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.

Part II

Party is Party and it's all the same most of the time. It's no fun to spend the next day hungover on the walking tour. It's no fun to not remember your awesome night in Prague or whatever. You normally won't meet anyone that awesome at a club, mainly just guidos. Bars are nice, laid back places, and cheaper also. You can get a feel for the local nightlife and talk to people who aren't just wanting to...whatever like at clubs. If you want to dance with your girlfriends, like we did in Prague, then go dance! But after a night of trying all the local beers and special liquors and dancing into the morning at da club, getting woke up by the other people in your hostel room at 8:30 a.m., it's probably a once a trip thing, not every night.

No more 3x5's.John Mayer was wise with that song. Much of the moment is lost when spent behind a camera lens. Not to mention all those hundreds of photos to go through are really annoying, most being of the same architecture, the same streets, oh look the same lake. For me it's that way anyway, though i'm learning, especially with a new incredibly slow laptop. For others who like to have pictures of themselves, much of them can look completely posed, fake, which um they are, so put the camera down for awhile. Have it with you of course, but shoot only what really has meaning for you-that captures the moment you are actually having. Because really, how many of those pictures are you going to look back upon later.

Backpacks or suitcase?It's a hard decision. If you're flying on a discount airline, you'll have to do the backpack, but make sure the hostel you're at let's you leave it there, if you've got an early checkout and late departure. Duffle bags suck. Backpacks can get really heavy. However, suitcases are really annoying on metros, trams, stairs, and all of those cobblestone walkways in Europe that need to be fixed.

HostelsNever never do more than a 6 person bedroom. Six people is enough. Research and call the hell out of a hostel before you go. Ask all these questions: Can I leave my bags at the hostel for the day, after I check out? Do you have free breakfast? (Always nice) Can I do laundry there? Is there a full bathroom in my room or what is the bathroom situation like? How late can I check in and out? How much is the key deposit? The check all the reviews on hostel websites, such as hostelworld.com, and make sure you can get there easily from the metro stop or wherever you're coming from. All in all though, choose to stay in a hostel if you're under 27. They can be super nice, helpful, inexpensive places.

Travel is stressfulOrganizing the trains and metro lines to take to get to the airport on time, trying to find the most inexpensive flights, trying to book a nice cheap hostel, researching the city and things to do, and doing all this planning around the people you're going with-trying to make it fit in their budget and their schedule can be really stressful. It's easiest to travel with someone with a similar budget to your's, whom is as excited as you are for the trip, so you know they won't flake out last minute after you already bought tickets, who isn't scared to stay in a hostel or with couchsurfers, who enjoys the same activities as you do (beaches, eating, hiking, outdoors), and who has the same sense of time as you do. Some people like no plans, some like some plans, but then some have to have everything planned.
Talk a lot before you leave, and agree what you want to do. They may have like 100 things they want to see, but if you don't want to be exhausted and miserable try to compromise and narrow it down a little if you're within a time limit.

Say yes, but then also say noDon't be afraid to say to know to the sweet man turned ugly after refusing to buy his cheese he shoved into your hands to taste. You didn't ask for it. Don't be afraid to say yes to meeting up with some people you met earlier on a scuba diving excursion at a bar later if they are nice. Say yes to new foods. No to American foods you can have when you go home. Go with your instincts on people, but sadly from what i've learned, if you're a young nice american tourist/backpacker you have to be careful.

Happy Feet=Happy Traveler Part I

Things I'm learning about traveling:
1. Bad shoes and poor clothing choices unsuited for the weather can definitely change a traveling experience entirely. It seems like a given, but how many times have I seen some girl go out, wearing a cute new dress, only to be complaining the whole damn night about it being cold. If you're shivering because you didn't bring a proper jacket or crying inside because you wanted to look cool in your boots or stilettos (why???) while walking ALL DAY through the city, all that you will remember about "that" place will be that it was something slightly miserable.
So I'm going to embrace my inner dork and pack my tennis shoes next time I hit up Prague's Petrin Hill, because holy shit do my feet hurt.

2. Have time.And make sure everyone in your group is on the same page about this, because some people have their tourist sight iteneraries engraved and unmovably stubbornly set in their minds, thinking they can hit up 10 sights & Museums in one day. That kind of plan is "possible." However, that kind of plan is a rapid blur meaningless and exhausting. If you feel yourself having to reread a museum pamphlet 3 times, because you keep zoning out, or find yourself staring at a painting, but have no rememberance of what it was of, then it's time for a break. The best travel days have always been the one's were you fit 2-3 things to do (wander the old city & grab a gelato, see the Dali Museum, take a nap on the beach with a baguette sandwich, hit up the pub at happy hour). Always have time to wander. Always have time completely unplanned.

3. Sit.Yes, I love to lounge. If I were an animal, I'd be a fat lazy house cat, lying in a windowsill all day in sunbeams. But, when you're standing and walking an extensive amount of the day (Prague yesterday=12 hours + dancing at club for 4), you will need to give yourself a break. Go with your instincts, how your body feels, most of the time it will need to rest to be able to take in the next sight. Naps are wonderful or just laying in general. Today in Prague I layed around on the grass lawns of Petrin Hill, with a box of fresh berries, and took a 2 hour rest/nap/lounge session. In Paris, my two friends and I found ourselves just sitting on a sidwalk bench for 2 1/2 hours, talking, zoning out-it was awesome. We then proceeded to find the small park next door to Shakespeare and Company, across the street from the Notre Dame, and have a picnic and then again nap. I say for every standing/walking one hour, there should be 30 minutes-1 hour of resting. Taking the shoes off is also very nice when doing this resting, and helps immensely. This time is also a time to soak in the culture and be less tourist and more local. Have a cup a coffee, a beer, take a picnic, a nap outside, or sit on a park bench with some other old local men. The Italian don't say il dolce far niente for nothing.

4. Oh Money.It is the biggest stress factor for any traveler on a budget. Understand the currency first before you leave! Count your change. Always have a bigger budget than you intend on spending. You will spend more than you intend on spending. Have certain categories-street food fund, beer fund, club cover fund, museum fund, public transportation fund, hostel fund, etc. But then there's souvenir fund...This one makes me sad, but many like myself really end up having no money for souvenirs at the end of a trip. I've bought one thing this entire time (a flying cat statue from Strasbourg). If there's a particular thing with a story behind I'd go for it, but skip the eiffel tower key chains and I heart Prague t-shirts. You will spend money. Get over it. I say this for myself...I haven't learned to not stress so much about it yet. All I know is the next time I'm coming to Europe I'm getting a job here-paid in Euros!

How could I forget

How could I forget what I love more than anything
How could I give it up, refuse to compete
How could I be so cruel to myself to ignore it all this time
It's in my blood, and how I wanted to do everything else

Pourquoi

The biggest military operation for France in years

Libya
Copyright of Associated Press

I don't know what to feel. Can Obama just fly down to Angers, so he can give me a hug, and tell me it's all gonna be okay and we'll leave the middle east soon? no??
"war can't drive out war"
but what happens when diplomatic peaceful efforts to stop oppressive murderous dictators don't either?
it reminds me of a paper i wrote in high school, called Love is a Force that Gives Us Meaning, brought about by a book by journalist, Chris Hedges, titled, War is a Force that Gives Us Meaning, about our addiction to war, our ignorance of peaceful means, but again this question of is war sometimes...necessary?
I can't help but feel sick about it though.
I don't quite understand the pictures I'm finding in the Middle East of civilians with peace signs in one hand and a gun in the other. I wonder if they understand.
I wonder how such few men can have so much control over a population of people.
I wonder how one man could want so much power, and against a world still refuse to let it slip from his hands. What childhood injury could have caused that much need?

Eze Village

Thursday we took a daytrip over to Eze Village, Monoco, and Menton for the Menton Lemon Festival. These are some pictures from the Cactus Garden in Eze, with feminine sculptures by Jean-Phillipe Richard, called "dust of the stars," because they are made of all natural materials situated around the garden.

"Tiny but Delectable"-Wayne's Bar DJ

The French Riviera Part One: Nice

Tuesday we trained into Nice, and checked into our hostel.
Villa St. Exupery was an colorful modern art-filled hostel with good music, 3.50 happy hour mojitos, and euro beers, and was a great start to our first night in the riviera. I don't understand why anyone would ever do a hotel now. Although somewhat cheesy, like some tourist summer camp, with everyone's "where ya from? what brought you here?" and my favorite amusing answer, "well, I'd like to think of myself as a citizen of the world," hostels offer a great opportunity to meet people from all over, get tips on where to go and where to stay, and learn about other opportunities for travel. For instance you have the cute little gap year students, and the wild spring breakers, and you have the ex-computer programmers who left town after the parents moved in, but then there are ex-cruise line employees, private super yacht stewardesses and cooks, and hostel staff, who just wanted to travel. I learned that the girls who work on cruise ships in the little retail/mall areas make decent money, travel everywhere for 6-months to a year or more, get two months off to go back home. Two guys I met scuba diving (one staff chef, the other dishwasher), basically live on a private yacht for free, and get paid to travel the world's most beautiful places, use all the boat's toys (jet skis, scuba gear), and the owner comes aboard maybe twice a year for a few weeks.

We came right in time for Nice Carnival,the supposedly French version of New Orleans Mardi Gras.
During the day large floats of floral designs would stroll down the streets, and everyone would have their bouquet of yellow flowers on the metros that they were going to throw during the parade. Every night it turned into a comical costume dance party with large floats, dancers, masks, and an all out silly string and confetti war.

Tuesday and Saturday night we ended up bar hopping in Old Nice, starting off at the renowned Wayne's Bar, where British youth dance on tables and drink way overpriced drinks to classic american and english rock tunes. What I liked much more was the way less touristy Blue Whale, still expensive (but everywhere is), but had live music every night until 4 a.m., happy hour until midnight, and Leffe Rouge and Orgasm Shots.

In Old Nice, lively markets are held every morning until 1:30 in the afternoon. It's known for it's large flower markets and socca (crepe like thing) you can buy hot off the gridle from a tough lady named Theresa, called the Queen of the Market. I bought a bag of delicious olives and some fruit to snack on, as we hiked up to Castle Hill, for an awesome view of Nice, the mountains, and the ocean. For a euro, we took the bus to Villefranche-sur Mer, a 15 minute away very quiet village of beautiful views and old people.

Spices!

Saturday night after visits to the Matisse Museum, Roman Ruins, and Museum of Contemporary Art, we had an amazing dinner in Old Nice on the market street. Bread, Nicoise Salad, Moules and Frites and Ice Cream.

Friday morning we boarded a scuba diving boat, where a french man with a nautical striped shirt, named Febreze (like the air freshner he said), explained quickly in bits of english how to scuba dive...it was bit more like tandem scuba diving, since it was both our first times, with a guy leading us around. Once back on board, we were given a glass of rose wine...although whiskey might have been a better choice, since it was freezing in that water, even with two wet suits on.

Sunday I wandered the markets and city by myself, and since it was the first Sunday of the month, I was able to catch the Chagall Museum for free. On my way to the museum though I ran into a parade of bohemian/hippie looking people, playing hand drums, singing, on quirky decorated bicycles, heading back down to the carnival. Many of them slightly smelling like pot. Afterwards I headed back to Old Nice and got some pistachio gelato from Fennochios (Spell?), and took a nap on the pebble beach, as it was the first moderately warm day I spent there. I walked through the children's part of the carnival, where kids were dressed up as everything from clowns (Which are really popular here) to Buzz Lightyear.
I watched as parade security guards and police man laughed on the ground, as the silly stringed each other. Even I got attacked with it and confetti by an old man and his buddies. I saw an incredible accordion player outside a gelato shop, a guitar player outside the Palais du Justice, and an interesting man with two white cats, dressed up as some medieval character with a painted white face and white wig, doing balancing acts in Old Nice, with a sign reading "I am not a vagabond." Perhaps it's the warm friendly weather, or the heavy italian influences, or perhaps the carnival season that makes Nice wonderfully laid back and less serious and playful, at least much more than the rest of France.

Lessons of the Lotus

You should be prepared for anything from the mysterious past.
Work on bringing wholeness to the present and purity to your heart and mind...
It is never too late for you to turn things around by trying to do good from now on.
You hold the keys to your happiness by your present actions.
Do not let your past deeds or who you have been disqualify you from opening the door.
You can choose to be miserable or you can choose to be happy, to be comfortable, and to enjoy peace here and now.

-Bhante Y. Wimala

A mind not to be changed by place or time

The mind is its own place,
And is in itself
Can make a heav'n of hell,
A hell of heav'n.

-John Milton, Paradise Lost

Pigs & Puppets-Day Trip in Lyon

Monday, we took a day trip with Pierre's mother (originally from Lyon), did an audio guide tour around the city, and had a traditional lunch, since Lyon is a close competitor with Paris as France's most gastronomic city.
I had lentil soup with pork of course, a saucisson specialty dish (more pork), and chocolate mousse. Almost every restaurant had a statue of pig dressed up as a chef outside of it-once i again I don't know how people here aren't fat.

Lyon is famous for it's puppets or marionettes, with many puppet show stands, theaters, and the Gadagne Museum with over 2000 puppets.

Saint Jean's cathedral, home of the famous astrological clock and outdoor garden.

Lyon's little "traboules" or narrow, steep stairways up and down the city are a daily hike for many locals. The buildings reminded me somewhat of colorful adobe houses like you'd see in Mexico, yet obviously they aren't adobe...it's a quirky fun city though, with museums like the Museum of Minatures with everything tiny, puppet show/creperie booths, and operas and plays staged in ancient roman amphitheater remains during spring and summer.

Coccinelles, Chatreusse, et Champagne

Spring Break: St. Pierre

Saturday afternoon, after lunch at a Moroccan restaurant, we left with Pierre and his sister to drive up into the mountains to the small Chartreusse village of St. Pierre where we'd meet the family and go skiing. Up the winding route, with warning road signs with pictures depicting cars falling off the edge and rocks falling onto cars, (the latter which I don't really understand why it would be of any use) I learned some about the driving education in France. In order for the French to get driving licenses you have to be twenty-one and go through and intense long driving school and then of course take a test. A lot more than my read a book, dad taught, online test at sixteen. Anyways, Still, I would never want to drive in France, or park in France, or be too close to a car in France, so being driven up that mountain with an of course, stick shift little car, feeling like we were going 80 mph...i thought i was going to die, and was overwhelmed with joy to see the cute home of my friend's French relatives at last.

As we entered the house, we were greeted with slippers for on our feet, a warm fireplace, Pierre's father's coccinelle (ladybug) collection, and champagne and a hot entree and a cold entree.
Then it was bread, fois gras, salad, with homegrown baby tomatoes and a sweet white wine to complement the fois gras.
Then it was dry white wine, a baked pasta dish and vegetables.
Then the cheeses.
Then fruit bowl and plum and apricot tarts, also homegrown
Then the Chartreusse Digestif alcohol.
Every night went like this. Starting the morning out with home baked bread with homemade jams, coffee drank from bowls to dip your breakfast cake slices into, fruit, and yogurt. A small lunch. An afternoon tea and tart. And then again the massive 4 hour dinners, always ending with a bottle of Chartreusse.

The herbs grow naturally and locally in the Alps and are medicinal digestives handpicked by the family and put in bottles with the alcohol. I learned that the green liqueur Chartreusse itself has been made by Carthusian Monks, since the 1700s and is aged with over 130 herbal extracts, originally produced for medicinal purposes. The liqueur is named after the Monks' Grande Chartreuse monastery, located in the Chartreuse Mountains in the general region of Grenoble in France, and is produced in the city where Pierre's grandparents live in Voiron.

Je Voudrais le cafe de Irish-More Spring Break: Annecy

Annecy was our second choice, far-less expensive day trip from Grenoble, hosting the next Winter Games Olympics. Chamonix is usually the hotspot for tourists wishing to cast a glimpse of France's tallest mountain Mt. Blanc, but for half the train ticket, you can stroll down a narrow river walk in between Italian-looking cafes and bars, breathing out into a clear blue lake reflecting a backdrop of snow capped mountains, topped with cute little fishing boats. I want a love boat.
A Cathedral and a Chateau turned into a very interesting museum sit on top of the city, an arduous hike up, but with beautiful views of the surroundings below.

We wandered the streets and hiked up to the Chateau Museum first after splitting a mini pizza and a chocolate meringue. Meringue...pure sugar that you can't even eat, because it just falls all over you onto your jacket, won't wash out, and then get's stuck in your teeth...they look pretty in patisseries, but no.
The Chateau Museum in Annecy is the most bizarre place ever with the most winding staircases ever. I saw a stuffed bear...and well, some local fish of the lake, and um some contemporary art? I think it was only 3 euros or so for a student price, and decently worth it for random amusement and the views outside.

By the tourist office, across from an open park by the lake, a bunch of French kids and teens stood in a circle with a boom box, break dancing. In the park, people threw frisby's with their dogs, and a popular carousel played whimsical music. And Before departing we stopped into a cozy bar for a glass of wine with wooden beamed ceilings and a live band setting up. Annecy seems to have almost all facets of nature and things to do, although small and completely walkable, it's outdoor culture suited me and my limited budget.

My Communication Class

Talking about Persuasion techniques-Needy children Commercials to Seat Belt Commercials

In Chartreuse We Trust

Spring Break Part I: Grenoble
I think I'm in love with Grenoble. A small city, with the longest street in France (longer than Avenue des Champs-Élysées in Paris), surrounded with a backdrop of Alps mountains, home to Rastafarian ski bums, delicious indian and moroccan restaurants, and dogs that ride on tram buses. And how I love the tram system in France, where they never check your ticket. We really need one in Austin. Walking out of the train station, people hold their skis over their shoulders, and aren't as Parisian-ly dressed as in Angers-i saw dreads, i saw nose piercings, i saw sweatpants. Perhaps I'm missing Austin a bit.

I stayed with my friend's distantly related French cousin, Pierre, whom kindly hosted us in his flat, and cooked some Chili Con Carne and Chocolate Cake (i helped make-deliceaux) for a small dinner party of his friends from ski-teacher-camp-school-thing. We got our first taste of the regional drink Chartreuse, but mixed with nasty Monster energy drink, unexplained exactly at that time what it is...but it wouldn't be our last glass ; )

Vin Chaud & Cidre: A Little Bit of Brittany and Normandy

These beautiful photos are by Marguerite Vichier-Guerre

A Quick Catchup
It was only for a day, but a few weekends ago our group visited Mt. Saint Michel in Normandy and St. Malo in Brittany. Arriving at Mount St. Michel the gravel grounds were filled with big tour buses, and a lot of Asians snapping pictures of every single sight. Dr. Flynn warned us about walking into real sinking sand along the beach, saying if you got stuck, sometimes the currents could suddenly rise and drown you.
Although initially seeming overly touristy and expensive, Mt. Saint Michel is a beautiful and amazing construction, and still is a pilgrimage for many christians and catholics. The views from the heights of ascended stairs may be why so many fled there, but what i most enjoyed were the narrow medieval-like walkways, slowly dwindling and descending down the rock that this little town (of what maybe 50 people) sits on.

Hot wine, crepes, churros, and huge jars of nutella are at every cafe along the walkways. And Every so often, you can see a monk bed through an old stone window to ring the bells above you, like something out of Monty Python.
As the legend of Mt. Saint Michel goes, the Archangel repeatedly appeared to St. Aubert, bishop at the time, telling him to construct the church on the rock, but St. Aubert continually ignored the angel, thinking it as only an illusion. Finally Michael touched the bishop's scull with his finger to prove it was real, and so it goes the church was constructed.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in St. Malo a small walled port city in the northern coast of Brittany. With a colorful boardwalk carnival scene, unfortunately closed while we were there, beautiful beaches, and veille ville buildings, it is probably a great place to visit during the summer, especially when the seafood is in season. Still, walking along the wall pathways, up to the light house, enjoying some amazing ice cream in the old city, it is definitely somewhere I want to come back to, and somewhere every family or old person should go.

Tasting the Landscapes

Two weeks ago, I departed in the Loire Valley countryside, to the Closel-Chateau des Vaults. In the heart of the Savennieres hills, it felt like I had landed on an entirely new planet. Angers can be nicely eerie and romantic with its grey, cold, rainy wintery weather, but I didn't know until driving a few miles out how much I've been just wanting color.
It was the perfect day for a wine tasting. The hike through the steep rocky hills up to the peaceful plot of vines, and incredible view of rows and rows of green hills dotted with trees and daisies, made for my first blue skied day.
The winery has been passed down woman to woman throughout three generations with an intense passion for wine and the french landscapes. Madame Evelyne de Pontbriand led our group through the vineyard.

Every morning the Madame gets up, she says, and treks up the hill, where she sings to her vines and the bees and the weeds, amid the wild deer and rabbits. She carefully inspects them, taking notice of each's development and stages, tasting the berries to tell if the vines are ready for harvest.
The wines harvested here are purely from the vine, no additives, no chemicals-purely the result of the landscape. Certified organic, many of the wines are named after their specific plot of land, and as the madame told us, when you are tasting the wine, you are tasting the landscape and you are tasting culture.

*
We began with a spicy white wine-amazing flavor for something purely coming from the grape.
Then we tasted a white wine named Rain Water.
Then a sweet white wine and a newer Rose wine.
All were amazing.
She also talked to us about the many marketing and communication aspects of the wine business, and how wine tastings are the only way to communicate about wine to their audience or customers. California first took notice of this, offering wine tourism, and France soon followed.

It wasn't so much their passion for wine that was so great, but more so for nature itself-the way they respected it and coincided with the natural processes and organisms of the land. It made me want to change my major once again, but mainly made my realize the intimate connection we can have with nature by the everyday things we do, drink, and eat.

The next day at the market I saw this, as people returned to their favorite venders and farmers, getting their milk and their cheese from one, their bread from their favorite baker, their vegetables from another. They know the farmers, whom communicate to them their products like talking about their children. They know their food. They love it. And they don't rush through it.

I will not drink Franzia when I come back to America.

happy valentine's day

i wish i would've seen this when i was on the paris metro

Group Excursion in Paris

The Louvre
=overwhelming, hungry, feet hurt, beautiful
Dinner
=At least we got Creme Brulee

The afternoon was all a blur, until a shot of espresso and a nutella crepe at a food stand near the Louvre.
Saturday night, we went to what's supposed to be one of Paris's hippest clubs: Duplex.
20 euro cover, with 11 euro martinis, and a club full of french versions of jersey shore boys, a few hotties, but way too many polo shirts. Why is Abercrombie and Fitch so popular here? It was an interesting night. The Paris metro doesn't open back up until 5:30 a.m., and my friends stephen and seline, and I found ourselves the last one's to leave, trying to find a taxi we couldn't pay for, back to the hotel we didn't know how to get to. The whole while in the taxi we made plans to stay up all night at some 24 hour cafe and get burgers and espresso with the money none of us had.

Sunday we went to the Montparnasse Cemetery, and I ate a huge French hot dog-delicious and terrible. Then it was a day full of metro adventures. Off to Notre Dame, then Shakespeare and Company bookstore, and a boat ride down the Seine river, and some eiffel tower sightseeing.

I'm hoping to go back in the Spring and see Sacre Coeur, Luxembourg Gardens, and the Catacombs Museum, and then Versailles, and Monet's Gardens.