, my current "home." (Even though I actually don't have a house to go back to after this.) But every time I've sat feeling blue, trying to think of where I've been the happiest, one place always seems to jump to the head of the line. That place is...ready for this?.....Loma Linda, California. This is where I spent a mere 15 months completing my PTA degree, but I can honestly say that every time I think of it, I feel sunny inside. I just can't get that feeling out of my head! My classmates or others who may have been there for a long enough period of time might be wondering if I'm losing my mind. Could I really be homesick for this dry little Adventist-run town? Yep, I sure can.

Now, I realize that maybe my happy feelings are derived from memories I have of the people and classmates I shared all my fun times with. But all that aside, I think it's more than that. And for my own justification as well as my oddly high level of enjoyment for making lists, I chose to list the pros and cons of settling down in Loma Linda.

PROS:
1. It's almost always sunny there, which REALLY affects my mood
2. Nearly every morning when I woke up, I felt happy, which is kinda rare
3. Almost no rain! or terribly cold weather
4. Because I have memories there, it makes me love it even more
5. I'm already familiar with the town, so I'll never feel out of place
6. The mountains are 1 hour away, and the ocean is 1 hour away--what more could you want?!
7. There are palm trees
8. There's a hospital right smack in the middle (a very good and prestigious one, I might add)
9. I'm Adventist, and it's an Adventist-based town
10. If I chose to move there, there's a church school for my kids to attend, as well as a university, if they so choose
11. If my kids do attend the university there, I'll know they're getting an excellent education
12. It's a college town, thus there are always new people to meet and make friends with
13. There's a healthfood store there with all the "veggie meat" I could ever want!
14. There seem to be PTA jobs aplenty in the area
15. LA is only 1.5 hours away
16. Vegas, my favorite city, is only 3 hours away
17. I already know my favorite places to eat, stores to shop at, and fun things to do
18. I do still have some friends in the area, which would really be nice
19. I think alumni are still allowed to use their huge all-purpose gym and swimming pool/sauna
20. One of my favorite churches of all time is right next door in Redlands
21. It's in California, which is like Texas (my second favorite state), only better
22. There have been studies proving that the people who live in Loma Linda live longer
23. It's a very low-crime town

CONS:
1. Traffic is terrible
2. It can get miserably hot
3. Although it is low in crime, San Bernardino, one of California's highest crime towns, is right across a bridge
4. Shane might not have as much luck finding a job in engineering as me
5. My friends ARE mostly gone--it won't be as fun as I remembered or hoped
6. I won't be college-aged for much longer, so those new friends are more scarce than I think
7. No snow in the winter; I do enjoy having a Christmas that actually feels like one
8. Taxes in California are terrible
9. Housing expenses are a nightmare
10. It's smoggy

I dunno, I think the pros outweigh the cons don't you?? I'm sure there are more cons that I could think of. Feel free to tell them to me, because I don't think my chances of living there are very high, and I need to start changing my mind. I guess the next best thing is SLO, a nice little home, and my decorating skills. :)

BTW, I finally got the apartment cleaned and took pictures the other day. Lazy me is just now getting them posted. So enjoy!

1. Our kitchen, consisting of a tiny sink, a tiny washing machine, an average sized stove and oven, and an average sized fridge. Oh, and a microwave that also is a toaster. The room you see in the background is the bedroom--the only other room other than the bathroom.

2. The kitchen table, our front door, our drying rack, and the bathroom door to the right. And those are our prized free wines, which we've decided to give away to nice neighbors and friends.
3. Another view of the kitchen/bathroom door. Don't know why we didn't take out the trash before taking these pictures...4. The bathroom, consisting of a toilet AND a urinal. When I sit normally on the toilet, my knees touch the wall. I think Shane actually has to sit sideways. Haha! (But I really don't know, so I shouldn't spread rumors.) I post these bathroom pictures because I know my family wants EVERY detail. :)5. The shower, which thankfully gives a nice, hot soothing spray and not a cold trickle. 6. Looking in from the door--my bed and desk, and the window that looks towards the front of the building.7. Both the beds, and our coat rack. We also each have a little nightstand.8. My desk, where I (attempt to) study each day. The lights in this room (since the main one is burnt out) consist of 3 lamps, and only 3 plugs. 9. Our rather large closet and Shane's desk. And apparently I just can't take straight pictures. 10. The view out our bedroom window of the street market in front of our building every Saturday and Tuesday, all day.
11. And the view the other direction, towards the Garibaldi train station, which is between here and those "skyscrapers." And once again, I can't take a straight picture.

Socialization & Singing

2010-01-17T12:12:00.000-08:00

I haven’t written lately because I got out of the mood somehow. But now, after a lovely relaxful weekend, I am back.

Friday proved to be the best day I’ve had ever since we got to Milan. It started out with me dressing like the locals do—an extra-long shirt that serves as a dress, paired with opaque tights (which are also very warm) and matching stylish boots. I had been wanting to try this out ever since I got here, but until a couple days ago didn’t have any tights. The goal of the day was to go across town and do some major shopping at a grocery store Ryan told us was pretty cheap. Thankfully, this time Shane was with me. We set out for the metro, and 5 minutes into it I realized that I really should have dressed like the locals in the form of FLAT boots, not high heeled ones. Especially considering I had spent the better part of the past two days in bed and not on my feet. But I marched ahead, determined to get back into shape the way I used to be when I walked all over town in Poland…in high heels.

Unfortunately, Shane only knew the general area of the store, not the location, so we ended up walking quite a ways trying to find it. Of course, this put me and my runny nose, cold body, and throbbing feet in a less than desirable mood, and I finally insisted (or maybe snapped) that we return to Ryan’s place to see if he was in the lobby to tell us where it was at. He wasn’t, but the guy at the front desk was kind enough to show us on a map. Turns out it was in the same spot we had been earlier. We probably walked right by it.

I’d have to say it was worth the trek. This store had the cheapest produce I’d seen yet, and we also found baking powder, among other rare American items. Not to mention they had regular shopping carts, not just the little plastic baskets that roll and never seem to be big enough.

Perhaps the cart wasn’t a blessing, because we had only brought 3 large shopping bags with us, no backpack. And we had a lot of heavy things. But we loaded them all up and Shane graciously carried the heavier ones on our long journey to the closest metro. Now that was a killer. Our fingers lost their circulation and Shane’s index finger didn’t regain it until two days later. My feet felt like they were on fire, and my nose chose that time to run incessantly. We finally made it back to the apartment, and once there I was incredibly happy for our trip; it filled up our fridge and cabinets more than they had been yet.

For supper we were supposed to meet with some of Shane’s classmates at an aperitivo, which is a bar/restaurant where you buy a drink for about 8 Euro, which also gives you access to an all-you-can-eat buffet. I opted to change my outfit for this occasion, since we had to walk a little ways past the train station to get there. My feet were still burning even after taking my boots off for a few hours.

We found the building easily, and had to walk around it before we found the side entrance to the executive lounge where we were supposed to be. Upon entering we discovered that we were the first ones there. Shane hated that, but we found the two spots reserved for the class and waited. This particular aperitivo turned out to be a plush lounge consisting of bench seats similar to large beds with tons of pillows on them, and large round seats surrounded small tables to eat on. Talk about “lounge” literally! I decided I was in love with it and want a room in my house to look similar. The ceiling was made out of sheets, there were candles all around, and the atmosphere had a very relaxed feeling.

Eventually the classmates showed up and we all dined to our heart’s content. Even though we were happy with the food, we were told that it was by far not the best, compared to other aperitivos. All of Shane’s classmates spoke English of course, and were very friendly. We spoke for a long time to a friendly American girl who has traveled all over, knows the ropes of the city, and gave us some good tips.

After a couple hours of eating, socializing, and lounging back on the comfortable pillows, everyone started to make their way out. Jane, one of the 2 women there from Shane’s college in the US, decided she wasn’t ready for the night to end and wanted to go downtown. We decided for the sake of socializing that we would go too, and it ended up being a group of 7 that traipsed down the streets, a couple of whom are hilarious and made us laugh nonstop over funny tales of living in Italy. We ended up stopping at a little restaurant with outdoor tables, and I had a cup of really good hot chocolate. I couldn’t help but think that this was the most fun I’d had since we got here. I loved the company—people who were funny and full of life. It reminded me of my PTA classmates, who I miss dearly.

Alas, all days have to come to an end and Shane and I walked back to our apartment full and happy. The plan was to head to church in the morning, which we had yet to try to find. Unfortunately that night I couldn’t sleep though. I tossed and turned until 5:30am, when I finally got up and got online to pass the time. Around 6:15 I went back to bed, only to toss and turn some more until 8am, when I finally fell asleep. Well. We didn’t go to church that morning. It turned out to be a very boring day because of that. On a bright note, I did get to call my parents over skype, using the new microphone we bought Friday.

Sunday

Today I was awakened to what is becoming a very familiar song played by the man next door. Only this time he had decided to accompany it in a very loudly singing voice. Normally I wouldn’t have minded, but it was so loud that it penetrated my earplugs. I kept thinking, poor Shane, if it’s this loud to me, it must be really loud for him! Soon after this I heard him rustling around in the kitchen, so I knew it had driven him out of bed.

I finally got up and checked my email. Nothing. Shane had a meeting with his classmates over a project and decided to take the computer, so I had no choice but to be computerless and, ugh, study all day. I put it off by trying to mend my holey gloves, only to discover that apparently I took the needle out of my travel sewing kit and never put it back. Great. That makes one more thing I brought that is completely useless to me here. I don’t think I ever mentioned that list. Our phones no longer give us the correct time since we’re out of the US, our electronic translator’s unique batteries are dead, the adaptor we need for the outlets here is broken, and now I can’t use my sewing kit. We keep discovering more things we had that are useless to us here that we could have left at home and saved luggage room and weight.

I actually ended up having a great time listening to music with Shane’s expensive noise-cancelling headphones while I studied, and I actually got a lot studied. Hm. Maybe Shane should take the computer away more often.

After Shane got home and we ate dinner, we were sitting in our room when our neighbor’s extra loud music came on again. This time it was Christian music, as usual, but in English. And he was singing at the top of his lungs. It was so loud that even my music through my headphones was no competition. Normally I wouldn’t really mind, especially since it was music I liked, but Shane couldn’t concentrate on his studying and I couldn’t concentrate on this blog. Finally I decided to go over and talk to him, since it was obvious at this point he spoke English. He came to the door with his little boy on his shoulders. I explained to him the problem and he said he hadn’t known anyone lived there. He was very friendly and asked all about what I was doing here and where in the U.S. I was from. I could see his smiling wife in the background, and I wondered about their frequent yelling fights. He promised to keep the music down and encouraged me to feel free to knock on the wall if it ever got too loud.

How nice. We have an English speaking neighbor beside us and above us.

Predictions

2010-01-14T03:21:00.000-08:00

My sickness has played out exactly like Shane's did. He was even able to tell me what to expect next. Yesterday he asked me:

"Have you gotten a runny nose yet?"
"Yes."
"Is it to the point where you blow it and 2 seconds later it starts dripping again, so you're constantly blowing it?"
"No, it comes about every 2 minutes."

Not 4 hours later, I was constantly blowing my nose. Then the sore throat went away, and I got a sinus headache, as Shane had. Last night I used a nasal spray to keep me breathing easy overnight, and Shane said, "You'll be congested in the morning." Sure enough, I woke up this morning all congested to the point I can barely breathe and when I do I sound like I'm breathing my dying breath. Shane seems to be doing fine now other than occasional needs for a kleenex, so I'm hoping that tomorrow will be my freedom day.

I looked in the mirror today and saw with disgust that I have the typical been-in-bed-for-a-week-dog-sick look. The one where your hair has a permanent cowlick in the back, no residual makeup on whatsoever, an unattractively gray pallor, chapped lips, and droopy eyes looking dead and gray, like you just experienced the loss of everything you own.

I never even woke up when Shane got ready and left this morning, and since I'm such a light sleeper usually I can't help but wake up, even though I wear earplugs at night. But I woke up thinking he was out in the kitchen on the laptop since it was so quiet, but no, the laptop was still beside my bed. Suspicious, I got up to go see. No Shane. Upon looking at the time, I saw that it was already 10:30! He leaves the house by 8:15, and I'm usually up by that time. Apparently I was really knocked out.

I've almost got the piles of laundry on the floor done. 2-3 more loads today I think should do it. I have a feeling once I'm done we'll just have to start all over again though. We also need to buy some fabric softener. Clothes that have to get hang-dried inside tend to have that starchy stiff feel, and it kinda takes away my joy of having clean clothes.

I'm not sure what to eat today, because really the only things we have left to make a full meal out of are potatoes and pasta. We had pasta last night and potatoes the two nights before. I blame this lack of variety on the fact that I cannot seem to find baking powder to make things from scratch. For that matter, I can't find a lot of things. Their diet here is really quite simple: different kinds of pastas, pizza, and different kinds of breads. Often you will also see sandwiches resembling Subway's, but just with meat and maybe cheese inside. What a boring diet! I mean, even Poland had a lot more variety, and we were able to get most of the things we wanted quite easily. I can't even find a yellow cheese here.

I had better stop trying to avoid studying and get back to it. I think I might actually be able to make my goal for the week even with being sick. :)

Sentimentality

2010-01-13T04:21:00.000-08:00

I woke up today feeling worse than yesterday. Sore throat worse and the beginnings of sniffles and congestion. Great. I can tell I won't get much studying done today because the simple thought of it makes me feel worse. However, I said I was going to push myself and I will. I promise I will crack a book for at least an hour today. It's the least I can do while lying in bed. It would be nice to have a soothing cup of Throat Coat tea too, but I wasn't smart enough to act on the memory of how much you crave the things you can't get here.

Unable to sleep late, as usual, this time because breathing hurts my throat when I sleep, I stayed awake (but in bed) and cleared out the clutter on my laptop. Not only on my laptop, but in my life. I have a tendency to keep emails, MSN conversations, poems, or anything relating to either really good or really bad times in my life. Every once in a while I enjoy reading back over them, don't ask me why. I guess I get a fresh perspective on the situation, or I want to make sure I handled myself well (hindsight is 20/20), or sometimes they've even become funny. Either way, there were several negative ones I was hanging on to that I just didn't need to keep around. So I deleted several of them, and with that felt a sense of freedom from the past.

It's amazing, the things you run across that you have forgotten about. I discovered old poems written over heartbreak, hilarious stories from college, and an extensive list of the small things in life that make me happy (which I'm tempted to post here some day). Some of those things, such as the poems, I keep simply because I'm proud of my writing skills, poignantly precise from the depths of my sorrow. Others I keep because I'm just a very sentimental person, and whether happy or sad, some of those things are just too hard to throw away yet.

Which made me think. Why do we (I'm sure I'm not the only one) hang on to things that remind us of the sad times, the angry times, the bitter times; the old relationships or the broken friendships? Is it because behind those bad times there were also happy times that we want to remember? I think that's my reason for it. Especially in the case of ended relationships...amid all the bad in the end, there was at one point in time something good. But still, why do we hang on to the past if we've truly moved on from it? Have we moved on or are we still hurt/bitter/sad over it?

If you go to my house, you will find two rather large boxes FULL of memories of one kind or the other. Notes from highschool friends, sweet letters from old boyfriends, even candy wrappers from my hugest crush when I was 15. Lame, I know. I'm amazed at the things I've chosen to keep throughout the years...most of them relating to the guys throughout my life. And at the same time I feel kind of guilty. I keep memories of old boyfriends, yet I am happily planning a future with the guy I plan to marry. Is that wrong of me? Does that somehow say that I'm not letting go of my past? That I'm not fully over someone? That I want to keep their memory alive whilst on the arm of my future husband? Will Shane see it that way? I think that deep down I've questioned this; somehow felt guilty but at the same time justified.

And I've come to the personal conclusion that no, it's not necessarily wrong. However, it does have conditions. Only you can decide how you feel about the past and the people that were in your past--it's up to you to decide whether or not those memories are harmful to your present. For most people I think that by keeping memories like that you are simply fondly remembering who you were and who has been a part of your life. Why else do we keep diaries? Every once in a while we enjoy going back to read about how our life used to be back in the day. For me, it reminds me how simple things were, how carefree and trivial my "huge" problems really were at that age. Maybe it's a way to escape the stresses of this current life and remember a time that wasn't so complicated...young, carefree, "in love"...I think it's normal to feel bittersweet about those days. Men may disagree, but for a woman anyways, I don't think that's so abnormal. And I don't think it means we are unhappy with our current life if we feel bittersweet about the past. They were, at one point in time, the things we laughed or cried at, the things that shaped our days. Memory is a powerful thing--it can bring back emotions we never knew still existed. That's why it's up to each individual to choose to keep or discard things depending on it's affect in your present life. And do things now to make the present something you would want to look back on with fond, bittersweet memories too.

When I go back through those boxes, there will be tons of things I will throw away. (Those candy wrappers for instance.) But there will be several things I will keep, to remember the things, times, and people that shaped my life and my future.....which, I think, will be a very good one. :)

Provided, this is written by a girl who is a lot younger than most, so my "past" is referring to the high school/college years. This was my way of sorting out my thoughts by way of rambling them into a blog, but I would love to hear your opinions on the subject.

Sickies in Italy

2010-01-12T08:41:00.000-08:00

The internet has come on promptly at 11am the past two mornings. Which is kinda good, because it gives me a chance to get SOME studying done before I get hopelessly distracted. But right now it's not necessarily the internet distracting me--it's the man next door who has his music on so loud and is singing with it, it sounds like he's in the next room. Good thing I like the music, it actually reminds me of the songs we sang at the youth rallys when I was in

Poland

. The kind where you can't help but sing because the music just swells up around you. Oh, he turned it off now. I was kind of starting to enjoy it.

Shane is officially sick with a cold--runny nose and frog voice and all that stuff. He said yesterday in his class he wiped his nose so much that it started to bleed! Poor guy. We went and got some decongestant for him last night. I've slowly been catching what he's got, and I wondered if I was going to be able to get out of bed this morning. I've been pushing herbs down his throat but have forgotten that I should probably be pushing them down my own too.

I did get up this morning though, after discovering that the street market was going on outside again. As soon as I got ready I ran down to buy a spatula we'd seen last time. We don't have one and there are several things I want to cook that require a frying pan. I got a good-looking sturdy one for 2 Euro. I also saw some good-looking boots for about 30 Euro. Can't buy those right now though. I need a coat before I need boots. Since my white one got purple splotches all over it I'm embarrassed to wear it half the time, which leaves me with either my new red sweater or my green hoodie. Hoodies on girls are questionable here. I get looked up and down every day, regardless of how much I try to dress to fit in. Maybe it's my blonde hair and blue eyes. And I hope those looks are ones of admiration, but I have a feeling they're purely criticizing.

I've been meaning to post pictures of our apartment, but I'm waiting until all the laundry is off the floor. I've been doing laundry for the past 3 days and have only gotten 3 loads done. That's because (A) you can only fit about 5 shirts in at a time (B) the washer takes it's sweet time, and (C) the drying rack only holds about one load, and they take so freaking long to dry you couldn't put two loads on even if you had the space. Eventually I'll post some pictures.

I'd best get back to studying before I get too distracted by internet. I've made a goal for the rest of the week and I really want to impress myself by keeping it.

(Whaddya know, the internet quit again right before I got ready to post this.)

Shopping trip from that place below

2010-01-11T06:13:00.000-08:00

So today in the midst of trying to study, and knowing that we needed to really go grocery shopping SOMEWHERE in this city, I decided to venture out on my own across town to an SMA store (supermarket here) to buy that food! To do so, I had to take a metro. I planned my route, gathered up my little rolling suitcase, Shane's travel backpack, our old shopping bags (you have to pay for your bags here), my passport, translation book, metro map, and money. I headed to Geribaldi train station, the closest one to us, where I could hop on the blue line and get to where I needed to be. Once there I couldn't figure out why it only mentioned the green and red lines. I should have paid more attention when Shane and I went out and about instead of just following him! Finally I realized that the blue line was the train, basically a metro but a completely different system. Not to worry, since it was just a few steps in the opposite direction. I bought a 1 Euro ticket, which is good for about 70 minutes. Hopefully I could get across town, shop, and get back into the station before my time ran out.

I made sure I was getting on the right train and made it on just as it pulled in. Thankfully I was going the right direction! I got off at my stop without a hitch, and realized that I was going to the store that was right across from hotel Rossovino where we had stayed the first few days we were here. Well that made it better, at least I didn't need to look at my map to know how to get there. Once there, I set out on my adventure: shopping in a foreign language. I despaired for a while until I remember that I HAD packed the translation book. Unfortunately the electronic translator Lydia and I used while in Poland has dead batteries. It would be a lot more handy.

Pretty soon my little rolling cart was full, and I still had tons of things to get. Some things I just couldn't find, or were too expensive to get in the first place. I wish they'd make some cheap tortilla chips. I really want Mexican. And rice. All they seem to have here is that round rice...gross. I did get potatoes though, which tided Lydia and I over for many meals in Poland.

I tried to find good cheese, but I think I'm pretty picky about cheese. The only kind I knew I would like is mozzarella, but here they sell it in little balls floating in water. Gross again. I'll wait till I absolutely need it.

Once I had decided I had enough food to justify my trip, I went for the part I dreaded...checkout. Normally I wouldn't care, but I was by myself and I had so much food to pack into my bags and I have a thing about keeping people waiting behind me. So I decided to do self checkout. Simple right? Wrong! Thankfully the machine had an English option, which shouted out each item's price to me after scanning it. It made me feel a bit self-conscious. "Over here! I'm the American and yes my machine is speaking English! Look at my huge cart of food and my open suitcases on the floor ready to load up!"

After the first full bag that I put in my suitcase, the machine began screaming at me to put it back on the scales. "AN ITEM HAS BEEN REMOVED!!! PLEASE PLACE THE ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA OR CLICK ON REMOVE ITEM!" At this point the cashier standing at her little booth just to the left of me walked over blabbing in Italian and put my bag back up on the scales, shaking her head and obviously telling me I couldn't put the bag in my suitcase. Is she afraid I'm stealing it all or is she just telling me what the machine is making me do? Either way, it was awful hard getting all my groceries to reside in that tiny space meant only for two small bags at a time.

At one point in time my potato bag wouldn't scan, even though it had a barcode. When I looked to her for help, she reached over and pushed the "key in item barcode" button, which made me feel stupid because I KNEW that, I was just hoping she could get it to scan without me having to do that. When my bags were threatening to fall off the scale to the point that the scale didn't recognize them and began screaming at me again, the woman walked back over and stacked my stuff on top of each other, then pointed to the sign above my checkout lane that said in Italian, "Max number of items: 15." Well. I don't speak Italian. The sad thing is that I really didn't have to; it was obvious that's what it meant. I just didn't see it.

When all my food was stacked in a tower on the scales, the machine asked me how many bags I had. I didn't WANT bags, that's why I brought my suitcases!! Besides, I had 4 bags and the machine only went up to 3! As I was pondering what to do, the woman came back over and pushed a button. I didn't see which one it was, but I turned to her and protested that I didn't want any bags, I had brought my own! She nodded at that and proceeded to help me pay with my credit card. I didn't need her help, I had done this a thousand times on my own. But I guess by now to her I was just the dumb blonde American who couldn't do things for herself. She handed me the receipt, which I don't even remember where I put so I have no clue how much it even cost. I pushed my stuff to the side of the store and loaded it all up. By this time I was sweating profusely in my layers of warm clothing.

As I finished, the security guard started meandering my way, looking at me, and I put on my most irritated This-stupid-store-has-put-me-through-hell-and-it's-so-much-better-in-America look and walked right on past him, making sure to not make eye contact.

I made it back to the metro to discover that my ticket had, of course, expired. Thankfully every once in a while they have the gates open and you don't have to slide your ticket....however, they often have officials at the other end of your ride checking to make sure you actually validated them. Well, I had validated it, and I hoped that that's all they would check, rather than the time. I made it back on the correct train without any problems, and thankfully there was no one waiting to check my ticket once I got off. I had to walk around a bit trying to find the right exit to my street, but it wasn't that bad, and I made it back home safe and sound. Hopefully now I can cook a nice different meal for Shane tonight other than spaghetti.

Lesson learned: I will never go on a huge shopping trip again without Shane there to help me!

Where's the FOOD??!

2010-01-11T02:19:00.000-08:00

Sunday

Yesterday morning Shane, Ryan and I moved Ryan over to the other housing across town. Of course our internet hadn’t been working that morning, as usual, so Shane and I couldn’t check his email to see whether the woman he’d emailed about switching places had responded. We checked it when we got to Ryan’s place, and sure enough, she hadn’t. Figures. We went up and saw the rooms this time. They’re nice. Small but clean, modern, and private. The only downfall is that the showers are the kind where there’s no shower lip, just a drain in the floor, so water tends to run everywhere. The kitchen has much to be desired, if you can even call it a kitchen. I have a feeling I’d grow to hate that aspect of the place, not really being able to cook and all. And it would also be a pain to have to go downstairs every time I wanted to check my email. It sure is nice being able to sit in bed to do it here, when it’s working that is. So we chalked up the pros of not moving and sort of resigned ourselves to the fact that we’d probably be staying where we’re at, especially after the guy at the front desk told us we’d need to speak to the other woman; he couldn’t check us in.

We left Ryan to his unpacking and explored the shops near the Duomo for a bit. They were all too expensive for us, of course. Such as 300 Euro for some ugly, simple platform dress shoes. Designer, I’m sure, but still. I bet even their slippers are at least 100 Euro. So far I think the street markets are going to be my best bet if I ever truly want to buy anything here.

Shane and I went home, cooked some spaghetti, and finally unpacked. It’s a lot more homey when you’re unpacked, I discovered. Although studying is still going to be slightly depressing, what with the lack of sun or light in the place. Self-discipline Ashelle, self-discipline.

We tried to go food shopping at a little place we’d seen down the street, but whaddya know, Italians don’t like to work very much and therefore have “siesta” every afternoon. Shops usually all close at noon until the evening, when some open up again. So if you want to get anything done, you’d better get your butt out of bed in the morning. That’ll be good for me too I suppose. So that being the case this time, we went back to our apartment where the internet had decided to work again finally. We spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking, cleaning, eating, and bumming. We haven’t even gone to see the Duomo yet. Shane hasn’t been feeling well lately, due to the cold I think, and I haven’t felt much better. It’s a good excuse to stay inside the warmth and be lazy while we still can.

I’m REALLY craving American food. I’m tired of pizza and pasta already—not that it was ever my favorite in the first place. But as of yet we haven’t even found a decent cheap grocery store to buy all the basic things we need, much less be able to have ingredients to cook American dishes. I mean, we haven’t yet found butter! What grocery store doesn’t have butter?! Yesterday I had that feeling of unquenched hunger, even though we’d just eaten spaghetti a couple hours previously. Since we had spaghetti aplenty, I made a ton more to ensure that I got full. I did. And now I’m tired of spaghetti. Actually I could still eat it but I’m craving the kind of sauce my family usually makes: Ragu with pinto beans and TVP in it (TVP is a vegetarian beef substitute).

We went to bed early, so Shane could get up in time for class without being exhausted, and so I could be on his schedule, so he says. Wonderful. But I guess I need it, and it’s really not that bad.

Today (Monday)

Today I was unhappily awakened by Shane turning on his light to get ready, and I couldn’t believe it was already time to wake up—I had been dreaming so well! This was the day that my rigorous studying schedule should start, and while I had been ready for it a couple days ago, I wasn’t ready for it now! I stayed tucked in my bed until Shane left for school, all spiffy in his suit. Since I couldn’t sleep, the internet was once again not working, and I knew I really should get a head start on the day, I decided to take our shopping list down to the grocery store again to get those stupid groceries we can’t ever seem to get.

My walk to the store was cold, but not terrible. When I got there they weren’t open yet, but I only had to wait a couple minutes. I rushed in the second they opened it and started on my shopping spree. I started out with trash bags, since I was in the household section. No trash bags….was I blind? I decided to venture around the store to see if maybe they just weren’t beside the brooms and dust pans. As I walked around the store, I noticed something peculiar—it wasn’t a grocery store at all, but merely a convenience store with household items and beauty products. WHAT!? Why can’t we find a grocery store??! I made several trips around the store, feeling stupid because I was dragging a huge cart and carrying a huge backpack, ready to stuff them to the brim with FOOD. Not STUFF. Finally I found the trash bags….right beside the brooms and dust pans. I got two of them and looked around the store for more things we might need to fill my cart with. Of course there was nothing. I went to the checkout counter and handed her my credit card, after which she proceeded to ask me for my documents. Documents? At a grocery store? I suppose it does take the place of a driver’s license, but still! Shane never had to show his passport at other grocery stores we’ve been at, at least I don’t think. Thankfully they let me by. It was only 2,20 Euro worth anyways.

I came home with trash bags and no food to fill the empty fridge. Oh it’s not like I’ll starve today. We’ve got bread and jelly and leftover spaghetti and crackers. But I’d hoped to have a different meal than spaghetti on the table when Shane got home. Even worse, this means I have nothing better to do than…study. It might be easier if the guy next door would quit singing to his kid all the time. Wish me luck.

Obviously, since I’m posting this we now have internet. Woohoo!!

Ho Hum days

2010-01-09T12:49:00.001-08:00

I have to be honest and say that I don't like Milan. Of course there's the Duomo, which I haven't yet seen, but the part we're in at least has absolutely nothing interesting in it. There are plenty of shops, but with a tight budget like ours we can't afford to really buy anything. Bummer.

We all spent yesterday lazing around enjoying our free pilfered internet, watching Glee, and eating pasta. We went shopping at the train station grocery store 10 minutes away, which is the closest and only one we have so far found within walking distance. We bought basic necessities: pasta, salt, jelly, bread, dish soap and scrubbers, water, yogurt, fruit, and a few small snack items. Guess how much all that cost? About $40 worth. It wasn't even that much! We've actually already eaten about a third of it, and it's only been one day. Depressing, to say the least. We have got to find a decent larger grocery store that doesn't suck the life out of our meager funds.

I stupidly wore my knit boots on that little trip to the grocery store. I guess there was a reason someone was selling them at a garage sale. As a result I was squishing water between my toes by the time we got home. That makes zero clean/dry socks I have left. We really need to do laundry--but our washing machine literally might hold about 3 pairs of my jeans, 2 pairs of Shane's.

On the bright side, our apartment was warm when we got back last night! It has been raining for a few days now, making any adventure that may be outside an impossibility, or at least miserable. I can't help but think that if we lived in a place like Sorrento, even the rain couldn't take away from me wanting to go stand and look at the gorgeous sea view. On a more optimistic note, maybe the lack of excitement outdoors will make me want to study more for boards while I'm here. I've been pretty stressed about that lately. We figured out that minus all the weeks we'll be gone traveling while here, I have about 6 weeks to finish studying before we head back. 6 weeks! In about 4 months I've barely gotten halfway through the study book! Of course, that includes not really studying for the past month, and not really studying for the first month either. But still. The stress of my impending doom really takes away from my excitement over this spur-of-the-moment adventure. Not only that but money is getting very tight over here, what with prices of everything being sky-high for New Year's and the Euro taking over the dollar. I guess I'll need all the mercy from God I can possibly get right now.

Today was another Sabbath for us. I searched in vain for Adventist churches in Milan before we came here, but to no avail. Either there are none or I'm just not finding them. I'm starting to wonder if I just won't be able to attend church for the next 3 months. Kind of a sad thought. I guess we'll have to improvise in the future.

I awoke this morning to what sounded like the murmur of a crowd below my window. Upon finally getting out of bed for the morning, I discovered that I hadn't just been dreaming--while I snoozed, a 3-street flea market had been set up right in front of our building. White tents protected the wares from getting wet from the ever-present rain, and a surprising number of people were out and about perusing the contents. Since we had nothing better to do, Shane, Ryan and I went and scouted out what I can only describe as the most exciting thing that's happened in Milan since we got here. Sad, I know. Unfortunately it wasn't that fun, because the rain, cold, and sogginess seeped into my pores once again, chilling me to the bone.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in complete boredom, because the internet we had been pilfering had suddenly been blocked. Guess they figured out someone was stealing from them. When you are in a foreign country, have nowhere to go because of the rain, no internet, no phones, no communication with the outside world, and only an internetless laptop to keep you entertained, it makes for a pretty boring time. I didn't even bring any books to read.

By evening time we were so bored that we decided to take a trip across town and visit the two other girls from Shane and Ryan's school who had also been a part of the exchange team. Secretly we hoped that they had internet for us to use. The rainy trek didn't do well for my slowly developing sick feeling, and I'm sure it was bad on Shane's too. However we finally found the building, which is like a dorm of sorts. This is where Ryan will be staying, since he's not allowed to stay as the third person in our apartment. The second I walked in I fell in love with it. It was WARM, it was bright, and there were tables all around the lobby room with people hunkered over their laptops, which meant internet. Unfortunately the front desk informed us that we couldn't go to the girl's rooms unless we had our passports, which Shane and I didn't but Ryan did. So he went up to look at the rooms while Shane and I sat waiting and I wished in my mind that we could live there too. When Ryan came back down with one of the girls, we checked our email and Ryan went to talk to the guy about moving in. In 10 minutes he had the key and was checked in! After hearing descriptions of the place, I wish even more that Shane and I could live there too. We would each have our own room with a shared bathroom, and a community kitchen. The kitchen, we were told, is extremely ghetto, with only 2-3 burners, no oven, no fridge, and no dishes. Fortunately there are personal fridges in each person's room. Regardless, I would feel so much happier living there than our drafty, dark, cold apartment.

Upon getting back to said apartment, I looked around and realized it really wasn't THAT bad. Since it had warmed up it was a bit more homey, and we did have dishes and a decent kitchen after all. We emailed the woman in charge of our housing to request the switch, but this particular woman seems to be very selective of who and what she chooses to respond to. Several emails sent to her by Ryan and Shane just haven't gotten answered, while still others have been answered, but very vaguely. We'll see if she responds to this one or not. If it doesn't work out, I'll just have to be happy where I'm at. Maybe it will teach me something. I'm pretty spoiled after all. :)

The past few days

2010-01-08T07:08:00.000-08:00

The past few days since I’ve updated have been mostly uneventful. We packed up our bags at Seven Hotel on Tuesday morning and ate our free breakfast, then made the walk to the train station. My bag was getting progressively heavier, what with the 2 bottles of wine and my huge sweater purchase. I decided in my head as we walked that if anyone bothered me, all I’d have to do was swing around and hit them with my backpack—it would knock them out for sure. Lydia and I used to talk about different ways to defend ourselves should the need arise, and we developed the joke that a frozen bag of pierogies would suffice nicely. I suppose girls tend to think of these things sometimes.

We have recently obtained a food bag. Yes, the dreaded food bag. And guess who got to carry it? Me. Oh the memories. Actually it wasn’t too bad, since we hadn’t yet accumulated as much stuff as Lydia and I did. But our 3-week break is sure to be a killer in the food bag department.

The train from Sorrento to Naples was uneventful. I stared out the window, observing my happy little world whiz away. Deep green valleys and sea views gave way to dingy ghetto apartments and junkyards sporting cars compacted into suitcase-sized squares. Naples really is the most unappealing city I’ve seen in Italy thus far. I’m so glad I don’t live there. We’ve also heard it’s the highest crime city—another great reason not to live there. So far Shane and I have been lucky to keep all our possessions to ourselves. That is, with the exception of New Year’s eve in Rome, when we both stupidly put our metro passes into easily accessible pockets. The next day, neither of us could find them. We are guessing we were the victims of a pick-pocketer.

Upon arriving to the Naples train station, we went to buy reservations only to find that the next un-full train for Milan didn’t leave for another 3 hours. Three hours in this train hole? The Naples station is by far not the place you want to be stuck for more than 20 minutes. We resigned ourselves to our bad judgment once again and made ourselves comfortable in McDonalds for the remaining wait, where we bought french fries and I worked on my picture editing skills. While in there I heard my favorite song “I Got A Feeling”, which made me happy and sing-songy for the rest of the wait.

Unfortunately we weren’t sitting together on the train to Milan—we were across the aisle--even though no one was sitting anywhere near us. We decided that the one stopover in Rome must be a killer, if these were the only seats left on the train. In the meantime, we sat next to each other and entertained ourselves by watching Glee, my newest favorite show.

Upon stopping in Rome, the train was flooded to capacity. I somehow got sucked into trading seats with the woman across from me, so I was even farther away from Shane and we couldn’t really talk except through mouthing. We spent the trip passing the laptop back and forth and staring into space, wishing for a bed (or at least I was!). One kind woman across from me gave me a mint that tasted like licorice then got REALLY strong. She herself ate about 10 of them during the trip. They must be her favorite.

Once in Milan, the trek to the hostel was easy since we had stayed there previously, even though we went the long way on accident. We were upgraded to a two double bed private room with a bathroom, which was nice. Our bags were then brought in safe and sound—whew!

The next day we woke up freezing. I wore my coat and even boots in the room just to keep warm, and I was still cold. The heater was cold, the air was cold, the floors were cold. By the time we left I was in a bad mood over one of those feelings you sometimes get that you’ll just never be warm again.

We devoted this day to figuring out the ropes of the metro system for getting to the university from our apartment. First we had to find the apartment. The entire day was a whirlwind of hopping on one metro, bus, or train after the other. We made several mistakes and went the wrong way several times, but we found both the apartment and the school by the end of the day, along with the best route for getting there. When we got back to the hostel, they had cleaned it and the heater was on full-blast. YAY! We had decided to book another room there for the night rather than trek across town to find one closer to our apartment. Seeing as how much stuff we had to lug around, that was probably a good idea.

Thursday morning dawned bright and…cold again. This time we had decided to go meet with someone at the school with whom Shane had been in contact, to see if we could pay for and get our apartment before the night. Our first mistake was on my part, causing us to hop on the wrong train going the wrong direction. No biggie, you just get off at the next stop and retrace, right? Unfortunately this train came out of the tunnels and just kept gaining more and more speed. We could tell that we were headed out of town. Great. We were already late for when we had hoped to be there—thankfully we didn’t have an appointment. We got off at the next stop about 15 minutes later, and waited for the next train…and waited, and waited. Finally it came by, and we hopped on it regardless of which one it was. We just wanted to get back into the city again! Assuming by the places we stopped at that it was the one to lead us to our destination, we stayed on it until what we thought was our stop. Unfortunately it wasn’t, but it did land us in the general vicinity of the university. We trekked around for a while trying to find the set of office buildings we needed. Upon finally finding them, we were met with Gudula, a very nice younger woman about our age who spoke English. She couldn’t reach the person we needed for the apartment, but was able to set up a meeting with us and a woman who runs the building we were staying in. Unfortunately the meeting wasn’t until 3pm, and it was only about 11am at the time.

Since we had stored our bags at the hostel again and told them we might not be back until 3 or 4, we opted to just not go back until we were actually ready to pick them up and take them with us. So we took our time by eating at a cute pizzeria right next to our apartment building, and walking down some shopping streets. I bought a sparkly tan scarf, which I loved at first sight. Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do much shopping here because everything is so expensive—I’m not even sure there is such a thing as thrift store or second-hand here.

Once the shopping streets ran out we found ourselves in front of a large castle complete with a moat. Hm. So far in my experience here in Milan there’s not too much worthy of being excited about, unless of course you love shopping. Bummer for us since we’ll be here for 3 months. We took pictures of the castle and proceeded to go inside, where there was basically a large open courtyard to walk around in. Slightly boring actually. At the entrance we were bombarded by our European enemy: another “gifter” who wants your money. This time it was a Black guy from Africa, and he began rattling on about random things as he tried to put a rainbow-colored thread bracelet on my wrist. I declined and tried to pull away, but he insisted, and somehow I helplessly stood there thinking about why I can’t ever just put my foot down with these people from the get-go. After adorning me, he turned to Shane, who also refused. But did that stop the guy? No. As he put it on, Shane said, “I’m not paying for this.” But sure enough, as soon as we began to walk away, the guy began rubbing his fingers together. “Please, just for some coffee.” I looked at him and said “We told you no!” When he kept bugging Shane to give him some money, Shane took and ripped the bracelet off his wrist and threw it on the ground. At this the guy got mad and walked away.

After a few pictures with the castle, another guy approached us. I’m quite sure he had seen the exchange between his companion and us, yet he still tried to shake our hands. We ignored his hand and were actually quite rude to him, refusing to make conversation with him or accept his “gift” of a bracelet. Apparently unfriendliness makes them mad (are they really surprised?) and as we walked away Shane thought he heard the guy cuss at him under his breath. We opted to skirt around the castle to get out.

By the time 3pm approached, we were more than ready to have our apartment and have a place to call our own. Previously we had been planning to stay there with Ryan, our friend who was also doing the exchange program with Shane. However, in an email we were told that only Shane and I could stay in the apartment because there were only two beds—Ryan would have to get a single apartment at a different location. We still aren’t sure whether or not they will let us all 3 cram into one apartment, but it sure would save us some money. However, I’m doubtful about it because of the sleeping arrangements. Two twin beds do not accommodate 3 people, and there’s no way I’m about to share a twin bed for 3 months. I’d be perfectly happy sleeping on the floor, but we’d have to get more blankets and padding for me to deal with that for 3 months too. I guess we’ll find out.

We were met in the apartment building by a woman, Alessandra, who spoke almost no English. She brought us up to our apartment on the 4th floor, rattling away in Italian. We sat down and signed some papers, gave our passport information, and somehow understood as she explained in Italian how to get our WiFi working. She then brought us up one more floor to speak to a woman living right above us—a woman who speaks flawless English and offered to help us with anything we needed, anytime. Whew! What a relief! There is something very reassuring about knowing there is someone close by who speaks your language in a foreign place.

After visiting this woman, Alessandra rattled some more in Italian, handed us the keys, said Ciao, and left! YES!! We had a place to live!! Our only question was: when do we pay?? She hadn’t asked for a cent, and we assumed she thought it had already been taken care of; it should have been before we came actually, but the school never gave us their information for payment. Regardless of when we paid, we had a place to keep our bags!

First impressions of the apartment: the rooms are nice and big, the balcony view is pretty, but the furnishings are slim and I can tell it will feel a bit un-homey. Homey is my big thing. I have to have a place that is homey, if I am at all able to make it so. Unfortunately I don’t think this will be one of those places. As you walk in, you are met by a large kitchen/dining room area. The kitchen counter is almost non-existent, and there is a washing machine smack in between the sink and the stove. A large table takes up the other side of the room, along with a smallish refrigerator. The small bathroom, which only fits tiny people, opens to one side of the kitchen. The back room is the bedroom, fairly large, with two twin beds, two closets, two desks, and two nightstands. A window looks down onto the street. There are only two windows in the entire apartment, typical of European buildings. That means not much light, which is another one of my big things. Oh well. I will post pictures as soon as I can. We’re still not sure if we will be living here or upgrading to a 3 bed place to fit Ryan….or maybe me, since I’m technically the tagalong.

We rushed back to our hostel to get our bags and deposit them at the apartment before going to meet Ryan at the train station. He had been traveling in France. We got there just as his train was scheduled to arrive, but we didn’t know which platform it was on, and the schedule of arrivals didn’t list it. So we walked up and down the train station looking. No Ryan. We waited in the middle. No Ryan. We walked down to the metro. No Ryan. Finally we decided that he had decided to venture out to find the apartment on his own, so on our way back we stopped at a grocery store and bought some essential items, including toilet paper and pasta. Upon reaching the apartment, still no Ryan. Shane left a note on the front door telling him to buzz our apt number, and we sat down and enjoyed pilfering someone’s wireless. Finally when we had about given up hope of him ever finding it, our buzzer sounded. There was bedraggled Ryan, lugging two huge suitcases after traipsing all over town getting wrong directions. We made spaghetti that night with pesto and shared stories of our experiences over the past week.

I LOVE SORRENTO!!

2010-01-04T12:24:00.000-08:00

We awoke this morning (yes, I am finally up-to-date) after a good night's sleep and prepared to go see the coastal world. The hostel provided a tasty continental breakfast of cream-filled croissants, miniature toast, and freshly made coffee or cappuccino. Yet another reason why it will get a good review. We ate our fill.

After a short 10 minute walk to the train station and another 5 minute ride to the Sorrento stop, I entered the perfect, most quaint, beautiful little town I have ever been in. It is, to me, what Italy is all about. Narrow cobblestone streets, flowers in window pots, outdoor cafes, and best of all, an elevated view of the Tyrrhenian Sea. It has the best of all worlds: the sea, mountains, and palm trees!

I am sooo happy we decided to stay an extra night and see this place. I never knew anything about Sorrento and really didn't care, until I saw it. I now have a dream to buy a timeshare on top of the highest hill, and visit often. Not sure that will ever happen, but I can hope right?!

Sorrento only took half a day to see really, and it was starting to rain by the time we decided to head back to our hostel. On the way to the station I stopped in a shop to look at the clothes, and ended up buying a really cute red sweater that comes to a little above my knees. That's their style here; long coats, skinny jeans and always, always a pair of boots, be it high-heeled or flat.

We stopped in another grocery store to buy lunch foods on our way back. While there we happened to notice a box package containing the cake and wine that the hostel in Rome had gifted us, and the package deal, which included an entire cake and an entire bottle of wine, cost a whopping.....3 Euro?? Say what? Here we thought they'd gone all out on their guests but it costs them maybe .50 Euro per guest? Wow. Ok. I suppose we have to take into consideration the fact that it was a one star hotel....

Our bellies freshly full from another grocery store meal, we spent the rest of the day lazing around the hostel enjoying the luxuries of WiFi. It was raining outside anyways, and there wasn't much more to see in Sorrento. We booked the same hostel we stayed at in Milan for tomorrow night, deciding to just go back so we can get our apartment situation figured out and make sure our luggage hasn't been carried off.

Dinner tonight was much to be desired. Shane ordered steak and fries, and after much pondering I hesitatingly ordered the Mediterranean salad, which the guy said contained "lettuce, mozzarella cheese, tomatoes, corn............" The only reasons I ordered it were: A. the fries I wanted came with the steak, and I don't eat steak, B. his accent was so strong I couldn't understand the verbal menu and didn't feel like asking him to repeat it, and C. I only eat chicken, otherwise I'm vegetarian, and mostly everything on that menu was NOT chicken.

Well....Shane's steak came out looking like a cut-out slab of beef that had been pounded to a pulp, put on the grill for a couple minutes, and thrown onto the plate without seasonings. Shane said it was the worst, tasteless steak he'd ever had, with lots of fat on it. My Mediterranean salad looked like.....weeds and cheese?? What the.... What happened to the tomatoes and corn?? And since when do I eat "lettuce" that looks like weeds?? One bite told me there was a very good reason I have always refused to eat that kind of salad greens. It came with french bread, which was my only hope, but I just couldn't make myself be happy feeding my starving belly with those bitter weeds and cheese. So I went out of my comfort zone and went up to the waiter at the bar and questioned my salad that was supposed to have tomatoes and corn. (I don't even like corn in my salad, but the guy said it was supposed to have corn!!) In the middle of my pitch about my lacking salad, I decided I wanted something different altogether, so I went even farther out of my comfort zone and made myself request it....pasta with eggplant. Now, I don't like eggplant either, but I tasted some of Shane's last night and it was actually pretty good--tons better than that bitter stuff I had on my plate right then. So although I felt kinda bad about it, I got my pasta and eggplant. It had twice as much eggplant in it as Shane's had had, and I ended up pushing it all to the side. I returned my uneaten salad...but we ate the bread that came with it. Haha. All in all, it came to only 12 Euros, 6 each, so we didn't do too terribly bad. We'll be sure to make up for it tomorrow at breakfast. ;) Oh, and that good review might go down a notch or two...

Our roommates left today. The couple left a pair of headphones and the other two left an unopened bottle of wine. I guess now I'll have two to sell on Ebay! Merry Christmas to us!

Addendum: My sister just mentioned the fact that maybe you can't sell alcohol on Ebay. Good point.

Pompeii

2010-01-04T09:51:00.000-08:00

Our train left Rome at 9am for Napoli (Naples), an easy 1 hour 10 minute ride. We had recently read in our indispensable Rick Steves' Italy guide book that Naples is known for its thievery and poorness, and why live there when Sorrento was only an hour away? Since we had booked a hostel in Sorrento for the night and would still have all our bags with us if we toured Naples, we opted to cut our losses on that one too by skipping it. Instead, we would catch the commuter train, Circumvesuviana, to Pompeii instead, where we read that free luggage storage awaited us.

Sure enough, we were able to ditch our bags easily at the gates of Pompeii, an amazingly large city of ruins whose vastness I'd had no idea of. For 11 Euros each we spent hours in fascination gazing at the history of this tragic Roman city. I remember watching a documentary on Pompeii when I was a lot younger, and have always felt intrigued by it. I'd had no idea it was in Italy though, and it didn't hit me until I was inside the gates that I was actually visiting a place I had only dreamed of visiting when I was younger. It filled me with awe and gratitude that I've been able to have so many amazing opportunities to see the world. I wish my parents could have this opportunity too--I think they would love seeing Pompeii especially. In this next picture you can see Mt. Vesuvius in the background, and you can connect the two remaining peaks to picture the mountain as it was before it erupted.Regardless of our fascination, there is so much to see that after a while one crumbling building looks like the next, and our feet were aching from walking. We called it a day at Pompeii and boarded the train for the 30 minute ride to Sorrento. Unfortunately, our hostel was located one stop before actual Sorrento, and we missed it, so we had to return to a different train and wait for a few minutes before it took us the other direction. We did find our hostel with no problems, and wow, is it an improvement from our last one! It looks like a hotel that I wouldn't be able to afford, yet it's cheaper than most. Not only is it clean, modern and comfortable, it offers a free breakfast and dinners of your choice for only 5 Euro. Since it was Sunday and no stores were open, we took advantage of this option and dined on pasta. We also decided that we like this place so much would stay a second night and see the sights of Sorrento the next day.

This is the first hostel we've stayed at where we shared a dorm room. Our roomates are two girls and another couple, who all seem nice. I will post pictures of the hostel hopefully in my next blog or two.

Sightseeing in Roma

2010-01-04T07:02:00.000-08:00

Unfortunately for us, our day of sleep was a bit too much....I awoke at 5:30am wide awake! I looked across the room at Shane in his bed to find that he was looking back at me! Creeepy... haha jk. Apparently he had been awake and tossing since 2am. We decided that we might as well make the best of this situation by getting an early start on seeing the sights of Rome. I wrote a long blog before getting ready, but we were still showered and on the streets by 8am. Now for those of you who really know me, I try my best to sleep as late as I possibly can, and to have accomplished a blog, a nice leisurely shower, preparation for a sightseeing day, and even out of the building by 8am on a non-school or work day is pretty impressive.

This particular day was Saturday, or in other words our Sabbath. Typically we would have gone to church, but let me tell you that trying to find a Seventh-day Adventist church in the capital of Catholicism is NOT an easy task! Because of this we decided that being outside and viewing the awesome creations of......uh, man.....would be the best alternative. I don't think God expected us to sit in our hostel all day anyways.

We began by trying to find my favorite fountain of all, the Trevi fountain. (Look, my first picture insert!) It took us quite a while to find it, much to my chagrin. I had previously bragged to Shane how well I knew the streets of Rome without a map....well, apparently that was only the case when starting out from the hostel I stayed at last time. It took several tries, a map, and many wrong turns before we found it. But it was as glorious as I had remembered, and I took, as Shane says, a gazillion pictures.

After the Trevi came the Piazza del Popolo, where an annoying con artist tried to work his magic by offering to take a picture of us in front of a statue. He also held red roses, which he thrust into my hands, saying "Present! Present!" We declined his offer to take pictures of us, and when I tried to give back the roses he insisted that I keep them. Well, fine! As we started to walk away, he followed us like a shadow, rubbing his fingers together in the universal sign for money. We kept saying no, and I tried to hand back the roses. He wouldn't take them. (Well then leave us alone!!) Finally I put the roses on his half-limp hand and walked away. I'm assuming he caught them. I should have given him the look and tone of voice I used to give the annoying boys in grade school who were picking on me and had just gone a little too far. They always backed down, and quite suddenly I might add.

A few fun pictures with the fountains later, we climbed the steps to the lovely garden I had discovered last time I was in Rome...probably my favorite place in all of Rome. It were under construction which made it lose about 6 points on the charm scale, but we were still able to get several good pictures. The statues lining the walkway provided several minutes of camera entertainment. Following the garden we headed to the most important of sights in Rome--the Vatican. Upon FINALLY getting there, I was slightly surprised to see that it was packed with people. I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised considering it was halfway between New Year's and Epiphany. Regardless, we were able to squeeze our way into the line and see St. Peter's Bascilica, a sight that should never be skipped. We also toured the pope's tombs.

By this time we were starving, and we had no food with us or in our hostel, so we stopped in a touristy ristorante to have their Napoli special: Bruschetta, a margarita pizza, and soda. Sodas here are very expensive and you usually don't get very much, so we substituted a much-needed bottle of mineral water instead.

Fatigue and my hot and heavy boots were getting to me, so we headed back to the hostel for a few minutes to change before taking advantage of the remaining 2 hours of sunlight to see the coloseum and ruins. It seems that in the winter is when much of the construction is done, which was the case for the coloseum. We didn't do much more than take a couple pictures of it before attempting to find the entrance to the ruins. I couldn't for the life of me remember where it was (another blow to my pride) and by the time SHANE found it, it was already closed to the public. Seeing as we were leaving first thing in the morning, we considered it our loss.

On our way back to the hostel that night we visited the grocery store for the first time and bought some apples (Pink Ladies, my new favorites), oranges, bread, jelly packets, a drink, and yogurt for our supper. I had forgotten how amazingly good European yogurt was! This satisfied our stomachs for the night, which is good because it was much cheaper than our typical restaurant fare so far. As much as we tried to hold out, the early morning took it's toll, and we were in bed by 7pm. After all, we had to store up some energy for the next day's cities: Naples, Pompei, and Sorrento!

New Year's Eve in Rome, Italy

2010-01-03T08:39:00.000-08:00

Thursday, December 31, 2009

Upon arriving at the Rome train station, we found our way to our hostel after a few misguided loops around the blocks. Nice because it was actually only a block away from the train station. Pensione Giamaica was on the 4^th floor of a non-descriptive building, and we were greeted at the locked door by a big barking dog. An old woman came to answer the door, didn’t speak English, and seemed to nearly threaten to not have us because we didn’t have the printout of our reservation. Say what?? Finally after a quick phone call on her part, the man who actually ran the place came to our rescue. He spoke English in a thick accent, was very talkative and helpful, and showed us to our cute little lime green room. He chattered all the while about how if we go out for New Year’s, there’s a free concert by the Coliseum that we should go to and stay at for a few minutes before and after midnight because it’s traditional for people to throw old household items out their windows at midnight. It was also the time when guys liked to pull out guns in their revelry. Uhh… Once the concert was over, it was also traditional for people to make the trek across the city to the piazza square, where I guess more festivities occured.

A few minutes after we settled in, he brought us a tray containing huge pieces of cake and two glasses of wine. What is it with Italians offering wine as a welcome gift? I guess that is kind of their trademark. The cake was delicious, packed with raisins and dusted sugar, and we ate every crumb. Thanks for our second (meager) meal of the day! After eating this and unpacking, we decided (or maybe I decided) that we were tired enough that a nap sounded really good before heading out for the festivities. So we set our alarm for 9:30pm and had a great and much-needed nap.

The trek to the Coliseum was a bit of a failure. That particular metro stop was closed off, I suppose to avoid congestion. Tons of people were out and about, and the holiday spirit was apparent in the whistling, whooping, and hollering of several of the young locals. It made me wish I spoke Italian so I could feel more a part of the fun. We made two misguided stops on the metro due to this non-existent Coliseum stop, and finally just decided to wing it on foot by following our map and the locals. It was raining off and on by this point, and it was a pain trying to compete with so many umbrellas. To make a long story short, after several wrong turns and changing of minds, we made it to the concert area 20 minutes before midnight, and pushed our way through the thousands of people as close to the front as we could get. It was impossible to get to the very front, as by this point everyone was pushed so tightly together you couldn’t get through even if you wanted to. I didn’t even have to hold myself up. The concert was in Italian of course, and everyone around us was singing merrily along. The spirit was catching, but like I said, the language barrier kind of dampered the fun for me. The countdown started at 66 seconds, and the huge chant arose as people got their wine bottles and glasses ready. I was taking pictures with our nice camera, and at the midnight strike Shane and I didn’t get to kiss because I was frantically trying to stuff the camera in his coat to avoid the shower of wine being sprayed up into the air all around us. As a result my white and only coat now has purple spots all over it, which I have a feeling won’t ever come out. Pictures thereafter sport a red trickle of wine running down my throat, which I never knew was there. It looks slightly like blood. Haha.

After the countdown and the rain of wine, the fireworks began, both in the sky and on the ground. Those on the ground miraculously cleared a huge gap in the crowd—how, I don’t know—but the ones in the sky were gorgeous. We got several pictures, but none of them are spectacular, as trying to take pictures of fireworks is always hard.

The crowd began slightly dispersing after this and a huge circle became the fireworks/bottle dump. Tons of bottles were thrown into the center, followed by fireworks loud enough to cause you to go deaf. Shane and I walked around the perimeter taking pictures of the merrymakers and the ruins of Rome. Empty or half-empty wine bottles littered the streets everywhere, and vendors sold them on the curbs. Finally, when the chill of the air started to penetrate even my two layers of coats, we headed back to our hostel, dodging broken bottles and vomit. We saw 3 abandoned high heeled shoes along the way, and a few homeless guys huddled in doorways with a line of those half-empty wine bottles. Merry Christmas to them! Our stomachs were very hungry by now, and we searched for open restaurants on the way. Hardly any were open anymore, and by the time we got back to our hostel we had given up finding any hot food worth eating. We made do by buying two apples and a bottle of water, supplementing it with our pistachios and cookies left over from Christmas dinner. This satisfied us enough and we went to sleep around 2:30am.

In the morning we awoke, talked for a bit, and I decided to go back to sleep for a while because I still felt exhausted. We set the alarm for around noon, and settled back into our beds. I’m not sure whether I heard the alarm go off or not, but Shane never woke me up, and I never woke him up. As a result, we both woke up around 4:30 in the afternoon!! Our whole day had been wasted by sleeping! I couldn’t believe what a lazy bum I had been, but I just felt sooo tired! This was supposed to be our sightseeing day, and I felt bad that I had kept Shane from seeing Rome. We decided then to stay one more night in Rome, sightsee the next day, then continue on our journey without coming back for Epiphany.

Needless to say, our activities this day were minimal. We went to the train station and bought reservations for a train to Naples on Sunday morning. We decided to go there, then take the commuter train to Pompeii, then a little farther south to Sorrento, where we would stay the night. With this taken care of, food was next on our mind. We went to a little pizza and pasta restaurant and had, you guessed it, Margarita pizza, along with spinach ravioli. The pizza was lacking compared to the other two I’ve had, and the ravioli was different, but good. There wasn’t very much of either, but it filled us up. We paid 17 Euro for this meal, including the sitting fee. Shane is already losing weight, and I’m sure I’m not far behind!

From here we tried to find free internet but to no avail. The two McDonald’s the train station sported required an Italian cell phone for the password, which of course we didn’t have. We finally sighed at our loss and paid for 20 minutes of internet at a café, where we made reservations for what promises to be a great little hostel in Sorrento. With all the important things completed, we headed back to our hostel, looked at the pictures we’d taken thus far, and settled in to sleep a mere 8 hours after we last got up.

And off we go!

2010-01-03T08:34:00.000-08:00

Note: The next two blogs actually happened a couple days ago…I haven’t had internet connection recently so I just now got around to posting them.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Our flight began with discovering we were sitting much farther back in the plane than we expected, and not having any space for our luggage in the overhead compartments…I had to stick mine in the next row over, which meant being one of the last people off the plane. Thank goodness for international flights having individual video screens in front of you to watch movies in case you suffer from insomnia. Like me. I managed to evade sleep (unwillingly) for the entire 9 hour flight, which was during my night time. By the time we arrived in London, it was 1 pm their time and I had to do another whole day over again without any sleep. An hour into our flight we were served a surprisingly tasty meal of 3-cheese pasta, a roll, taboulli-type salad, and blueberry cake. After finishing our meal we were all served Earl Gray tea in actual teacups—the tea I came to love when living in Poland but hadn’t had since. Yay for British flights! This was all done at 10:00 at night. A mere 6 hours later in the “morning” we were served breakfast, which consisted of a soggy turkey ham & cheese sandwich, yogurt, orange juice, and a tiny packet of granola to convert our yogurt into a parfait. Due to the fact that I hadn’t slept off my supper like everyone else, I wasn’t the least bit hungry and only had a few bites of yogurt and my orange juice.

My exhaustion diminished a bit once the sun came up and we were allowed to raise the window shades. Because our first flight was delayed 2 hours, we were able to get to our next connection to Milan and leave with hardly any waiting time, aside from the blessed 10 minutes I spent in the bathroom brushing my teeth and washing my face. The plane to Milan was much less packed, and Shane and I were able to both store our luggage close to us, as well as have the third seat next to us to ourselves. I utilized this by stretching out and getting as close to sleep as I got on the entire trip. Unfortunately by the time our 1.5 hour flight was over, Shane and I were both exhausted, and all we wanted was a bed to sleep in.

The search for luggage storage in the Milan Linate airport was a pain. After some confusing directions we finally found it. Through a sign and a non-English-speaking Italian, we discovered it costs 3.50 Euro per day, per bag…until the next day. Then it would rise to 7.00 Euro due to the holiday season. We debated on it and decided to go find our hostel in the hopes than maybe it would offer luggage storage too. At least we would save 3.50 Euro for the night we wouldn’t be storing it.

The trip to our hostel is another story. After buying tickets for bus 73, we hopped on and enjoyed the ride to….what stop again? The fast-speaking driver on the loudspeaker wasn’t very useful in announcing the street names, and often the electronic signs on the bus stops were out of order. Eventually I decided to make use of the curious woman staring at me from across the aisle, and asked her if she knew which stop to get off at, according to the street we needed. She kindly used her small bit of English to let us know how many more stops it would be, and we hopped off. One more hurdle down. The directions the hostel posted on the website were lacking a bit, telling us to keep walking (but what direction??) until we got to the Supermarket “Simple.” We were confused whether we were supposed to walk down the main street or go down the one we were dropped off at. We continued walking down the main busy street until we had almost convinced ourselves that we were going the wrong way. Thankfully Shane and his keen eyes saw a woman walking by with shopping bags from Simple, and we asked her and her English-speaking companion where it was. All we had to do was keep walking a little farther down the street we were on. Upon finding it, we read the directions for the hotel further. “You should see the sign for Hotel Rossovino directly across from the supermarket.” We looked across the street. Really? We’re supposed to be able to see a hotel sign in that row of dark, typical concrete unmarked buildings? We walked farther down the street. Maybe it was across from the end of the supermarket. Nope. Are our eyes just really bad? We walked across the street and traversed up and down the sidewalk. I surmised that it had to be in a certain small block of buildings since there were only so many across from the supermarket, but for the life of me I never saw a sign of any kind. Finally a man passed us, eyed us and our huge trail of bags, and said “hotel” and pointed behind us. Behind us was what looked like a gate that you see going into private apartment complexes, only it was another type of private street with buildings and apartments on either side. I hadn’t figured that the hotel would be down there since the directions said “you will see the hotel.” But since the man seemed to know what he was talking about, and it was freezing, we took his advice.

Sure enough, building 9 housed Hotel Rossovino, a brand new, fairly plush for cheap European standards hotel. The youngish guy at the front desk spoke good English and was very helpful. This was the hotel where we had been able to reserve a private room and bathroom, which was nice since we were exhausted. We were handed a huge, old-fashioned castle dungeon-like key complete with a huge tassel, and a bottle opener, because apparently they give you a bottle of wine in your room just for booking it. Since we don’t drink wine I stashed it in my bag to either sell or give to someone who would appreciate it more than me. To our delight we were told that we could store our luggage downstairs there for a few days free of charge, all they wanted was a good review. Thank goodness we didn’t pay for storage at the airport! Our room was small but cute, with lush burgundy colors and an itsy bitsy bathroom. Complete with a blow drier for your hands, no towel. The floors were unfortunately tile and cold, and the entire hotel was so bare and basic that it echoed every sound. I hoped that the huge racket coming from the entry-way, about 10 feet from our room, would settle down by bedtime. If all else failed, I had my trusty earplugs.

Speaking of bedtime, it had been mine for the past 12-ish hours. I felt I couldn’t even enjoy being back in Europe because I was so exhausted. But we still had to eat and go to the train station to check the schedule for departures to Rome. The bus ride to the train station was simple enough, and we trooped through the huge cold cavernous building looking for a train schedule. There was none, other than immediate departures. We found the ticket counter for future use in the morning, and even late at night there was a huge mass of people waiting to get on various trains. I guess everyone decided to get out of Milan for New Year’s. The thought occurred to me that we should buy our reservations then, but Shane didn’t have his Eurail pass with him and for some reason it didn’t really hit me that morning trains might already be booked. Instead we looked up train times on the automated ticket machine. It seemed one left every hour for Rome.

We left the train station and found a cute little restaurant across from it that served Asian and Italian cuisine. We ordered tomato & basil pasta and a margarita pizza, which I knew would be good based on my previous experience in Rome. Sure enough, I loved both of them. There is no way to describe how good Italian pizza is to me. I don’t even really like pizza. Every time I have the opportunity to have it in the US I usually decline. I just don’t see the hype over it. But Italian margarita pizza? Mmm! I could eat it every day. The pasta was excellent too, simply because it wasn’t drenched in sauce, which I have never liked either. Can you tell that Italian food in the US really isn’t my favorite? We ordered water with our meal, and it came in a large bottle. Thankfully it wasn’t the notorious bubbly European water. After our meal I took the half-empty bottle and stashed it in my bag, but the waitress came over and told us that we pay by ounce—if we wanted the entire bottle we had to pay 15 Euros. Interesting. We apparently drank 2 Euros worth. We also were charged an automatic service charge of 3 Euros. Still more interesting. Total, we paid 12.80 for our meal, which comes out to around $18-19. Quite a bit more than I was used to paying for my European meals 3 years ago, but it was worth it to me.

After the delicious meal, we got the joyous task of trying to figure out which bus would take us back to our hostel. The maps on the bus stops were not helpful. Finally we made a decision between the two candidates and proceeded to stand around in the cold for seemingly forever, waiting for it to arrive. Once back at our hostel we took showers, re-packed our travel backpacks for Rome, and blessedly crawled into bed. I slept like a log, never even changing positions throughout the night. Early in the morning the echoey-ness of the hotel came to haunt me in the form of two loud chattery girls leaving who apparently don’t know the meaning of respect-the-sleeping. I put in my ear plugs and went back to sleep until it was time to get up at 8:00.

Thursday, December 31, 2009—New Year’s Eve

After getting ready and securing our bags with what few locks we had, we went to the front desk to claim what they had said was a free breakfast delivered to our room. There was no one at the desk. Great. No free breakfast, and no one to tell us what to do with our bags for storage. We must have waited around there for nearly an hour. There was no bell to ring for service. A phone sat on the desk for guests to use but any instructions for calling the desk worker there may have been were in Italian. I don’t even think there were any. Since the guy the night before had said that it was a 24-hour desk, I was beginning to think my good review of them in exchange for luggage storage might go down a notch or two. What if we had had a specific train ticket instead of a Eurail pass? Finally when we were about ready to leave our bags behind the front desk with a note, a girl walked in the door. Did she work here? Si! Did she speak English? No! Wonderful. While I finished securing the bags, Shane used our internet service to find an online translator, where he wrote a message saying we were told we could leave our bags there, could she please help us do that? Upon going back to the front desk, we discovered she was gone. What? What kind of 24-hour desk was this? We waited another 10 minutes or so until she got back from the supermarket with what I assume was her breakfast. Well what about ours?? After reading Shane’s translated message, she nodded, Si, we could store them. She pointed down, and we assumed she meant we could take them downstairs like the guy had said, which turned out to be a slightly creepy concrete basement with basically a bunch of dusty junk in it. Strange of them to make us store them down here, but I guess it’s free so what can you expect? Halfway through sweeping out a spot for them in a corner of one of the 3 rooms, the girl came down the stairs. No, no! Upstairs! she gestured. Well now I felt dumb. Here we were traipsing down into the “Private” abandoned basement to leave our belongings. Taking us back upstairs, she indicated that we should just leave the bags in our room. Um. “But it’s for 7 days.” I used my fingers in case that helped. “Oooh 7 days…” She pursed her lips as she finally understood the predicament we had been trying to get her to understand all along. She made a couple phone calls and came back, telling us in a flurry of Italian that we could still leave them in the room. Whether they would leave them there or move them later, we didn’t know. But at least when we left she locked that room. I just hope someone is there when we get back to give them back to us!

Thankful that we finally resolved one more issue, we took the bus to the train station again and stood in the long line to activate our Eurail passes and buy reservations. Reservations cost us $30 round-trip, and all the trains were booked until one at 2:00. It was only 10:00. Lame of us to not consider the fact that they would all be booked because of New Year’s. But even worse, what would we do for 4 hours in the cold? Breakfast was #1 on our minds, and we traipsed down the streets around the train station looking for a suitable place. Nothing seemed to be open except for bars (which seem to double as coffee shops and cafes) and small pastry shops. We finally bought a small cinnamon-bread-like thing and went into one of the bars for hot chocolate. Man I missed the hot chocolate here! It’s the consistency of thick gravy, and I’m sure is actual melted chocolate with milk added. Delicious. We ate this small portion of food and it filled us up enough to be content for the time being.

The remainder of the 3-hour wait was spent sitting on the floor in the ticket area of the train station, which was the warmest part but still severely lacking. Once our train arrived we followed the mass of people, got help on how to know which train car was ours, and have settled in for the 3-ish hour ride to Rome. The past 20 minutes have annoyingly been tunnels, which make my ears plug up and pop unrelentlessly. Enviously, Shane is having a peaceful sleep beside me.

I realize this has been very long. Hopefully I can post shorter, more frequent posts later on.

Twiddling my thumbs

2009-12-29T16:06:00.000-08:00

So the day has arrived!! My stomach actually had butterflies as we pulled into the Seattle airport. I haven’t really mentally prepared to not be in the USA for 3 months. Last night and this morning was torture, trying to scramble to pack our bags and realizing, after packing and repacking about 5 times, that we simply had too much stuff to only check 2 bags. Even after getting rid of more and more things. That's what we get for going in the winter time.

Once we got to the surprisingly empty airport and checked in, we found out that we had to pay $60 instead of $50 for our 3^rd bag. What? It was a backpack and less weight than the other two by far! Oh well, what can you do. We then proceeded to go through customs which we had been sure would be crazy busy and tedious. Not so. We were through in 10 minutes and didn’t even have to take off our clothes or have strange hands feeling all over us. Haha I joke…kinda. But after that stunt pulled recently by the idiot in Amsterdam, I was expecting the worst.

As lucky as we got going through customs here, we didn’t get any luck from the other side. Apparently their customs are crazy enough that our flight is delayed 2 hours and 10 minutes. Boo! We get to sit here in this dead airport for another 4 hours. Oh well. I suppose I should be happy we aren’t stuck in a line. Shane’s dad just told us that the road we came in on is now stopped because two policemen got shot. Thank goodness we got here as early as we did, because we just barely missed the standstill traffic over that. So I will count my blessings and pray that the family of the policeman who was killed will somehow make it through.

There is the cutest little girl speaking German in front of me. I love international flights. This is where the fun starts. :)

Who Ever Said I Have Too Much Baggage??

2009-12-23T13:57:00.000-08:00

Hostel booked for the first night in Milan: check. Bus route to get from the airport to the central train station: check. Metro route to get to our hostel: check. Luggage storage for 1 week while we romp around in Rome: major fail.

For those who may ever run into this problem, through various research I have discovered that the Central train station in Milan does in fact have a luggage storage. It is open daily from 6am to 12pm. However, it costs about 3.80 Euro for the first 5 hours, 0.60 Euro for each additional hour from the 6th-12th, and from the 12th hour on, only 0.20 Euro....let's see, one week would add up to how many hours again?? Not only this but it's per bag--Shane and I were planning on having 3-4 bags to store, and they are massive bags. I read somewhere else that they only allow a max. of 20 kg per bag. That is somewhere around 44 pounds. How annoying that they only allow 44 pounds when the airlines will let us take at least 50. Why can't everyone just keep it the same? Are we supposed to unpack 6 pounds? What a nuisance.

This is about where Shane's persuasion skills came in. Previously we planned to each take 2 checked bags and two small carry-ons (it's 3 months ok!). Alas, we discovered that these days only 1 free bag is allowed; every bag after that is $50. One way. Two extra bags=$200 round trip. Boo. So Shane convinced me to try taking only 1 checked bag for myself, and we would split a third. A few days after stressing over this I finally confessed that I really didn't think that was possible! If it weren't for my shoes....! Just kidding...sorta. I blame it on the bulky winter clothing. In all honesty I thought I was doing pretty good; I was bringing a lot less than I had the first trek around Europe. So we decided to go back to Plan A and each take 2 bags. Whew! What a relief for me! (But not for moneyman Shane.) But then last night he worked his convincing magic on me again (it was one of those times where you think it's your idea but it's really not) and somehow I began to believe that I could do without a lot of what I had planned to bring, and that we could each only bring one checked bag = free!! So I excitedly put on my "roughing it" mindset and ditched about half of my clothes and a third of my shoes...Viola! One checked bag! It's really still quite a lot of stuff, once you think about the two carry-ons I will have. Shane also helped convince me to bring my hiking backpack instead of my classy red crocodile skin bag. I wouldn't have wanted to carry it around with no wheels anyways.

So I rest a little bit more peacefully at night, knowing that in worst case scenarios, we will either store 2 large bags for a week or bring them with us...after all it's better than 4 each! I remember the days when Lydia and I struggled up the cobblestone streets of Paris lugging 2 huge suitcases whose wheels were doing the splits, 2 (rather large) carry-on types, and a humongous bag of food. Oooh that food bag! It's still occasionally the topic of discussion, usually in the "remember how horrible that was" category. Sweat and tempers skyrocketed during those terrible luggage-hauling days. Never again!

So to Shane, I thank you, for keeping me happier and less stressed in the long run! :)

It's Finally Hitting Me

2009-12-22T15:47:00.000-08:00

Up until now I've just been thinking about my upcoming trip to Europe, but last night Shane and I finally sat down (a little late in the game in my opinion) and made our plans for New Year's. We will be staying one night somewhere in Milan, then using our handy-dandy 10-day Italy Eurail pass to make the trek down to Rome, where we will spend a week celebrating the intro of 2010 with the people who know how to celebrate the best. After a few hours of searching through various hostels online and groaning over the skyrocketed holiday prices, I finally convinced Shane to just book the hostel that Lydia and I had stayed at previously: Freedom Traveler hostel. Seemed good enough, so we booked it through the 6th so we could be there for Italy's Epiphany.

Let's get sidetracked for a minute: For those of you who don't know what Epiphany is, it's a Christian feast day which celebrates the revelation of God in human form in the person of Jesus Christ. (I just now copied and pasted that from Google because I had no idea what it was either.) I read that in Vatican City a procession of hundreds of people in medieval costumes walk along the wide avenue leading up to the Vatican, carrying symbolic gifts for the Pope. The Pope says a morning mass in St Peter's Basilica to commemorate the visit of the wise men bearing gifts for Jesus. So although I'm not Catholic and have nothing to do with the Pope, I can't help but be excited to be there during their traditional celebration.

Back to that hostel. Unfortunately after we booked our week's stay and breathed a sigh of relief (I'm certain mine was bigger than Shane's), we noticed that it had booked us for the wrong dates! Great. Suck back in that sigh of relief. Upon writing them an email questioning this disaster, we were told that reservations for this time of year were required to be 4 days' stay and must begin on the 29th of December. Not possible, since we would be in the air on that day. Thankfully Shane, being the cautious, no-risk person that he is had taken advantage of their $2 cancellation protection, which allowed us to receive a credit for the deposit that could be used to book a different hostel on that same website. (Hostelworld.com, for other travelers out there.)

Because our plans had been demolished and we could start all over, we decided that since we'd be in southernish Italy for a whole week, we should just book the first two nights in Rome and then use our Eurail pass to travel to other neighboring cities during the week before going back to Rome for Epiphany. So my afternoon consisted of searching the alarmingly increasing lack of hostel vacancies for the first two nights' stay in Rome. I even entertained the idea of using couchsurfing.com, which is a network of thousands of people worldwide opening their homes to travelers free of charge, lending a couch and a hot shower for a night or two. If I were more familiar with this method of travel and had thought ahead to avoid the holiday rush, this would be a great way to save money. Maybe in our future travels we will look into it. But for now I finally found and booked a room in Pensione Giamaica, and actually was able to snag a private room with two twin beds for about the same price as some other 12-bed hostel rooms. This will make Shane happy because he's never done the hostel scene before and is concerned about theft in a room of 12 beds with 12 strangers. Understandable. Hopefully this will decrease those chances....this once. Haha. Overall, I hope that he is able to see the fun and enjoyment of living a bit on the unknown side by not quite knowing where your next bed or meal will be, or sharing a room with 12 fellow travelers who usually turn out to be quite friendly and interesting. While not always fun during, those are some of the things I remember most fondly from my previous Europe excursions.

With the issue of where to lay our heads the first two nights in Rome taken care of, my next quest will be for a place to stay in Milan the first night, luggage storage in Milan so we don't have to sweat too much trying to get on the train, and places to visit during our week in southern Italy. Wish me luck! :)

Just Waiting...

2009-12-10T15:23:00.000-08:00

So as I mentioned in my last post, my plans to successfully complete board exams and find a decent job by, oh, January were destroyed....happily destroyed I might add. The story goes that Shane and his roommate/classmate Ryan were miraculously 2 of the...well, 2...to be accepted to participate in a type of exchange program between their MBA program here and the MIP college in Milan, Italy for the winter quarter. 2 1/2 months.

Guess who gets the girlfriend priviledge of tagging along??!! That's right, ME!!! You can't even imagine how excited I am even now just thinking about reliving my experiences in Europe 3-something years ago! Of course, it will definitely be different; Shane is not Lydia, we'll be there in the winter instead of the summer, and I will still be lugging along my schoolbooks in the attempts to study during my time there, due to the fact that I desperately need to take boards and get a job as soon as I get back in March. Did I mention that I ran out of money about a month ago? Shane, being the sweetie that he is, has agreed to not let me go hungry or homeless until I can find a job. Of course, back when he agreed to that we weren't planning on a 2.5-month jaunt to Europe. Haha. Poor Shane.

Don't worry I'm not mean. I'll be paying every cent back.

Before we leave for Italy at the end of December, we're making a pit stop in Washington to spend Christmas with Shane's family. While there I'll also get to see Lydia and her boyfriend Dennis, and we all plan to go snowboarding sometime. Please pray for my bum.

Currently storage day is set for tomorrow, and my apartment has been packed up for about a week now. I've eaten microwave popcorn for supper three nights in a row. Guess that's what I get for jumping the gun and packing all my dishes.

So for now as I sit and write this blog, I'm just waiting...impatiently. :)

This Is Me

2009-12-10T13:25:00.001-08:00

So in this first blog I thought I should perhaps give a background of who I am and what led me to begin writing a new blog, for those who are interested. So here goes!

My name is Ashelle (pronounced uh-shell, not Ashley) and I've managed to stay alive for 25 years. I have one older sister, Lydia, and two loving parents who are still together. I was born in Kansas, raised in Nebraska, and at the age of 12 moved to the piney woods of east Texas (the pretty part that no one seems to know exists). At the time I had been home schooled my entire life, and although it was one of the best things that could have ever happened to me as far as education goes, my enrollment in a "real" school by 7th grade happened early enough to save me from ending up a social misfit.

The small community I lived in was mostly made up of Seventh-day Adventists, like me, and sported a church strategically built in between the elementary school and the academy across the street. A tiny "healthfood" store across from the academy sold candy for the kids and vegetarian foods for the adults. Our house was located 1/2 mile from this thriving metropolis, and it was my sheltered world until I flew the coop for my first year of college, 3 hours away.

After attending college in Texas for one exciting year, I gave in to Lydia's enticing suggestions to attend a college in Washington state with her. This is where I stayed for the remainder of my college life, majoring in Undecideds, Boys, pre-Chiropractic, pre-Physical Therapy....and finally one that I stuck with: pre-Physical Therapist Assistant.

After my second year of college came the pivotal part of my life in which Lydia and I decided we wanted to take a year out to become student missionaries in Poland. There is no way I can describe how amazing that year was for me. It was by far the most momentous, exciting, awe-inspiring year of my life. In between teaching English classes (which, I'll be honest, I'm a sucky teacher) we saved half of our meager stipend and used it to explore the land of Europe. Among our several stops were Germany, Lithuania, Austria, Hungary, Czech Republic, France, and Italy. Our adventures as two girls traveling alone cannot be surpassed, and we have even considered making a book of our numberous blogs from that trip. In the meantime, however, I cannot help but keep the memories alive by recording my own account of the adventure that I am about to embark on. :) But more about that in my next blog.

After completing my pre-PTA requirements in Washington, I transferred down to the sunny state of Califoria, specifically Loma Linda University, to complete the actual PTA program. While there I made more memories and friends to last a lifetime. Despite having a class that felt like family, it was difficult because during my last year at college in Washington I began dating an amazing guy named Shane, and when I left for California we decided to try to stick it out despite the distance. It was extremely hard, but to make along story short, we made it! A little over two years down the road now and we are still going strong.

After graduating, I made my way upstate to be where Shane would be completing his engineering masters degree. It is here that I snatched up a cute little apartment and planned to putter around studying for my board exams before landing a job that would miraculously erase my financial stress... But things don't always go according to plan........