Have Yourselves a Merry Little Christmas!

I know. I'm sorry.

But, to be fair, I did say up front that I couldn't promise regular posts.

At least I've been checking in on Facebook, so you know I didn't just vanish from the face of the planet.

Here's a short summary of where I've been in the last month:

London, England

York, England

Edinburgh, Scotland

Glasgow, Scotland

Cardiff, Wales

And now I'm back at my aunt's house in Bad Kreuznach, just in time for Christmas! Evan is here, too, and we've been decorating the Christmas tree, drinking Gluehwein (mulled wine), and wrapping presents since I arrived yesterday afternoon, plus we watched Elf last night, so now it's officially Christmas.

Froehe Weinachten to you and your families! Hope you have a spectacular holiday season.

I'll try to catch up on my posts soon, or at least get some pictures up.

But still no promises.

Paris!

Now I know what all the fuss is about. Paris is AMAZING.

When my train arrived in Paris, I wasn't feeling so hot; I'd been fighting a cold for the last few days and the meds were only just starting to kick in. Nonetheless, I managed to purchase a Metro ticket (after losing 2 Euros to a ticket machine that was clearly a friend of the one in Switzerland) and find the right platform. After about half an hour on the crowded Metro in my winter coat and heavy backpack, I was feeling even worse for wear. So rather than finding a café to wait for Evan as planned, I headed right for the Airbnb. After six flights of steep, narrow stairs, I found myself in a microscopic flat, reminiscent of Linguine's from Disney's Ratatouille, minus the view of the Eiffel Tower.

I flopped onto the bed and didn't move until Evan arrived, three hours later.

The next day, we got a bit of a late start--I was still a little slow-moving--but we managed to have a pretty packed day anyway.

We started by hitting the Tourism Office, to get a Paris Museum Pass--which, by the way, is 112% worth it, if you use it right. (I did.)

We first headed to Notre Dame, probably the best-known cathedral in the world. We explored the main part of the cathedral, then flashed our magic passes (for Evan, that was his international student ID) and headed up the towers, where we had our first bird's-eye view of Paris, as well as an up-close and personal look at some pretty badass gargoyles.

In front of Notre Dame!

On top of Notre Dame!

Soon after, we had our first Parisian macarons. And croissants. And meringues. And pain au chocolats. Basically, we ate our weight in French junk food.

Yum.

We then headed into the Lourve, where we had entirely too much fun using various Snapchat filters on all the Italian statues in the Richelieu gallery.

After our fit of immaturity subsided, Evan and I walked down the Champs Elyssés, the most famous avenue in Paris. It was all lit up for the evening, extra bright and busy thanks to the Christmas market spanning both sides of the street.

At the end of the Champs Elyssés stood the Arc d'Triomphe, a graceful island in the center of what is undoubtedly the most terrifyingly chaotic traffic circles in the world. Luckily, there was a pedestrian underpass to the Arc, so Evan and I once again broke out our all-access passes and scaled several flights of stairs for a dazzling bird's-eye view of Paris at night.

In front of the Arc d'Triomphe!

On top of the Arc d'Triomphe!

Our day finally wound down around 12:30am, after a (very) late pasta dinner, cooked on the hotplate in our (teeny) Airbnb.

We got off to a later start the next morning, but our day was no less busy than the one prior. First up was the Musée d'Orsay, mainly to see the Van Goghs. We ended up spending more time there than we'd anticipated, getting caught up in the Impressionism exhibit and debating whether certain forms of art were truly "art." 

After a lunch break that culminated with a créme brûlée (I may have let my sweet tooth get a little bit out of control), Evan and I made our way back to the Lourve. Luckily the Paris Museum Pass allows for unlimited entry into the museums, because in our childishness the night before, it had completely slipped our minds that the world's most famous painting--listed by Business Insider as one of the most disappointing attractions in Europe--is also housed in the Lourve. So we followed the steady stream of museum-goers into the Italian paintings wing of the Denon gallery, where we were unimpressed by that enigmatic smile. 

He's better at the enigmatic smile than I am.

Now that the Mona Lisa was checked off our bucket lists, we reprised our Snapchat performance of the night before, this time in the Greek statues wing, and showed ourselves out via the Egyptian jewelry exhibit.

Since the sun had set while we were in the museum, the moment that we walked out the doors we could see the Eiffel Tower all lit up. Evan and I decided that it was time we made our tourist pilgrimage to the top. (After all, if you didn't go up in the Eiffel Tower, did you really go to Paris?) We had planned to take the stairs, in the interest of saving a few Euros and burning some calories, but found out upon arrival at the tower that they don't allow people to use the stairs after dark. Safety concerns or something---psh.

So after a chilly forty-five minutes in line, and going through not one, but two security checks, we caught an elevator up to the tippity-top of that iconic ironwork. What a breathtaking view! (Partially because of the wind at that height, but also because it was gorgeous.)

We were even up in the tower when it sparkled, which it does on the hour, every hour that it's illuminated. (Pretty dazzling from far away, but has kind of a strobe-light effect when you're up close and personal.)

It was the best possible way to cap off our last night staying in the city.

After breakfast the next morning, we packed up our things and, weighed down by our backpacks, headed off to see the Eiffel Tower one more time. On our way, we stopped to grab some macarons and croissants. 

I mean, just look at that.

It was a gorgeous day, and so we spent most of it outside, sitting on a bench near the Eiffel Tower and walking through the luxury shopping district and the Christmas market on Champs Elyssés. As darkness fell, Evan and I hopped on a train to Osny, a town a bit northwest of Paris; some friends of Evan's family had invited us to stay with them for a couple of nights.

I was a little nervous, simply because of the language barrier--would it just be awkward silences around the dinner table?--but I had no need to be. Between their son's bit of English and Evan's bit of French (and, okay, a little help from Google Translate), we had a very enjoyable time together. I even managed to pick up a bit of French, simply by being immersed in it! 

Je m'apelle Jess.

On Sunday, after a lovely breakfast including--yes--pain au chocolats, Evan and I took a train to Versailles to see the palace (another attraction that was free with our magic cards). On the ride there, I somehow managed to lose my train ticket out of my ZIPPERED pocket (and I know I had it because Evan watched me put it there), so I had to slip out of the turnstile right behind Evan when he put his ticket in the scanner. 

Arriving at the palace without further incident (only a slight detour through a farmers' market), we were delighted to discover no line at the entrance--one of the perks of traveling during the off-season. Evan and I passed on the audioguides that most of the other visitors had picked up, opting instead to gape at each opulent room to the sound of our own commentary: "How many rooms do you freaking need?"

In the Hall of Mirrors

The gardens were just as mind-bogglingly expansive as the palace, if not more so. After about an hour of wandering through meticulously tended shrubs, gravel paths, and water features, we stumbled upon Petit Trianon, the palace known best as the residence of Marie-Antionette. Our Paris Museum Pass and student ID were proving to be very useful, as they got us in there as well. 

Petit Trianon is a palace of much more manageable proportions than Versailles itself. It is undoubtedly still an extremely luxurious home, but far more tasteful in terms of size and décor. It was possible to imagine a person actually living there.

As we began to meander back towards the train station, the skies opened up. To escape the rain, we took refuge in a café for coffee. Once the liquid sunshine stopped falling, we bought tickets for the next train back to Osny, and I immediately handed my ticket to Evan to hold on to. I wasn't chancing a repeat of the last disappearing act. 

We returned to our hosts' home to find that they had prepared raclette for dinner. If you remember way back to when I was in Switzerland, you'll recall that it's basically reverse fondue, and one of my new favorite foods. So I was pretty darn happy. I was even happier when they topped off the meal with homemade créme brûlée. YUM. 

Between the wonderful food and the wonderful hosts, who made me feel very welcome in spite of the language differences, I was pretty sad to say goodbye the next morning. But Evan and I were off to Rennes, my last stop in France!

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

I really struggled with whether I should "get political" with this post (which is one of the reasons this post took so long). 

I wanted to keep my blog focused on my travels, I wanted it to be a happy place where my readers can come and live vicariously through me and my adventures.

But truthfulness is very important to me as well; that's why I relate my mishaps as well as my triumphs here. It's all part of my experience. So, in the interest of truthfulness, I have to talk a little bit about the presidential election and my thoughts and feelings about it, because they did play a part in my experience in Berlin.

I hope this won't deter anyone from reading this post, but if it does, well, I hope you have a nice day. I can't blame you for being sick of all the political talk.

For those who are sticking with me...

I went to sleep in Berlin pretty early in the evening of November 8th. I slept pretty well, secure in the belief that, though it would be a close race, in the end Hillary Clinton would be our 45th President, not Donald Trump.

I woke up in a very different world than the one I went to sleep in. I checked the election results and felt as if the floor had fallen out from under me. I felt so very wrong-footed and naïve for having believed that there was no way my fellow Americans would really choose Trump and his hateful, divisive rhetoric, no matter how appealing his attitude towards economic reform.

I was scared to leave my hostel room and face the people from other countries. In my travels, every European, every Asian, every Australian that I've spoken to has expressed their dislike for and fear of Donald Trump. I was afraid of how I would be judged as an American now that Trump was our President-elect.

But I made myself go out into the city anyway, making a little extra effort to blend in. I headed to the Brandenburg Gate, where my free walking tour would depart at 10am. I was a little early, and I was shocked to see a crowd of reporters all around the square, until I noticed that all of the cameras were pointed at the American embassy.

At the Brandenburg Gate bright and early

I joined the group of people waiting for the tour, and got to chatting with the tour guide, another friendly Australian who, upon discovering that I was American, half-jokingly offered me the Canadian flag pin he wore. But he was sympathetic to me, apparently the only American brave enough to show up that day, and promised to hold off on making his usual jokes about the US on his tour.

There is a lot of history in Berlin, including of course the Berlin Wall. (Which was actually comprised of an inner wall and an outer wall, with the area in between known as the "death strip," for reasons which should be fairly obvious.) The tour guide related several stories of escape from East Berlin to West, including one family who crossed the wall using a makeshift zipline. In making their getaway, the family was observed by guards at the Wall, who didn't shoot at the escapees because they thought that surely they were East German spies sneaking over to West Berlin for reconnaissance.

We also visited Checkpoint Charlie, the site of a standoff between Soviet troops and American troops during the Berlin Wall era, a standoff that nearly heated up the Cold War into World War 3. Checkpoint Charlie was destroyed when the Berlin Wall came down, but was rebuilt and manned with actors to meet the demands of tourists to Berlin who wanted to see it.

It was funny that my first day in Berlin was the 9th of November. As the tour guide explained, November 9th has earned the nickname Schickalstag, or "Day of Fate," a bit of black humor among Germans. Apparently almost everything of significance in Germany occurs on this date. For example:
--1848: Robert Blum, a major player in the push for German democracy, was executed (which put a damper on the democratic movement for a while)
--1918: Kaiser Wilhelm II abdicated, and the Weimar Republic was established, unifying Germany
--1923: Munich Beer Hall Putsch, the first, unsuccessful attempt by the National Socialist (Nazi) Party to seize power in Munich
--1938: Kristallnacht, or the Night of Broken Glass
--1989: the Berlin Wall opens, reuniting East Berlin and West Berlin

After the tour, I made my way to the Ritter Sport store, which was a mistake. Why? Because Ritter Sport is chocolate and I hadn't eaten lunch. I managed not to lose my head completely and demonstrated admirable restraint in not spending €8 to design my own chocolate bar. That being said, I did still drop a decent chunk of change there (but mostly on gifts, I swear).

So. Much. Chocolate.

I then decided that lunch should be the next item on my agenda, so I found an Imbiss (the German equivalent of a hot-dog stand) and managed not only to order a bratwurst and fries, but also to make small talk with the woman working the Imbiss, entirely in German! 🎉

You can't tell me that doesn't make your mouth water.

Next stop was the Topography of Terror, a museum located near the longest remaining segment of the outer Berlin Wall. The Topography of Terror features exhibits about what life was truly like in Berlin under the Nazi regime, and some of the reasoning behind the strategies that the Nazis used.

Pretty heavy stuff, so, as I'm sure you can imagine, I felt like my day was pretty much done after that. I walked back across town to my hostel, stopping to grab a salad for dinner on the way (my body was really jonesing for some veggies after the bratwurst and fries).

After a night of tossing and turning, I got up and went for a run (both for my sanity and to put the brakes on my downward spiral into out-of-shapeness).

I ran through Berlin's main park, the Tiergarten, and found myself at the foot of the Victoria statue.

It was then, taking a short stretching break in the shadow of the monument, that I noticed the sole of my right running shoe was peeling away from the upper. That, combined with the stench emanating from my shoes when I pulled them off three kilometers later, made me think that maybe I should invest in a new pair of running shoes.

Luckily, my German was sufficient enough to navigate the shoe section of a department store without incident, and I emerged half an hour later with clearance-rack Asics. Score.

My mission for footwear successfully accomplished, I meandered around the city in the sunshine, stopping to grab some Chinese food for a late lunch/early dinner as it got dark. It was a bit of a hike back to my hostel from where I'd wandered to, so I had to make a pit stop for provisions (coffee and some sort of chocolate-caramel-almond concoction) on my way.

By the time I got back to my hostel, I was feeling the need to socialize, so I headed downstairs to my hostel's bar, where I got myself a liter of beer--because Germany--and introduced myself to a couple of people who clearly shared my opinion that a stein of beer sounded good.

A liter of beer makes for a great conversation starter, or so I'm learning.

I spent most of the next day at the Berlin Zoo, which has over 20,500 individual animals of 1,500 different species, making it the most diverse zoo in the world.

I had a blast.

My inner child was thrilled to be outside looking at animals of all shapes and sizes, rather than inside staring at more boring paintings and fiddly things behind glass in yet another museum. I stayed at the zoo from open to close.

Llamas! (Or maybe alpacas. I forget.)

Fish face!

The next day, I'd planned to do an "alternative" tour of the city, featuring some of the hot spots for graffiti and the more hipster bars in Berlin. But when I arrived 15 minutes before the tour was scheduled to begin, I was told that the tour was completely booked up. Though I was glad to have an excuse not to shell out 13 Euros, I was a bit crestfallen. I perked up, though, when the tour guide offered to mark on my map some of the more interesting stops on the tour route, so I could check them out on my own.

One of those places was the East Side Gallery. After only a brief detour through a street market (I was distracted by the shiny things), I headed to the metro station. Thinking ahead, I purchased two tickets--one for the ride there, and one for the ride back--and jetted off to a new part of the city.

The East Side Gallery is the longest remaining section of the inner Berlin Wall, which has now been converted into a street art gallery. I spent almost two hours walking along the wall, studying the graffiti and murals, some of which have been there for almost three decades now, and many of which were painted by local art students. Here are a few of my favorites:

My plan then was to head back towards my hostel, and get off a stop early to walk by one of the other places suggested by the tour guide. So I walked toward the nearest metro station, and just barely managed to catch the next train going the direction that I needed.

If only I'd waited seven minutes for the next one.

In my rush to catch the train, I'd forgotten to validate my second metro ticket. I didn't realize this until a ticket inspector came around at the stop before the one I was getting off at.

With a sinking feeling in my stomach and tears welling up in my eyes, I produced my unvalidated ticket, and was asked to step off the train. On the platform, I pulled out the ticket that I had remembered to validate earlier that day, and, in a rush of tears, explained my mistake. The guy was extremely nice and very sympathetic, and probably would have let me off with a warning, had his supervisor not been standing right there. So, hiccuping through my tears, I coughed up the €60 fine.

After the ticket inspectors had departed on another train, I collapsed onto a bench to try to pull myself together. Out of the corner of my tear-filled eye, I saw an elderly couple approach. Apparently they'd witnessed the entire incident, and wanted to help me out. After one polite refusal, I gratefully accepted the €30 (and the tissue) that they offered.

I opted for the long way back to my hostel, on foot, through the Tiergarten. I needed it to calm down. I also needed a beer, so I ordered one with my kebap when I finally got to the block where my hostel was located.

Exhausted by the turn my day had taken, I went to bed pretty early that night. Which was also a good decision because I had an early train back to Bad Kreuznach the next day. It was time for a few days at my home away from home before my next adventure: Paris!