I'm home.
So now what?
Friday, August 10, 2007
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Briefest of overviews
I won't say much about the last two days in London except...
Grossest hostel ever (me, Sarah, three hairy Italian men and one hairy New Yorker in a small room in the attic of what seemed like the world's most claustrophobia-inducing hostel (thankfully rescued the next day by our friend George).
Free galleries (Van Gogh, Rosetta Stone, Renoir, ginormous Syrian gates, mummies, the Parthenon).
Fantastic "fruitstock" festival in Regent's Park - healthy food, good music, duck herding, maypole dancing, dog-agility, etc (crazy Brits).
...and best of all...front row spaces at Architecture in Helsinki's relatively unpublicised record release party in Hoxton (for £5 - about $10). As one of our favorite bands, Sarah and I were completely freaking out, and I think we converted George too.
Leaving for home tomorrow. Love you all.
Grossest hostel ever (me, Sarah, three hairy Italian men and one hairy New Yorker in a small room in the attic of what seemed like the world's most claustrophobia-inducing hostel (thankfully rescued the next day by our friend George).
Free galleries (Van Gogh, Rosetta Stone, Renoir, ginormous Syrian gates, mummies, the Parthenon).
Fantastic "fruitstock" festival in Regent's Park - healthy food, good music, duck herding, maypole dancing, dog-agility, etc (crazy Brits).
...and best of all...front row spaces at Architecture in Helsinki's relatively unpublicised record release party in Hoxton (for £5 - about $10). As one of our favorite bands, Sarah and I were completely freaking out, and I think we converted George too.
Leaving for home tomorrow. Love you all.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
...but Scotland even more so
Edinburgh, Scotland...where do I even start? This place is amazing.
After a relaxing and fairly uneventful three days in Belfast we took a bus to the small seaside Irish town of Westport for a night. There, we visited a pub owned by a member of the Irish folk music group The Chieftans (Matt Malloy's) and met an entertaining middle aged couple who bought us Guinnesses and chatted for a bit. The husband (Willy) wanted to talk politics, but whenever she thought he was getting too opinionated, the wife (Kathy) would tactfully steer the conversation into what a good time we were going to have in Edinburgh...or the weather. According to Willy, the British have been occupying North Ireland since Cromwell, and the last of them just left that day. I haven't fact-checked, but if that's true, it's pretty amazing.
After several long bus rides, we flew from Dublin to Edinburgh, where we are enjoying the beginnings of the Fringe Festival. The improv group from Cal Poly performs there every other year (this isn't their year), and we just saw another improv troup this afternoon. If Sarah can convince me we will go see Sweeny Todd (it's expensive, but I really do want to see it!). My internet time is running out here, but we're off to look at the Queen's Palace! Cheers!
After a relaxing and fairly uneventful three days in Belfast we took a bus to the small seaside Irish town of Westport for a night. There, we visited a pub owned by a member of the Irish folk music group The Chieftans (Matt Malloy's) and met an entertaining middle aged couple who bought us Guinnesses and chatted for a bit. The husband (Willy) wanted to talk politics, but whenever she thought he was getting too opinionated, the wife (Kathy) would tactfully steer the conversation into what a good time we were going to have in Edinburgh...or the weather. According to Willy, the British have been occupying North Ireland since Cromwell, and the last of them just left that day. I haven't fact-checked, but if that's true, it's pretty amazing.
After several long bus rides, we flew from Dublin to Edinburgh, where we are enjoying the beginnings of the Fringe Festival. The improv group from Cal Poly performs there every other year (this isn't their year), and we just saw another improv troup this afternoon. If Sarah can convince me we will go see Sweeny Todd (it's expensive, but I really do want to see it!). My internet time is running out here, but we're off to look at the Queen's Palace! Cheers!
Monday, July 30, 2007
Photos
Non-facebook people, I've put up some photos. So far it's just France, Sweden, Finland, and the beginning of Denmark. Here's a link:
Part I
and
Part II
Also, I want to wish a very happy birthday to my dad and Aubrey!! I wish I was there to help you celebrate. No, more like I wish you were here. We could have some grand bantery craic (fun). I'm going to try to get to a phone at some point today. Love you guys!
Part I
and
Part II
Also, I want to wish a very happy birthday to my dad and Aubrey!! I wish I was there to help you celebrate. No, more like I wish you were here. We could have some grand bantery craic (fun). I'm going to try to get to a phone at some point today. Love you guys!
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Oh my Guinness, I love Ireland
We are in Belfast visiting Sarah's friends, eating Wheaten Bread (yes, it deserves to be capitalized), and going to mass. This morning after church we had an Ulster fry - several different types of bread, bacon, sausage, and eggs, fried on the stove. Delicious.We flew from Oslo to Dublin and stayed a night at the most luxurious (but only 50€ a night!) hotel. After lice-infested hostels and sleeping on trains, trying to beat away drunks, it was quite a treat to have our own bathroom, beds, and tv - all immaculately clean. We also got a beautiful free breakfast there of several different kinds of breads, croissants, berry and orange juice, bacon, sausage, eggs, cereal, cheese, jams, and coffee drinks from a state of the art espresso machine. Needless to say, we were in heaven.
The next day we took a tour of the Guinness factory in Dublin, which was very educational.
Along with the tour you got a huge free pint of Guinness at the very top of the building, a round glass room overlooking the entire city.That afternoon we hopped a bus to Belfast and are now staying with Sarah's friends. So far, I love Ireland! I have never so appreciated the English language more than I do today - after several weeks of hearing nothing but French, Norwegian, Swedish, and Danish, I feel quite at home here.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
This is just like Santa's workshop, except it smells like mushrooms and everyone looks like they want to hurt me
I wrote this on the train from Oslo to Trondheim, where we are now. In a couple hours we're going to take the train to the village of Levanger, where my great-grandma was from:
We're on our way to Trondheim after a nice night in Oslo, according to a gentleman of Sarah's acquaintance, "the most expensive city in the world" (keep in mind that this is a man who took his nine-year-old daughter 900 miles north of the Arctic Circle to observe polar bears).
We had a small $16 pizza for dinner and as we were eating our $6 7-11 ice cream bars in the park, we were approached by some locals. After saying hi, they proceeded (out of nowhere and with absolutely no provocation) to tell us how much they hate America and how stupid they think all Americans are. I hate the fact that part of our introduction to Norway was tainted by these assholes, especially since unlike them, I don't believe that everyone who lives in a country has the same opinion. I don't want to think that these people hate me without knowing me - based not on any personal morals or beliefs, but simply upon my physical habitat. After less than two minutes, we just got up and left. It's pointless to argue, or even try to talk to people like that. Sarah was in tears, and I was inwardly furious, but also surprised. I've never met another person of that guy's age (he was probably in his 20's) who would close-mindedly believe that a nation's government reflects 100% of its population. Sure, little kids might think so, but I don't know of anyone over the age of 18 or so who is so naive. For instance, are we to assume that all Germans during WWII were Nazis? I've never thought so, and I doubt many would think that was the case.
As we walked down by the harbor, still shocked an angered over an encounter that seemed to manifest the simmering sentiment we had been feeling from locals the entire trip, we discussed how America helped Norway during WWII. Homeboy didn't know his history very well, it appears. As if in answer to our questions, half-an-hour later we came upon a large statue of FDR, seated Lincoln-like, over looking the docks.
"Lincoln!" I cried at first. Then, reading the pedestal, "Roosevelt!"
"We love Roosevelt," came a voice from the wall next to the statue, where we could just make out two boys and a girl in the 10pm dusk. The speaker introduced himself as David, an 18-year-old medical student, originally from Gambia. When Sarah told him about our earlier encounter, he apologized and assured us that they love Americans. His friendliness was coincidentally timed - the perfect anecdote to thinking everyone in Oslo hates us.
We're on our way to Trondheim after a nice night in Oslo, according to a gentleman of Sarah's acquaintance, "the most expensive city in the world" (keep in mind that this is a man who took his nine-year-old daughter 900 miles north of the Arctic Circle to observe polar bears).
We had a small $16 pizza for dinner and as we were eating our $6 7-11 ice cream bars in the park, we were approached by some locals. After saying hi, they proceeded (out of nowhere and with absolutely no provocation) to tell us how much they hate America and how stupid they think all Americans are. I hate the fact that part of our introduction to Norway was tainted by these assholes, especially since unlike them, I don't believe that everyone who lives in a country has the same opinion. I don't want to think that these people hate me without knowing me - based not on any personal morals or beliefs, but simply upon my physical habitat. After less than two minutes, we just got up and left. It's pointless to argue, or even try to talk to people like that. Sarah was in tears, and I was inwardly furious, but also surprised. I've never met another person of that guy's age (he was probably in his 20's) who would close-mindedly believe that a nation's government reflects 100% of its population. Sure, little kids might think so, but I don't know of anyone over the age of 18 or so who is so naive. For instance, are we to assume that all Germans during WWII were Nazis? I've never thought so, and I doubt many would think that was the case.
As we walked down by the harbor, still shocked an angered over an encounter that seemed to manifest the simmering sentiment we had been feeling from locals the entire trip, we discussed how America helped Norway during WWII. Homeboy didn't know his history very well, it appears. As if in answer to our questions, half-an-hour later we came upon a large statue of FDR, seated Lincoln-like, over looking the docks.
"Lincoln!" I cried at first. Then, reading the pedestal, "Roosevelt!"
"We love Roosevelt," came a voice from the wall next to the statue, where we could just make out two boys and a girl in the 10pm dusk. The speaker introduced himself as David, an 18-year-old medical student, originally from Gambia. When Sarah told him about our earlier encounter, he apologized and assured us that they love Americans. His friendliness was coincidentally timed - the perfect anecdote to thinking everyone in Oslo hates us.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Ja, Ve Elsker Dette Landet
I'm sitting at Oslo's "Sentralstation" (train station) drinking espresso and eating a sweet waffle with Norwegian brown cheese. The cheese tastes a little like toffee - sounds gross, but it's not that bad, especially with the waffle. I think I remember Rick Steves (travel guru, for those of you who don't know him) saying it's from a goat, but I could be wrong.
A night on the clean cozy railroad sleeper was a welcome change from the hostel of the previous night (and cheaper and more time efficient too!). We roomed with some crazy New Zealanders who had been on the rails for months, traveling the trans-Mongolian and trans-Siberian railroads across China and Russia.
After my last entry, I feel the need to give Denmark some credit. It redeemed itself the next day when we went to visit Sarah's ancestrial town of Nyborg (pronounced "Noo-bohg"). The sun finally came out as we picked wildflowers and walked around the home of her great-great-grandfather, Søren Danielsen. We couldn't find his grave in the local cemetary, but Sarah "Stickyfingers" Shotwell stole a souvenir hymnal from the church they used to frequent.
Back in Copenhagen (or København, as they spell it), we had to go see the little mermaid statue, which is really beautiful in person (she is, like, sooo much hotter than Mona Lisa). And what better place to soak up local culture than a visit to Copenhagen's Hard Rock Cafe? I didn't know how much I missed being able to order without guessing and not paying for the restrooms until we sat down and ordered a huge meal of good old American crap. As Madonna sang "And I feel like I just got home" we munched our way through a hamburger, chicken strips, fries, and a salad (the last three were all mine...). After what seemed like weeks of consisting on baguettes, croissants, and the occasional apple, it was nice to have a square meal. Miraculously, our meal came out to 310 kroner, EXACTLY the amount of cash we had between us, down to the cent. We hadn't ordered with this in mind or anything. It was quite a coincidence. From there we caught our night train.
After a night in Oslo, we're planning to travel by train to Trondheim - near the village my great-grandma Dina was supposedly from (Levanger), spend a night in Trondheim, then fly out of Oslo to Dublin...or something like that.
I find it so amusing that my grandmother was always so fiercely proud of Norway, even though she had never even been here. For some reason, that transfered to me, and as the first generation to set foot on this soil since my great-grandma left in the 1890's or early 1900's, I hope that will remain after I've seen this country.
A night on the clean cozy railroad sleeper was a welcome change from the hostel of the previous night (and cheaper and more time efficient too!). We roomed with some crazy New Zealanders who had been on the rails for months, traveling the trans-Mongolian and trans-Siberian railroads across China and Russia.
After my last entry, I feel the need to give Denmark some credit. It redeemed itself the next day when we went to visit Sarah's ancestrial town of Nyborg (pronounced "Noo-bohg"). The sun finally came out as we picked wildflowers and walked around the home of her great-great-grandfather, Søren Danielsen. We couldn't find his grave in the local cemetary, but Sarah "Stickyfingers" Shotwell stole a souvenir hymnal from the church they used to frequent.
Back in Copenhagen (or København, as they spell it), we had to go see the little mermaid statue, which is really beautiful in person (she is, like, sooo much hotter than Mona Lisa). And what better place to soak up local culture than a visit to Copenhagen's Hard Rock Cafe? I didn't know how much I missed being able to order without guessing and not paying for the restrooms until we sat down and ordered a huge meal of good old American crap. As Madonna sang "And I feel like I just got home" we munched our way through a hamburger, chicken strips, fries, and a salad (the last three were all mine...). After what seemed like weeks of consisting on baguettes, croissants, and the occasional apple, it was nice to have a square meal. Miraculously, our meal came out to 310 kroner, EXACTLY the amount of cash we had between us, down to the cent. We hadn't ordered with this in mind or anything. It was quite a coincidence. From there we caught our night train.
After a night in Oslo, we're planning to travel by train to Trondheim - near the village my great-grandma Dina was supposedly from (Levanger), spend a night in Trondheim, then fly out of Oslo to Dublin...or something like that.
I find it so amusing that my grandmother was always so fiercely proud of Norway, even though she had never even been here. For some reason, that transfered to me, and as the first generation to set foot on this soil since my great-grandma left in the 1890's or early 1900's, I hope that will remain after I've seen this country.
Monday, July 23, 2007
TGFB (Thank God For Bathingsuit)
I'm sitting in the lobby of what is hands down the most disgusting establishment of my life. I'm quite literally gagging on the stench of acrid cigarette smoke that hazes the entire building like the place is being Terminex-ed. (edit: now someone just lit up a joint. Apparently that's legal here. I fully expect to see people snorting coke lines off the toilet seats when I go to the bathroom). I just couldn't bring myself to lay on the filthy mattress in the 10-person room where I was greeted with a dirty sock in my bed upon arrival. All I wanted to do was take a shower, but when I walked in the place was like a flashback of the YMCA women's locker room - without they saggy old lady breasts everywhere. Averting my eyes, I ducked into one of the curtained stalls and realized with horror that there was nothing separating me from the naked woman in the next stall except a thin sheet of completely clear glass. I stood there a moment, fully clothed, thinking can I do it? before panicking and running for my bathing suit. I hate this place. Denmark in general. Maybe it's the pouring rain (Sarah and I went to see "Transformers." Did you know movie seats are reserved seating here? Or that they don't let you in after the movie starts? This could never exist in the American culture of movie hopping, cell-phone chatting populace). Maybe it's the fact that I'm running on Nutella and very little to no sleep, but Denmark sucks.
Here are the few good memories I will take from this place:
1. Dancing to Junior Senior at a German beer hall in Odense.
2. Visiting Hans Christian Anderson's museum.
3. Reading Harry Potter on the train (Emily, I'm about 1/2 way through. We'll talk when I finish).
If you're reading, say hi!
Love, Haley
Here are the few good memories I will take from this place:
1. Dancing to Junior Senior at a German beer hall in Odense.
2. Visiting Hans Christian Anderson's museum.
3. Reading Harry Potter on the train (Emily, I'm about 1/2 way through. We'll talk when I finish).
If you're reading, say hi!
Love, Haley
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Fight for Your Jeans!
I'm sitting in a 7-11 in Gamla Stan, Stockholm's Old Town. Surprisingly, not only are 7-11s really cool here, they also all have internet connection. Across the narrow street is a hat (hott) shop next to a jeweler. Every type of people are passing, from Swedish tourists (from other areas of Sweden), hip kids, goths, families, old people... The Swedish are not only the most fashionable, but the guys here are the most attractive I have ever seen in my life.
We met a group of four Swedish boys (literally, as they were only 19 and 20) at a club called Debaser near our hostel (this place, I am convinced, would have all the San Luis hipsters green with envy as it attracts Stockholm's most fashionable hipster culture). We left Debaser for another bar, Skeppsbar, and ended up staying up to see the sun rise at 3am. We ended up drinking cheap beer and dancing at the dock with a Kurt Russel look-alike Sarah dubbed "Captain Ron" after a movie.
The boys were kind enough to take us shopping the next day, as Sarah was looking for some tight Swedish jeans (everyone wears them tight here. No need for boys to buy girls' jeans). At one store we met an...interesting fellow named Gustav with long blonde hair and a pair of his own skin-tight jeans. They were outrageously expensive, but I couldn't help trying on a pair whose zipper I could barely close.
Me: I think I might need a bigger size.
Gustav: (grabs the front and pulls) No, these are perfect. They stretch 2%. If you get a bigger size in two days they will be saggy in the butt - and that's not sexy.
He proceeded to tell us that sometimes they are so tight he needs to come into the dressing room and help the girl button them, adding "Fight for your jeans!"
I ended up buying some red boots at a vintage store that my sister will hate. They're cute, but will unfortunately be a hassle to carry.
I can't believe how lucky we were to run into some natives who were able to show us a cool side of Sweden, spending their entire day off with us and teaching us a multitude of Swedish phrases. Swedish is one of the most complicated languages I've ever heard.
(Phonetically):
Hey = hi!
Hey doh = bye
Tak = thanks
Oo shek to may = excuse me
Shay = girl
Killuh = boy
Ool = beer
Op rok = wasted (literally "monkey straight")
Fisk mos = seagull
We met a group of four Swedish boys (literally, as they were only 19 and 20) at a club called Debaser near our hostel (this place, I am convinced, would have all the San Luis hipsters green with envy as it attracts Stockholm's most fashionable hipster culture). We left Debaser for another bar, Skeppsbar, and ended up staying up to see the sun rise at 3am. We ended up drinking cheap beer and dancing at the dock with a Kurt Russel look-alike Sarah dubbed "Captain Ron" after a movie.
The boys were kind enough to take us shopping the next day, as Sarah was looking for some tight Swedish jeans (everyone wears them tight here. No need for boys to buy girls' jeans). At one store we met an...interesting fellow named Gustav with long blonde hair and a pair of his own skin-tight jeans. They were outrageously expensive, but I couldn't help trying on a pair whose zipper I could barely close.
Me: I think I might need a bigger size.
Gustav: (grabs the front and pulls) No, these are perfect. They stretch 2%. If you get a bigger size in two days they will be saggy in the butt - and that's not sexy.
He proceeded to tell us that sometimes they are so tight he needs to come into the dressing room and help the girl button them, adding "Fight for your jeans!"
I ended up buying some red boots at a vintage store that my sister will hate. They're cute, but will unfortunately be a hassle to carry.
I can't believe how lucky we were to run into some natives who were able to show us a cool side of Sweden, spending their entire day off with us and teaching us a multitude of Swedish phrases. Swedish is one of the most complicated languages I've ever heard.
(Phonetically):
Hey = hi!
Hey doh = bye
Tak = thanks
Oo shek to may = excuse me
Shay = girl
Killuh = boy
Ool = beer
Op rok = wasted (literally "monkey straight")
Fisk mos = seagull
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Stockholm Syndrome
The awesome guy at the front desk of our hostel, Fredrik, is letting me use this computer for free and I don't want to take advantage, so I'll make this quick.
1. Our hostel was built in 1650.
2. It is intimidating to not understand anything anyone says - very disturbing.
3. Land of IKEA!
4. Countryside: wheat fields, pine trees, wildflowers, red barns, white cows, clear blue sky, and fluffy white clouds.
5. Lots of lakes, ponds, and other bodies of water.
6. Language barrier is killing me. The only word I know so far is Tack = Thank you. We tried to get some groceries at a little store and had trouble because everything is in Swedish and there is just no guessing with that language.
7. There is a kitchen in the hostel which makes cooking great.
8. The rest of the girls left me for some dumb expensive sculpture garden I didn't want to go to, so I am on my own for the rest of the day. I'm going to wander (don't worry, Mom).
Love you all!
1. Our hostel was built in 1650.
2. It is intimidating to not understand anything anyone says - very disturbing.
3. Land of IKEA!
4. Countryside: wheat fields, pine trees, wildflowers, red barns, white cows, clear blue sky, and fluffy white clouds.
5. Lots of lakes, ponds, and other bodies of water.
6. Language barrier is killing me. The only word I know so far is Tack = Thank you. We tried to get some groceries at a little store and had trouble because everything is in Swedish and there is just no guessing with that language.
7. There is a kitchen in the hostel which makes cooking great.
8. The rest of the girls left me for some dumb expensive sculpture garden I didn't want to go to, so I am on my own for the rest of the day. I'm going to wander (don't worry, Mom).
Love you all!
Monday, July 16, 2007
Au Revoir, Paris
This morning I woke up and watched the sky outside our window change from grey to blue - well, really grey to lighter grey.
It's raining the morning we leave Paris. Now it's on to Stockholm.
Leave me some comments so I know you love me :)
It's raining the morning we leave Paris. Now it's on to Stockholm.
Leave me some comments so I know you love me :)
Sunday, July 15, 2007
C'est ca, la jolie vie
Happy Bastille day!
Forget New York. Paris is the city that never sleeps. It's after 2:30am and people are still setting off firecrackers in front of our hostel. Earlier we went to the gardens in front of the Louvre and tous les petits chiens were running underfoot with their tails between their legs, trying to get away from the sound. From there we could see the firework show at the Eiffel Tower (unimpressive, but maybe it was just because we were so far away).
Today the Louvre was thankfully free and Sarah and I joined the crowds of rabid tourists making a beeline to the Mona Lisa. It really annoys me that most of the rest of the museum is quiet - people pass ancient sculptures, Corinthian war helmets, Albrecht Durer paintings, just to see a couple of the more well-known works like the Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, and that biotch, Mona. Sarah and I remain unimpressed, especially once we saw the special "DiVinci Code" audio tours. We looked for the Virgin Mary's tomb, but it appears Dan Brown lied to us.
Our hostel is across the street from "un MacDo," but the local food here is AMAZING. Our hostel serves a huge free breakfast of croissants, bread, cereal, jam, hot chocolate, coffee, and orange juice. Delicious. French people must miss the cafe culture when they visit the states.
Apparently there is only a two week period that merchants can have sales here and it's now, so everything is 30-70% off. Tomorrow we might browse the "soldes" that line every street (I've never seen so many shoe stores in my life) and visit la tour eiffel. We're going to the top!
Forget New York. Paris is the city that never sleeps. It's after 2:30am and people are still setting off firecrackers in front of our hostel. Earlier we went to the gardens in front of the Louvre and tous les petits chiens were running underfoot with their tails between their legs, trying to get away from the sound. From there we could see the firework show at the Eiffel Tower (unimpressive, but maybe it was just because we were so far away).
Today the Louvre was thankfully free and Sarah and I joined the crowds of rabid tourists making a beeline to the Mona Lisa. It really annoys me that most of the rest of the museum is quiet - people pass ancient sculptures, Corinthian war helmets, Albrecht Durer paintings, just to see a couple of the more well-known works like the Venus de Milo, Winged Victory, and that biotch, Mona. Sarah and I remain unimpressed, especially once we saw the special "DiVinci Code" audio tours. We looked for the Virgin Mary's tomb, but it appears Dan Brown lied to us.
Our hostel is across the street from "un MacDo," but the local food here is AMAZING. Our hostel serves a huge free breakfast of croissants, bread, cereal, jam, hot chocolate, coffee, and orange juice. Delicious. French people must miss the cafe culture when they visit the states.
Apparently there is only a two week period that merchants can have sales here and it's now, so everything is 30-70% off. Tomorrow we might browse the "soldes" that line every street (I've never seen so many shoe stores in my life) and visit la tour eiffel. We're going to the top!
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Pre-flight
Two days from now I'll be in Paris. That is, if I don't get lost trying to find my way from Charles de Gaulle airport to the hostel, so wish me luck in remembering my high school French.
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