Fox News, Fire Works, French Fries

I was on a boat watching the fireworks at Hell's Gate on Possum Kingdom Lake for 4th of July. Girls in red, white, and blue bikinis, drinking Miller Light, danced to stereos booming country and rap music, Texas accents small talking AMURIKUH at it's best!

I've been back two months now, and I've eaten my fair share of Mexican food, and have a car now (no trams!), which means I can go to a bar, and not drink at it, and now the homecoming has passed, and my lazy summer days have been pretty bland, though I've decided to make July an adventure.

I have to admit I became prouder to be an American from living abroad. Our food is the best. And though Portuguese Galao and espresso beats any American coffee shops' coffee, I love the little hearts and leaves I get in my lattes here : ) We have awesome student life at our Universities that can't compare to French Universities, and music and movies that the whole word watches and loves.

However, not having a job for these two months, give me the ample opportunity to indulge in daytime television, reality television seem to be the only shows that come on...Jerseylicous, Teen Mom, The Real Housewives of Who Gives a Shit, and my favorite Toddlers in Tiaras. None of this is new television since December, Fox News is just as overly obviously biased as it always has been, still nothing can get passed in congress, and the Top 1% still seem to buy there way into tax breaks, and global warming somehow remains a question.... but still I'm in wonder.

Manu Chao - Bongo Bong je ne t'aime plus_S.Granum, C.Rygh ed

Portugal Part II

Yesterday I woke up and went over to the Abrigo cafe for some smooth galao, delicious coffee with milk served in a hot glass and came back to watch some of the royal wedding. For lunch I hit up a place near the beach for a glass of crisp refreshing Vino Verde and a large salad with kiwis, shrimp, peaches, carrots, cucumbers, and all kinds of things mixed in a sweet yummy lime honey dressing. After a few hours on the beach, I was hungry again, and hit up a tapas bar up the hill for some local Tagus beer. I thought tapas were supposed to be small, but again huge plate, but of all kinds of cured hams and sausages and homemade bread. "Yes, Portuguese people eat a lot," the bartender told me, and then asked "a beer for the road?" I love Portugal. Hoping to get up early for a daytrip, I headed for bed at 10 p.m., only to be kept up all night by the numerous parties and bars, and the music of that same duo, singing drunkenly at the top of their lungs, "I want to be a Millionaire so freakin baad..."

This morning I had set my alarm for 7:15 a.m., hoping to catch the 8:30 a.m. bus to Portimao and then the 10 a.m. bus to Monchique, but instead I woke up to a light shower of rain outside our window and the seagull's crow, and headed out at 9 for some galao. I realized when walking to the cafe that the only other people outside walking with their umbrellas were over the age of 70...An old lady stopped to say something to me conversationally in Portuguese...she was too sweet, so I just smiled and said "Sim." I then realize that I had my clock was still set an hour later, and that really I was wondering around town at 8 a.m....I picked up some pastries at a Padaria I had found yesterday. At every cafe you can buy a round flaky pastry filled with custard, broiled on top like a creme brulee that is soooo sooo good with some galao.

For lunch my new Canadian roommate and I went for some munkfish kebab with garlic sauce down the street, served with rice, salad, fries, and vegetables all for 4.90 euros, and then a glass of red porto, thick and sweet, and probably much better as an after dinner drink. Then we went for another galao and a slice of an almond roll, a traditional dessert, full of almonds and nuts, and not very sweet but nice with the coffee as well.
After the clouds cleared, and the hourly forecast looked promising, I took my full belly for a nap at the beach, where the beach was completely empty and all mine. : )

Oh Hello Beach Paradise

Well, right now I'm sipping a Sagres, the recommended local Cerveja, looking out from the Cloud 9 Hostel balcony, through old terracotta rooftops at the sparkling Algarve Coast. Just a week ago I had never given much thought to Portugal. In my mind it was just a country I grouped with Spain, and I hope it remains this way for everyone else. Although the Algarve has certainly grown on the tourist radar, it remains mostly unspoiled like most other resorty beach towns. So although I'd like to move all my family and friends here, it would be cool if we could just keep this place a secret for a little bit longer.

It was 9:30 p.m. in Nantes, and my bus had not arrived. I hoped the old lady I asked had been right, when I asked her if I was in the right place. 10:30 arrived, and still no bus. Now the station was crowded with spanish, french, and portuguese families and mostly elderly backpacking couples (adorable). Finally at 11:30 p.m., two hours late, my bus arrived, and I crawled into a packed bus, next to a Portuguese guy living in Rennes, who offered me some Double Bubble Gum, the kind in the round pink plastic package, which I didn't know existed in Europe, but there we were, departing for a very very very long bus ride.

I chatted for awhile with the Portuguese guy, who asked me where I was from. "Texas? Oh George Bush...Guns...You Cowgirl?" He explained how every few weeks he made this bus ride or a train ride to see his homeland, although this bus ride was "sick." The last time I had to sleep on an overnight bus was freshmen year of high school on a choir tour to Nashville, TN, and just like then not much sleeping was done, although the main cause of my sleeplessness then was my friend Ben and I kept singing "500,065,600 minutes ON A BUS."

Around noon or sometime, I switched off in Portugal, I guess for the Algarve route. A lady with approximately two teeth sat next to me, blabbing to me in Portuguese about something. "Nao falo Porguguese?" I said after she had already rambled on for 5 minutes. "Oh Pardon me, pardon me!" she exclaimed, embracing my face with her hands, as if I was some long lost niece. Then she continued talking to me in Portuguese the entire bus ride, until she got off 5 hours later. It obviously didn't matter or not if I spoke her language. I learned that Portuguese old people really love to talk. We made few stops in old villages close to Spain, where all of the elderly people on the bus got up and had coffee at the cafe together, although previous strangers of each other. In every town there was always an old Portuguese man in a beret, sweater, and slacks walking his dog outside my window. Clothing always hung outside apartment windows on clotheslines to dry, and in a few places I even saw tents of people outside with horses, and even buggies. I heard Portugal was poor, but I didn't expect buggies.

Around 10 p.m. on Wednesday, after almost 24 hours on a bus, I arrived in Portimao, where I had to take a taxi to Lagos. For the first hour in Lagos I wandered back and forth along the marina where couples strolled with their dogs, asking for directions in the few portuguese phrases I had written from google translate, before I came, and they answered me in Portuguese...so then I would ask someone else, until finally I realized I cannot read hand gestures, and found another taxi. The taxi driver seemed confident. "Oh yes, I guess so, I can take you." As if he was doing me some special favor, which to be honest it probably wasn't worth his time...if he had known where it was! We stopped at the place he said was the address I gave him, but there was no sign saying "Cloud 9 Hostel." He then got out of the cab with me and asked the hotel manager for directions. We waited for 15 minutes as the hotel manager waited on google maps to load up on his computer, as he complained about Lagos's internet connection. I don't know why the driver just didn't consult the gps in the car, but whatever, he found it after are amusingly bizarre hunt, and soon I was handed some kind of mango cocktail, barhopping with some people from my hostel.

Crazily my german roommate and I both woke up at 9 a.m. the next morning, and headed off to The Odeon Cafe for a 3 euro HUGE delicious English Breakfast of beans, scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and potatoes. 3 euros. oh yes.
Then it was off to Praia do Pinahao, a beautiful beach cove surrounded by towering cliffs of purple and yellow wildflowers, and beautiful crystal blue ice cold water, and the sound of waves crashing, and two Portuguese guys, singing "I want to be a Millionaire," with their guitar.
Later that night they were outside our hostel again, singing it again to the restaurants below and to our hostel balcony.

Bohemia

I had booked my tickets to Prague, after sending in my Emergency Temporary passport to the Embassy to get a new one just in time for my departure...When it comes to passports, however, nothing is ever easy. The U.S. Embassy is a hard ass bitch. I feel like I can say this after all the stress it has caused me, so yeah it's been you are bitch.
After numerous pleading emails, passport photographs taken, trips to the post office, and dollars spent, the day before my intended, but seemingly hopeless departure into Prague, a miracle happened.
And all of a sudden, I was on a train to Paris after my Communication class to the airport, with my new passport in hand (with the most hideous picture inside). After few hours waiting amidst a crowd of hormonal loud Italian teenagers for my Easy Jet flight, soon I was landing in Prague, completely unsure of what I was to do when I got there.

My friend/ex fellow barista, Will had fortunately gotten my last minute facebook message and was there as soon as I walked out of the baggage claim.
First thing was the ATM. I had a choice of 100-2000 crowns. My friends had told me how they had somehow blown through 200 euros in two days, but they didn't know where it went. Czech currency is so confusing. Supposedly it's $1=17 crowns, and initially I thought wow, are dollar is worth so much! But...17 crowns is a soda if you're lucky...and prices are wracked up high in all the touristy areas, although they seem like a good deal.

Second thing was a Pilsner for the road. Oh Pilsner. I heard such good things about Czech beer...But what? Pilsner, really? I'd say it might be the European equivalent of a Bud Light. Every bar we went to, every restaurant, "what do you have on tap?" Oh,right, Pilsner...again. The best bar we went to had only like 3 bars on tap, one of course being Pilsner, the other being some other crappy beer that tasted just like Pilsner, and Guinness.

Third thing was bar hopping. We didn't stray too far from our hostel the first night, Adam and Eve Hostel near Petrin Hill, but what I found was that our area was actually the cheapest with the coolest bars. Shadow Bar is an ultimate Bohemian cozy bar, with really cheap drinks and cocktails, strange twisted art on the walls, and tons of students. One bar down we discovered that marijuana is legal in Prague when a Rastafarian dude lit up in the middle of the bar. Another bar a few blocks down was one of the many underground, cave-like bars that I learned from the Communist Museum, used to hold anti communist underground music and student gatherings. Here we learned that the Czech are even worse dancers than the French. However they are like 10x more entertaining and fun. One guy was even doing jumping jacks at one time to techno song all about Obama.

In the morning we headed out into the Old City to meet up with our free English walking tour guide. From my past experiences,a walking tour sounded lame, but it was free, so we were like what the hell. Our guide was a local Czech graphic designer, student of film, who was unbelievably hilarious, informative, and the best storyteller I've ever heard. She led us on what was perhaps a 3-4 hour tour through the old city, the jewish quarter, and Prague Castle, stopping at all the great sights to tell the oh so many Czech legends, and morbid bloody stories.

In this Cathedral, there is a legend about a thief who tried to steal something from the lap of a statue of Mary by the alter. And as legend goes as he was picking this up the statue's hand grabbed the thief's hand and the thief was unable to get out of her grip. When the Church bishops and such arrived and saw him, they decided to chop off his hand and hang it in the Cathedral. Till this day the shriveled hand hangs by the Cathedral doors, as a warning to any thinking of wronging the church.

Our trip coincided with Prague's Easter festivities, which made Prague even more colorful! Vendors sold sausages, hot wine, pilsner, goulash, fried cheese, potato dishes, crepes, candied nuts, and all kinds of sweet things. Musicians filled every street and played on a large stage in Old City every night and markets were held daily selling marionettes, painted eggs, and all kinds of "I heart Prague" souvenirs.

During the day tourists flooded Charles Bridge. There must be more tourists than actual Czech. After my friends left,and I was going in circles 6x always ending up at the Astrological clock I finally stopped into look at my map at the Choco Cafe that I kept passing by, getting tempted by the sweet dark whiffs of cocao. Away from the tourists, right outside of the old city, it was a cozy, dim lit cafe with brochettes and large list of hot chocolates with all women employees. I ordered the Hot Chocolate with Coconut Milk. It was literally melted dark chocolate decadence, served in a clear glass mug, so I could say the layer of dark chocolate, the sweet coconut cream, and then the fresh coconut shavings on top. Although somewhat expensive, it was so worth it.

When we saw Cannabis Ice Cream we couldn't resist. Supposedly Prague is starting to be called the "New Amsterdam," because of its eased drug laws. The Cannabis Ice Cream might have done not done anything but make us giggle a little down to the Lenin Wall, but is probably the best ice cream I've ever had. Many of these Absintheries have all kinds of special treats like Absinthe hot chocolate, Absinthe mojitos and cocktails, and even a chocolaterie called Bon Bon sells Absinthe chocolates.

The statues are a memorial for all the victims of communism that stand near Petrin Hill. Since going to Prague, I've grown further out of my textbook knowledge of communism. Visiting the Communism museum and watching the documentary in it of protests, and depictions of school reformations, was so much more shocking than I thought it would be. Even worse was touring the Jewish Quarter, passing my the Old New Synagogue, where pictures drawn by czech children in a concentration camp hang on the walls...

My favorite part about Prague would probably be Petrin Hill. In this area you can grab some lentil soup and bread for a picnic under $3, hike up the hill, and join the other locals in some nap time in the sun. Orchards of blooming white trees line parts of the hill, as well as nice hiking trails with incredible views of the city. After my feet were sore from the 3 days of continuous walking, I spent many hours napping, eating, and just lying around.

Prague is colorful city of beautiful architecture, lively nightlife, mysterious legends,and dark morbid past, but it all adds to Prague's quirky bohemian strong character. Although you can often be caught within the swarms of tourists, if you get out of Old City you can find the locals' Prague, and take a nap on Petrin Hill with a Pilsner...or a Cannabis Iced Tea. ; )

I love Strasbourg

Every narrow beautiful cobblestone street has a street musician. Strasbourg might just be my favorite place in France, vibrant, young, musical, bustling, but calm, with plenty of parks and canals to rest on and by with a gelato, a brat hot dog, or a pretzel.
It feels like Germany, except for the french written on shop signs, but there is equally german written on them too. There's plenty of happening bars with large beer menus and plenty of things to do and see, especially the extremely impressive Cathedral, which I favor more than Notre Dame in Paris.

I Want to be Retired in Germany

A few weekends ago I left with our program on a seven hour train ride to Strasbourg and then a 2 hour bus to the oh so quaint and beautiful Baden-Baden, Germany, whilst entertaining our professor's twin twelve year olds, playing hot potato categories with a stuffed anime animal they call "Mr. Tofu Man." It was a long, amusing ride, but soon for the first time, I entered into another European country, besides France.

The streets were immaculately clean. The buildings, although medieval, looked completely unscathed or touched by time. The buildings are bright pastel yellows, blues, pinks, and off-white. Although most of the town looked above the age of 65, I did spot a little family wearing matching sweaters tied around their polo shirted shoulders. How pleasant!

Baden-Baden, obviously by its name, is a bath town with many spas and mineral baths, most of them clothing optional or completely nude. Most of them filled with old naked men and women and a few young couples visiting for the weekend from France. The spa I went to had numerous pools: indoor, outdoor, one kind of like a lazy river, one with bubbles, one with a massaging waterfall, a cold pool, a hot pool, and then there was the second floor "no clothing" spa, with 10 hot saunas at differing degrees of heat with different aromatherapy steam.
I wonder if people here ever run into their bosses or teachers?

We stopped at a wonderful thai/asian food restaurant with 4 euro HUGE plates of fried rice, noodles, pad thai, and all kinds of delicious options, not to mention really good, cheap hot saki and German beers.
The more I travel, the more I learn that France, besides the U.K., is the most expensive place in Europe.
As for nightlife, it seems unless you're gambling at the casino (21 and up), you're asleep in Baden-Baden by 10 p.m.