On the metro back from school today, I noticed a pretty red haired girl standing up against a row of seats. A few stops after I got on, a tiny Moroccan mother boarded, hoisting up her stroller into the cart, her tiny baby with enormous brown eyes sucking on a bottle.
I spaced out for a while; when I glanced back, the mother had removed the baby from the carriage and had him propped easily on her arm, like he was a perched parrot or something. A sad perched parrot he must have been, because he was wailing, and big tears were welling out of his eyes and resting on his full cheeks. He was squirming around, bawling, as his mother cooed to him and wiped his chin with the back of her hand.
I spaced out again (I do that often, it seems), and when I tuned back in, I noticed that the baby had stopped crying. The red haired girl was smiling at him and popping her tongue out of her mouth, making silly faces, beaming back at the baby. I've never seen a more genuine smile of fascination on a baby's face before. He was even trying to maneuver around his mother's headscarf to get a better look at the girl. Do you think when he grows up he'll remember how he fell in love, platonic or not, with the red head on the Belgian metro?
I got to thinking how inadequate I'd feel as a mother to have a stranger sooth my baby in a way I could not. No doubt that happens with everyone at one point or another, but I don't know if I could handle that sort of rejection from something I created. These are the thoughts I think when I ought to be writing a paper on Neo-realism's significant contributions to the field of International Relations. You see my dilemma.
In other news, I unintentionally dove into the news yesterday. I sat in the living room and watched CNN for about three hours, catching up on this and that. It's the first time I've done that since I've been here. And it was marvelously marvelous. Except for the disturbing stories, like the recently-busted polygamist colony in Texas. Holy moley. I was telling Brandon how I watched a guided tour of the complex by one of the sect wives- telling him how disturbing it was to see that people actually live like that and that they believe so sincerely in their lifestyles. For me, the polygamy wasn't the most disturbing... I guess it was the nineteenth-century attitude towards everything - entertainment, technology, apparel, etc. It was an intense and moving video clip, to say the least.
Other fun topical issues included the Pope's visit to the states (I miss John Paul, man), the crazy high-security running of the Olympic torch in India (my professor commented on that today and I actually had something intelligent to contribute to the conversation... weird...) and a man who proposed to his girlfriend on the same bus line which brought them together in the first place.
T.G.I.F., readers. Hope your weekends are most enjoyable and sprinkled with at least one, if not two, pleasant surprises. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that this post was not one of them.
Tshuss,
Lauren
Friday, April 18
Tuesday, April 15
Be Your Own PET...
Cosmic forces have led me back to this band time and time again.
First time I heard them was, lamentably, in FYE. Bicycle, Bicycle, You are my Bicycle... I pretty much adored them instantly.
Last October I went to see them at a great place called Maxwell's in Hoboken with my dear friend Katie. Fantastic show.
Two weeks ago, my darling cousin Nick sent me their brand new CD, Get Awkward, and a mix of older songs as well. What was a girl to do? Check out their MySpace profile, naturally, to see if they've posted any new blogs or photos. No, I'm not obsessed.
A it turned out... guess who was scheduled to play in Brussels two days later?
Um. Yeah. Be Your Own PET.
It a good show, ladies and gentlemen, a good show indeed. The venue was unbelievable. It was an abandoned underground train station positively covered in graffiti.
The openers were good, but didn't get much attention. Different story when B.Y.O.P. hit the stage. Not much to say besides it was an excellent show. Wish they played some older stuff, but the set encompassed the best of the best of the new album, in my opinion. I even chatted (ever so briefly) with Jemina and Nathan (pictured above) about the show in Hoboken. It was a y, but gnarly. It took a few days for my legs to stop feeling sore and to regain hearing in my ears, but it was well worth it.
Definitely one of the coolest American-ish things I've done since I've been in Belgium... besides go to Pizza Hut.
First time I heard them was, lamentably, in FYE. Bicycle, Bicycle, You are my Bicycle... I pretty much adored them instantly.
Last October I went to see them at a great place called Maxwell's in Hoboken with my dear friend Katie. Fantastic show.
Two weeks ago, my darling cousin Nick sent me their brand new CD, Get Awkward, and a mix of older songs as well. What was a girl to do? Check out their MySpace profile, naturally, to see if they've posted any new blogs or photos. No, I'm not obsessed.
A it turned out... guess who was scheduled to play in Brussels two days later?
Um. Yeah. Be Your Own PET.
It a good show, ladies and gentlemen, a good show indeed. The venue was unbelievable. It was an abandoned underground train station positively covered in graffiti.
The openers were good, but didn't get much attention. Different story when B.Y.O.P. hit the stage. Not much to say besides it was an excellent show. Wish they played some older stuff, but the set encompassed the best of the best of the new album, in my opinion. I even chatted (ever so briefly) with Jemina and Nathan (pictured above) about the show in Hoboken. It was a y, but gnarly. It took a few days for my legs to stop feeling sore and to regain hearing in my ears, but it was well worth it.
Definitely one of the coolest American-ish things I've done since I've been in Belgium... besides go to Pizza Hut.
Sunday, April 13
Spring Break 2008 - Far From Relaxing
Dear Darling Reader,
Don't get bummed out by the title of this post. Spring break was the furthest thing from relaxing, but if you think about it, that's just another way to say "far from boring." And that, Reader, is definitely an accurate description of my Spring break.
In two weeks, I saw four gorgeous European cities, tasted foreign Tappas, tasted foreign cultures, climbed mountains, climbed bell towers, danced to salsa, danced to German techno, blew through cash, blew bubbles through straws, and took over 500 photos of it all.
Don't get your head in a tizzy, Reader. I'd never make you look at all that photographic evidence. It'd be far too incriminating and far too time-consuming for you and me both. So I tell you what. If you make a pot of coffee, make some microwave popcorn (or the real stuff on the stove, if you prefer), make a tall long island iced tea, or just make yourself comfortable, I'll post a little synopsis of each city and the best of the best photos. Do we have ourselves a deal?
Fasten your seat belts... we're on our way to...
Paris! It truly was a gay old time!
I traveled to Paris backwards via train with my Art History / European Studies class on Saturday, March 22nd. I ought to have taken this first leg of the trip as an indicator of just how un-relaxing break would be. My professor is a historical genius, but she's not so hot at time management. She packed more museums and monuments in five days than most people would be able to hit up in a month.
We did see some completely gnarly and awe-inspiring things, though. Two of which were incredible cathedrals, one of which was decked out in alms, covering all of the walls. These alms were prayers and special intentions to Mary engraved in stone and essentially plastered up like beautiful, spiritual bricks.
The second cathedral displayed something like 1,300 stained glass scenes from Bible stories. It was unreal. The first cathedral may have had walls of prayers, but this place... the walls were literally made of the most intricate glass patterns I've ever seen.
I'm just glad they don't let crazy people with stones past the security check.
Another cool place we visited was a little something I like to call the Louvre.
(Cue blasé attitude.)
I guess you could say they had some pretty cool artwork there.
My apologies for the blurriness. Naturally, no flash photography. And since my hand isn't as steady, as, for example, this lady right above me and her stiff stone limb, things got a little wonky on the camera. Speaking of lovely Louvre ladies...
I happened to bump into this rather indifferent woman. Well, heh, not literally. If I literally bumped into her, I'm pretty sure I would have been ripped to shreds by German Shepherds in 0.23 seconds.
After five hours of wandering around this mammoth tribute to artistic humanity, we were pretty wiped to say the least. So most of us headed back to the hostel to enjoy a glass or two of red wine and rest up for the following morning.
And kids, wouldn't you know it... the following morning was Easter Sunday. Normally I attend Easter Sunday mass with my family at our neighborhood church. But when in Rome... I mean Paris... Easter has to be done up right. How, you ask?
By attending it at Notre Dame Cathedral, of course. The service was incredible. Sap that I am, I began crying as soon as the organ struck its first chords. I guess you could say it... struck a chord... in me! Hahahaha! Hah. Huh.....
Seriously though, the atmosphere was completely overwhelming. Whenever I felt like I couldn't handle the beauty and surreal surroundings, I just looked to my left, to this incredible stained glass window:
And then I remembered to relax and just take each shard of glass and each stone and each organ note in at a time.
One thing I'll never forget as long as I live is this fellow two rows ahead of us (yeah, we were in the fourth row from the alter! Totally righteous seats, man!) rambling on in French, waving his hands about, scoffing at the signs on the rows ahead of him which read, "Reserved for the American Ambassador."
An American girl studying in Paris for the semester sat a row ahead of us. She translated to us what he was saying... something like, "This is ridiculous, this is France. Where in the Bible does it even mention 'The United States of America'?" And this girl turned to him, and in beautifully eloquent French, said something which would translate to, "This is God's house. He accepts everyone."
I'll just never forget that jerk making a spectacle about nationality on such a holy day.
Anyway, after church (we went to the wicked early mass... wait, no pun on the wicked...) I was really craving a big, warm, take away coffee. So I stopped at a sidewalk cafe and ordered myself un grand café, s'il vous plaît. I give the lady two euro.
She gave me this:
Yeah. I wish I were kidding.
After wandering around all morning with the art class, we took a break for lunch, and reconvened at the most beautiful cemetery I've ever seen in my life. I think it was my favourite part of Paris. I think it was my favourite part of spring break.
I've never seen more ornately, gorgeously decorated mausoleums. The statues' faces and poses elicited more sympathy and grief from me than the most brilliantly acted Oscar Award Nominee film clip.
Here's a funny story for the hardcore readers out there. Buried in this cemetery is none other than James Douglas Morrison of the Doors. I went to visit his grave with my good friend Garrett. We had what we thought was a brilliant idea -- to leave our mini wine bottles leftover from lunch at his grave with the last drops of red in there. Thwarting our master plan was a bit of a barricade (crowds of people and a metal fence) so instead, we decided to finish off our baby bottles in Jim's spiritual presence.
Yeah, bad idea. We almost got arrested. Sort of. I'm making it sound a lot more badass than it was. But our teacher had to talk to the security guard to get us off. Apparently, you can get wasted anywhere you want in Paris, but show a little respect to a rock legend and it's jail time for bonzobean.
Another incredibly awe-inspiring tomb was that of Oscar Wilde.
It was positively covered in lipstick kisses and messages of adoration in every language. Unreal. So beautiful. So beautiful.
Once we were cut loose from our regimented schedule, Garrett and I wandered around the city and found some interesting places, including hardcore pornographic shops, vintage clothing shops, and this place just below. I think it was made famous by some movie at some point. Or something.
Unfortunately it was closed, so we couldn't enjoy any colourful can-cans. Bummer.
Next morning, still in search of the perfect cup of coffee, I was counting on the free hostel breakfast to quell my caffeine craving. Yeah. They served me coffee in a cereal bowl. Literally. The same bowl I could have eaten cereal out of, I drank coffee from.
Bogus. The coffee tore up my throat too. *Sigh*. Let the quest continue...
And let the quest pick up in... Versailles!
My camera was starting to die at this point (let's take a moment to mourn) so I didn't get a good shot of the actual Château. But if this is the backyard, hopefully you can imagine how behemoth the actual mansion is. Here's another shot of the courtyard:
Versailles was pretty incredible. We wandered around the grounds, had a picnic, toured the inside and Napoleon III's home, and saw where Marie Antoinette lived before she lost her head. Hah. Sorry. That's not funny. Well. Sort of.
Sort of looked like a Barbie puked all over the furniture in a very beautiful, intricate pattern.
After Versailles, some kids went to a corporate business dinner thingy. I decided to wander around town near the hostel and pick up some grub. Little did I know what was in store for me and my belly... (Note: I tried so hard to find an audio clip of that famous symphony that goes duhhhhh duhhhhh duhhhhhhh DUH DUHHHHH!!! To no avail... so you'll just have to use your imagination...)
Finally! Coffee the size of my femur bone! I was beyond ecstatic... if my face doesn't convey that enough. Know what else made me equally happy? And you can tell from the fact that I'm making the exact same face...
Feeding pigeons! I bet my sisters are cringing right now. Don't worry, guys. My arm isn't strong enough to toss the bread across the Atlantic. These birds are pretty much staying where they are.
Hey... know what else made me equally happy?
Green grass! Seeing as I've never lived in a city before, I never realized how much I would miss grass, man. I've already gushed to everyone here that the first thing I'm going to do when I pull into my driveway is kick off my shoes and walk around my front lawn barefoot for a good... twenty minutes. Let the unpacking wait... I need to feel nature and dirt and blades of grass.
Anyway, the last night in Paris, my buddies and I wandered over to a little place I like to call the Eiffel Tower. All my life, I've heard people tell me that the Eiffel Tower is... okay. Not all that it's hyped up to be. When I saw it, I had to politely disagree. Wouldn't you?
What's that? You think this is a postcard? 'Fraid not! I was there! Here's my gnarly proof:
By the time we left, it was nearly midnight. Rather than try to catch the metro, we walked the beautifully scenic 45 minute trek back to the hostel. It was the perfect way to end an exhausting trip in a fantastic city. Adjective overload much?
Okay. City one - done. Don't worry. The rest of the cities I'll run through a bit quicker. I was too nervous to miss a plane, train, or automobile in the other cities to take as many photos as I took in Paris.
So here we go, off to Barcelona!
We arrived around 2:30 in the morning, so sleep was my main objective. Luckily, the hostel beds were mighty comfortable.
The next day, Amanda (who had been in the city for a few days already) took us to fantastic produce market. My friends were purchasing fixings for meat sandwiches. I didn't know what to buy, so I panicked and bought a bushel of asparagus... yeah. It was a little awkward.
Then, we headed to Park Güell, a phenomenal tribute to Antoni Gaudi's brilliant architecture.
As if the twisting trees and magnificent mosaics weren't beautiful enough, the lavender dropping from the fences and buildings sent me over the edge. And they smelled like paradise.
After a simply wonderful all-day siesta, I went back to the hostel and slept the night away. The next day was equally relaxing-- spent at the pier down the street, just the girls. I played bartender. It was a grand old time, as clearly indicated by this photograph:
And Barcelona was not without its beautiful, antique statues decking the street corners. I thought of you, Mom, when I saw this one:
The next day, Ashley and I went on an fantastic tour of Sagrada Familia, one of the most unbelievable churches I have ever seen in my life. One hundred-twenty years in the making, and it's still nowhere near finished. A lot of people say this, but it's true... everything about Gaudi's architecture drips like it's alive. This church was no exception. I could feel the stones melting and forming these perfect, holy shapes.
Every element of the church told a story from the Bible; the front of the church told the stories of the birth of Christ, from the journey to Bethlehem...
... to the visitation of the three kings. The back of the church depicted the Passion of Christ, including the kiss from Judas, complete with a brilliant cryptic numerical design... arrange the numbers in any fashion and they equal 33.
The next day, Ashley and I spent the entire afternoon back in the Gaudi park. We drank sangria and napped and wrote and enjoyed the beauty of the world. How lame does that sound? Try it. You'd never mock it again.
However relaxing our day was, we made up for it at night. We canvassed Barcelona trying to find the famous Barcelona Cathedral. Apparently, it's incredibly distinguished-looking from the outside. So we figured we'd find it quite easily. No dice. We did, however, stumble upon one cathedral where a blushing bride was just about to get married. When she exited the limo, all of these bystanders (including us) applauded. It was rather moving.
Anyway, after about 45 minutes, we finally found the place. Want to know why it took so long? It was completely under renovation or construction or something, so it was all scaffolded up. In the front court yard, though, was one of the most incredible displays of humanity I've seen since the celebration at de Beurs when Kosovo gained independence.
Individual hives of people were jumping and dancing to beautiful ethnic music. I have no idea where they were from or what they were celebrating or commemorating but it was so moving I got goosebumps and felt my eyes well up instantly.
The inside of the cathedral was equally moving and beautiful, but unfortunately only one picture came out clearly.
Wow. That's a lot of prayer intentions.
That night, Ashley and I went to a fantastic flamenco show. The dancer had dreadful sweaty pit-stains from dancing so hard. Luckily, my camera only got blurry photos, so neither you nor I can laugh at her perspiration. Well, I can, because I have a good mental image locked away.
Okay, now I promise. The blog will really start to move fast. Two reasons: I've been working on this post all day and I'm getting tired. Also, at this point during the trip, I was running out of battery life once again. (Let's take another moment to mourn the life of my camera...)
Next day... off to Prague!
Tied with Barcelona, I adored Prague the most of all. It was so old and dark and wonky and beautiful and intense and the exchange rate was, shall we say, kick-butt. Perhaps the only creepy thing about Prague was its obsession with marionettes.
The next day we rendezvoused with the rest of the gang and went on a most enjoyable tour of Old Prague... saw a beautiful cathedral and a breathtaking city view...
a mediocre "palace" (yeah, right), and some fantastic souvenirs. I was too poor to buy any of them, but not too poor to shamelessly photograph them...
Unfortunately, this is the part of the trip where my camera died. Suffice it to say I traveled backwards via train to Vienna, which was lovely, but not as fantabulous as I would have hoped. Saturday we traveled by train (backwards, once again) back to Prague. Slept most of the day, and went on a lovely pub crawl at night. Then Sunday, it was back to Brussels. In my opinion, not a moment too soon. I chose to walk back from the train station. I needed to reconnect with the closest thing to home I had. It felt nice to walk past familiar shoe shops and waffle stands.
It took a week to draft this post. It took a week to catch up on sleep and school work. It was all worth while, but I miss you all very much, and I am certainly looking forward to coming home to my real home. Hope all is well with you, darling Reader. If you stuck around this long, then see the fellow on your way out to collect your parking voucher, and your coupon for a free pizza on me.
Love love love,
Lauren
Don't get bummed out by the title of this post. Spring break was the furthest thing from relaxing, but if you think about it, that's just another way to say "far from boring." And that, Reader, is definitely an accurate description of my Spring break.
In two weeks, I saw four gorgeous European cities, tasted foreign Tappas, tasted foreign cultures, climbed mountains, climbed bell towers, danced to salsa, danced to German techno, blew through cash, blew bubbles through straws, and took over 500 photos of it all.
Don't get your head in a tizzy, Reader. I'd never make you look at all that photographic evidence. It'd be far too incriminating and far too time-consuming for you and me both. So I tell you what. If you make a pot of coffee, make some microwave popcorn (or the real stuff on the stove, if you prefer), make a tall long island iced tea, or just make yourself comfortable, I'll post a little synopsis of each city and the best of the best photos. Do we have ourselves a deal?
Fasten your seat belts... we're on our way to...
Paris! It truly was a gay old time!
I traveled to Paris backwards via train with my Art History / European Studies class on Saturday, March 22nd. I ought to have taken this first leg of the trip as an indicator of just how un-relaxing break would be. My professor is a historical genius, but she's not so hot at time management. She packed more museums and monuments in five days than most people would be able to hit up in a month.
We did see some completely gnarly and awe-inspiring things, though. Two of which were incredible cathedrals, one of which was decked out in alms, covering all of the walls. These alms were prayers and special intentions to Mary engraved in stone and essentially plastered up like beautiful, spiritual bricks.
The second cathedral displayed something like 1,300 stained glass scenes from Bible stories. It was unreal. The first cathedral may have had walls of prayers, but this place... the walls were literally made of the most intricate glass patterns I've ever seen.
I'm just glad they don't let crazy people with stones past the security check.
Another cool place we visited was a little something I like to call the Louvre.
(Cue blasé attitude.)
I guess you could say they had some pretty cool artwork there.
My apologies for the blurriness. Naturally, no flash photography. And since my hand isn't as steady, as, for example, this lady right above me and her stiff stone limb, things got a little wonky on the camera. Speaking of lovely Louvre ladies...
I happened to bump into this rather indifferent woman. Well, heh, not literally. If I literally bumped into her, I'm pretty sure I would have been ripped to shreds by German Shepherds in 0.23 seconds.After five hours of wandering around this mammoth tribute to artistic humanity, we were pretty wiped to say the least. So most of us headed back to the hostel to enjoy a glass or two of red wine and rest up for the following morning.
And kids, wouldn't you know it... the following morning was Easter Sunday. Normally I attend Easter Sunday mass with my family at our neighborhood church. But when in Rome... I mean Paris... Easter has to be done up right. How, you ask?
By attending it at Notre Dame Cathedral, of course. The service was incredible. Sap that I am, I began crying as soon as the organ struck its first chords. I guess you could say it... struck a chord... in me! Hahahaha! Hah. Huh.....
Seriously though, the atmosphere was completely overwhelming. Whenever I felt like I couldn't handle the beauty and surreal surroundings, I just looked to my left, to this incredible stained glass window:
And then I remembered to relax and just take each shard of glass and each stone and each organ note in at a time.
One thing I'll never forget as long as I live is this fellow two rows ahead of us (yeah, we were in the fourth row from the alter! Totally righteous seats, man!) rambling on in French, waving his hands about, scoffing at the signs on the rows ahead of him which read, "Reserved for the American Ambassador."
An American girl studying in Paris for the semester sat a row ahead of us. She translated to us what he was saying... something like, "This is ridiculous, this is France. Where in the Bible does it even mention 'The United States of America'?" And this girl turned to him, and in beautifully eloquent French, said something which would translate to, "This is God's house. He accepts everyone."
I'll just never forget that jerk making a spectacle about nationality on such a holy day.
Anyway, after church (we went to the wicked early mass... wait, no pun on the wicked...) I was really craving a big, warm, take away coffee. So I stopped at a sidewalk cafe and ordered myself un grand café, s'il vous plaît. I give the lady two euro.
She gave me this:
Yeah. I wish I were kidding.After wandering around all morning with the art class, we took a break for lunch, and reconvened at the most beautiful cemetery I've ever seen in my life. I think it was my favourite part of Paris. I think it was my favourite part of spring break.
I've never seen more ornately, gorgeously decorated mausoleums. The statues' faces and poses elicited more sympathy and grief from me than the most brilliantly acted Oscar Award Nominee film clip.
Here's a funny story for the hardcore readers out there. Buried in this cemetery is none other than James Douglas Morrison of the Doors. I went to visit his grave with my good friend Garrett. We had what we thought was a brilliant idea -- to leave our mini wine bottles leftover from lunch at his grave with the last drops of red in there. Thwarting our master plan was a bit of a barricade (crowds of people and a metal fence) so instead, we decided to finish off our baby bottles in Jim's spiritual presence.
Yeah, bad idea. We almost got arrested. Sort of. I'm making it sound a lot more badass than it was. But our teacher had to talk to the security guard to get us off. Apparently, you can get wasted anywhere you want in Paris, but show a little respect to a rock legend and it's jail time for bonzobean.
Another incredibly awe-inspiring tomb was that of Oscar Wilde.
It was positively covered in lipstick kisses and messages of adoration in every language. Unreal. So beautiful. So beautiful.Once we were cut loose from our regimented schedule, Garrett and I wandered around the city and found some interesting places, including hardcore pornographic shops, vintage clothing shops, and this place just below. I think it was made famous by some movie at some point. Or something.
Unfortunately it was closed, so we couldn't enjoy any colourful can-cans. Bummer.Next morning, still in search of the perfect cup of coffee, I was counting on the free hostel breakfast to quell my caffeine craving. Yeah. They served me coffee in a cereal bowl. Literally. The same bowl I could have eaten cereal out of, I drank coffee from.
Bogus. The coffee tore up my throat too. *Sigh*. Let the quest continue...And let the quest pick up in... Versailles!
My camera was starting to die at this point (let's take a moment to mourn) so I didn't get a good shot of the actual Château. But if this is the backyard, hopefully you can imagine how behemoth the actual mansion is. Here's another shot of the courtyard:
Versailles was pretty incredible. We wandered around the grounds, had a picnic, toured the inside and Napoleon III's home, and saw where Marie Antoinette lived before she lost her head. Hah. Sorry. That's not funny. Well. Sort of.
Sort of looked like a Barbie puked all over the furniture in a very beautiful, intricate pattern.After Versailles, some kids went to a corporate business dinner thingy. I decided to wander around town near the hostel and pick up some grub. Little did I know what was in store for me and my belly... (Note: I tried so hard to find an audio clip of that famous symphony that goes duhhhhh duhhhhh duhhhhhhh DUH DUHHHHH!!! To no avail... so you'll just have to use your imagination...)
Finally! Coffee the size of my femur bone! I was beyond ecstatic... if my face doesn't convey that enough. Know what else made me equally happy? And you can tell from the fact that I'm making the exact same face...
Feeding pigeons! I bet my sisters are cringing right now. Don't worry, guys. My arm isn't strong enough to toss the bread across the Atlantic. These birds are pretty much staying where they are.Hey... know what else made me equally happy?
Green grass! Seeing as I've never lived in a city before, I never realized how much I would miss grass, man. I've already gushed to everyone here that the first thing I'm going to do when I pull into my driveway is kick off my shoes and walk around my front lawn barefoot for a good... twenty minutes. Let the unpacking wait... I need to feel nature and dirt and blades of grass.Anyway, the last night in Paris, my buddies and I wandered over to a little place I like to call the Eiffel Tower. All my life, I've heard people tell me that the Eiffel Tower is... okay. Not all that it's hyped up to be. When I saw it, I had to politely disagree. Wouldn't you?
What's that? You think this is a postcard? 'Fraid not! I was there! Here's my gnarly proof:
By the time we left, it was nearly midnight. Rather than try to catch the metro, we walked the beautifully scenic 45 minute trek back to the hostel. It was the perfect way to end an exhausting trip in a fantastic city. Adjective overload much?Okay. City one - done. Don't worry. The rest of the cities I'll run through a bit quicker. I was too nervous to miss a plane, train, or automobile in the other cities to take as many photos as I took in Paris.
So here we go, off to Barcelona!
We arrived around 2:30 in the morning, so sleep was my main objective. Luckily, the hostel beds were mighty comfortable.
The next day, Amanda (who had been in the city for a few days already) took us to fantastic produce market. My friends were purchasing fixings for meat sandwiches. I didn't know what to buy, so I panicked and bought a bushel of asparagus... yeah. It was a little awkward.
Then, we headed to Park Güell, a phenomenal tribute to Antoni Gaudi's brilliant architecture.
As if the twisting trees and magnificent mosaics weren't beautiful enough, the lavender dropping from the fences and buildings sent me over the edge. And they smelled like paradise.
After a simply wonderful all-day siesta, I went back to the hostel and slept the night away. The next day was equally relaxing-- spent at the pier down the street, just the girls. I played bartender. It was a grand old time, as clearly indicated by this photograph:
And Barcelona was not without its beautiful, antique statues decking the street corners. I thought of you, Mom, when I saw this one:
The next day, Ashley and I went on an fantastic tour of Sagrada Familia, one of the most unbelievable churches I have ever seen in my life. One hundred-twenty years in the making, and it's still nowhere near finished. A lot of people say this, but it's true... everything about Gaudi's architecture drips like it's alive. This church was no exception. I could feel the stones melting and forming these perfect, holy shapes.
Every element of the church told a story from the Bible; the front of the church told the stories of the birth of Christ, from the journey to Bethlehem...
... to the visitation of the three kings. The back of the church depicted the Passion of Christ, including the kiss from Judas, complete with a brilliant cryptic numerical design... arrange the numbers in any fashion and they equal 33.
The next day, Ashley and I spent the entire afternoon back in the Gaudi park. We drank sangria and napped and wrote and enjoyed the beauty of the world. How lame does that sound? Try it. You'd never mock it again.
However relaxing our day was, we made up for it at night. We canvassed Barcelona trying to find the famous Barcelona Cathedral. Apparently, it's incredibly distinguished-looking from the outside. So we figured we'd find it quite easily. No dice. We did, however, stumble upon one cathedral where a blushing bride was just about to get married. When she exited the limo, all of these bystanders (including us) applauded. It was rather moving.Anyway, after about 45 minutes, we finally found the place. Want to know why it took so long? It was completely under renovation or construction or something, so it was all scaffolded up. In the front court yard, though, was one of the most incredible displays of humanity I've seen since the celebration at de Beurs when Kosovo gained independence.
Individual hives of people were jumping and dancing to beautiful ethnic music. I have no idea where they were from or what they were celebrating or commemorating but it was so moving I got goosebumps and felt my eyes well up instantly.
The inside of the cathedral was equally moving and beautiful, but unfortunately only one picture came out clearly.
Wow. That's a lot of prayer intentions.That night, Ashley and I went to a fantastic flamenco show. The dancer had dreadful sweaty pit-stains from dancing so hard. Luckily, my camera only got blurry photos, so neither you nor I can laugh at her perspiration. Well, I can, because I have a good mental image locked away.
Okay, now I promise. The blog will really start to move fast. Two reasons: I've been working on this post all day and I'm getting tired. Also, at this point during the trip, I was running out of battery life once again. (Let's take another moment to mourn the life of my camera...)Next day... off to Prague!
Tied with Barcelona, I adored Prague the most of all. It was so old and dark and wonky and beautiful and intense and the exchange rate was, shall we say, kick-butt. Perhaps the only creepy thing about Prague was its obsession with marionettes.
The next day we rendezvoused with the rest of the gang and went on a most enjoyable tour of Old Prague... saw a beautiful cathedral and a breathtaking city view...
a mediocre "palace" (yeah, right), and some fantastic souvenirs. I was too poor to buy any of them, but not too poor to shamelessly photograph them...
Unfortunately, this is the part of the trip where my camera died. Suffice it to say I traveled backwards via train to Vienna, which was lovely, but not as fantabulous as I would have hoped. Saturday we traveled by train (backwards, once again) back to Prague. Slept most of the day, and went on a lovely pub crawl at night. Then Sunday, it was back to Brussels. In my opinion, not a moment too soon. I chose to walk back from the train station. I needed to reconnect with the closest thing to home I had. It felt nice to walk past familiar shoe shops and waffle stands.
It took a week to draft this post. It took a week to catch up on sleep and school work. It was all worth while, but I miss you all very much, and I am certainly looking forward to coming home to my real home. Hope all is well with you, darling Reader. If you stuck around this long, then see the fellow on your way out to collect your parking voucher, and your coupon for a free pizza on me.
Love love love,
Lauren
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