Homesick Wanderluster

timshelbefree: Lollapalooza Line-Up Video :O

Wed, 11 Apr 2012 23:02:45 +0100

timshelbefree:

Lollapalooza Line-Up Video :O

Oh, how quickly a year goes.

Sat, 07 Jan 2012 23:46:36 +0000

Oh, how quickly a year goes.

However beautiful summer is, nothing beats a New England autumn....

Mon, 15 Aug 2011 01:56:00 +0100

However beautiful summer is, nothing beats a New England autumn. Get ready, Boston.

Chicago: Invaded?

Fri, 29 Jul 2011 16:03:00 +0100

I spent another painfully early weekday morning with my head all but glued to the train window. Still a good 25 minutes from Union Station, something caught my half-closed eyes, resulting in a rare state of instant alert.

In the coming days, I’d look out for this stationary gem in the sea of seemingly abandoned industrial buildings that make up approximately half of what I witness on my daily commute into the city, soon to gain a pin-pointed knowledge of its whereabouts.

But nothing online suggested that Chicago had been invaded, especially in a place so far from the city center, where the wandering eyes of the masses might notice the mysterious mosaic.

So I have to wonder, has Chicago been invaded or is it a copycat? I was fascinated by this kind of street art in Europe, especially Invader, who left evidence of his work in many of the cities I visited last semester.

London

Rome

Vienna

Anyone who is completely scratching their head, Google image “Invader” or “Banksy,” who are two of the more well-known artists, and then watch “Exit Through the Gift Shop.” I realize the likes of these artists and that doc(mock?)umentary are anything but new to mainstream minds (even less so in Europe,) but it was all new to me. And I found it all very cool.

Lollapa10oza Photo credit: Crystal Leonard

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 17:47:00 +0100

Lollapa10oza

Photo credit: Crystal Leonard

Summer Christmas

Fri, 01 Jul 2011 06:38:00 +0100

It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

Well, almost.

This Andy Williams classic is sung throughout, in my house at least, November and December, and is meant to commemorate the coming of the Christmas season. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m fairly obsessed with Christmas, but I’ve applied this song to other times of the year as well. Most notably, the Boston Marathon.

However, I feel morally opposed to using such a loaded label on any occasion that simply lasts one day such as Christmas or Marathon Monday, so I’m therefore now officially bestowing this honor on another annual part of my life. Yes, boys and girls, as it’s now officially July, that means that next month will bring about the one and only La-La-La-palooza (sorry, Lollapalooza.)

And in honor of not only the 20th anniversary of the festival, but also 3-day passes being sold out, I’m posting my tentative custom schedule.

This is my Lolla, what’s yours?

I didn’t sigh it was— Lake Michigan. Lake Forest,...

Sun, 22 May 2011 04:57:00 +0100

I didn’t sigh it was— Lake Michigan.

Lake Forest, it’s no Europe. Lake Michigan, it’s no Aegean Sea.

Sorry. No more complaining.

It turns out the premier post to this blog almost exactly one year ago, the one that outlined the preface to my “final summer living at home,” turned out to be nothing more than a jinx. Ah well, as an increasingly sporadic saying in my current vocabulary (as the days post-London roll forward) goes, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. I’m home another summer, not by choice, but I guess it will be nice as (formal announcement?) I don’t plan on landing the first stepping stone that will hopefully become a coherent career in the Windy City. Got to get my Chi-love in when I can, right? But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love some foreign company! (Attention Boston and London pals,) insert “visit Andy in Chicago this summer” plug here.

In a desperate and perhaps futile attempt at optimism, I’m listening to this song. But sadly, and ironically, it just makes me think of London.

Traveling is an obsession, I’ll admit. Any suggestions for...

Wed, 18 May 2011 22:11:44 +0100

Traveling is an obsession, I’ll admit. Any suggestions for this proposed summer road trip?

Family of Fünf: München

Sat, 14 May 2011 23:22:14 +0100

Germany. Bavaria. Munich. The land of my paternal ancestors. The land of my surname; Bungert, Germany - a town that my dad assures me exists, and from which my grandfather’s grandfather originated, but that I suspiciously can’t seem to find in the Google search engine. I was a little nervous, not to mention a little shaken up at leaving London for the last time, to travel to meet my family at our Munich hotel by myself, with all that I had to carry from the entire semester. When I made it to them, the sun was shining gleefully over the Saturday afternooners enjoying the German city, and my anxiety of the first wave of London nostalgia eased.

My family had already partaken in the German cultural staple of… beer, and I needed to catch up. Our imminent dinner was my first sample of the local fare, and my family was sure to pick out a traditional German restaurant for our family reunion of sorts. I came to quickly fall in love with the dinner table substitute of salted soft pretzels instead of bread, followed by a nice main course of Wiener Schnitzel. After dinner, instead of gelato, we found a Häagen-Dazs. That’s German-ish, right?

The next morning we got up and bought tickets for a bus tour around the city. Our first stop was to the Nymphenburg Palace on the outskirts of the center, a Baroque palace that was the main summer home of the old rulers of Bavaria. It was a beautiful sprawling complex of Greek-inspired architecture with a spacious green backyard covered in flowers, grass and a central pond.

We took the bus along its route through the main areas of the city, pausing at the BMW headquarters and the grounds of the 1972 summer Olympics. Our last stop on the bus was to the Englischer Garten, which is one of the largest urban parks in the world (larger than Central Park,) for some beer, pretzels, and various other German lunch items at the Chinesischer Turm (a Chinese inspired clearing in the park with a Chinese Tower and seemingly endless picnic tables full of people eating and drinking.)

Following the end of the tour we wandered around near our hotel, exploring Marienplatz and the nearby St. Peter’s Church (which we climbed; totally should have re-done St. Paul’s in London.) For our last meal in Munich before heading off to Austria, we visited the famous Hofbräuhaus, a restaurant and brewery, and one of the largest sites of the annual Oktoberfest.

Although I wish that I’d been able to visit other German cities such as Berlin or Frankfurt during my semester in Europe, I’m glad that only having the opportunity to see one, that it was Munich. This city is true German, true Bavaria, and as the closest city to wherever my roots stem from, it was well worth the trip.

Family of Fünf: Såizburg

Sat, 14 May 2011 23:22:09 +0100

I had high expectations for Salzburg, mostly because my mom told me it was one of her favorite European cities when her and my dad lived in London before I was born. I knew it was small; most people whom I told didn’t even know where the Austrian city was (very close to Munich, just on the other side of the Germany-Austria border.) All I knew of the city was that it is the setting for The Sound of Music. They’re obsessed with it there - they have full tours and a 24-hour television channel dedicated to the old musical. I can’t say I’ve ever seen the movie, nor do I have any desire to. So what is there in Salzburg for me?

It was a beautiful city. I can’t say I’d spend any amount of time there as it didn’t really strike me as a young or lively place, but for the day and some change I spent there I really enjoyed the scenery. We got in pretty late on our train, so we had to cram as much of the city as we could into a short time.

We left our hotel to go on an hour van tour around the city, just to get acquainted. We got a crash course in history and famous former residents (Mozart was born there,) saw a gorgeous lake against the backdrop of snow-capped mountains, and got some good dinner recommendations. Following the tour we took an elevator to the top of a piece of the mountain that the people of Salzburg cut out to make room for their city, where we could see nearly everything. It really showed what a small and intimate city Salzburg is: the rows and rows of houses running on both sides of the river with a few towers and spires of cathedrals and churches peppered across the skyline, garnished with the beautiful Hohensalzburg Castle atop the hill on the other side of the clearing. This was all tucked away in a small series of lush green mountains, with just a touch of white left at the top alluding to the nearly-forgotten winter.

Instead of taking the elevator back down, we formed the brilliant plan to try and hike down ourselves. I didn’t mind - it was kind of nice after spending so much time within big cities to find myself in the backwoods of some random, small Austrian town. I was actually really enjoying exploring remnants of old monastery walls while trying to find the correct path back down to the city center. When we eventually moseyed back to ground level, we wound up right where we wanted to be for dinner. St. Peter’s Stiftskeller: a restaurant claiming to have opened its doors in 803. Yes, 803. That’s more than 1,200 years ago. Wikipedia that shit: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stiftskeller_St._Peter

I tried an authentic Austrian Tafelspitz (a beef dish,) and some various samples of goat cheese. So freaking good.

Our night was far from over, despite the darkening sky. We noticed that the tram climbing the steep stone incline up to the Hohensalzburg Castle was still lit and running, so we sought to catch the last train up to explore the grounds before closing. It was one of the best castle complexes I’ve seen this semester; the seemingly preserved structure gave it the authenticity of Lisbon’s Castelo de São Jorge, yet its complex interior gave it the fascination of Edinburgh Castle. We ended our night and our time in Salzburg at the Hotel Stein, drinking cocktails on its well-known rooftop terrace.

Family of Fünf: Wien

Sat, 14 May 2011 23:22:00 +0100

We got into Vienna early after our punctuated visit to Salzburg. To find our bearings, we got on a hop-on hop-off bus tour around the city. This was the one city in our agenda that none of us had ever visited, so on the first day we were fairly lost.

After the tour we walked through Stephansdom (St. Stephen’s Cathedral) and its underground catacombs. My dad and brother were skeptical, but it turned out to be pretty awesome. Around the second half of the tour they took us into a series of dark and freezing cold pathways, where we got our first look at bones. The vast dark grave rooms closed off by iron bars were filled with piles and piles of bones; I couldn’t even tell how deep they went. Skulls and rib cages, femurs, pelvises, smaller bones fitting into the holes of the pile like a jigsaw puzzle, likely the bones of fingers and toes. Our guide said that most of them died from the bubonic plague in the 14th century. I’ve never seen anything like it.

Much of the remainder of our time in Vienna was in a way dictated by Travel Channel’s Anthony Bourdain and his travel show No Reservations, which had a pretty packed Vienna episode of some fun things to do. Like I said, none of us had been to Vienna, so we were pretty clueless when it came to the typical experience. We walked to the edge of the town where we came across a permanent amusement park, and the oldest large ferris wheel in operation. The cars looked like large red wooden barns, and felt even more unsafe than they looked. They creaked as they swung on their iron hinges, but it was worth it to get our essential view over the city.

For dinner we ate at an Italian restaurant, growing sick of the much heavier food typical of the region such as Wiener Schnitzel and various types of pork. I personally loved a chance to just have some pizza and pasta. We made up for it by sampling the world-famous Sachertort, a slice of delicious chocolate cake, at the Hotel Sacher.

The next morning we found the Naschmarkt, a series of food stands in the middle of the city. This was where we found the small shop where Anthony Bourdain ate on his show, called Urbanek. The store was run by a father and his two sons, and offered some of the most delicious food of the trip. We were served delicious white wine with a meat sampler plate, followed by an enormous deep-fried course of chicken cordon bleu. My family agreed that this little shop well-deserved its feature on the Travel Channel.

We took it easy for the rest of the day, pausing to sip coffee and eat more of the pastries for which Austria is famous at a nearby cafe and exploring another beautiful nearby church before going back to the hotel. This marked the end of our exciting adventure in Austria.

Family of Fünf: Praha

Sat, 14 May 2011 23:21:43 +0100

Looking out the train window as the various stations reading “Praha - (insert Czech word here,)” passed, the hill slowly lowered, revealing the beautiful view of Prague that I remembered. I could see the castle up on the hill in the distance, and just before it the two spires that sit in the Old Town Square amidst the copper roofs of the low buildings that make up the rest of Prague. My first glimpse of the city after almost three months made me feel like I’d just seen a ghost.

When I got onto the train station platform, I felt like I was in a whole new place. Where I’d been before I was with friends, now I was with family. Where I had been before the air hovered just below freezing, now I was wearing shorts and flip flops. I wasn’t staying at the Blind Eye Hostel & Guest House out in God-knows-where, but at a much nicer hotel in an area of Prague comparable to NYC’s SoHo or London’s Notting Hill. The heavy humid spring air, present only after whatever light rain had come to pass shortly before our arrival, felt nothing like the dry, frigid wind I braved in February.

Our initial exploration (as nobody else in my family had ever been to Prague) led us straight toward New Town, and as soon as I had my bearings I was having a ball knowing where things were. Recognizing little things, little memories, was so much fun for me - even if it was just knowing where my brother could find a Starbucks. It was cool to see, also, that the hot dog stand we drunkenly visited in February was also featured on Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, the same freaking stand. I noted the sign and the surroundings while watching the Prague episode to be sure. Our first meal was at a cafe on the strip south of the New Town Square, where I got a Kozel (so pleased,) and some beef goulash with potato pancakes. Man did I miss Czech food.

The night brought the first instance of less-than-perfect weather all week. We bought tickets for a Prague ghost tour (I was kind of banking on finding something to do in Prague that I hadn’t done yet to keep me interested,) but unfortunately we were met with some rain. I guess it made my semester go full circle: I did a ghost tour in the rain in the first European city I experienced back in January, and so I’d sure as hell do the same in the last.

Our second day in Prague (also known as my last full day not traveling in Europe; I’m a sap for nostalgic labels,) was full of as much exploring as our tired bodies would allow. Thankfully for me, we did our best to steer clear from the exact itinerary that my first trip to the Czech Republic pursued. As my brother hadn’t joined us on the previous night’s ghost tour, which took us through most of the city, our first destination was the Charles Bridge and the Lennon Wall (I didn’t mind this repeat one bit as I loved the Lennon Wall.)

We then visited the nearby Church of Our Lady Victorious at the request of my mom, who learned that many Roman Catholics visit the church as a pilgrimage since it is said that many miracles have happened there. After a long lunch, complete with a Czech version of the beer called Budweiser (not the one in the states,) my sister and I stopped at the Museum of Instruments of Medieval Torture (I weirdly love that stuff, as per my multiple visits to the London Dungeon during my four visits to London in my life,) before spending some time in the Old Town Square in the midst of a Czech celebration. The national ice hockey team was playing in a world tournament match against Sweden, and the square was filled with locals cheering on the team. I was pretty amused to watch a gathering of drunk Czechs.

My mom, sister and I then bought tickets to the Old Jewish Cemetery in the Jewish Quarter while my dad and brother remained in the Old Town Square. I love old cemeteries, having visited the oldest ones in Boston upon each newcomer’s initial tour. And it was really very fascinating, especially after hearing stories of the Jewish attraction during my first visit in February without having actually experienced them.

Our last real meal of the trip, as the next day we’d be eating dinner on a train back to Munich, was at an Italian restaurant in the shadow of the iconic Church of Our Lady before Týn in the Old Town Square. It was terrific. The end of the night was spent in the hotel library, my dad and brother smoking Cuban cigars, us laughing, drinking, enjoying moments of not being at each others throats after more than a week of non-stop togetherness.

The last thing I did in Prague was eat at Bohemia Bagel back near the Lennon Wall. Not a bad way to leave my time of exploration in Europe.

How Do You Say "Goodbye" in... Oh.

Sat, 07 May 2011 01:31:36 +0100

English. Right. Same language.

I just wanted to quickly jot this in, because over the next nine days I’ll be traveling with my family. And by the time I fly back to Chicago (for a night) and then off to Boston for a five-day 21st birthday celebration, I fear I will already feel different about London than the way I do now. This being the eve of my departure from the UK, it’s necessary for me to come full circle.

I loved every minute of this semester. After living in Boston for two years, getting to explore an entirely new (and comparatively enormous) city for four solid months has been nothing short of a blessing. I was nervous to go through a program that wasn’t BU, but it turned out far better than I could have imagined. I’m confident that this semester will go unmatched in the level of personal freedom, adventure and pure contentment for a long time. It will stay with me.

Thank you to all who made this semester what it was for me, even though when most of you met me I was as timid as could be (Heathrow airport memories, and Glasgow Airport, and the bus to Edinburgh, and in Edinburgh…oops.) You guys are the best, and I hope to see you all as soon as possible.

It’s time to venture back to America, my old life, my “real” life. Sadly, still sitting here, in the Fursecroft apartment that I called my second London home (separated from being my first London home only by a technicality of not actually “living” here per se,) I can’t seem to remember what my routines are like back home. I’ve built routines here. I’ve built habits, favorite restaurants and pubs, quicker routes to get places on the tube, I’ve figured out which television channels to watch and avoid, and even which times in which places I’m likely to run into a friendly face. I don’t remember those things as well back home. And I hate that I have to give it up here.

On Friday, January 7 2011, I wrote:

“Not knowing how it’s going to turn out is by far the scariest part… Yet I’m sure I’ll come to say it was also the most exciting.”

I’ve never so accurately foretold how I would feel about something.

I always use music as a way of reiterating how I feel about certain points in my life, so, in light of my voyage back to the western world, many of the songs in my most recent playlists are about going home. Take Me Home Tonight, I’m Coming Home, Who Says You Can’t Go Home?

As telling of this particular moment in time as these songs are, they’re all stories of felling comfort in rerooting into your past.

Unfortunately I’m not looking for that.

They make songs about the joys of familiarity following a perhaps rough experience out there in the cold, cruel world. Sadly for my undying nostalgia, a song about being forced to go home and being pissed about it probably wouldn’t be much of a chart-topper. I guess I’ll have to rely on Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes to lull me to sleep on the plane back over the Atlantic.

I hope my sister doesn’t read this before she leaves for the airport, as I’ll be sure to get an ear-full when I see her tomorrow in Munich. But whether I like it or not, I’m leaving London. You don’t have to yell at me anymore, Cass, I’m coming home.

Europe is so much more interesting than America. Sorry I’m...

Wed, 04 May 2011 11:45:38 +0100

Edinburgh, Scotland

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Prague, Czech Republic

Galway, Ireland

Mykonos, Greece

Rome, Italy

Paris, France

Sintra, Portugal

Barcelona, Spain

London, England

Europe is so much more interesting than America. Sorry I’m not sorry.

Ten Things I (Love) About You

Sun, 01 May 2011 14:08:00 +0100

When I decided to spend a semester in London, I really didn’t expect to find much of a cultural difference. I’d been to England before, and I figured as long as I spoke the same language, I really wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary beyond those lovely British accents. When I got here, I found that there were differences, although some more subtle than others. Going back to America soon, here are 10 things that I’m severely going to miss about the British culture.

10.) Fosters

I’m sure if I looked hard enough I could find this Australian beer in the U.S., but with its vast supplies in most London pubs, I fell in love with this golden bargain. Maybe it was just from those nights at Walkabout (thank you Boomerang Card.)

9.) Digestives

Caramel ones to be exact. Being able to buy these sleeves of chocolatey glory to go with my (nastier) instant Nestle coffee at any convenience store in London made all the difference when it came to a quick morning snack. And just so everyone is clear: they’re not laxative cookies.

8.) Pub Culture

Quiz nights and Sunday Roast. Pints of beer & cider, with a plate of “chips” to top it all off. Boston has its share of pubs, but I’m confident nothing can replace the British authenticity of The Eagle, The Duke of York or Shakespeare’s Head.

7.) English Accents

Because who doesn’t love an English accent?

6.) The Schoolwork

Or lack thereof. My classes abroad were a joke. At least for me. Transferring credits without the G.P.A. for the win.

5.) The History

Because you really can’t grasp America’s youth until you explore 500-year-old buildings on the regular.

4.) 18+ Drinking Policy

The Europeans got it right: teach kids to drink smart, and trust them to take on the responsibility, and they won’t end up like us. Also known as 250 American students descending on a city where it’s the first time many of us can drink legally, thereby foaming at the mouth for the chance to buy all the booze we want. What a way to spend the exact last four months of not being legal in the states.

3.) No Extra Tax

When something costs £5, it costs £5.

2.) Ease of Travel Between Cities

The European Union was, in this way, more like the United States. Jumping between England and France was almost like crossing state lines (except of course for passport control.) I never realized how big the U.S. is until I realized how small most European countries are.

1.) My Friends

Duh. Love and [will] miss you guys.

I suppose then it wouldn’t be fair to box out my home country, and so I’ve, in addition, prepared 10 things that I missed about home:

10.) Shower Curtains

Yeah, pretty simple concept wouldn’t you think? I didn’t see a single shower curtain throughout my whole time in the UK. Not even in hotels. In fact, the only time I did see shower curtains were in Italy and Greece, and that was only because the shower was separated from the general bathroom floor by an elevated two inches.

9.) Meat and Salad

For some reason, it was very difficult to find quality meat while I was in London, and the salads were annoyingly expensive. Displeased. Most of my trips around Europe had a central component of a kind of food staple, and I loved the food almost everywhere we went. But I have to say: London is one city you don’t exactly go to for the food.

8.) Driving (On the Right Side)

Even in my final days in London, despite the road markings on the ground reminding Americans like me to look left instead of right or vice versa, I would always look the wrong way. It was nice when my parents visited, the roadway to the front entrance of the hotel where they stayed is the only place in the UK where you’re supposed to drive on the right side. True story.

7.) Effective City Planning

I can get used to the winding roads and sprawling neighborhoods, London just seems like a much bigger version of Boston at times, but can we have some consistency in the road names, here? Why exactly do you think it’s effective to turn Clerkenwell into Theobald’s Road for no good reason? Just sayin’.

6.) American Television

I like Friends. But if I watch one more episode I’m going to rip my eyes out. It was the only alternative to the horror that was original British television (sorry, but British humor bothers the hell out of me.) Dexter, Modern Family, How I Met Your Mother: I’m coming for you.

5.) Iced Beverages

It’s not that difficult, Europe. Instead of heating it up, let’s keep our coffee room temperature, and add ice. Do I have to go to Starbucks and drop £4 every time I want this little joy? Let’s add Diet Coke to this one as well. It just doesn’t taste the same here.

4.) Unlimited Texting

Yes, #whitekidproblem, but I won’t pretend I don’t enjoy the finer things in life. Like being able to text a friend about seeing a dog that reminded me of their dog. Along with a subsequent picture message. These little moments in life are necessary, I think.

3.) My Own Bed / Room

I’ve never had a roommate before this semester, so I guess it’s good to say I’ve done it? Although I definitely got off lucky, coming away from London with no roommate horror stories to speak of. Still, it will be nice to have my own space again. Or will it be distressing? See: that one hour in Newcastle, week two of the semester. So much silence, so much pacing.

2.) Accessible Internet

I didn’t expect that America would be so much farther ahead of the UK in expanding mass Internet accessibility. I can’t wait to go home and illegally download music and stream videos without the blatant threat of being deported, arrested, fined, extradited… executed… (thank you Gazzano House.)

1.) The Exchange Rate

Dangerous. If I had money to speak of upon entering the states, it would be spent far and wide after realizing how cheap everything is compared to Europe. Hello weak dollar, come to papa. $10, that’s only like £6! It’ll take some time to reverse my speak.

I leave London in less than one week. So come on, reverse culture shock. Hit me with your best shot.

Don't You Threaten Me With a Good Time

Mon, 18 Apr 2011 16:25:00 +0100

It is truly a sad day. As of 2:00 this morning, I’ve finished traveling with the friends I’ve made abroad. I’m back in the UK, where I’ll remain until my family trip through central Europe in three weeks, and once I go through passport control in Munich, my time in the UK will be over.

Barcelona was one of my favorite cities. Period. Aside from the fantastic weather (just cooler than the at times overheated Lisbon), the culture was unlike any city I’ve seen this semester. Something that I was grateful for was, crazily, my early morning flight on Thursday. Since I only got about two hours of sleep the night before, having to wake up at 3:00 a.m. to catch the bus to the airport, getting into Barcelona around 2:00 in the afternoon made me want to nap just in time for siesta. We immediately adjusted to the very different time frame that Spaniards enjoy.

Kate and I woke up at 8:00 that evening, following a 5-hour nap, just in time for some tapas and sangria. Rian and Sam got to the hostel around 10:00 that night, which was perfect timing for a real dinner in Spain. In Lisbon, I tried a (pseudo) paella, hoping to sample authentic Portuguese food, but it turned out to be pretty disappointing. This was immediately rectified by this first dinner in Barcelona, which was true chicken paella. I’ve never had more delicious rice in my life.

I was on the verge of staying in, experiencing a drowsy state even after the long sleep. It took a good deal of encouragement and a really nasty shot of tequila for me to decide that I couldn’t go home after that. You’re only in Barcelona once, right? We went to the coast where the clubs are, and tried one called Opium, which is apparently one of the best, and somehow managed to get in for free. We basically ended up paying cover anyhow after buying one 10-euro drink, but what can ya do.

Our first full day in Barcelona was drenched in sunshine. We got up just before noon, and took the metro up to Park Güell, which is a garden complex filled with architectural works designed by Antoni Gaudí, who seems to have basically built half of Barcelona with his rather distinct style. The park was a combination of beautiful landscapes and samples of Gaudí’s work, and the top of the hill in the park gave us our necessary full view over the city and onto the beach in the distance.

After the park and some lunch, we took the metro back toward our hostel to the Sagrada Família, which is, at least as far as I could tell, the most iconic structure in Barcelona. And rightfully so. The church was beautiful, also designed by Gaudí (who else?). It was nice to have a change of pace from the typical churches, cathedrals and basilicas. I know the point is to worship God but let’s have some personality, shall we? The inside was filled with fantastical pillars, wall patterns and a full spectrum of vibrant colors pouring in from the stained-glass windows. I’m not an architecture buff by any means, but I loved Gaudí’s style.

Following the misguided clock (it’s 6:00, or does it feel more like 3:00?), all we knew is that we were tired. With a reasonable dinner hour several hours off, we went back to our hostel just off Las Ramblas to relax, get ready and perhaps drink a little before the night. Luckily, between the four of us, we had several close contacts who’d studied in Barcelona, so we had plenty of local secrets and hotspots to try out. Something that we came to hear from more than one person was that there was a tapas bar nearby that was considered the best in Barcelona. Even at 11:00, the wait, we were told, was 40 minutes. It was nothing a liter of sangria couldn’t fix to pass the time.

The food was delicious, very reasonably priced, and it seemed to just keep coming. Chicken croquettes here and some calamari there, a Greek salad or two, different kinds of bread, I particularly enjoyed sampling Kate’s fried artichokes. We topped off the hearty meal with “Catalonian-style cream” (crème brûlée), and some hot chocolate cake dish. It was arguably the best (and definitely one of the cheapest) meals of the weekend.

Following dinner we went to our second night club of Barcelona, this one called Shoko, which we also happened to get in for free (name dropping club promoters provided by aforementioned close contacts for the win).

Our second full day we woke up even later, and headed straight for the third staple in our self-guided Gaudí tour of Barcelona. We toured the Casa Batlló, which was a house originally designed for a family in the city in the late 1800s. I loved it, from the colors to the unique arches to the lack of straight lines almost everywhere in the house, and each room had its own personality. Each room was likened, according to my audio guide, to different elements of plants and animals. It felt like a house out of Alice in Wonderland or Whoville.

With all of our main sightseeing out of the way, we wandered around the city, back from Casa Batlló to Las Ramblas and toward our hostel for a late lunch. We bummed around the marina, taking in the beautiful seaside aspect to the city, and eventually stumbled upon Barceloneta, or the main beach. It was wonderful, having the city literally on the edge of the beach. We wound up back that way for dinner (a somewhat less impressive paella than on the first night), before finding a shot bar called Chupitos (stories not for public blogging), and our final club venue for the weekend, one called Razzmatazz.

We didn’t need to leave for the airport until approximately 6:30 yesterday evening, so waking up just before noon gave us plenty of time to do just about nothing. We leisurely strolled from our hostel toward Barceloneta, stopping to eye the street vendors and performers, before plopping down in the sand for a good few hours. It was a terrific way to end the weekend, and more so, the semester of traveling.

Aside from the fact that Kate and I hit about five different bumps in our travel schedule that may have hindered us from actually getting back to London last night, I arrived at a deserted Farringdon Road at around 2:00 a.m., exhausted, and saddened that my travels had come to an end (that is, until I travel with my family after the program. Don’t worry I haven’t forgotten about you).

I have just less than three weeks left in London, it’s time to get some serious work done on that bucket list. I’m happy to be here, knowing I’m not traveling for one of the largest stretches of the past three months.

Love London part three.

Take Me Home (Hostel) Tonight

Mon, 11 Apr 2011 15:07:00 +0100

I’d been waiting to feel like spring had hit Europe for some time. In Greece last month, the temperature barely hit 60. In Paris two weeks ago, I saw the trees bloom and I felt the true warmth of the sun. But in Lisbon this weekend, I felt like the earth had skipped its natural middle-man and moved straight on to summer.

I think it’s safe to say that I can stash that coat away.

Portugal was amazing. Ever since the first of my friends went abroad last summer, I’d been dreaming of places to visit myself when I finally made my way to Europe. I would spend hours researching the best places to travel, and toward the top of my list shot Lisbon.

Everything that I’d read led me to believe that it was one of the most underrated European cities, sporting all the fun of more popular nearby destinations such as Barcelona with half of the blatant tourism. My frequent Google image searches enamored me; the colorful architecture across the rolling hills, all up against a beautiful blue bay, instilled a sense of determination: I must travel to Lisbon.

Saving it until the end of the semester was terrific, as I mentioned, the weather was beautiful. On Thursday, we got in around the evening, and found that our hostel was conveniently located very close to the heart of the city. We had a rather confusing dinner (none of us were confident enough to actually utter the few Portuguese words we knew, such as “thank you” (obrigado)), and were all surprised the first time a man approached our outdoor table mumbling “hashish” as he pulled a small bag of drugs out of his pocket. Within a day, it had happened so many times we were desensitized. We ended the night by walking two blocks to the bay, just to relax.

On Friday we planned on going on a van tour just outside the city, but a suspicious mechanical error caused us to have to re-schedule for Sunday. We spent the day outside in the hot sun, touring the Castelo de São Jorge atop a large hill in the city, and taking the subway to the east edge of the city to relax by the water with some bottles of wine. This is where we found ourselves faced with that lovely Portuguese hospitality, receiving a passionate and completely unprovoked “fuck you” from a passer-by. Got to love those American tourists, eh? It’s ok, we could have taken ~~him~~ her.

We soon decided it was time to go, and we spent the next hour or so in the Lisbon Oceanarium.

That night, we ventured into the Barrio Alto neighborhood for dinner, where I sampled a delicious Portuguese beer (Sagres), some of the best pork I’ve ever had, and the local nightlife. Lisbon is a very fun city, even after the heat has gone.

The next day we met up with a free walking tour that took us all around the city, from the castle (again) through the many city squares, to the coast, which lent itself to amazing views of the bay, and a local flea market. After the tour and after lunch, we wanted to take a rest. We found a small rock beach near our hostel where we could relax and get some sun, as well as a view of the 25 de Abril Bridge (cough San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge) and the Cristo-Rei (cough Rio de Janiero’s Christ the Redeemer).

For dinner, we finally got some paella (we really weren’t sure what else might be considered traditional Portuguese cuisine, which overall turned out to be pretty much on par with the fare of our other favorite cities).

Sunday brought about the final (and best) day of the trip. We got on that van tour which was originally scheduled for Friday, and began our adventure just outside the city. Our first stop was in Sintra. This town seemed like a fantasy land, described more accurately by our tour guide Ricardo as “Disneyland for grown-ups.” We decided that as Cinque Terre over spring break turned out to be a bit of a disappointment for all parties, this was our reparation.

We tried Portuguese coffee (very small, very strong, quite a kick) and some delicious cinnamon pastry, wandered through a small market, and into the Sintra National Palace. Unfortunately, this was where my digital camera got swiped, so the weekend through my eyes (including more installments in the “Kate Does Europe” series, a video of two sea otters wrestling, and Sam sleeping in Barrio Alto) will never be seen. I bet it was those Parisian gypsies. Sneaky devils.

One good thing about the timing in which that happened was that it was before we moved on to the Quinta da Regaleira, which is without a doubt one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. I’m just glad I had my phone to take pictures, and that my camera wasn’t stolen afterward.

The Quinta da Regaleira is an estate, consisting of various paths and structures, and is truly like how Ricardo described. Once you entered the estate, you’d choose a path, which might take you to a small castle ruin. Climb to the top of the watch tower. Look across the beautiful countryside. Climb down and find yourself to the entrance of a pitch-black cave, dripping with water. On the other side of the cave, you find yourself at the bottom of a long spiral well. Climb up the long spiral well, and you’re at a lake, with a small waterfall to one side, and stepping stones across underneath an old bridge. On the other side of that lake is a gazebo tucked away at the end of a path in the trees. All of the architecture is exquisite.

Following the delicious lunch compliments of Ricardo (a chorizo sandwich with red wine), he took us to two (rather windy) coastal spots (including the western-most point of Europe) as we moved toward the beautiful beach town of Cascais.

Our last stop of the tour was in Belém. All I’ll say is this. The recipe of the one we had in Belém is apparently only known to three people in the world, and they sell up to 60,000 a day in the high tourist season. It was heavenly.

Our last experience in Portugal was sitting in a plaza on a hill overlooking much of the city and the bay, drinking a beer, as the sun set on a Sunday afternoon. It was filled with people and dogs, enjoying the day, and their wonderful city.

As usual, I came home with mixed feelings. This trip once again marked the final time I would travel with many of my abroad friends, and served as one more reminder of the looming end of the semester. With less than four weeks remaining, I’ve just got to keep living it up. I can’t believe how close to the end we are.

The Bucket List

Tue, 05 Apr 2011 19:57:00 +0100

In one month, I’ll cross over the UK border for the last time, regrettably moving out of London. In light of this, I’m going to have to accelerate my to-do musts before I (am forced to) fly back to the states.

~~Buckingham Palace~~

~~Harrod’s~~

~~St. Paul’s Cathedral~~

~~Ice Bar~~

Fabric

The London Eye

~~Picnic in Hyde Park~~

~~A West End Show~~

Abbey Road

Platform 9 3/4 at King’s Cross

A soccer game

~~The Tower Bridge~~

~~The Tower of London~~

~~Trafalgar Square~~

Hampton Court Palace

Windsor Castle

~~The National Gallery~~

~~The Tate Modern~~

~~The British Museum~~

Imperial War Museum

~~Borough Market~~

~~Portobello Market~~

~~A Pint at the Eagle~~

~~Exmouth Market~~

~~Apple Market in Covent Garden~~

~~Oxford~~

~~Cambridge~~

~~Stonehenge~~

Tour of the BBC

Churchill’s War Rooms

~~St. Dunstan’s Church~~

~~London Bar Crawl~~

I should have done a year abroad.

Crepes, Crisps and Crème Brûlée

Sun, 27 Mar 2011 03:37:00 +0100

I always had an interest in going to France while abroad, but I’m not exactly sure why. I don’t have a special someone to take to the top of the Eiffel Tower, I can’t speak a word of the language. I don’t love French food, and I always heard the people were rather rude. I guess it just seemed like a necessary notch to complete any Eurotrip, and I’ve always been told that springtime in Paris is all that and a baguette. Perhaps, then, it’s seasonally appropriate that during the first weekend of the official spring, I roped my parents into traveling to France with me during their mid-semester visit to Europe.

I loved Paris, it was just as beautiful as I’d been told. The springtime, interestingly enough, was my least favorite part about being there. I’d have to say that’s because it served as nothing more than a preview; the buds on the trees were in half-bloom, causing a state of mild panic for my overprotective sinuses. Being back in London, it’s making me stare at the tiny green grenades with a jaundiced eye. It’s only a matter of days I imagine before they catch up to their French neighbors. Stocking up on Claritin ASAP.

Other than that, I enjoyed a low-key weekend away. My only other complaint was having to chase a pair of young gypsies out of a café upon the realization that one of them had stuffed my iPhone into her dress. On my bad knee no less. French people (sorry to say) were not at all my favorite.

As far as sightseeing is concerned, we were very efficient. We got to our hotel and checked in no earlier than 11:30, and we still managed to fit in Notre Dame, lunch, a walk further down the river to the Eiffel Tower, a nap, and the Louvre, all before a relaxing and elongated dinner filled with wine, and ending in some mighty terrific (not to mention authentic) crème brûlée.

On Saturday after breakfast, we took a cab to the Sacré Cœur, which is a beautiful basilica north of the river atop a hill that overlooks a decent portion of the city. Our final stretch as tourists took us to the Arc de Triomphe and down the Champs-Élysées, when my leg started acting up a tad. It was time to call it a trip.

Now it’s time to spend a weekend in London, hoping that truly staying off my knee (but probably not) this week and weekend will be enough for me to thoroughly enjoy Portugal (and full mobility) in two weeks.

And see mom? I didn’t even mention being annoyed while traveling with you guys. I especially didn’t even acknowledge dad’s frequent public mockeries of the entire French nation. You’re welcome! (And thanks for the weekend.)

I Didn't Sigh it Was the Aegean Sea

Mon, 21 Mar 2011 23:04:00 +0000

Nope. Definitely no sigh in sight. Not unless you’re ~~trying~~ unable to fully comprehend where exactly you are, and your conclusion just leaves you breathless. Cue the crash course on the last ten days of my life.

We flew from London to Athens on a Thursday afternoon, and got in around dinner time. We, a tired group of seven, sought nothing more than a bite to eat for dinner, and found refuge in a small restaurant off of the main shopping area (this is where I tried and fell in love with the Greek beer Mythos). Luckily, with all of the traveling that took place thereafter during the trip, the bump in the road of this night did not set a precedent. Apparently, the public buses go on strike beginning at 10:00 pm. When we did reach our hostel, we quickly laid to rest, as our ferry to paradise was departing at 7:00 the following morning.

Our five-hour ferry to Mykonos lent itself a preview for what we were headed toward across the Aegean Sea. The tauntingly blue water glowing under the cloudless sky cast the illusion to onlookers from the inside of the ferry that the temperature was far higher than it really was, and knowing this judging by the iPhone weather app, we tried not to get our hopes up. Standing in the garage of the ferry as the drawbridge-like steel door lowered itself onto the dock, we felt the rush of cool air enter the vessel, confirming our fear. It wasn’t necessarily cold- but we would come to learn that Mykonos is actually not much further south than Washington D.C., and even though snow is an extreme rarity, March doesn’t exactly bring forth tropical weather like it might in, say, Miami.

On the dock we met the owner of our hostel, Mina, who was the first living example of my declaration that Greek people are the nicest Europeans I’ve ever met. She drove us to our accommodation, which was on the south side of the island, a few kilometers from the main town on the west coast. The fact that I doubted our decision for a moment became unthinkable when we began to descend the hill toward the coast where we were to settle. Just a few blocks down from our hostel was the end of the road, the coast, and on both sides were two empty beaches carved out into the rock formation that surrounds the island. Two coves, two stretches of empty golden sand, which met the shoreline of the sapphire-blue Aegean Sea. I quickly got used to the isolation.

Mina told us about the island, and showed us where the nearest (of two) grocery stores was, just up the road. We walked up, bought some wine, and hit the eastern beach off of our hostel. It wasn’t that warm, but the elation of actually being in Greece (and of course the wine) was enough to make most of my friends jump into the rather chilled water. When we began looking for something to eat, Mina offered to drive us to one of the only two restaurants nearby, where I sampled my first Mykonos fare. Let me just take this opportunity to say that I miss the food in Greece likely more than anywhere I’ve been this semester. Later that night we nearly fell asleep on the beach, keeping our eyes open only not to miss any passing shooters through the black yet star-filled sky. This is spring break.

Our first full day in Mykonos called for some exploration. To our pleasant surprise, it was mildly warmer than when we docked, although it might have just been the time of day and our eager-to-believe minds. No matter the temperature, the bright and uninterrupted sun over the town was enough to instill a manic rush into any Londoner coming off of winter with that kick of Vitamin-D. We found the famous Mykonos windmills, and a hill that led down to a rocky beach, where we found nothing but tranquility and a cat so eager to follow us around.

The rest of the town was beautiful, albeit deserted. We were attracted to the idea of Mykonos for break because of its apparently legendary nightlife, but we didn’t really see much of that. I guess their tourist season is in the summer (and after figuring out their climate that makes sense), but in March, much of the city is shut down in preparation for the imminent rush. At first, I was disappointed, but this was the first trip I’d be spending a significant amount of time in a small town as opposed to a larger city, and it was really nice to have some peace and quiet, especially in a place so beautiful. We wandered around and enjoyed the scenery, until we found another rock beach across the bay from the windmills on the west coast to watch the sun set over another island in the distance.

We cabbed back to the hostel and walked to the grocery store to pick up some more wine, and supplies to make a Greek (at least to us) meal for dinner. We cooked Greek sausages battered in Mythos, baked pita bread, and threw together a Greek salad. We ended the night once again on the beach, laying, drinking, and running around, reveling in the fact that it truly seemed like we were the only people on that island.

Our final full day in Mykonos became the bookend of our relax-explore-relax weekend structure. We went down the path to the other beach that, at least it seemed to us, was only accessible by walking across a cliff that wrapped around a rock face and down to the sand, which is where we spent the morning and much of the early afternoon. The ghostly hotels behind us on the beach were laden with dismantled cabanas and empty bars, the sporadic stirs of workers inside the lobbies and various hotel rooms hinted at their eventual glory when they opened up for the summer rush. Part of me wished I could be there to see it, but like I said, I was alright with the isolation. We laid on the beach and enjoyed the quiet. And Super Mash Brothers.

Being a Sunday night, everything (the grocery store) closed really early, snuffing out our plans to cook another meal and get some wine for the beach. We instead tried the other restaurant that was within walking distance of the hostel. This meal further justifies my previous declaration for the love of Greek hospitality. We ordered some food, we ordered some drinks, the drinks kept coming, more food came along. “This is on us,” they said in their thick accents, to the only patrons in the restaurant.

The next morning brought the depressing truth of leaving our secluded island paradise for Athens. It was obligatory, in my eyes, to see Athens if you’re going to Greece, but having been there now I never need to go back. The scattered ruins throughout the city, at least the ones you don’t have to pay for, are kind of cool to see, but everything closes around 2:30 pm, an unexpected and unwelcome surprise to us. Fine, Parthenon, I didn’t want to spend 12 euros to see you anyway. I’ll settle for the free view of your top-right corner.

We were happy to be flying to Italy the following morning to begin the second half of the break. For the first of our three days in Rome, the weather was beautiful. We wanted to hit the ground running in terms of quintessential Italy, so naturally our priorities were as follows: 1.) Lunch consisting of wine and pasta, 2.) Gelato, and 3.) The Roman Colosseum. At night we found a restaurant off the touristy track where they spoke little English but had fantastic pasta. I feel like my group of friends does a halfway decent job of making an effort to immerse ourselves in the culture of the country we’re visiting at the time, and in that way, those are the places we live for.

The next day began the spree of pesky rain that would last until, annoyingly, the morning we left Rome. The second day was worse, which prompted us to change our plans and see the Vatican City, thinking that much of it was indoors. I was rather unimpressed with our guided tour, that was until we entered the Sistine Chapel. Having a tour guide made it far more valuable, because he was able to explain the significance of much of Michelangelo’s paintings. It was so much bigger than I pictured. We then braved St. Peter’s Square in the pouring rain to enter the basilica, which is undoubtedly the most beautiful church I’ve ever seen. I guess that shouldn’t be surprising though, it’s the freaking Vatican.

That night after dinner, we opted to walk around a bit, when we happened to stumble upon the midnight celebration of Italy’s 150^th birthday as a republic. Kind of cool, yeah?

Our last full day in Rome brought on-and-off rain, but when it rained, it poured. We tried to fit in the rest of our outdoor checkpoints on our touristy list: the Pantheon, which sported a large hole cut out from the dome overhead, letting the rain in anyhow, the Trevi Fountain, the Piazza Navarro, part of the Palatine Hill, and the Spanish Steps. That night we ate like royalty. We had pasta and pizza, seafood and poultry, all of course, with wine. It was likely my favorite meal while in Italy.

Our effort to wake up early and catch one of the first trains north to Florence was lost on us when we missed our train. We weren’t late for it, we just didn’t understand the confusing joke that is the Roma Termini. We wound up in Florence in the early afternoon, and luckily for the short amount of time we had there, we had a host and tour guide in the form of one of our friend’s boyfriend who has been studying there this semester. We climbed to the top of the Duomo which lent itself to amazing views of the city, wandered through the leather market (I bought myself an awesome leather journal), and then walked along the river and through some other parts of the city. It was definitely my favorite place in Italy.

Then came the night out.

It began with dinner. My friend’s boyfriend knew of a place where you pay 8 euros for a drink, but then are given all the food you can eat. Whoever came up with this idea is amazing. After this, we wound up at a bar where I sang karaoke for the first time. And the second time. And the third time. Granted I wasn’t alone, but if my memory serves we woo’ed that crowd rather nicely.

We soon made our way to a club nearby where the fun really began. Cue Usher’s “DJ Got Us Falling in Love Again,” and my untimely choice to become acquainted with the dirty club floor. I don’t know if the popping or locking did me in, but the dropping left me with a dislocated knee and a rush of adrenaline as I held two parts to my leg where there should only be one. Luckily, a friend who was with me knew exactly what to do and sprang into action. I was afraid it would ruin the rest of my trip, but the fact that I could walk (hobble) on it the following morning was a good sign. Once we took the train from Florence to the Italian coast, I bought a cane with a duck handle, named him Leonard, and sat out the three-hour hike through Cinque Terre (although I was not happy about it), until I heard the monstrous thunder ripping across the mountains and into my lonely hostel window. Regardless, I got a nice long (much needed) nap out of the whole deal.

Our final day of break was spent in Pisa. We got kicked out of our hostel in Levanto (near Cinque Terre) at 10:00 am, and our flight back to London wasn’t until almost 7:00 that evening. The Pisa airport was only a couple minutes by bus from the city center, so we had more than enough time (and I really mean more than enough time) to see the leaning tower. Ten minutes in, take a picture where it looks like you’re trying to hold up the ill-designed tower, and you’re ready to go. We did get one last Italian lunch (a piece of pizza in Pisa?!) before spending the rest of the day in the airport. Honestly though, Leonard and I didn’t mind a nice sit.

Coming back to London last night, although I’d missed it over the ten days, struck me as almost debilitating. Not because it was hard to walk, but because it was a reminder that the halfway mark of the semester was now passed. I know that had become a reality in the face of academic midterms, but with a 10-day adventure like that staring you in the face, it’s hard to feel anything but excitement. The thought of leaving here in six weeks is nothing short of distressing, and just a forewarning to anyone stateside: don’t be offended if when I come home and am not overjoyed to be back. I miss spring break, but I’m glad to be here right now too. I guess I just have to enjoy being here while I can, because now that there are no big checkpoints standing in between me and finals, the end can and will sneak up on me any time now.

But at least for the next few nights, when I close my eyes, I’ll be dreaming of you spring break.