Hold This Millipede For Me, Won't You?

I've just arrived back in Bangkok after a wonderful two days near Pak Chong, where a friend and I explored Khao Yai National Park, a monsoon forest and a Unesco World Heritage Site. In fact, I'm sitting in a massage chair getting my first-ever pedicure in preparation to return to the U.S. tomorrow. Let me settle back (ah, my cuticles) and tell you about all the poisonous animals we held.

Gwen and I went on two tours with our Guesthouse, which were fantastic. We made friends with travelers from the UK, Belgium, and Holland. We rode around the park on benches in the bed of a pick-up truck, pulling over suddenly and witnessing our driver sprinting down the road, diving into the long grass, and coming out with a venomous snake balanced on a stick. We constantly marvelled at the staff's ability to spot wildlife from a moving vehicle. We explored a huge cave where Buddhist monks go to meditate, which happened to be chock full of bats and various poisonous insects and spiders. Our guide took particular pleasure in grabbing our hands and gently placing animals on them, instructing us to keep very still, and proceeding to give a short lecture on how easily they could kill us if we scared them. It was like nothing you would see in the U.S., and it was terrifyingly fabulous, although I did have a stab of regret at not purchasing travel insurance.

After our death-defying tour of the cave, we went to the base of a mountain to watch millions of bats fly out for the evening hunt. Our driver, recognizing the fleeting nature of animal-watching, told us to run down the dark trail to the viewing area. Halfway down the trail, our flashlights suddenly illuminated our guide holding another snake dangling on a stick. "Look!" he cried. "A viper!  No, don't look!  See the bats!  I will save the snake!"

We finished the evening with a swim in a natural spring and headed out again the next morning to spot wild elephants (a rarity, occurring not once but twice) and gibbons and trekking through the forest wearing a rainbow of ponchos in a downpour. It was my first experience with both leech socks and leeches, the latter thankfully being spotted on the ground and not on my sock.

The adventure was over quickly, and I've been surprised at how emotional it's been. I realized that I've finally reached the end of my graduation list, all the internships and moves and tests that took place after the ceremony that made me insist that graduate school wasn't truly finished yet. I realized on a swing at the guesthouse that the moment has finally come that marks the end of an era and the beginning of my working life. It feels momentous and alarming, and I feel at the moment like I want to keep backpacking in Asia forever, but it's time to come home. I'm so glad I went on this trip, and I have high hopes for continued international travel, particularly in Thailand. For now, though, it's time to start applying what I learned in school. Until next time, Asia!  I will be back.

When Things Go Wrong

I've shared a lot of my adventures in Asia, but I've deliberately left out some of the rougher patches. It's a lot more fun to talk about seeing elephants than the four hours we and I stood in line to get our Thai visas, packed in like sardines in 100-degree heat and slowly fighting our way through the mob to the front of the room with our 50-pound bags. In fact, I swore not to talk about that experience ever again. Whoops.  At any rate, I've decided that I share a few lessons learned on the road, so I'm not glamorizing my travels too much.

I've had a few terrible nights here. The first was when an earthquake hit at 3:45 a.m. in Taipei when we were asleep in an 8th-floor apartment. I staggered to my phone and saw an email from a travel buddy that her work might not let her make the trip after all. I stayed up the rest of the night watching CNN and replanning the trip, unable to shake my anxiety that another earthquake would topple the building. I was used to quakes in California but didn't know whether the apartment had been built according to safety standards. In the end, it was fine.

Another unhappy night began when I flew from Tokyo to Taiwan before departing for Cambodia the next morning. My friend had a similar layover, and we were planning to meet up and sleep in the airport. However, upon arrival in Taiwan I was ushered through tonget my visa, pick up my checked bags, and go through customs before checking in for my next flight. I was suddenly in the arrival hall at 23:00 with three heavy bags, unable to call or locate my friend and clearly not allowed to sleep where I stood. I desperately wanted to sleep before my day in Cambodia the next day, and the departure hall was closed until morning.  At 12:30 I gave up on messaging my friend, who was clearly safely ensconced in the terminal, and joined a young family in booking hotel rooms and taxis from a man closing his hotel kiosk. It cost $100 including taxi rides, a huge amount for one person in Taiwan, but I paid it and hopped in the shares taxi. Six hours later I was back at the airport.

This experience taught me a lesson. Sometimes plans you felt sure of will fail, and I am an adult who has to figure out a solution. I can't expect someone else to jump in and explain everything. Sometimes, you just have to bite the bullet and get yourself a hotel room.  I feel that at these moments of panic in the middle of the night, I've come into my adulthood in a new way. I can do what needs to be done, make  unhappy decisions under pressure. While it might have been really stressful, I think those moments are among the most valuable of the trip as they taught me how self-sufficient I am. Hopefully my last few days in Thailand will be smooth sailing, but there are always wrinkles that come up when you travel in a foreign country, and I feel like I'm ready for them.

My Feud with the Princess

Yesterday I spent the day at Elephant Nature Haven outside of Kanchanaburi, feeding and bathing the elephants after their romp in a mud pit. We also prepared rice balls for their breakfast, made of rice, tamarind, salt, wheat germ, and banana. I smacked a little as well, and it was very salty. It was a great day, but I'll have to refer you to my Facebook video for more. It's better to see it than to talk about it. 

I arrived back in Kanchanaburi at 16:00, still dripping a little from my dip in the river, to rush into the Death Railroad Museum and the Memorial Cemetery before they closed at 17:00. My ride told me casually that he couldn't drop me off in front of the museum because the Thai princess was about to visit. I walked past a bunch of small children with flags to the museum, where I was turned away by smiling Thai police. I shrugged it off and ran to the cemetery, which is never closed, only to be turned laughingly away by more police. Now, as cool as it was to be in the same vicinity as the princess, I was starting to get a bit miffed about losing my only chance to see the Allied WWII history of Kanchanaburi. After all, I might have a relative buried there, I told myself. I might have come to Asia just to see the grave!  Burning with this imagined slight, I stood behind a five-foot hedge and read some grave markers until another officer chased me off, smiling again. As I took one last look at the cemetery, I saw a group surrounding a figure in pink that was walking through the cemetery. 

Given that I wouldn't expect to see the Lincoln Memorial if President Obama was there, the lack of security around the princess's visit made me feel like it wasn't that big a deal. However, upon reflection and discussion with my teacher in my cooking class today, I feel excitement about adding Princess Sirindhorn to my list of sighted world leaders, which also includes the Swedish king and queen, as well as Laura Bush and George's arm. 

Overcoming these trifling setbacks, I managed to get into the museum when it opened this morning before heading off to a Thai cooking class, which may have been the highlight of my entire trip. I can now make four authentic dishes, and I will leave it to you to invite me to your house for a potluck to find out which ones. Let's just say I'm well-fed and on my way back to Bangkok for a week!

Raft Over the River Kwai

Hello from Kanchanaburi, Thailand!  I'm staying here for two nights to visit an elephant sanctuary and to squeeze in some WWII history. As you may know better than I, this area of the river Kwai (pronounced like "square" without the "s", actually with a different name but renamed after the book came out) witnessed a lot of brutality from Japanese soldiers toward Allied POWs and others. I am hoping to go to a museum on the subject on Saturday, which would make me much more informed, but I did manage to run from my guesthouse at sunset to see the bridge. It was very difficult to feel the solemnity of the bridge, which cost hundreds of thousands of lives to build (to my knowledge). The area was jam-packed with Chinese tourists and souvenir shops, but I'm hoping to go back in the morning to avoid this. 

By the way, when I said "guesthouse", you should know to what I was referring. I did not mean a fancy resort like the one I'd just left. The room where I'm staying is called a "raft room", which means it's a thatched duplex cabin literally on a raft on the river.  Strangely, it has wifi. It's got a completely gorgeous view of the sunset, and I'm sure that this is one stay I won't be forgetting anytime soon.  I didn't comprehend this fully until a speedboat went past and we bobbed quite a lot. I hear karaoke boats frequent this area, and although it would be hilarious to spy on one, I am hoping for a good night's sleep tonight. 

Why am I interested in a good night's sleep, you ask?  Well, apart from obvious reasons (I AM SEEING ELEPHANTS TOMORROW), I had a little awakening experience last night. I'd had a gorgeous day. Swimming on Ko Samet was everything I could hope or dream. I would sink into the water and feel like life just couldn't get any better.  On my last evening, it started lightly raining, making the water sound like someone was sprinkling huge amounts of glitter onto its surface.  A Thai tween and her mom Sam near me, laughing, and the girl decided instantly that we were friends and kept looking at me and grinning hugely.  It was great.  

Then it was night, and I lay in my gorgeous resort room, basking unconsciously in the A/C, when I was awakened at 4:30 a.m. by a rustling noise. Not a big deal, I decided. The A/C was on, after all. The rustling got louder. It was definitely coming from the plastic bag where I'd put the takeout container that had contained my dinner, and it wasn't the vent. I lay frozen. It got even louder. I decided that from the noise level, a rat must have gotten into my room. I lay in the dark in shock, considering my options. The hotel didn't open its front desk until 7:00, and I had no broom-like apparatus. I decided there was nothing for it but to stay safe in my bed and ignore the noise until the rat went on its way. 

This is where I tell you that I'm pooping fiery water these days. I know, I'm sorry, but I just think you should know. It paints a more complete picture of travel. Now that we've gotten that out (ha), I can tell you that I was forced to sneak past the bag three times, that I did not in fact go back to sleep, and that in the end I blasted ABBA and the (accused) rat stayed hidden and quiet in the bag while I packed and left. I told the guy at the desk in an undertone when I left, and he nodded nonchalantly and checked my room number. I got much the same reaction last month when I changed hostels in Tokyo after a bedbug sighting, but I know that they ran around cleaning in a frenzy when I hauled my stuff out. I suspect it was the same in this case. I didn't want some poor hotel maid to pick up the bag and get the surprise of her life!

That is, if there was a rat at all. Who knows?  I am taking malaria pills and traveling alone. Anything can happen. Let's just hope that somehow this raft is more isolated (large splashes from outside) than the resort!  At any rate, tomorrow, elephants!

Angkor Wat Now?

Rachel and I are about to head off on our third day of exploring temples by tuk-tuk before catching the bus to Bangkok tomorrow. It's the most remarkable experience, seeing these temples. We took Lonely Planet's advice (like all the other Americans here, whom we run into at good-cause cupcake shops and yoga cafes) and started with the smallest temples first, leaving the heavy hitters for today. This strategy has been perfect. We are astonished by everything we see. 

My overarching sentiment about these temples is that someone is going to come running over at any moment, likely blowing a whistle, and yank me off of the crumbling ruin that I'm climbing. However, this does not happen. Somehow, we are permitted to climb in and out of ancient windows, to sit in the edge of balustrades. I climbed a set of terrifyingly steep, high stairs yesterday that would be considered a huge liability in the U.S., apart from other considerations. I then stood next to the ruins of a stone elephant at the top of (what I would call) a parapet, looking out over the huge temple and keeping fastidiously away from the edge. This is no country for old men. Or Americans, I guess. 

My least favorite part of the trip continues to be the high prices and constant stream of sales pitches from vendors and tuk-tuk drivers, in part due to my discomfort with my limited knowledge of how much my small purchase would be a large financial boon to them. My favorite part of the trip is the fleeting instant of interaction it allows me to have with the locals we pass in our tuk-tuk. I have seen:

-A man feeding a turtle

-A constant parade of families of four balanced on one motorbike

-Children swimming naked in a pond in the rain

-Countless mothers rocking with their children in hammocks 

-A tiny motorbike carrying two to three times its size of twig brooms, uncovered fish, or hot dogs

-Children playing with a tire, a toy truck, a vine swing, or the dirt

Seeing children playing as we drive past brings me back to a place where we're all the same, and it's what I think about at the end of a day here. Being surrounded by six-year-olds selling you postcards feels so uncomfortable and alien, but seeing kids playing in an unguarded moment feels universal. A fellow tourist icing her sprained ankle at a cafe yesterday told us just before the proprietor helped her to her tuk-tuk, "These are really such kind people. Very kind people."  I just need to find the window to look in and see it. 

All Phnom Penhed In

Japan has given way in my travels to Cambodia, and I am on a bus to Siem Reap with my friend Rachel after spending two days in Phnom Penh. I'd heard mixed things about Phnom Penh, in particular that it's had a rise in crime in recent years (particularly theft from tourists), so I want sure what to expect. On our first afternoon, I was completely overwhelmed. The remorks (motorbikes with carts attached) driving in lanes for opposite traffic, the constant calling of drivers and the massive overcharging that we were too inexperienced to haggle down were all components of a completely different world than the ones I've experienced so far, particularly after staying in Tokyo for just under a week. 

However, yesterday we rose with the sun and went to the prison museum and the Killing Fields, both of which are just mind-blowing.  If you don't know, these are locations where the Khmer Rouge tortured and killed the entire population of Phnom Penh in 1975-9.  I knew little about Cambodian history before coming, and looking around thinking that every resident of the city I saw would have been taken to these locations had it been 40 years ago was impossible to imagine. Our guide at the prison museum had been thirteen at the time and lost her father and brother. Of the thousands taken to the prison, only seven survived, and only two are alive now. We met them both in the courtyard. It's striking to think that very few of the perpetrators have been imprisoned, and some may still be living in the city. 

In the afternoon we ate lunch at a cafe that donates to a Cambodian children's fund, where I had delicious fish amok, a traditional Cambodian stew of lemongrass and coconut milk.  We hired a remork and explored the Russian market, where I had my first successful bargaining experience over a pair of elephant tank tops (2/$4). I'm sure an experienced bargainer could have paid far less, but the small victory buoyed my spirits for the rest of the day and helped me leave the city on a better note. 

Now we are on a lovely air-conditioned bus with wifi, heading to see the temples of Siem Reap for three days. I am hoping to rent bikes and to avoid rain as much as possible. Wish me luck!

Smart Americans Prove Themselves Again!

It was a sunny afternoon in Hirosaki, Japan, and Laura-chan and I were heading to Owani for my first onsen (Japanese bath house) experience. Laura had heard from friends that this onsen was amazing and right next to the train station. With joy in our hearts, we alighted from the train to see a grocery store in the distance, surrounded by houses. "Never fear!" we said, "We'll soon find it!"

Forty minutes later, I was sweating like a pig* under my raincoat that I wore to cover my sleeveless tank top, which marked me as a foreigner.  (I know what you're thinking, and you're right: with my raincoat on, I looked exactly like the typical resident of Owani.  It's these little tricks that help you blend in when in foreign countries.  I like to think I'm educating you as you share my exploits.) Anyway, we had walked through town, Laura had called her friends and gotten their voicemails, and we were reduced to begging for directions from a nice middle-aged female checker at a grocery store. She assured us it was two minutes away, "right by the train station".  Following her (unlabeled) map, we charged up a hill and confusedly onto the terrace of a shrine. Realizing our mistake when we saw a priest in the entryway, we turned and charged back down the hill before he could ask us why we had towels. 

Finally, we passed an older woman in her garden, who walked us back down the hill and pointed us across a bridge, assuring us that it was very close, and "right next to the train station".  We were laughing about the encounter two minutes later when a car abruptly veered in front of us and stopped, with the gardening woman jumping out to usher us inside and her son (?) driving. One minute later we arrived at the onsen, which was indeed located right by the (other line's) train station. We thanked our rescuers and  proceeded to wash all our worries (and my pig sweat*) away. Another day, a success!

*Do pigs really sweat that much?  Can anyone explain this?

Setting: Evening, Alone, Lost in Tokyo

Apropos of nothing, I am restarting this blog (first a study-abroad blog, then a grad school blog before I realized I wasn't allowed to write about anyone I worked with). I've been traveling through Taiwan and Japan for the past month, and I will attempt to catch up on immortalizing my best stories. 

Tonight I attempted to find a dog cafe, got lost in Tokyo's largest metro station, and spent three hours there.  The station is so big that I walked for a good thirty minutes without finding the platform I was looking for or recognizing anything.  I'm misleading you a bit; I saw a sign for a local government building with free views of the skyline and did that, but it was only an escalator ride up from the station.  Afterwards I tried to find the line to take me to another sightseeing spot, got lost again, tried to find a sushi restaurant in the station, couldn't, and eventually staggered into a different sushi restaurant, sweaty and slightly panic-stricken. Not to say that I didn't have fun!  In the midst of the chaos of the station, I saw lots of vendors and hundreds of people weaving around each other seamlessly, all seemingly omniscient to the workings of the subway system. 

When I arrived at the sushi restaurant, a small shop with a bar encircling two sushi chefs, all ten patrons stared at me with obvious surprise. I pulled up a chair and managed to finagle a menu and some tea. The other patrons would, without warning, call out the rolls they wanted, with the chefs keeping up.  I felt acutely aware of my inability to perform this maneuver, but eventually drew enough sympathy from the younger chef to receive help ordering.  As one often feels when unable to communicate, I was positive that the two chefs were laughing about my order (not unpleasantly), prompting me to order an entire eel in order to show them my serious nature. I realized some deep feelings that I have been harboring for a long time: I LOVE unagi. It is hereby my favorite food. 

Following dinner, a common scene occurred on the metro heading home. I exited a kiosk at one line, entered another, realized I had wanted the first one, and tried to exit, with the kiosk prompting me to seek assistance. I couldn't agree more. The employee nodded uncomprehendingly at my explanation and swiped my card, instructing me, "Don't touch" [the card to the kiosk]. I did him one better and rammed my knee into the kiosk on the way out, which we both had a hearty laugh over, during which I ran. 

Tokyo is a wonderful city, clean and safe and possessing the UNESCO World Heritage acknowledgement for FOOD. That's right, Japanese food is on the Intangible World Heritage list, which means it's time for another round of karaage. Later!

'Twas the Night Before... Isthmus?

There’s something about the night before that is timeless, as fleeting as it is.  I still remember the night before my ninth birthday, the night before I moved into my freshman dorm, and the night before I gave my senior cello recital.  The heightened emotion, whether terror or excitement, keeps you lying electrically tense late into the night, trying to turn off your thoughts while helpless to stop them.  I have always imagined that the night before getting married, I would be unable to sleep and would finally crawl out of bed at dawn, merely grateful that the night was over.

Tomorrow I begin my first level-one field placement, shadowing an occupational therapist at an elementary school.  It is merely one full day of shadowing in and of itself, but from my late-night perspective, it is quite a significant milestone.  Tomorrow marks the first day of my career endeavors within the workplace.  Tomorrow I will leave the house at 7:00 a.m. wearing a badge that introduces me with the letters “OTS” after my name.  Tomorrow.

Well, let’s make it 7:15.

The Pupusa Ring

I have experienced the perfect Friday night.  It happened about a month ago now, after a grueling week of my summer session.  It was nine o'clock, and my housemate and I were hungry.  We decided to venture five blocks down the road to Scoops, the gourmet ice cream shop without a sign where you order a "single scoop" and receive two, an overt act of generosity every time.  When they’re open, you can recognize it by the sample spoon art in the window; when they've run out of ice cream, they pull down one of those metal rolling storefront gates that look like garage doors, and you would never know what’s behind it.  Last time I was there, I ordered lemon basil and blueberry rose water.

The defining moment came on our walk home, however.  A Hispanic couple had set up a small street pupusa stand with a stove under a canopy, and the wife was frying them on a stove right before our eyes.  We quickly joined the small crowd seated in the warm cloak of light and placed our order.  We sat there for fifteen minutes, just watching her cook, taking in the comfort of the pupusa community.  A family sat to our right, the bossy girl teaching her little brother how to dance to the music from their mom’s phone.  One couple retreated into the darkness to eat in their truck, but more stepped into the circle of light to bring back dinner for their families.  Krystina and I smiled at the dancing kids, listening to the constant background sizzle of the grill.  When the couple called us forward for our food, she chatted with them for a minute in easygoing Spanish, while I stood beside her, mute but grateful.  As we picked up our paper bags to leave, the husband smiled and said in English, “Have a good night.  See you soon.”

Intensive Adventures

I like to call myself an "academic pragmatist", or a "cognitive miser" on special occasions.  I learn for tests, and I read for papers.  (Well, generally speaking.  Of course if something fascinates me that's a different case.  Let's not go thinking I get no enjoyment out of learning.)  Grades are what drive me to learn, and that generally works quite well.  I should say that it generally worked quite well.

Six weeks into the program's summer intensive, and everyone holds such high standards for themselves.  Our classmates are too friendly and relatable for any antipathetic tension in the air, but I know many of us are feeling like we're running to keep up with a train that's just started to leave a station.  I am, anyway.  I guess this is what grad school is: successful, talented graduates with the same goals and interests, brought together and taught to excel.  The problem is that I'm trying too hard to be at the front of the train.  I am competing against myself, against my highest standards, and it's exhausting.

Comparison is the root of a good amount of evil, I'd say.  It's sucking the joy out of the B+ I earned in my first graduate school course.  The class average was an A-.  Honestly, being below average is not a situation in which I like to find myself, and historically I have usually managed to avoid it.  It doesn't matter that others have more of a background in the class material.  It matters that wherever I started, I ended the race a few breaths behind 50% of my class.  I don't like these thoughts, but they nag, and I don't want to be thinking them at all!

The other day, I was standing outside of the campus hospital, waiting for a friend.  It was bright, so I went over to stand in the shade of some palm trees and soon realized that I was waiting on the released-patient curb.  Aides brought out two begowned elderly people in wheelchairs, and we all waited together under the palm trees.  Suddenly I realized something: I had been focusing on the wrong population.  My classmates, as charming and intelligent as they are, should not be the people I use to measure my success.  The reasons that I'm studying aren't in my classroom; they're on the sidewalk outside the hospital.

I feel that God showed me this very deliberately at the beginning of grad school, so that I can have the proper motivation going forward.  It made me think of, "Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of mine, even the least of them, you did it to me."  My motivation is Jesus in a wheelchair.

Välkommen till Sverige

That's right, I will make you google translate the title.

I've officially been moved out of my apartment in Rennes for a week now!  Last Friday morning I caught the early train to Paris, took the metro to Gare du Nord, took the Eurostar under the English Channel to London, caught a train to East Midland Parkway, and caught a bus to York!  I spent a wonderful week (ish) with Lauren, a friend from Hope, sleeping on her floor, meeting her friends, and exploring the charming city.  I have two new loves: clotted cream, and a British show called "Miranda", which is on youtube if you're curious.  Start with season 1, episode 1, and do it right. :)

I arrived here in Stockholm, Sweden, yesterday evening, and I'm spending the next week (ish) with some relatives that I met three years ago when my family did our family-tree trip, who thankfully speak English.  There are two blonde girls, ages 7 and 9, who make me think of what it was like growing up with Gretchen.  (As in, awesome and really goofy.)  We've eaten a good amount of salmon so far (yay!), and this morning I took a bus into the city center and wandered around.  I was mainly concerned with rediscovering my memories from three years ago, like eating a shrimp and egg sandwich with lemon and dill, or those wonderful ginger cookies I can't spell.  My favorite part was when I turned a corner in Old Town and discovered the exact square that we'd seen last time on Swedish National Day.  It's small, but there's a grocery store, a little cafe where we ate, and a short statue of some poet or something, and last time I'd taken a picture with little girls with flags in front of it!  All in all, great fun.  The younger daughter and I have been engaging in sneaky tickle wars while watching TV, and the older one has started playing the cello and has a concert tomorrow on a farm!  Ja!

Well, I'm going to show my "aunt" Facebook, so I've got to go!  Until we meet again, enjoy summer weather if you have any!  It was terribly cold (12 degrees C) and windy today, but it's still light out, and it's 21:30.  Night!

I Am Channeling Rick Steves.

Dear blog readers,

Some days I go onto this blog just to stare at the statistics.  It doesn’t tell me who you are, don’t worry, but it tells me that I get over 2 views a day this month.  And it’s been a month since I’ve posted.  Got to love the internet.

Well, I’m back from my wonderful two weeks of break!  It’s actually kind of finals week right now, and I have tons of stuff to be doing, but I looked at the blog and thought, “If there are really two viewers checking this every day” (Hm, who could they be?) “…then I can’t disappoint them!  I’m going to write!”  So here is a very short summary of my vacation.  I have meticulous travel notes, but I can’t type them all up right now. :P

Ireland

I left on April 23 with 7 other friends for the far-off Ryanair airport in Beauvais, near Paris, and after a very long day of travel, Dana, Bri, Courtney, and I arrived at our destination, a monastery located near Moone, near Dublin.  It’s a small country town with lots of ancient ruins and cows.  I tasted the incredible Barry’s tea (I brought 158 teabags home), frolicked around with my friends, and celebrated Easter in the chapel with the monks (the sweetest, most generous people in the world).

We then spent a night in a B&B and saw Blarney Castle (kissed it!), then spent a night in Galway seeing Kylemore Abbey (awesome), and returned to Dublin for a night in which I got to see Jess, Leah, and Lauren from Hope, who were also in Ireland for break!  I ate lots of toffee and bought a wool scarf and ate lots of black pudding and generally loved it.

Scotland

Bri and I went to Edinburgh, missed our second train, and ended up stranded in Glasgow for the night.  It was pretty much heartbreaking.  Non-refundable train and hostel reservations.  We were crushed.  Neither of us had phones that worked there, and our iPods were dead.  We finally got walking directions to a hostel that were pretty vague, but on the way we saw an…

APPLE STORE

Can you hear that music playing? 

Yeah.  As much as I already loved Apple (which is a lot), now I owe my safety to…  Well, God’s using them to give us a safe place to stay, but still.  Awesome.  We went in with our backpacks and rolling suitcase and looked on hostelbookers.com.  We found a hostel, checked into the cheapest room they had (14-female dorm), and stumbled out to eat.  We found the Crystal Palace, a classy pub with a football (soccer) game on.  It was also curry night, and cheap.  The crumble was amazing too.  God can sure turn things around, can’t He?  I admit to having down some serious praying.

Anyway, the next day we camped out there again and watched the Royal Wedding, and then we went to Edinburgh and spent a few days there.  One day we took a bus tour through the Highlands (Loch Ness!), and we had a nice guesthouse to relax in for the evenings.

Italy

Then I went to Italy.  Our family is friends with an amazingly welcoming Italian family in Padova, near Venice, who picked me up, gave me an amazing room, and fed me and translated for me.  There’s so much I could say about that week (They’re such wonderful people!), but I guess for now I’ll just tell you where I went.  Venice, the Dolomites, a cherry orchard, lots of picturesque Italian towns…  It was fabulous.

And now I’m back for my last week and a half of classes.  There are tests and papers and teaching internships and stuff, but I feel so relaxed and energized after my trip that I’m not too stressed.  I mean, I’m also feeling that (although I am making an effort) the grades are such a small, banal part of this experience…  Well, I like it.  I’m also planning to spend some time in Sweden with relatives (I love it when people take me in!), and in London with a friend, and some other plans are shaping up.  My FAMILY will be here in 3 1/2 weeks to visit me and explore the country of France a bit.  Traveling the world is cool and all (really really cool), but that’s the trip I genuinely cannot WAIT for.

Please pray for my relationship with my host mother during my last week here.  Things are a little… stiff right now, and that makes things harder, and I don’t want that!

Brissac, Villandry, Chenonceau, et Amboise

I really like bullet points.  They’re neat, they keep me relatively concise, and I can spit out a whole bunch of information at once without scaring you away with large paragraphs.  Plus I haven’t started my homework for the weekend, and it’s 23:13.

My program went on an overnight trip to see the chateaux (castles) of the Loire Valley, which were really pretty and photogenic, if a bit smaller than I had imagined.  It was a fantastic trip.  It was fun to sleep somewhere different for a night, eat quality food paid for by the program, see everyone at once, and look at the gorgeous castles.  A few notes…

-Our bus was driven by Georges, a Frenchman with a semi-bald head and a ponytail in spite of that, who had spent five years in England and refused to speak French there.  He’s been driving this group-travel bus since 1988, if I heard correctly.  He was quite a character.  I sat next to him at lunch today, as well as Daniel and Staci, our program director and administrator, respectively.  Good times.

-Staci took two semesters of French in college, dated and got engaged to a French guy, and decided to move to France to get married.  She’s been living here for about 20 years now, has two  kids (and a husband) whose primary language is French, and thus fascinates all of us.  She told us that she didn’t speak very much French when she got here; now she’s fluent, but she doesn’t speak English on a daily basis, and she misses it so much that she dreams of going to England for a weekend to see a play en anglais.

-Another fun fact about Staci: she got married in a little church by the mountains, which was gorgeous but very crowded considering that they invited a standard amount of people.  She loved the location, but she didn’t understand all of the ceremony.  (DUDE.  This woman is intense.)  Their wedding cake was a French one, which means no tall slices.  All French pastries and cakes are no taller than a pie.

-The castles were really pretty, (I know I keep saying that), but after a while hearing about ceiling detailing got a little old.  We invented a human version of the board game “Clue” (Cluédo en francais) right at the beginning; I guess that shows our interest level in ceilings.  I got to be Mrs. Peacock, and among others, our director was chosen Mr. Green and murderer, and one of the French monitors was deigned Mr. Body.  We didn’t tell the program director, but we did tell the monitor, and he didn’t get it at all.  All I heard of the conversation was “OK.  You’re dead.”

-Five of us hung out in a room at the hostel last night and talked about our lives, and Courtney received her first back massage.  It was an interesting night.

-I recently discovered the Tenth Avenue North song "Beloved", a love song written from God's perspective.  It's in 3/4 (waltz rhythm), starts with a piano solo, and is really sweet.  It's been in my head all weekend, which just made everything better.  The best part was when I got to wander around the famous gardens of Villandry with it playing on my iPod and worship in the castle gardens.  Never thought I'd get to say that!

-Dana and I (among others) sang Disney songs for a large part of the afternoon bus ride on Saturday.  Funny how I can always find people to sing Disney songs with me…  I like what that says about humanity.

-I am totally getting better at speaking French.  Hooray!!!  However, I unknowingly traded in my efficacy in English to accomplish this.  Even as I type, French words are attempting to make their way into this blog.  Not in an italicized, let-me-teach-you-a-word sort of way, but in a random and confusing way.  For example, I typed the word “same” only after having thought “même" in my head.  Always an effort to be made in some form or another, I guess.

-On the bus back today, a few of us invented alter egos (as in total opposites) for each other.  It was really fun, and it also showed how well we've gotten to know each other.  I recently bought a little floral purple scarf that I wear in a bow around my neck (think flight stewardess), which makes Bri think of Nancy Drew every time she sees it.  Thus my alter ego is named Nancy, always wears scarves tied in bows, is always on time (no, early!), and has to plan everything in detail.  Watch out!  Maybe she'll post someday.

-We stopped at the same gas station that we went to on our first bus ride into Rennes, right after many of us had been told about our host families and others were still waiting to hear.  I remember feverishly demanding to know the housing logistics of people I barely knew, and being really nervous about living in a downtown apartment with only my host mother during the week.  The store had the Breton waffles in the same place (hopefully not the same waffles), which I had wanted last time and bought this time.  It was a very strange, mixed experience, in that it brought some closure to my semester here.  Not that I’m gone yet, but it’ll be here soon.  This time, though, I sat and talked with my friends, knowing where I was returning home.

I will be leaving for Ireland, Scotland, and Italy, respectively, in  6 days.  If I don’t post again, think of me on Easter weekend.  I’ll be in that Irish monastery.

Prayer requests:  God has been really present with me this week.  Praise Him for that!  It’s been amazing.  Please pray for safe travels for us coming up!  Also, my sister is in Mexico with her high school for the week.  Please pray for her (and their) safety, as well as God's intimate presence during the week.

Non, je ne regrette rien.

The frightening thing is that I’m almost done.  This experience has been very challenging, demanding, interesting, so much so that I’ve concentrated all of my efforts on “settling in” and “starting off well”.  Well, I realized at church today that even though it was only my fourth time there (given vacations and visits to other churchs), I won’t be there for another month, and I’ll only have two Sundays left.  (I’m going on a program excursion to the Loire Valley to see some castles next weekend, and then I have two weeks of spring break.  When I come back, I have two weeks of school left.)


This led me to more panicking.  You always have so many ambitions when you first start out on a big project.  Some of those never happen.  The important thing is to let them go and realize that you don’t need to have crossed everything off your list.  I may not have taken my language notebook to every meal, but I’ve still had a lot of good meals!  I haven’t had long enough with the people I’ve met here, French and American alike, but with only one semester here, that’s the way it’s supposed to feel.  I have taken pictures, explored, read, sipped, inhaled, watched, helped, wandered, learned, talked, listened…  I have done a lot this semester.  I have pictures and stories to prove it.  It isn’t over of course, but it’s nice to remind myself that my time here hasn’t been a waste.  And of course, it kicks me into higher gear, to do everything I want to fit in!

Little side notes:

-I cooked Chinese food with two Chinese friends last weekend.  We spoke French the whole time, and I have recipe notes.  Unfortunately, I had a slight reaction to something we cooked with.

-My new favorite music is by Nolwenn Leroy.  Look her up!

-I ate my first large piece of foie gras tonight, with toasted bread.  I enjoyed it.

-I also took a book for class to the park today, snuck over to a bench by the playground, and fooled the surrounding parents into thinking I was watching a child while reading.  I miss kids.  They make me laugh when they put gravel on slides.  Not so much when they throw it into the air.

-I will be gone for the orchestra concert this weekend, so I won’t have played in one.  I have to skulk back tomorrow and give them their cello back.

-The parks in Rennes are giant and beautiful.  And numerous.  I’m just discovering that now, but the weather’s great for it!

-I’ll be in a monastery in Ireland in two weeks, for Easter weekend.  My mom finds the best travel books.  Also on the horizon are Scotland and Italy.

-My host parents were gone on Saturday night, so I took the opportunity to open all the windows, drink some juice, sneak out onto the balcony, and look at the stars.

-I’m planning on finding some French comic books to bring back to my American bathroom.  Unfortunately I don’t have enough postcards to line the walls, and I don’t have a radio or wooden man on unicycle riding the toilet paper roll, so my bathroom can’t be as cool.  Told you it was my favorite room, remember?

-Oh yeah, I’m in some classes too.  They’re all right, I guess.

Prayer request:  Joy in every day!

A Spring Fling and a Cultish Ceremony

The Fling

This weekend was interesting.  Obviously.  After getting back from a daytrip to Carnac and Vannes on Saturday, which are both really interesting and beautiful but left us all very tired, Courtney and I decided it was time for dinner.  After a unique (okay, not that unique) series of events in which we kept postponing the meeting time, I hustled to the wrong meeting point, Courtney called me to tell me she was lost and powerwalking down the Rue de la Soif (the bar street), and we were told the vegetarian Lebanese restaurant was full, we ended up…at an Indian restaurant.  Which is where the weekend first earned its permanent spot in my memory.

Our waiter served us little champagne glasses of something light pink as he handed us menus, which led to, “I wonder what that is.  Courtney, will you ask?  I wonder if it’s free.  Courtney?”  Fortunately, we were assured that it was white wine with cherry syrup and was in fact free.  The waiter then brought me little samosa-like pastries with an accompanying centerpiece of carrot flowers on toothpicks, wedged into a tin-foil base.  I was so excited to see pieces of carrot that big (It’s been a while!) that I had polished off three flowers when it happened.  The toothpick wouldn’t come out of the base.  Until suddenly it did, launching the carrot flower across the table in a high arc and into the mirror next to us, where it bounced and landed in some fake ivy.  Oops.  Then the waiter came to take my plate and said, “Those aren’t good!” with deep consternation in his voice when he saw I’d enjoyed the decorative vegetation.  Double oops.

The meal finished with us waiting at our table for the check, then deciding we were supposed to go upstairs.  Oh, but we weren’t.  We stood awkwardly next to the cash register while the waiter tallied up our meal, then had a long, hushed discussion about correct change (not tips- you don’t give them here).  I guess all this made him sympathetic, because when we handed him the money he said, “Thank you, that’s very nice of you.”  Three strikes, and we booked it out of that restaurant, deciding we’d definitely earned the title “Stupid Americans” that night.

The Cult

I’ve been going to a student Bible study on campus, so when my friends there told me that they all went to the same church, I was pretty excited to check it out.

Nota bene:  Based on the title and first sentence, you’re probably freaking out.  Let me tell you right now that it is NOT really a cult, they do love Jesus, and I was perfectly safe.  Okay, let’s continue.

Sunday dawned, and Kylie and I took the metro to the end of the line, where we met some other students and the man whose family hosts the Bible studies at their apartment.  We piled into their cars and drove about 20 minutes into the countryside before turning onto a dirt road and parking in front of a secluded farmhouse.  We walked around to the back, and inside we discovered a modern-looking auditorium complete with Bible, fold-up chairs, and congregation.  The service was good and the weekly potluck that followed was great, but Kylie and I were laughing the whole time at her mental image of us running out screaming and bleeding, robed in white.

I promise it was a real church.  But the story is pretty great…

Prayer Request

In other news, Gwen, my friend from high school is arriving tomorrow for a week-long visit!!!  This is terrific, but unfortunately I've been feeling sick all day.  Not terrific.  I've cancelled everything I can to give me time to rest up before her arrival, but prayers would also be much appreciated and more effective!  Thanks!