Czech Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself

I fell asleep in Germany and woke up in the Czech Republic. No, this isn't a "Hangover"-type scenario; I just fell asleep in the middle of my 8-hour bus ride from Frankfurt to Prague.

I'd had a restful last few days in Germany: I visited with family in Butzbach and Rechtenbach, and done a lot of running and hiking, even a bit of shopping.

My trip to Prague kicked off at 4:00 AM on Wednesday, when my aunt's friend picked me up and drove with me to the Mainz train station, where we caught the train to Frankfurt, and found my bus.

I took advantage of the fact that there was no one in the seat next to me, and put my feet up, luxuriating in the extra space and delighting in the free Wi-Fi on board.

After my little catnap, I got off the bus at 3:30 PM, surrounded by signs written in words with far too few vowels. I dug out my map and got oriented, making a beeline for my hostel, eager to dump my stuff so I could start getting familiar with the city that would be my home for the next four nights.

I managed to find my way from the bus station to the hostel in 20 minutes, taking only two wrong turns in the process. Weary from the walk and glad that I'd finally arrived, and was I walked up to the reception desk, where I was told that my room was currently flooded, and I would be relocated to their sister hostel "not far" from there.

As you can imagine, it was not what I had been hoping to hear, but I didn't want to get off on the wrong foot with Prague, so I took a deep breath, heaved my pack back onto my back, and stomped out (I felt entitled to a little pettiness).

My new hostel was about a 7-minute walk away, and helpfully labeled with yellow flags. I punched the buzzer several times--it was rather stiff and I wasn't sure it had buzzed--and was greeted with an irritated male voice: "I heard you the first time!" Oops. Once I got up to reception and gave my name, the guy (who had clearly been warned I was coming) started falling all over himself to apologize for the inconvenience, and to tell me everything that I needed to know about my sleeping arrangements for the next four nights. My feathers slightly less ruffled, I went to my room with fairly good grace.

I had some trouble with the lock, but finally managed to get the door open. The one guy in the room, seated on an upper bunk, told me he'd been about to get down and help me with the door. We went through the standard travelers' introduction (where are you from, where are you going, where have you been, etc.) while I stuffed my things into my locker and claimed a bunk.

My new friend introduced me to a couple of the people he'd been hanging out with for the last few days, then asked if I wanted to grab dinner. I was glad that I wouldn't have to try to find my way around a new city in the fading light, so we wandered around, settling for pasta (and beer, of course) at a hotel restaurant not far from the Old Town Square. We meandered back, he pointing out the landmarks to find the way back to the hostel, and me secretly thinking about how badly I needed to pee.

The hostel common room was more crowded now, both with people just checking in and others arriving back after a day in the city. I had been scheming to curl up in my bunk and go to sleep, but was convinced to postpone my Granny bedtime and check out the nightlife with a couple of people.

Bet you didn't know that the largest nightclub in Central Europe is located in Prague. I didn't, either. It's 5 stories tall, located right next to Prague's famous Charles Bridge. So my first nightclub was one of the largest and most famous on the entire continent. No big deal.

The really cool thing about this club was that each floor had its own theme and genre of music. I spent a good amount of time busting moves on the R'n'B floor (I know...I was surprised, too), but my favorite was the Oldies floor (no surprise there). Everyone else called it an early night, but I was more than ready for bed when we finally headed back around 1:00.

Day 2 in Prague was spent on a tour of the city. In the morning, my guide led us around the Old Town, the New Town (which isn't really that new...it's been around since the 1700s), and the Jewish Quarter, and then we crossed the river to check out Prague castle in the afternoon.

Highlights of the tour include:
--Many movies with scenes set in Europe are filmed here in Prague, including Casino Royale.
--Every building in Prague has 2 numbers. The red one is the old one, when houses were numbered in a spiral pattern within their district. The blue numbers are more conventional, going in order down the street, and make it a lot easier to find what you're looking for.
--The astronomical clock is apparently the 2nd most disappointing tourist attraction in Europe. (But if you have a tour guide with you to explain it and give it some historical context, it's actually pretty cool.)
--The lights that shine on Prague castle were commissioned and paid for by the Rolling Stones.
--The metronome on the top of the hill replaced what had been the largest stone statue of Stalin. The metronome represents the time that was lost during the years of communism.
--Czechs are very proud of the fact that beer was invented right here in the Czech Republic. (Pilsner is named for the town in which it was invented: Pilsen.) What the Czech people will only grudgingly admit, however, is that it was a Bavarian (a.k.a., a German) who actually did the inventing.
--Prague castle is frequently described as "architectural lasagna," because there are so many different styles within the palace.

I'm not sure how many kilometers I walked over the course of the tour, but it was enough that I didn't have the energy to go out in search of dinner. Shout out to my aunt for packing such a stellar care package; I had enough provisions for a substantial dinner without leaving the hostel again that night.

I had planned to visit the Petřín lookout tower on Friday, but since I'd had such a great view of the city from the castle the day before, I spontaneously decided to visit the Jewish Museum instead.

It was incredibly moving. Part of the museum was a synagogue, in which every wall was inscribed with the names of Jews in Czechoslovakia who were killed during the Holocaust. There were millions of names.

In the attic of the synagogue was an exhibit comprised of art created by children in Terezín concentration camp. They used art to express what was happening to them now, what life had been like before, and their hopes and dreams for the future. The artwork, collected and hidden by Friedl Dicker-Brandeis (who was later killed in Auschwitz), is the only record that many of these children even existed.

Exhibits like these make it possible to really comprehend what happened. When you read in a textbook that more than 5 million Jews were killed during the Holocaust, it doesn't really mean anything. You can't really picture 5 million people. All the names on the wall helped me visualize just how many, and the children's artwork made those names into real people.

I think it is extremely important when traveling to make an effort to see the darker side of some of these beautiful places, and to remember what happened there. Part of experiencing a place is recognizing it for what it was, not just what it is now.

As you can probably imagine, I felt pretty drained after my visit to the Jewish Museum, so I just wandered through town to give myself time to process what I had seen. I made my way up to the metronome, and then decided that the John Lennon wall was just what I needed right now. Though I was tempted to break out my phone for directions, I relied on a paper map and my own sense of direction, and got there in one try.

There was a guitarist there, playing what sounded like his own music, which took the wall to a whole other level. I threw some change into his guitar case, then caught sight of the sign that read: "Need money to fix my time machine so I can go back to the 60s." I threw in a few more coins for that one.

As I traipsed back in the general direction of my hostel, I got some dinner (traditional goulash and beer), as well as some ice cream. I then stopped in a secondhand shop and bought a skirt for 80 crowns (about $3.35 USD). I debuted my new skirt that night at the opera.

That's right, I went to an opera. I paid about $10.50 for a seat at that night's show at the National Theater. It was only after I was in my seat, reading the playbill (helpfully printed in English as well as in Czech), that I realized I was seeing La Bohème, the opera upon which Rent was based. It was a pretty great show in a gorgeous venue. 

The highlight of my night came when I was walking back from the theater, when two women asked me for directions to Charles Bridge. Ten points to Gryffindor for looking like a local, and ten more for actually being able to give them directions!

I spent my last full day in Prague at the National Gallery in Veletržní palác, where (among others) I saw works by Pablo Picasso, Gustav Klimt, Andy Warhol, and my new favorite Czech artist, František Kupka. And, I saw my first Van Gogh in person! Green Corn. I didn't even know the gallery had a Van Gogh until I turned the corner and there it was. So, of course, I had to sneakily take a selfie with it.

I ate a late lunch after wandering to Wenceslas Square on the other side of town, and swung by the Asian exhibit of the National Gallery. I honestly wasn't particularly interested in it, but it was on my way back to my hostel, and covered by my ticket from the morning, so why not. It was a lot of cool metal statues, intricately carved wooden boxes, elaborate tapestries, and detailed ceramics.

So, in summary: today, I went to some museums, saw a lot of pretty stuff, and managed not to learn a single thing. Not bad for my last day in Prague.

Vienna, here I come!

P.S. If you're looking for some laughs, go on YouTube and search "Czech president drunk," or "Czech president steals pen."

P.P.S. Typing this on a Czech keyboard was extremely challenging.

Another Mishap: Repercussions of Mishap #1

So you know how I had a mishap before I even got to Europe? One in which I accidentally purchased a bus ticket for August 25th instead of September 25th? Yeah, that one came back around to bite me.

The night before I left my aunt's house to come to Prague, I printed out my bus and train tickets for the next few journeys. Thanks to her friend taking me directly to the bus station in Frankfurt, journey #1 (Frankfurt to Prague) went off without a hitch.

Tomorrow is the 25th of September, and since I wanted my morning departure to go smoothly, I was double-checking my hostel room to make sure I'd packed everything, and double-checking that I had my ticket ready to go. It was then that I noticed: I'd printed the wrong ticket.

That's right, the ticket in my hand was for that bus on August 25th.

Starting to panic, I scoured my emails to find the train ticket that I was sure I'd bought. When I searched "Vienna," all that came up was the stupid bus ticket. Really freaking out now, I went through my emails one by one, finally finding one for "Praha to Wien." Why does every language have to have its own name for the same dang city?

Wild-eyed, I booked it to the hostel reception desk, hoping that they could print it for me. The oh-so-patronizing guy at the desk told me to relax; nine times out of ten, you can pull up your ticket on your phone and they'll accept it. I told him I just wanted to be sure, so where could I print a paper copy? He told me that all I had to do was take the yellow metro line 13 stops to the end, then get on bus number 112 and take it for 5 stops, and the copy center would be right in front of me when I got off the bus.

Internally, I was panicking. I'd taken the tram all of once in this city. There was no way I'd be able to figure out the metro and the bus to get there in time to print my ticket before they closed, let alone get back before dark. But I stood no chance trying to find a copy shop on my own, so I peeled off the map he'd scribbled on and prepared to go figure it out.

The other guy working reception decided to speak up at this point. He called the other guy a jerk and explained to me that I could walk about five blocks, where the nearest copy center actually was. He drew the route on my map, and I set off in tears. I mean, I don't trust people on the street here, but you'd think that the people working in the hostel wouldn't do something so mean.

I made it to the copy center, where the guy handed me a key card on a lanyard and then pointed to the nearest computer. After struggling for 5 minutes to get logged in, I watched a girl waltz over and log in by tapping her card at the base of the monitor. I did the same, and managed to get logged in to Gmail and pull up my ticket. I then got stuck on the print settings (which were all in Czech, of course), until the guy from the desk took pity on me and clicked away with the mouse. Magically, my ticket spewed out of the printer in the corner. I thanked him profusely, paid my 29 crowns (about $1.20 USD), and left.

I spent 30 of the last 32 crowns in my pocket on a chocolate ice cream cone on the way home, both to celebrate my success, and to calm myself down. I don't know what I'm going to do when it's too cold for the ice cream vendors to be out.

Bonus mishap!

Yesterday evening, I came back to my hostel and found a newcomer sitting on my bed. Apparently, my bed was so neat, he thought it was a fresh one.

That's what I get for making my bed. #neveragain

Jess out.

A Teacher Goes to School

As many of you know, one of my main reasons for taking this trip to Europe was to take a break from school. I've been in school for the last 19 years of my life (pre-K through college), and I've been looking forward to taking this trip for at least the last 7 of those years.

So, naturally, a week after I got here, I went to school.

My Frankfurt friend is a teacher at a Gymnasium (that's what they call schools for grades 5-12) here in Germany, and she let me tag along with her for two days. I sat in on her 5th grade Geography class,as well as her 7th-grade math class. Then I headed to a colleague's German-as-a-Second-Language class. The next day, I observed half of a 6th-grade math class on fractions, then went to an 11th-grade English class as a guest speaker (!).

The rest of this post is a little bit of a brain dump of my observations from my two days in school. I'm not passing judgement on either American or German schools, just reporting what I noticed. Hopefully, my teacher friends in the audience find this interesting! (If you're not a teacher, hopefully it's at least a little bit interesting to you.)

General:
--Classroom management/discipline does not seem to be as much of a priority here as it is in American schools. Faculty and staff are generally more relaxed regarding students' behavior.
--Rather than raising an open hand in class to ask or answer questions, students raise their hands with their pointer finger extended. (It's just a little thing, but I found it interesting nonetheless.)
--The school day is broken up into nine 45-minute periods. After every two periods, there is a 20-minute break, during which students can chat, play soccer, or buy food.
--School food here is much healthier and tastier than that of American schools; fresh bread, vegetables, etc. It's real food, not frozen french fries or cardboard pizzas.
--Teachers are only required to be present at the school for the lessons that they teach.
--Students go on a lot of big trips. The week after I was at the school was Schulfahre week (school trip week), during which classes spend a week in various cities around the country. There are also major trips to other countries for various student organizations.
--The school is comprised of several buildings, spread out over the quad, with a few buildings across the street, rather than just one building (which is typical of the US).
--Students and teachers both swap classrooms throughout the day. No teacher has their own classroom, and classrooms are furnished with desks, chairs, chalkboards, and overhead projectors. Some classrooms also have cabinets with textbooks.
--There are about 1,800 students total in the school, and about 150 teachers.
--Classes aren't determined by ability level, just by age/grade.
--Technology wasn't very prevalent in this school. (I don't know whether it's like that in most German schools, or just this one.)

Learning a Second Language:
I was put in the shoes of a Language Learner here in Germany; I know a little bit of German, but am nowhere near fluent. This opportunity really helped me to understand what English Language Learners (ELLs) in US schools experience.

--My attention often drifted in the math and geography classes; it's much harder to stay focused when you don't know the language. I can't blame my ELLs for drifting away sometimes.
--Visuals are crucial. Even just gestures help a Language Learner to figure out what is going on.
--Small classes are far more effective for Language Learners, and for teachers. The students get the one-on-one help that they need, and it is much easier to differentiate to meet students where they are.
--Grammar is more difficult to learn than vocabulary. It's easy to fit new words into grammatical structures that you are familiar with than it is to
--It is intimidating to put yourself out there and speak in a language you are not comfortable speaking, one that you do not know well. If someone meets you halfway, even with just one or two words of your own language, you feel much safer trying out the new language.

German Perception of Americans:
When I went to the English class, students had a lot of questions about what life is really like in America. Those teens asked some hard-hitting questions. Hopefully, I did a good job of repping the US of A. Here are some of the highlights:

--Do Americans play a lot of soccer?
--Are American high schools as cliquey as they are on TV and in movies?
--Are people really serious about voting for Donald Trump?
--Does everyone drive cars everywhere, or do you ride bikes, take trains, etc. like we do in Germany?
--Does everyone really eat fast food?
--What is the difference between colleges and universities?
--You said you're from Baltimore. Are you a Ravens fan?
--What do you think about the refugee crisis?

Overall, a very interesting experience. Big thanks to my friend and her colleagues for letting me sit in on their classes!

Next post will have some pictures, I promise.

A Hot Dog in Frankfurt

No, not the thing on the plate...that's a bratwurst. In this scenario, I'm the hot dog. A real "L-7 weenie," to quote Squints from The Sandlot. 

Let me explain.

Frankfurt is a big biking city. Great, right? Bike lanes everywhere, it's super environmentally friendly, it's good exercise...win-win-win!

Well, I'm not really a big biker. I mean, sure, I'll go for the occasional ride around Howard County on those nice, quiet, well-maintained paths. But city biking is a whole different can of worms.

Picture this: me, on a bike that's made for someone at least 4 inches taller than me. Then jack that seat up another couple of inches and get it stuck there. Then drop me in the middle of a major city, one that I don't know my way around, one with a lot of narrow cobblestone streets, one with lots of pedestrians and rush-hour traffic to look out for.

My complete and utter lack of poise under pressure ensured that I traveled the streets of Frankfurt without a shred of dignity. I was a menace among the native Frankfurters, swerving to avoid one person, and causing three others to dive for cover. Stopping at busy intersections was easily the most harrowing and difficult experience that I have had thus far on my trip.

Miraculously, I never once crashed. Shout-out to my guardian angel for making sure I didn't end up smeared on some poor German's windshield.

I lied. I crashed once. But it was a tactical maneuver to keep from skidding into four lanes of oncoming traffic.

Aside from all this, I was happy to be in a city I hadn't planned on visiting. I went to Frankfurt to see a friend, one who I hadn't realized had just moved to Frankfurt two weeks before I arrived.

I had never really been to Frankfurt before. Yes, I've arrived in the Frankfurt airport every time I've come to Germany, but I've never really spent any time in the city.

As soon as I arrived, we hopped on the bikes (well, she hopped. I clambered) and got going.

Frankfurt, I was surprised to learn, is actually a very nice city. There are lots of museums along the river, which is criss-crossed by bridges of all different shapes and sizes. There are a lot of modern buildings (such as the striking European Union building), as well as buildings with more history to them (like the beautiful Alte Oper, or old opera house).

Since my friend was still new to the city, we ended up seeing more of it than we had intended on our way to dinner. We consulted a map several times, but still managed to take two hours to complete a (theoretically) 25-minute ride to the restaurant.

Upon finally arriving at Apfelwein Solzer, we collapsed onto the benches and ordered the specialty drink: apple wine. It was incredibly refreshing. So fresh, as if the apples had just been picked that morning, and a bit more tart than sweet--I think it's safe to say that American hard cider has been ruined for me now.

This is also where I got that bratwurst in the picture above. The other things on the plate were cheesy mashed potatoes (yum), sauerkraut (sweeter than in the States; also yum), and what I discovered, by taking a huge forkful, was some very potent horseradish sauce.

After dinner, we listened to the soothing voice of the Google Maps lady to get to one of the bridges, which had a great view of the city. (The picture doesn't really do it justice at all.)

We then made our way back across town to my friend's apartment. Since we'd taken so long to get to the restaurant, and then taken time over dinner, the streets were pretty quiet by this time, and the ride back was much easier and much shorter than the first.

I woke up very sore, and very glad that we were driving, rather than biking, to school. (Yes, I said school. More on that in the next post.)

Early afternoon, we got back on the dreaded bikes and wound our way through the streets, stopping for Eis at the main plaza (dark chocolate and Yogurelle flavored). It was also at that plaza where I made the rookie mistake of going into the first souvenir shop that I saw. I was in pursuit of postcards (my favorite souvenir), and was very satisfied with my purchases, until I caught sight of identical postcards in the shop next door for 20 cents cheaper each. Scheiße.

We also biked around the old part of town, where there are lots of Biergarten-style restaurants, most of which were getting ready to open as we cruised by. We once again braved rush-hour traffic to get back to my friend's apartment, where we ditched the bikes and had dinner at the café next door.

She then had to go to Back-to-School Night, and I wandered down the street in search of a grocery store. To celebrate successfully purchasing apple juice, I got my second Eis of the day (lemon and raspberry...yum). We then went back to the café for a drink before bed. She ordered a watermelon-basil concoction, and I went for iced tea with citrus and mint, which I would be happy drinking for the rest of my life. The owner of the restaurant has taken a liking to my friend since she moved in, and he suggested that he make us a dessert. We initially declined, citing the Eis we'd eaten earlier as our excuse, but relented when he suggested crêpes with Nutella.

This is the "small dessert" that he brought us.

Somehow we muscled through and finished it, then collapsed in a near-comatose state to watch the soccer games on TV. We struck up a conversation with the guy whose table we were sharing; he was glad to have the chance to practice his English, and I was glad to have someone else upon which to inflict my less-than-stellar German. Occasionally interrupting the conversation was our friendly neighborhood restaurantuer, bearing gifts of Schnapps.

The first one he brought was easily the most intimidating: a flaming combination of Bailey's and Kahlua, plus the German equivalent of Everclear, called a B-52. Our tablemate had to coach us through the process of consuming the drink; it is no easy task to knock that back through a straw (which you do without extinguishing the flame).

The next was a far more friendly strawberry drink that we actually sipped from our shot glasses. Since we had to be at school again today (Thursday), we said good night and got a solid 8 hours.

Before leaving town this morning, we had a breakfast of croissants (always a winner in my heart...or, rather, stomach) and to-go coffee. To-go coffee is not common in Europe, and for good reason: it's terrible. I will always opt to stay and savor an espresso, latte macchiato, or cappucino here rather than suffer through another to-go coffee.

Anyway, big thanks to my friend for hosting me in Frankfurt!

Keep your eyes open for the recap of my school days!

Germany! My First Few Days

As promised, the scoop on what I've been up to lately: 

My first day in Germany was a jet-lagged blur. I stumbled off the plane, cursing my luck at being seated in front of a child who, judging by their enthusiasm and persistence in kicking the back of my chair, is a budding soccer prodigy, and somehow found my way to baggage claim. I fell asleep standing up no less than three times while waiting for my black behemoth of a suitcase to appear on the belt. Thank the universe the signs in the Frankfurt airport are written in English, as well as German, otherwise I doubt I would have found my aunt and her friend waiting for me near the exit. 

Determined not to let me succumb to my exhaustion until a reasonable bedtime, my aunt dragged me to the grocery store as soon as my bags hit the floor in her front hall. We went up and down every aisle, she quizzing me endlessly on my food likes and dislikes, and me shuffling along, occasionally producing a coherent response. 

We returned to her house, and I was then permitted to unpack my suitcase, given a dire warning not to take a nap. My suitcase empty, we then headed to an Italian restaurant, where I ordered by pointing at the Specials board and hoping for the best. The bubbles in my Mineralwasser perked up my brain ever so slightly, and I was able to enjoy about half of my mussels-and-shrimp spaghetti before I began to doze off right there at the table. Soon after, we headed back to my aunt's house, and I finally, finally went to bed.

After a solid night's sleep, I awoke ready to storm some castles. We headed down the Rhine towards the town of Bacharach, hitting Burg Rheinstein along the way. 

My favorite part of this castle was the narrow staircase to the tower...it looked like it was ready to crumble away in places, or rust through with one wrong step, but conquering that thing paid off when I got to the tower. What a view! Not only of the rest of the castle, but also of the Rhein.

After Rheinstein, we headed to Rheinfels, the ruins of a castle a little further along the river. Though it was harder for me to picture people actually living there, it was a blast and a half wandering through the passageways and along the high walls. My aunt and I even braved a few of the roomier tunnels (me and small underground places don't mix).

After a lunch of Wurstsalat and Flammkuche, we headed to the woodburning shop in Bacharach for souvenirs. My family comes to this shop every time we come to Germany; the lady who works there recognized my aunt when we walked in. They chatted while I browsed, and I am proud to report that I understood about 95% of their small talk!

We made a quick pit-stop for Eis on the way out of town, then headed off in search of another castle.

After a slight detour (in which we made a wrong turn and nearly backed off the side of a cliff while trying to correct our error), we arrived at Burg Reichenstein.

This castle was the most museum-like of them all, but it was a good one to end with, because it was relatively small, and we were pretty tired of walking by this point. The highlight of Burg Reichenstein was easily the abundance of antler décor.

Classic.

Friday was a lazy day spent wandering around the town of Bad Kreuznach and the surrounding parks. I also partook of my first Spaghettieis!

On Saturday, we ventured to Rüdesheim, where we took a cable car over a hill of vineyards to see the famous Niederwalddenkmal statue, which was built after a victory over the French in 1871, in honor of the unification of Germany. Aside from another spectacular view of the Rhine, there wasn't much else to see up there, so we took the cable car back down to the town, and did some Christmas shopping. (Only 3 and 1/2 months to go!) The shop we went to is Buddy the Elf's paradise: every day is Christmas there.

We then sat at a café for ice cream. As we were finishing up, a wandering group of musicians strolled up the road and set up shop directly in front of us. We'd inadvertently chosen front-row seats for the impromptu concert; members of the band made use of the extra chairs at our table throughout the performance.

 

Sunday and Monday were two more lazy days, the highlights of which include breakfast at the bakery, long walks with my aunt's dogs through the woods and the vineyards, and hiking to Rotenfels (the highest point in the area around Bad Kreuznach). And lots of good food.

Tuesday morning, my aunt and I made the trek to the Rosengarten in Zweibrücken. (And by "made the trek," I mean she drove for an hour and a half while I navigated. And by "navigated," I mean I plugged the address into the GPS and then fell asleep for the rest of the ride.)

Despite the sign at the gate warning that it had been a bad year, weather-wise, for roses, the gardens were gorgeous. I got a little snap-happy, and did my best to take a picture of every flower in the garden for the first twenty minutes or so, before I calmed down and actually took the time to smell the roses, as they say.

What a gorgeous place. Next time, I'll come back at peak season.

Stay tuned for details of my spontaneous trip to Frankfurt!

It's Been a Week?

Between all the sight-seeing and the jet-lagging that I've been doing lately, I'd pretty much completely lost track of the date. So it was a bit of a surprise when I realized today that I have been in Europe for almost a week now.
 

Whaaaat????

In some ways, it feels like I've been here forever: my Circadian rhythms are starting to get used to this time zone, I know how to get to town from my aunt's house, where the grocery stores and post office are, and I've picked up a bit more of the language (three years of high-school German are coming back to me now).
 

At the same time, though, every morning when I wake up, in the few seconds before I open my eyes, I'm in the US, in my bed, facing the boxes from my apartment that I still have yet to unpack. The songs that play on the radio stations my aunt listens to are in English, songs that are familiar to me. Adele's got me starting to feel the slightest bit homesick.
 

But then it hits me all over again. I'm in EUROPE.
 

This is what I have been dreaming about for the last 7+ years, but never thought I'd actually have the nerve to do.
 

I could picture myself getting on a plane, I could picture the places that I wanted to go, but I couldn't actually picture myself in those places. I guess I didn't believe I'd actually get here.
 

And yet, when it came down to it, it was so easy. I've gotten on dozens of plans before. I've been lots of places on my own. I surprised myself when I actually got on the plane (only the slightest bit panicky about what I was doing).
 

And now I'm here! I'm doing it! I'm living the dream! (I have to keep saying it because sometimes, I still can't wrap my brains around it.)
 

Anywho, that's what's running through my gray matter at the moment. Update on what I've actually been doing the last few days will be up soon (sneak peek below).

Ice, Ice(land), Baby

Iceland was the first of many whims along this grand adventure of mine. Way back in April, when I was pricing tickets for this shindig, Icelandair had the best deal for round-trip airfare. As I was booking my flights--the first step in making my pie-in-the-sky travel dream a reality--the website suggested that I extend my hour-long layover into a couple of nights in Iceland, for no additional airfare. Now, up until this point, I had never spared more than a passing thought for the nation with the northernmost capital city in the world. But I'm a sucker for a sale, so I pushed my flight to Frankfurt back a day so I could spend 24 hours in Iceland. Why not?

Since I was only in Iceland for the one day, I decided that the best way to experience it was by taking a day-long bus tour of the famous Golden Circle. So I dragged myself out of my hostel bed after far too few hours of sleep, and hopped on the island nation's only double-decker bus.

Let me start by saying that Iceland is, hands-down, one of the most beautiful places that I have ever seen. The first thing that struck me was that, once we were out of the city, there was so much wide-open sky. It was the perfect backdrop to the mountains (or in some cases, glaciers) that lay in every direction.

As we trundled along the two-lane road towards our first stop, the tour guide spouted (in charmingly accented English) various facts about the sights that we were seeing, causing me to flash back to my campus tour guide days. Some of my favorite facts included:

- The colorful doors we were seeing in many of the rocks at the base of the first mountain were for use by the elves, or the Hidden People of Iceland.

- Iceland has only one breed of horse, and they are extremely careful to keep it that way. The unique thing about Icelandic horses is that they have 2 special gaits, distinct from the standard walk, trot, and gallop, for a grand total of 5 gaits.

And...

- Iceland's largest industry (in terms of both employment rates and foreign currency collected) is--drum roll, please--tourism. The irony was almost too much for me to handle.

Anywho, we got to stop number one, at which a tomato farmer showed us his techniques for growing tomatoes (as well as cucumbers) in a greenhouse year-round.

Thirty minutes later, we arrived at stop number 2: a geothermal area, home to Strokkur, Iceland's most famous active geyser. (Side note: the word "geyser" comes from the name "Geysir," which is what Icelandic settlers named the first one that they came across, which, incidentally, was the island's largest when it was still active.)

After the obligatory five minutes of standing in the crowd, pointing my camera at the geyser to catch a video of it erupting, I struck out on my own and explored the pools and the hills in the area. It was exhilarating, being up at the top of the hill, and looking for miles in all directions, the wind whipping around me (occasionally causing me to fear that my big trip would end on day one with me tragically falling to my death at the bottom of the ravine).

Stop number three was the Gulfoss waterfall. (It's actually a double waterfall, but you can only see the upper in the picture here.) It falls from level ground into a deep valley (more like a canyon, really). It was pretty spectacular, especially up close and personal.

The fourth stop was the one that I was most excited for. I'd splurged an extra 2900 Icelandic Krona (about 25.30 US dollars) for the ticket to Fontana wellness center, which features some of Iceland's famed geothermal baths. When we first got there, they showed us how they bake bread using the hot springs, by burying it in the hot sand right next to the spring.

Then I hopped in one of the baths and enjoyed the view of the lake, which was about 2 feet away. And then I decided, what the heck, I'm only in Iceland today. So I hopped in the lake.

And then hopped right back out. Because that lake was apparently not even slightly heated by the hot springs. I returned to the geothermal baths and resumed gazing at the lake, ignoring the snickers of my fellow bathers.

After dozing a bit on the bus (the jet-lag and general lack of sleep were hitting me hard at this point), I blearily stumbled around for the half-hour we spent at our final stop. The scientist in me perked up, because this stop is where you can see the rift between the European and North American tectonic plates, which are pulling apart. The fissure grows approximately one inch wider every year. Here's a picture of me with the European plate in the Background.

Then the bus dropped me off at my hostel. It was at that point that I noticed the hostel I had chosen was directly across from the Icelandic Phallological Museum. (Unfortunately it was already closed for the day, because I'm sure I could've written an entire post about that place alone.)

Then I walked 20 minutes down the road to meet up with a family friend, who just happened to be in town with friends on a day-long layover on the exact same day as me! (We became aware of this fact when my mother saw on Facbook and immediately messaged the both of us.) The odds still astound me.

So we grabbed a drink at the hotel bar (I sampled a local beer that I can't remember the name of), and then we wandered up the main shopping road in search of a place for dinner. We settled on a table for four at Le Bistro, where we were talked out of sampling a local specialty (rotten shark...even the waitress insisted it was disgusting), and I settled on the slightly less adventurous lamb stew (lamb is another Icelandic specialty). Apparently, in my 3-plus years of vegetarianism, I had forgotten how much I dislike lamb.

Dessert more than made up for it, though. I got the sampler (because Lord knows I can't make a decision when it comes to dessert). It came with a café au lait, a small chocolate mousse, a mini Skyramisu (tiramisu made with Skyra Icelandic yogurt), and a mini créme brulée. All I have to say is YUM.

Iceland, I'll be back. Next time, it's just for an hour stopover on my way home. But you can be sure that the time after that, it'll be for more than just a day.

Less Than 24 Hours to Go

I leave tomorrow. TOMORROW. 

Holy cannoli.

I can't wrap my brain around the fact that this is actually happening. This time tomorrow, I'll be on a plane. And that plane will be leaving the country. With me on it. 

I am equal parts bouncing-off-the-walls excited and fall-down-in-a-dead-faint terrified. I can't wait to be on my way, but at the same time, I wish the time would pass just a bit more slowly today. I'm so ready to go, but I'm so not ready to leave.

But then again, if I waited until I felt ready to leave, I'd never go. 

This trip is a big ol' step outside of my comfort zone: I'll be going places I've never been, where they speak languages I don't know, and I'll be doing it almost exclusively solo. I'll be eating foods I've never tried, talking to people I don't know, and navigating transportation systems that I've never used. I'm doing almost all of it by myself, which means that the pressure's on me; for the most part, I won't have someone else to rely on for figuring things out. It's all me.

It's rather stressful, that kind of responsibility. But it's also very freeing: I get to decide where I want to go, what I want to do, what I want to eat, and when and how I want to do it all. I can plan out what I want to do each day, and then throw away all those plans to act on any whims that may strike me.

That's what I'm most excited for about this trip: it's going to be a lot of new experiences, and it's going to be a lot of tuning in to myself, something that I feel like I haven't had a whole lot of time to do over the last few years (what with working and getting a degree and all that).

All right, enough navel-gazing for now.

Next time I post, I'll be in Europe!

Birthday Girl out.