06.20.06- Ring of Kerry

Bus tours are the best. Today I took a 12-hour one from Cork all the way around the Ring of Kerry, which is all along this big peninsula on the West coast. Needless to say, it rocked my pants off. Except after this morning, I'm taking care to watch my pants very closely. See previous blog if you're confused right now.

The Ring of Kerry is stunning. Ireland is fantastic. Green. It's just SO MUCH GREENERY! It crawls across every stone, drapes itself off cliffs, clings to tree trunks, taking over the landscape and invading every crevice it can. Much of it looks tropical, especially with the ocean backdrop. But with the constant precipitation I've experienced here, save for tonight's breathtaking misty sunset, it's no wonder you couldn't start a forrest fire here if you brought in a dragon (which, by the way, would fit right in with the scenery).

Ireland is the perfect place for loners. With the gray and the mist and the drizzly rain, it's so fitting to go with that "I'm by myself" mood that it's almost like having a companion. Maybe that sounds depressing, but it's quite the opposite. It's relaxing and peaceful. Except when someone steals your pants.

Tomorrow I fly to London and then home on Thursday. I can't wait! So ready for home and people who know my name! And so ready to not have my pants taken in the wee hours of the morning. (still so confused by that).

06.20.06 - Cork, where the beer flows like tap water ... if not more

Somebody stole my pants today. It's true. I woke up, and no pants. Gone. I thought that odd, considering everything else was left untouched under my bed. The weird thing is I actually got them back. It's a fun story full of adventure, and I'll share it with you now from the beginning.

8:00 a.m. Wake up. Pants are not where I left them. Concern arises.
8:15 a.m. I go downstairs in my p.j.s to reception to switch out my key card, which we have to do every morning before 10 for security purposes.
"Hi. Um, I would like to switch out my keycard. But I can't offer you my old one, because somebody stole my PANTS this morning."
The hostel manager gives me a strange look and then chuckles and asks what room I'm in.
I tell him, and he tells me the 3 girls that were also in there who left are actually currently down the street eating breakfast at a cafe. He informs me I might be able to catch them if I hurry.
8:17 a.m. Debbie exits Bru Bar Hostel in pajamas and walks down the street in the rain to said breakfast joint. I find who I think might be the girls I'm looking for.
Me: "Um, hello. Were you by chance in room 208 last night?"
Girl 1: yeah ...
Me: You took my pants.
Girl 1: Oh ... those were yours?!
8:20 a.m. Girl 1 tells her friends they all, apparantly together, took my jeans from the room this morning thinking they were the pants of a friend of theirs who lives about 5 minutes away. They had already been to that friend's house to drop them off. What? WHAT?! Confusion remains strong.
8:30 a.m. I walk back to the hostel in rain and p.j.s and get ready/await the re-arrival of my freakin' pants.
8:40 a.m. Pants arrive back at hostel. I go to reception to retrieve them. Hostel manager gives me my pants and says "Next time don't drink so much." Now I'm not denying any charges about drinking too much, but from the very Irishman who kept telling me to be sure to stop back at the bar? Anyways, I have my pants now.

06.18.06 - Debbie Does Dingle

The Irish do potatoes and they do them well. Today's lunch was a jacket potato with cheese. This is basically a baked potato with cheese that somehow is the best baked potato you've ever had (with the exception of maybe Famous Dave's).

I just got back from eating what I promised Dad I would: a yummy seafood dinner. It was fantastic!!! Wow, I discuss food a lot in these entries, huh? Well, I like it. I ate with 2 people from the U.S. who are biking Ireland. So cool! We found this pub by the sea with live Irish bands, and there I had my first Toucan Brew. For all you Guinness obsessors who are presently upset that I didn't have a Guinness Stout in its homeland, fear not. Toucan Brew is Guinness' rare and brand new product. It looks exactly the same, same frothy stuff, same color, but tastes a little lighter, which was great for me.

Tomorrow I head to Cork with Florian and the next day we're doing a tour of the Ring of Kerry. YAY!

06.18.06 - Ireland: home of red-heads, all known to Australians as "Blue-y"

Last night I walked with Minke ("mink-a"), from the Netherlands, to watch a local game of Gaelic football, played only in Ireland. It seems to me to be a combination of soccer, basketball and football, with few rules and a lot of diehard fans. Players can pick up the ball, dribble it, kick it, throw it, do whatever they want. It's just ... confusing, but nothing in comparison with the accents here. I take back my statement about it being difficult to understand a Japanese person speaking English. Irish, believe it or not, can be much more tricky. For example, yesterday I asked my bus driver a question, and the only thing I caught in his response was the number six. Luckily that's all I needed to know!

After the game ended we walked in the rain to the fish wharf and watched the giant fishing boats come in from the mist and fog. After we got back to our cozy, warm hostel, I put my coat back on and did the exact same treck with a guy named Florian (how European, huh?) because he would have otherwise gone alone. But I didn't mind going back. We walked onto this straight and as we looked out into the now blackened water, we heard squeaking and saw 2 sets of beady black eyes shining up at us from a few feet away in the water. SEA OTTERS! Those little guys are adorable!!! I will attempt to lure one into my backpack and bring one home to show you all.

The rain here is so perfect. Ireland is incredibly green, and here on the coast the rain and mist makes the sea smell stronger and so refreshing. Without the sun, the water during the day is a deep, dark turquoise I've never seen before; It's kind of mezmerizing. But this rain is the first precipitation I've seen (aside from a light sprinkle in Marseilles) since I left London. It welcomed me to Europe and now it is seeing me off!

This morning I went to Mass in Dingle's bigger church. It was half in English and half in Irish tongue, which sounds like this: obbly sd;lkj aeoiusr raelkuavve aewoiusr. But this was no ordinary Mass, even though it was the regularly scheduled Sunday service. It was also a funeral. I guess it's not uncommon for the funeral ceremony to just happen at regular Sunday Mass. I sat next to a woman named Kay Smith from something or other, Blackrock, Ireland (all you LOST watchers are a little taken aback, aren't you? I was!). So I asked Kay how the man in the casket died and she responded with, "Don't you even worry; Don't you even think about it. You're too young to worry." She was an extroardinarily kind woman who later asked me to pray for her and the man in the casket (she didn't know him either), and I happily did.
The funeral was very sad, though. Michael O'-something's grandson sang a beautiful Celtic hymn, and another grandson delivered an Irish poem he'd written for him. Another relative gave a touching Eulogy, switching from Irish to English so that all could understand. Don't be fooled by the stereotypes of Irish funerals. It is a celebration of a life well-lived, yes, but it is also a very difficult one. As family filed down the aisle carrying their deceased, I watched them tremble in an effort to remain strong for the procession.
They were met at the end of the church by many little boys and girls waiting in beautiful white dresses and suits. These kids received their First Communion exactly one month ago, and in Ireland (maybe just Dingle?) it is tradition that they proceed through the streets of town to the church, collecting candy and trinkets along the way.
Again I saw that contrast similar to Dachau but much lighter. There were in the church those dressed in black for the funeral, and among them were children in pure white. With every end, it seems, comes many new beginnings.

06.17.06 - Dingle bell rock

Driving from Shannon to Dingle was for most an annoying 4-hour trip but a treat for me. I chatted with a friendly Canadian who gave me 2 Canadian pins and talked about everything from Malaysian food to transexuals, and then I got to watch the Irish landscape pass by. SO green and dotted with sheep, horses and cows. We passed by Bogview Hostel, which I am happy to say is not where I'll be sleeping. It's not that bogs are bad, it's just that in Ireland I'm liking the idea of staying somewhere with views of ... not bogs.

I had also hoped for an authentic Irish lunch, but due to the inefficiency of bus schedules I had to settle for a ham, cheese and coleslaw sandwich. Yeah, I thought it strange, too.

They paint their sheep here, which I thought was pretty odd but after thinking about it I've deduced it has something to do with how ready they are for shearing. But the tourist in me gets a little sad when the picturesque white sheep against the backdrop of the lush and stunning green hills of Ireland is now red, white and blue --- even if I am American.

I am UPSET!

I have been so thrilled about not having seen all the corporate chains (except fast food) I'm accustomed to in the U.S. in every town. I even had just had a conversation with someone about it, saying "Isn't it great not to have seen any Wal-Marts the whole trip?" Then on the very next bus I took into Frankfurt we pass by an Ikea, a Toys 'R' Us and a freaking Wal-Mart SuperCenter!!! I am angry! No, okay I'm not that upset. Actually I'm real cozy in this tiny village outside the Frankfurt Hahn Airport where I will fly into Ireland tomorrow. This part of Germany is gorgeous! And I get a loft bed in a room with a steep sloping roof and that makes me very content. Plus, the whole room is to myself, which is always an unexpected treat.

I'll miss Germany and its little old men in lederhausen and its delicious giant pretzels. I had the greatest conversations on the train today, too. One was with a middle-aged man who taught me all about the landscape as we passed by, and another was with a guy my age who is going to law school and therefore enjoys discussing deeply intellectual things. I was all for it. His impression of Americans wasn't really great and he was definitely surprised at my ability to dish out a bit of "intellitalk," if you will. Yeah, I just coined that. Maybe I'll patent it.

Besides the train talks with other Europeans, I've learned quite a bit about people and places in the U.S. on this trip, too, surprisingly. In the last 3 days I have run into 11 Mormons from the U.S. Super nice people! The best part of this experience was when I was hanging out with these 6 Mormon girls from Arizona. They're all really pretty, so naturally there were lots of guys trying to get them to come out and party. The look on boys' faces when they are told by 6 hot American girls that they've never had a drop of alcohol in their life is priceless. Hilarious, really.

06.17.06, Buh-bye German beer!

Interesting parts of Munich/Germany:
-Cute old men in lederhausen
-The spot where Hitler's statue once stood. All that passed were required to stop and heil. Those that avoided the street instead took "Dodger's Alley," which guards eventually discovered and tried to catch and punish the dodgers. If they were found to be Jewish or have some other controversial connection they could be sent to a concentration camp. Today, in memorial there is a path of gold-painted bricks down Dodger's Alley, but no plaque explaining what it is or why it's there. It's interesting how very little is addressed around town considering the enormity of what occured in Munich, for example the planning of Kristallnacht, or Hitler's first big speech initiating the Nazi party. Today it is illegal to make the heiling motion or draw swastikas in Germany.
-"Buttermilch Aloe Vera" ice cream. What? Are they serious!?
-Bratwursts and beer!!!
-World Cup fans: intense and hilarious
-white asparagus. It looks albino.
-Any weight I may have lost along this trip has found me again in Germany. Damn pretzels.
-The toilet paper is not pink here like it is in France, but the soap almost always is. Gross fact: In the famed Hofbrauhaus they used to have no bathrooms. But they did have gutters underneath the tables ... Remember the comment I made on asparagus? Yeah, Germans eat a lot of that. GROSS.

06.15.06, Dachau

In a small town outside of Munich the poplar trees stand tall and green. Birds chirp, the air is sweet and warm and red clay-roofed homes rest happily on a quiet street. Behind the houses is a fence that only hints at the intense contrast that lies beyond it. Rusted barbs give way to the white gravel that coats the grounds and feet inside Dachau like the ashes of prisoners not so long ago lost. This place haunted me more than I expected, maybe because I am alone and emotions aren't so held back, but I had a hard time here.

A wrought iron gate with a message in German that translates to "work makes you free" is where I entered Dachau, and it was also the last profoundly false statement many of its prisoners saw before leaving freedom forever. Dachau's grounds give clear and vivid images of cruelty and lies, such as the gas chamber with its entrance still reading "Brausebad," or "showers."

The lump in my throat remained the entire visit and after, and thinking of what occured where I walked today makes me shudder with confusion and disgust. The contrasts between the peaceful calm and serenity just outside and even inside the barbed fences was intense, but what truly made me sick was seeing how "new" everything is. I guess I kid myself when I think of the Holocaust as long gone history. But walking through the prisoners' barracks and flicking the same light switches the guards there flicked, and recognizing the smell of the wood that makes up the desks and doors as being about as old as that at the cabin made it hit home. Pictures don't have nearly the effect on me as did the reality and physicality of this place.

Dachau's motto is "Never again." Isn't it incredible to think that still even some who live just outside its walls believe it never was?

Visions of soccerballs dance in my head

See, now I'm happy again because I got to make friends! And Happy Birthday, Becky!
Last night was an incredible and once-in-a-blue-moon experience! I went to Munich's old Olympic Stadium with some girls I met from Cali, and we watched (with thousands of crazed fans) 2 World Cup games, one of which was actually happening less than a mile away between Lithuania and Saudi Arabia, and the other which was Germany vs. Poland! It was a BLAST. Big beers, big pretzels, big crowds and crazy German people hopped up on adrenaline and liquor... what every girl dreams of. Just kidding. But it really was a blast. I even got a victory kiss when Germany won the game with just one minute left. The subway home was an adventure in itself. German victory songs, fight songs, flags, painted faces (mine included!) and an overall jolly German time that later spilled onto the streets until all hours of the morning. I thank God they didn't lose.

This morning I took a walking tour of Munich and it was really a good one. My favorite line from our guide while we waited outside the church and people-watched is this: "I love children. They're just like little drunken midgets. They are! Aren't they, though?" After pondering this, I agree. They are.

Munich is neat. Nice work, guys.

06.14.06

Another beautiful day and I am feeling anxious and nervous because it's the first day in a new city and I'm never really good with those. Munich is beautiful, but I have seen very little of it. That's all for now!

Austria is SO yesterday

I got kinda bored on my last night in Salzburg, not because there isn't anything to do but because I am getting burnt out in general. The point is, I cut myself some bangs. I just went up to the reception desk and asked to borrow scissors, and I'm not sure whether she noticed the change in my appearance when I returned them or not, but I think I did a pretty good job!
I also ran into some St. Olafers, who are, believe it or not, the first Minnesotans (my age) I've run into the entire trip.
I have again concluded a few random things:
-It is easier to understand a German speaking German than it is to understand a Japanese speaking English. At least in my experience...
-German words are formulaic to a small extent. Most words are just several English words smushed together with other random letters thrown in for eccentricity. If you can get beyond all that, you're golden. Most people, including myself, usually cannot, which leads to my last note.
-Cavemen were possibly the smartest humans ever, as they initiated the stick-man messaging movement, without which all tourists would be lost and confused in foreign countries. It's hard to mistake the meaning of a stick man running toward a door-shape. Unless he really has to pee and is bolting for the WC, or is in Paris and escaping an angry mob by seeking Sanctuary in Notre Dame.

06.12.06 - Austria: Home of yodelers

On the train going through Germany into Austria, I couldn't help but note the similarities this landscape has to home. No wonder so many Germans settled in MN! Then I look out the other side of the train and I see mountains, or as I like to think of it - Colorado!
The woods here are right out of Little Red Riding Hood or Hansel and Gretl. You'd think a woods is a woods, but no. These have a certain ambiance to them I haven't sensed anywhere else in Europe, but that I have at home.
Once off the train in Munich, I bought a pretzel before I hopped on another train to go to Salzburg. I love this pretzel. This pretzel is huge, and it blows the socks off any other attempt at such a scrumptious food in the U.S. I'm already sad I won't have anything like it when I get back!

I also noticed the people are averaging a bit larger than in other parts of Europe, as are the cars. I feel right at home. :) But I do feel like I look more like the people here. Maybe it's all in my head, but I like to think it isn't.

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06.13.06

Today I took the official and original "Sound of Music Tour." If you want cheesy, here it is, folks. But it was 4 hours and really a fantastic tour of not just Salzburg, but of the mountain and lakes region, too. The hills really are alive, guys. It's incredible here. Soon I'll head back to the hostel for some Wiener-Schnitzel (sp?) and other Austrian stuff.

It is a totally different culture here than in France, Italy or Spain, and I absolutely am loving it. I feel at home here. Mom, Dad, family --- you're coming here. You know you want to!

06.11.06 - Paris: City of Lovers

Another kick-ass day in Paris! Last night was beautiful. I met up with Lizz from CU and a couple of her friends she met along the way and we took a night tour boat of the city of lights. It was so cool, and the Eiffel Tower is great at night.

This really is the city for lovers, I must say. Every bridge we went under (there are 36 total in Paris, you know) was speckled with couples enjoying the night. There were people tango-dancing on the river bank and teens and 20-somethings hanging off the banks with their bottles of wine and bongos. This place flourishes at night and I love it!

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Later...

Today I actually woke up fairly early and headed off on the metro to Notre Dame for Mass. How picturesque!!! Choir people in their bright blue robes singing chant-like oooohs and alllllelluias ... then there was the excessive incense that is apparently very popular here. The bonus to being alone is that the usher seated me right up front. Incense was my oxygen for about an hour. I knew I had become a full-fledged tourist and forgot my Catholic manners when the priest held up the body of Christ and I nearly reached for my camera thinking "Oh my gosh, I am in Notre Dame and this is the money shot!". You may or may not be relieved to learn that my camera stayed stowed in my purse.

My mini-recorder did, too, but that doesn't mean I didn't have the indecency to turn it on to catch some glorious aaaaahhhs from the choir and cantor. You'll love it, Mom. :)
I had half a mind to run into the church yelling "Sanctuarrryyyy!!!" but thought they might get that type of obnoxious behavior a lot and felt it best to refrain.

After Mass I booked it to the Louvre, and let me tell you I was blown away by its sheer size, let alone its contents. What is so cool is that the building itself is the old Royal Palace. But the paintings and sculptures - OH the sculptures! - I couldn't get enough! I strolled around myself for a couple hours and then did the 5 euro tour, which was well worth it for the info I got. I don't remember any of it, but it was really interesting at the time.

At 5 I met up with Lizz again and we got delicious Italian food (yeah, I know). Then we walked to Sacre Coeur and around Picasso and Van Gogh's old living and hangout spots for a few hours. What's fun, and by fun I mean annoying as ever, is avoiding what Lizz explained to me as the 2 eye-contact contract, meaning if you make eye-contact a second time with a guy (which is not difficult since there are always several staring ... I am not bragging here, seriously), it's trouble and not unlikely he'll take it as an invite to chat you up and whatnot. I've been pretty good about it so far, if not flat-out rude when I say "no thanks," but these Europeans - they're persistent!

I've mentally deduced that "Paris" translates directly to "expensive," as my 2 days here have by far been the most expensive of my whole trip. But I wouldn't trade it. Nope.

But on I go to Austria, home of ... Red Bull. It's true, look it up.

Hey Macky - I've combined our faces to make images of our future children. Here they are in Austria yodel-odeling! Haha... sorry, most of you won't get that.

Train stations have become like a second home to me. I settle into them like a baby to a blanket, or like the homeless man sleeping near me ... however you prefer to look at it.

06.10.06 - Paris: Home of pink toilet paper

My third and second-to-last night train has come to pass, and again I wake up in a different country. It's quite a change from the beaches of San Sebastian to the sirens and bustling subways of Paris, but it is nice to have a little more to stay busy with. The heat, however, has not abandoned me. I'm beginning to wish it would. I went into an internet cafe today and stayed all of 5 minutes because I am fairly certain it would have doubled as a death chamber had I stayed longer.

I am still a bit dazed, but today I went to Versailles!!! YES! It was awesome. I walked the same halls and paths of so manz historical figures, I crept through the (off limits) woods as I'm sure children did way back when when they wanted to be children and not puppets or dolls. Every room I went in I found out - if not wondered beyond the facts I was given - who slept in this bed? Who paced this floor frustrated and challenged by politics that changed society? Who was killed here? Born here? It is an incredible historical place to walk, and kinda funny because it was Louis XIV's in-your-face message of power. He intentionally made himself and depictions of himself as all-powerful a focus throughout the grounds and castle interior. No one can enter without getting the feeling that this man had power and control, and will do what he pleases because he can. What a statement.

After Versailles and a delicious French salad (no, not hte cheap red dressing), I mastered the Parisian subway and made my way to Notre Dame, where I toured today and will go to Mass tomorrow before the Louvre.

Leaving sun and sand ... tear!

Somehow the timing always just works out perfectly. I have had 4 days of lovely sun and beach, and I am again ready to move on. Although it´s a bit more sad now because I won´t get to speak any more Spanish, and I won´t be going to anymore nice lay-out beaches, and the not-white Debbie will soon be white white Debbie again. Ah, well. I´m actually really sad about that which is kinda shallow of me, but I don´t really care. :)

Things to remember in Spain:
-The adorable little girl next to me on the beach who kept calling for her grandpa. "Carlos! CAAARRRLLOOOSSS! ¿Que tal, Carlos?" Okay it´s not as cute when it´s typed out like that. It seems borderline creepy, actually. But if you´d have been there, you´d know.
-The feel of icey Atlantic water when it first hits your skin and you dive into its aqua deliciousness.
-TOO MANY SPEEDOS! They are NOT cool!
-Salty hair, sandy skin
-The color of the ocean at different times of day. Brilliant.
-Dancing on the beach until 6 a.m., then waking up at 10:30 to go right back just to lay on it.
-The man on the walkway playing traditional Spanish guitar at night while I watched the lights and moon reflecting on the water in the bay. Unlike most street performers, this guy got my money.

But on to Paris where I will run around the Louvre playing a game I call "Da Vinci Code Revisited - Debbie style" and climb the Eiffel Tower at night. My hostel is in the same neighborhood where Picasso, Van Gogh and other impressive sounding artists lived and hung out. As the Woodstock Hostel Web site says: "If it was good enough for them, it´ll be good enough for you."

One more cheesy line in accordance with being in a beach town: Life's a beach.

Salt water, sand everywhere, HORCHATA gelato, tapas, sangria, warm sweet breeze, traditional Spanish guitar by the beachwalk at night, flowers, tans and beach parties at 3 a.m.

Mmm, San Sebastian.

Life is beachy keen

"And to think that all along, hidden from our sight, our lives were that small: the world we live in but almost never see, the way we must appear to the hawk and to the gods."
-Alain de Botton, "The Art of Travel," on flying in planes

San Sebastian agrees with me. Well, for the most part it does. My hostel is totally unorganized, i.e. I couldn´t get in yesterday morning for over an hour, then there was no one there later in the day to let me get ot my bags and/or get into my room, then they moved me to one of their hostels in a different building a few blocks down after I had already gone grocery shopping and stocked my stuff in the kitchen. then once in the new hostel they wanted to put me in a 12-bed dorm when I paid for a 3-bed (I ended up paying the same for a 4-bed with a sink that doesn´t work, but I´m not complaining). So there are 3 keys involved in getting to my bed. Two of them didn´t work, and when I told them I was given this response: "Yeah, a lot of the keys don´t work, and there aren´t anymore left so you´ll have to wait until someone checks out tomorrow..." And now, a story to follow up the previous information: I went out to the bars with a bunch of Australians (again -- they are EVERYWHERE), and I wanted to leave before they did, so I found my way back to the hostel, and forgot that my keys don´t work. I´m not sure what time it was but it was late and no one was answering the intercom. So I kicked the door in. There was breakage of neither the door nor my body; I wouldn´t have had the guts to do it if that were to result, but I did Jackie Chan it up a bit. Hey, it worked and I got to go to bed! Now for more hostel-griping ...

When I woke up this morning I got all ready for the beach and walked out of my room to make lunch and eat breakfast from the groceries I bought. However, the kitchen was locked (it´s supposed to open at 10 a.m.). When I asked if I could get in and get to my stuff, the guy working said I couldn´t because his boss had locked it and was a half hour out of town, so they didn´t know when it would be open. What?! Crazy siesta-taking door-locking late-sleeping San Sebastians! So yeah, unorganized, but cool anyways. All was well after I went out and bought coffee, fresh o.j. and a toasted croissant with marmalade. SO good. And then I hit the beach.

Another random small-world story: While at the beach today I heard some girls speaking English next to me so I asked them to watch my stuff while I went in the water (which was probably the most clear and refreshing swim EVER). When I came back, they asked me where I was from and I told them, to which they replied, "Hey, us too!" One had just graduated from CU like me and the other was still in school there. So it seems the only foreigners in Europe are Canadians, Australians and people from Colorado. Interesting. No, in reality they were the first Americans I have met in 2 days, which is a long time when you´re surrounded by backpackers.

Travelling alone has been awesome and lonely at times, but still an excellent way to go if you want to meet new people and force yourself out of the comfort bubble. You just have to, it´s the only way to get what you need, and sometimes it´s intimidating as hell. Travelling alone brings out introspection, inspiration and for better or worse, insecurities. But it also confronts them, which is invaluable, for me at least.

Alrighty, time to jet. Tapas are calling!

San Sebastian: Summer on a stick

One thing I love about arriving at a city in the early hours is watching it wake up. After the longest and best night of sleep I´ve had in over a week (on a train, no less), I got into San Sebastian, Spain at 7:30 a.m. and couldn´t get into my hostel right away. So, I sat by the river where it widens and becomes the sea. Drinking grapefruit juice and eating chocolate wafer cookies from Greg´s mom, I watched kids walk to class, street vendors wash their windows, delivery men stock up the outdoor market and the world come alive.

I am still tired and now sick from the nonstop movement in Barcelona, but it´s nothing a couple of days on the beach can´t cure. Life is good.

When in Barcelona ...

Ahh, Spain! It was a bittersweet goodbye to the Mirabellas, but I am so happy to be here.
I came in on the 3rd and watched the sunrise over the Spanish sea en las horas pequenas de la mañana, and although it was not something I did by choice, it was a warming welcome to this portion of the trip that I´ve been most excited for.
I´ve gotten to practice my Spanish, but at first I kept slipping in a "oui" or "s´il vous plait," but now I´m back in the Spanish groove and its familiarity makes me very happy. I feel good here.

Barcelona: I love this city! I was so anxious to get to Spain, and the first day was a pinch lonely as it often can be in the big cities. But now that it´s over I miss it! The city itself is beautiful, with incredible Gaudi character that only leaves me wanting more. I love Gaudi. I knew nothing about his talent before and now I´m kind of obsessed.
I have visited the beach (of course), Sagrada Familia (amazing), Gaudi´s Parc Guell and house, went to Mass at the Cathedral, looked at countless structures, sculptures, buskers, enjoyed the nightlife so much you might say I enjoyed the morning life as well, and I´ve met some awesome people from Canada and Australia. There are surprisingly few Americans around Europe right now. I´ve probably met 75% canadians so far. Maybe everyone is lying to avoid tension, but I doubt it.
Some highlights include drinking fresh Sangria at El Raco del Raco in Poble Espanyol, an old artisan town square, and then strolling through Parc Guell´s lavender and daffodil gardens (Gaudi was smart and knew it would make people smile, as I did). I also loved the "Magical Fountain" as it´s called. A group of us from the hostel (me, one Canadian and about 10 Aussies), ventured there and ended up staying for a couple hours just enjoying the ambiance of color, water and people-watching -- the perfect end to a day and start to the night, which, in Barcelona, doesn´t seem to end.

Marseille

Okay, so they have cereal with chocolate in it. I'm not talking co-co puffs, I'm talking delicious bits of actual chocolate. And this is my breakfast. Not complaining.

Greg has driven me ALL over Marseille to some pretty awesome sights. We saw La Catedral Major, Old Charity, Palais du Pharo where Napolean III lived, Notre Dame de la Garde and some gorgeous views of Marseille. Oh, and I saw giant jellyfish and had a scary Eurotoilet experience, about which I will not go into detail.

Another day we took a boat around Cassis where the water is as aqua as it gets. It was so beautiful: a port town with protected beaches and bays of white rock, some of which built the Statue of Liberty. It was a bit windy, causing the waves to splash into the boat when we hit them. This one woman was all prepared, though. When it got hot, she zipped off the bottom part of her pants and voila, shorts! When it got splashy she pulled out a poncho. I just rolled up my pants and ... got splashed on.

After Cassis we drove to Castellet, a quaint French village in the rolling vineyards of Provence. So cute, or 'mignon' as they say here.

And the driving here ... oh, the driving. Greg keeps telling me we'll be alright and that he's used to it, which he is and we will, but sometimes it's scary. It's no Nicaragua, but let's just say that I think all Europeans drive tiny little cars for more reasons than just the environment. Tiny roads, tiny lanes ... Itty bitty parking spaces!

The wind has been crazy. C'est incroyable! Met another girl from Denver and the world keeps getting smaller.

And I have to again comment on Christine's cooking. It is freakin' amazing.