Here I am in Paris, in the city of lights, surrounded by thousands of years of history and miles and miles of beautiful landscapes and monuments, and I find myself in Starbucks. You can take the girl out of America, but… What can I say? I longed for some familiarity- in any form. Even though the Baristas speak French and they serve pancakes drenched in nutella, but still. On my last day in Paris, I roamed around the city afoot once again, and saw the Pantheon. Well, I saw the outside of the Pantheon. I was going to attempt a fake British accent and claim to be a EU citizen under 20 to get in for free, but decided against it at the last minute. I wasn’t sure they’d believe I was a EU citizen. I then went and took a stroll through the Luxembourg Garden, which wasn’t much of a garden as its name would have you believe. I was hoping for more flowers. Nonetheless it was lovely watching the little French children floating their toy sailboats along the famous pond, and looking at all the fall colored leaves that enveloped the park’s trees. Along the way to the garden, as I often do, I stopped a local on the street to ask for directions. My latest victim turned out to be a very nice native Parisian who offered to walk me to the gardens himself. I accepted. He asked me where I was from. When I told him New York, he expressed his love for the city and for its open-mindedness. When I asked him to expand on this, he explained that he believed that in NY, as opposed to Paris, one can walk down the street as they like, wearing what they like, and nobody would judge. Whereas in Paris, one was constantly being judged for his appearance and fashion sense. He said he wished Parisians would be more like NYers! Interesting point of view I thought. Straight from the Parisian’s mouth. Well, my time in Paris unfortunately had to come to an end and it was time to fly to London to catch my flight back to the states. Au Revoir Paris, we shall meet again! As I waited on line to check in at Charles de Gaulle airport, I found myself chatting with a nice little french guy, who asked me to join him for coffee while waiting for our flight. Since we had time to kill and he seemed like a nice enough fellow, I said why not. The conversation was going ok- well, from what I could make out through his incredibly thick french accent- until I realized I must have missed a subject change. He was rambling: “I have come to realize the goal of life. And what I realized is that the goal of life is death. And now that I know that this is the purpose of life, I am no longer afraid to die. For example, if our plane crashes tonight…” This was about the point where I interrupted him and excused myself while I popped an extra xanax. I was just beginning to overcome my debilitating fear of flying and this was not helping!! I explained my fear to my new friend and politely asked him to refrain from using the word ‘crash’ until we safely landed. He chuckled, apparently not realizing my seriousness in the matter, and continued his rant. Watching me nervously grip the armrest while I mentally flew the plane, he assured me, “Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to happen. And anyway, if we do crash, it’ll probably happen so fast that you won’t even feel a thing!” “OKAY, YOU HAVE TO GO NOW!!”, I finally snapped. “What?”, my clueless friend asked. “You need to move. You need to move your seat, now.” As I closed my eyes to block him out and let the xanax in, I let my mind wander back to the question that I keep asking myself over and over again: How do they find me??
Spanglish Part II (Pueblo Ingles, La Valdellevilla, Oct 2- 10)
October 22, 2009I had so thoroughly enjoyed my first English Immersion volunteer program with Pueblo Ingles (www.morethanenglish.com) that I signed up for an encore, this time in La Valdellavilla. La Valdellavilla is a restored abandoned village in the Soria region of northern Spain, apparently designed for hobbits as all of the doors of the houses were about 3 feet high, and the ceilings not much higher. During our 4 hour bus ride from Madrid to the village, Amelia, our lovely MC, explained to us that the village was actually quite remote and that there would be no internet or mobile service available, nor any restaurants or stores within reasonable walking distance. Furthermore, the closest village, or civilization, was at least 15 minutes away by car. Given the fact that most of us did not have cars, this would mean that the 40 of us (20 Anglos and 20 Spaniards), would basically be stuck with one another 24/7 for the next 8 days (so I guess that would be 24/8?).
When we arrived at the village, after a divine 3 course lunch, complete with a bottle of complimentary red wine, we each checked into our rooms. To my pleasant surprise, I was given my very own chalet. Ah, peace and quiet for once. So I foolishly thought. After foregoing that evening’s after-hours party (at which I supposedly missed a whole lot of craziness and international debauchery.. Oh well.), prefering to get some sleep so that I may begin my 16 hours of work the following day, I unknowingly locked myself into my house. When I awoke in the morning, I realized what I had done. As I heard voices outside the chalet, I began frantically knocking on my own door yelling, ‘Hello! Please let me out!’. When the door finally opened, our program director Pablo and about 3 of my fellow anglos and several spaniards stood before me and we all had a good laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I then knew it was going to be a good week!
¨The Galway Girl¨: Ireland, Sept 2- Sept 16
September 24, 2009Well, my solo adventure would not yet begin, as I met Susie, one of the sweetest girls Ive ever met, at my hostel in Dublin. Susie was from DC, but emigrated from China when she was 12, so not yet completely immersed in American culture, which could have something to do with her sweetness. In the same hostel, I met Marike, a lovely German girl of 20 who like to roll her own tobacco. So, an Asian, a Jew and a German walked into a bar… Actually, the 3 of us would walk into several Irish bars over the course of the next week, until Marike had to leave us and return to her native Germany. But Susie and I werent alone for long as we soon met Jen, a brilliant musician from Buffalo, NY, and the three of us would decide to continue our travels together through the great Emerald Isle. First stop, Galway. Remember the movie, ¨PS I Love You¨?. Well much of that took place in this beautiful city of Galway, located on the west coast of Ireland. And it was just as beautiful as it was in the movie. While there, we saw the Cliffs of Mohar, featured in ¨The Princess Bride¨, saw lots of cows and sheep, watched more traditional Irish dancing, and most exciting of all, I rode a Rickshaw. Not in the back as a passenger..I actually drove it, somehow managing not to mow over any innocent pedestrians, yet perpetuating the stereotype of the loud, obnoxious American tourist. Nonetheless, we had the craic! (Thatś Irish speak for ´fun´). During our week in Galway, we became regulars at a bar called the Quay. We returned to the Quay mainly for the atmosphere as well as the band. One night after the pub closed, the band invited us and a few people back to their flat. We agreed and the next thing I knew, we were sitting in the back of a van, the back door shutting behind us. Ok, this should be interesting, we thought. And it was a great night. We spent the night jamming on the guitar and discussing music. At one point, the guitaristś flatmate gave Jen a tour of the ¨greenhouse¨, where apparently he was growing his own special kind of greens. Ok, dont wanna know about that, thank you. At about 3 am, we finally left the house of green leaves and headed back to our hostel, but not before stopping at Supermacś (Irelandś McDonalds), in front of which about 300 drunken Irish teenagers gathered . Guess they were hungry too. The next day we left Galway and headed to the southeast of Ireland to the city of Cork, where we would spend a few days before heading back to our homebase of Dublin, which was exactly as we left it. Ah, Ireland. I could live here….if only it had a roof.
¨Trainspotting¨: Scotland and Ireland with mom, August 26- Sept 2
September 23, 2009Scotland: So, where did I leave off? Italy. So, after my overnight adventure at Milan Malpensa airport, I finally arrived in Edinburgh where mom, who had come to meet me in Europe for a holiday, patiently waited for me. We checked into our hotel and got ready before hitting the fringe circuit. To my pleasant surprise, we had brilliantly timed our trip to Edinburgh. It was right in the midst of the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, one of the biggest cultural and artistic festivals in the world. Our first night, me, mom and my friend Tal, whom I met on the plane, attended a free comedy show, at which we were the only 3 people in the audience! (Guess thatś why it was free). Before the show started, Sarita, the seemingly friendly MC, insisted that we sit in the front row. Normally I would never subject myself to the front row of a stand up comedy show, however, we were too scared to object so we did as we were told. First question aimed at us: where are you from? Ok, here we go. These are the moments I wish I were Canadian. So after some good old America bashing, Sarita began to get personal. Suddenly she wasnt so friendly anymore. She inquired into momś marital status and she asked me if I was a natural blond. Now, that crossed the line. Leave my hair out of this! After being sufficiently humiliated at one comedy show, we continued the masochism and attended another the following night. Papa CJ was one of the comics from the first night and we thought the small bit that he did was so good, we wanted to return and see his full show. First question of Papa CJś show, ¨Any Americans in the audience?” When that was followed by silence, he reassured us, ¨Its okay, we like you now. After 8 years, welcome back!” This made us feel better so we sheepishly revealed our identity. ¨Did you vote for Obama?¨, Papa CJ asked us. As mom (an admitted Republican) tried to disappear in her chair, I replied, ¨Well, I did!” That got a laugh out of the audience, as well as Papa CJ who saw that as his chance to do a few Bush jokes and some Republican bashing, unfortunately at the expense of my mom. Sorry mom, but it is time to see the light :). Overall it was a great night in the city. The following day we went on a tour of Scotland. We went to the highlands, saw the Loch Ness (but no monster), ate Potato Leek soup at a little Scottish restaurant, and finally arrived back in Edinburgh where we packed our things in preparation for our trip to Ireland the following day.
Ireland: The moment I arrived in Dublin, I felt as if I were home. After almost 3 months of travelling in over 5 different countries and countless cities, this was the first place that truly called to me. I dont know if it was the greenery, or the Irish accent, or the friendliness, or the Irish accent…but there was something about Ireland, and I would end up spending the next 2 weeks there. But more about that later. On our first day, mom and I attended a world cultural festival right on the outskirts of Dublin where they offered various natural and homeopathic services and products. We treated ourselves to a 30 minute Reflexology session (aka, a really good foot massage), ate a chocolate and marshmellow crepe (pure heaven), watched some Tango dancing and did some fair trade shopping. Chocolate, massage, shopping.. does it get any better than? Later that night, we went to see some traditional Irish dancing, which was just fascinating to watch. Before we knew it a week had passed and it was time to say goodbye. So mom headed back to the states and I returned to my gypsy adventures. After 3 months of travelling with various travel partners, with mom, and staying with friends, I would now begin my journey, for the first time this trip, alone. And I was scared.