Spring is Springing 03-27-2011

Well, after all the rain and misery of Rome, it was very nice to come home.  Funny that I think of it that way now.  I have three homes.  I have Montana, which is the home of my heart.  I have Texas, which is the home of my life.  And now, I have Quedlinburg, which is the home of right now.

We are having more and more sunny days and little flowers are peeking out everywhere.  Spring has always been my favorite time of year because out of the dreary ugliness of the end of winter, comes new beginnings with bright colors and the smell of flowers and growing things.  Spring is a reminder of life and the act of being alive.

I went for a walk the day before yesterday to go buy nail glue, of all things, and instead of getting nail glue, I ended up going on a nice long walk.  I walked a direction I hadn’t gone before and saw things I hadn’t seen before.  I found a statue or a conglomeration of statues.  I saw the little purple, white, and yellow flowers poking through the dead (right now) grey vines.  I saw happy bunches of daffodils smiling at the sky.  It was a beautiful walk.

Along the path I took, I came across a place where a little foot bridge crossed a small rivulet of river water, my grandfather would have called it a crick (vernacular for creek.).  There were mallards there, diving to the bottom in search of munchies and the females were gathering twigs and branches and such.  Growing up where I did, mallards mean spring.  Yet another colorful reminder that things are changing and the earth is coming into another stage of rebirth.

Further on from the water, I found a small park where families were gathered playing with soccer balls, climbing a small jungle gym, and playing tag.  Little groups of moms with babies spotted the grass and all the parents were very very attentive to the older children.  Attentive at the least, very involved in playing mostly.

I kept walking eventually circling back to a familiar route, enjoying the colorful flowers in window boxes, the small buds sprouting on tree branches, and the leafing ivy climbing fence posts and walls.  I imagine it will be stunning here when Spring is in full swing.

Yesterday I went for the same walk, but this time I took my camera and incidentally, I also ended up with my nail glue.  

I walked down to the post office, dropped off my post cards and headed down the same road as I had the day prior.  The first thing I saw in the way of growth was an Ivy in leaf climbing a fence post. Next, I came across my statue.

Statues VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

  I haven’t been able to decide what it is about, but I am fairly certain that it is a conglomeration of fairy tales. Regardless, I love it and I believe that aside from the statue outside the DDR museum in Leipzig, this is my favorite statue so far.

Soon after my statues…literally right across the street, the definitive signs of Spring were abundant.  All sorts of flowers were blooming. Have I mentioned how happy Spring makes me?

Spring Flowers VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

 

This blog is probably going to be mostly photos, but I really can’t help how happy Spring makes me.  Germany reminds me so much of Montana.  I find myself hoping they have lilacs and snowball bushes.  I actually walk around in anticipation of the smell of the lilacs in the air and I have an abundant eagerness to rush outside to cut the blooms off and bring their scent inside.  I think my favorite smell in the entire world is lilac bushes in bloom.  I love how they aren’t open when I go to bed and it seems like the next morning the whole world smells good.  I remember all of the bushes we had around our house when I was a kid.  There was a big roundish one in the middle-ish of our very large backyard and it was growing up right next to the snowball bush and the three of us would sometimes hide in between the two while playing hide and seek or forts.

Snowball bushes are exactly what they sound like.  A bush with big balls of white flowers that smell good but look exactly like fluffy snowballs. 

I remember so clearly the tulips and daffodils bursting through the leftover undergrowth in the beds around our porch.  I recall wondering which colors they would be because I couldn’t remember from the year prior and there were so many options.  I remember how surprised I was to learn there were different types of daffodils.  I love the small ones with the crumpled orange and reddish petals in the middle.

I am so excited to watch Spring happen here.  Growing up it meant more fun.  It meant growing things in our pots at my grandma’s house.  It meant the smell of earth being turned in the front yard, where we would plant pansies, petunias, salvia, and so many other blooming plants.  It meant that there was time to play outside and to go to the parks.  It meant that the duck pond would thaw and the ducks and geese would come back and we could feed them again and walk around the pond looking for turtles and goldfish.  Spring meant newness.

I like to think of life in the same way as I think of Spring.  We go through these periods of stagnation where it seems as if everything is standing still, nothing is changing, and there is a wall preventing progress.  Those times are our winters.  When times are hard, when sad or even bad things happen, when forward progress is an impossibility because we are too busy just dealing with today.  Our Spring is when we get to move on.  We get to rediscover the world.  We get to wash away those months/days/years of bad air and stagnation and we get to walk out into the sun.  we get to forgive ourselves and we get to forgive others.  We get to say goodbye to past hurts.  We get to start over.

Spring was when I got to be closest to my mom.  I think she loved it as much as I did and if not, I never knew.  I loved getting my hands dirty planting flowers with her.  I loved our discovery of the  Missouri primrose that bloomed just as the sun was going down each evening.  I remember standing there with her and watching the petals unfurl.  It was magical. 

I remember the daisy hill in the back yard.  It wasn’t really a hill, more a bump.  I think it became the daisy hill because it was a pain to mow. Regardless, every year my mom transplanted bunches of daisies from all over the yard onto this little hill.  Eventually it was covered with nodding heads, waiting to be “love me, love me not-ed".”  We had this great cat, Mini.  In the summer we would fasten his halter to the clothesline and he had the run of the yard.  He always slept or stalked imaginary prey (and sometimes not so imaginary) on the daisy hill.  When he passed away, he was buried there.

Spring is magical to me.  I am beyond thrilled that it is coming to Quedlinburg.  In this instance, I am very pleased that my plans to live in Cairo were averted to coming here.  Spring doesn’t spring the same way in more southern regions and I get to experience it again, here, for the first time in nearly 12 years.

A Word About Hostels 03-22-2011

A hostel is a one hotel.  They are great because for the most part you can find them for under $25.  It is dorm style living in many.  Breakfast is often provided.  In some you bring your own towel, in others they are provided. Most have a common area with a microwave and a fridge so you can cook you own meals and some even have a stove. Most even have wireless internet. It’s pretty awesome.  You meet great people from around the world and travel without spend a lot of money on places to stay.

I have not stayed in several hostels between trips with the class, and now spring break.  The two I have stayed with on class trips were great.  I really enjoyed our stay and I enjoyed the people I met at the Kangaroo Stop immensely.

Since traveling without the advise and knowledge of Frau Merchant and Dr. McClain, I have now had several experiences and I want to share them with you.

Hostel one on our trip was the Hotel Panizza in Milan. We got a private room with a sink for 21 EU per night each.  I really enjoyed this hostel.  Breakfast was included as was free wireless.  We had to share a double bed, but this was no problem as they provided several blankets so we could use separate ones. The staff was VERY helpful.  They gave us a map and even recommended a great little pizza place nearby.  As with most hostels, they also allowed us to leave our luggage there after checking out so we could spend the day sightseeing and not have to drag around our luggage. We liked this hostel so much we stayed there on our return trip also.

Hostel two on our trip was in Mestre in Venice.  What oh what can I say.  When we arrived, the receptionist was amazingly helpful.  He gave us a map, told us about bus routes to the city, he also helped us find bus tickets at a discounted rate in a nearby store. This hostel cost 22 EU per night each. Sadly, the rooms were incredibly small, and there were beds for 5. Luckily we only had four in there however; our roommates were guys.  This is pretty standard as far as hostels go, but it was very awkward for us.  The shower was strange.  There was no stall, just a shower head above the toilet and about a foot of space.  In order to shower you had to get everything in the bathroom wet.  There was no place to put your clean garments that was safe from them getting damp and, as it was literally right over the toilet, the toilet paper was invariably soaked and very infrequently replenished. As far as showering, it sucked.  The wireless was only available in the common area, which was cool because we met awesome girls whom we ended up spending the rest of our time in Venice with.

Eurostudent Hostel in Florence was probably the friendliest hostel we stayed at.  We arrived very late at night with no reservations.  When we arrived, we were told they had no vacancies and we headed dejectedly down the stairs tired bodies aching from exhaustion.  When we got out of the building, it started to rain and we began to regroup to discuss our options.  Five minutes later, the door opened and the owner of the hostel popped his head out the door and welcomed us back in explaining that he had beds but nothing ready for new guests so we would have to be prepared to make our beds (which we didn’t end up having to do.)  He said that he couldn’t turn us away in the rain.  This hostel was also the cheapest.  It cost us 13,50 EU each for the night.

After paying and locating our beds, which were in a very tiny room with 8 other beds (bunks mostly) I went into the common area to use the internet and the others went to bed.  When it came time for the owner to want to sleep, he resituated me in the kitchen, going so far as to carrying my laptop and all the cords and rearranging the plugs in various outlets until he found one that would power up my laptop. His bed was in the common area.  After helping me get resituated, he gave me a box of sangria and wished me a goodnight. Evidently on one night of the week, they have free sangria parties as a way to socialize and meet new people.  This, in my opinion, is one of the best things hostels have to offer.  You can meet all sorts of people from all over.

Just a few more words on Eurostudent, they have a full kitchen so cooking your own meals to save money is entirely possible.  This is also a bonus at some hostels.  Breakfast wasn’t offered, but you could make your own.  It works out well.  The biggest seller for me was that the following day (even though we had checked out and left our luggage at 10 AM, when I started getting really sick, they let me come back into the hostel, gave me a bed and let me sleep for three hours, after which I had to clear the room so they could ready it for reservations.  They also allowed us to hang out and cook our dinner around 8PM so we could eat before our train to Rome.  I would recommend and I would stay again at Eurostudent.

The next hostel experience I truly believe will never be beaten as the hands down worst hostel I have ever stayed at. It is called Two Ducks Hostel and it is owned by the Hotel Magnifico in Rome.  We only stayed there one night.  When we arrived after a scary walk down a long narrow poorly lit alley, a very unfriendly man buzzed us in and checked us in.  He charged us a Roman hotel tax of 2 EU per person on top of the 16 EU each.  The statute for this tax specifically stated that hostels were exempt.  When I pointed this out, he stated it wasn’t a hostel even though there were signs all over the space with the name Two Ducks all over it.

Two Ducks boasts free WiFi, breakfast, cleanliness, a safe location, and a usable kitchen.  The hostel itself is two separate floors in the same building.  The first floor is the floor with the most rooms.  The fifth floor is the other rooms, and also the only place you can use WiFi.  This is also the floor the “full kitchen” is on.  We didn’t use the WiFi because you had to be in the kitchen/common room to do so and the entire 10x10 foot space was monopolized by bagged trash, cords from the managers electronics, and a huge picnic table (also coated in things.)  The whole place smelled musty and as if someone had at one time poured pine-sol on the floor and swished it around a bit trying to make it smell clean.   The one restroom for an entire floor was dirty and cramped. Breakfast consisted of packages of two slices of dried toast, tea bags, and ovaltine powder. 

Our room was the defining factor.  Flor’s bedspread had a bloodstain.  The door didn’t lock, the beds were pretty uncomfortable, and there were very strange noises.  Flor was so creeped out that she was checking for bugs under her covers by the light of her cell phone.  It was just bad.  Needless to say, we checked out the next morning.

By far the worst thing about Two Ducks, we had made reservations and decided upon staying one night that it wasn’t for us.  We let the rude man at the desk know and he told it was fine and sent us on our merry way.  Two days later they took two day’s stay for all three of us out of my bank account stating that it was a contractual thing for not giving 72 hours notice of cancelation.  We weren’t even given notice.  They just took it. When I went to speak with them about it, I was yelled at and then physically kicked (and I do mean actually kicked in the ass) out the door.

By the time I had to deal with that debacle, we had located and spent two nights at the next hostel I need to review; the Ostello Marello.  This hostel is run by nuns and is one of the most comforting places I have ever been.  For the most part only older people stayed there, but we were incredibly pleased with everything about it. None of us had a single complaint.  The rooms were clean, the bedding immaculate and plentiful.  The heat was controlled from our room, the bathrooms were very clean and laid out in a convenient way.  The doors triple locked and there was a large common room/kitchen with WiFi and television.  The kitchen also had a fridge and two drink machines so we could have our juice or coffee in the morning.  Finding this hostel saved our trip to Rome.  Two of the residents (not nuns, but women who lived there)made me tea and nursed me a little when I was too sick to head out into the city with Flor and Zach.  I can honestly say it was like coming home to return to tis hostel at night.

Hostels are a great thing. The intent is to give backpackers a place to stay that allows them to meet others and to travel more freely without large expensive unnecessary hotel rooms.  I do have some pointers that I want to put out there.  Always always always read reviews on hostels.  If I had read the reviews on Two Ducks, I wouldn’t have had the experience I had with them.  Try to spend time in common areas.  You meet some really cool people there.  Sometimes those people can have such a positive effect that you will be more forgiving of the negatives you may have with the hostel.  Don’t expect a five star hotel.  This is a hostel.  Sometimes you have to bring your own towel, sometimes it won’t have WiFi, sometimes you have to rent your linens, and sometimes you have to leave an ID for your key.  Yes, these are businesses, but believe me these aren’t people who are in it to make a ton of money.  They are people who actually believe in helping travelers and in meeting new people.  It might not hurt to take a page from their book and let it light a fire to learn about people.

Rome wasn’t Seen in a Day 03-20-2011

We arrived in the rain to a train station that was dark and in the process of closing.  We couldn’t even purchase a map.  We tried to ask a guard for directions to a place to buy a map and he basically told us to leave because they were closing.  So we did.  Thankfully, outside the station was a man commissioned to get travelers to stay at certain hotels and hostels.  He had a map of the locations and was quite okay with telling us about them.  Too bad we already had reservations.  He was nice enough to let us have a map, after he painstakingly circled the hotels and hostels nearby and told us to check them out.

Nothing is more tiring than dragging heavy backpacks and a large suitcase through the rain attempting to find someplace with a tiny map and the rain drenching it.  When we finally found where we needed to go, we were thoroughly soaked and very frustrated.  We went down a long, dark, creepy side street and finally came upon the unmarked building that our hostel supposedly lived in.  We rang a button and were instantly buzzed in.  Once out of the rain and in the region of being able to sleep, a little tension  was relieved.  That is until we met Dane Cook’s evil doppelganger and were introduced to the hotel/hostel and the ick factor.

We checked in and this process was the first of many indications of something not quite right. while waiting for “Dane” to write our passport information, I was reading a sign on the wall about Rome’s hotel tax.  The sign read something to the effect of:  Any persons letting a room in Rome was to pay an additional tax of 2 Euro per person per night stayed.  It went on to say that the only exclusion was for hostels.  So, I was understandably confused when “Dane” told us we needed to pay for this tax.  When I read off the sign, he replied with “This is not a hostel.”  Maybe this is the time to mention that right above the Rome tax letter was a sign welcoming us to Two Ducks Hostel. Regardless, we paid so we could get on to the sleeping.

We informed him that instead of the three nights we had originally intended  to stay, we would only be staying the one night and he said that would be fine and then he led us down to the first floor and introduced us to our room.  On first glance, our room wasn’t bad.  We set our stuff down and started to get ready for bed.  We had decided to not stay at Two Ducks because their reviews online (which I hadn’t read) were horrible.  Comments about stolen items, financial scamming, non lockable doors… all that along with the long dark creepy alley we had to go through to get there made it a very easy decision to not stay.  Especially after we had met “Dane.”

I left our very preschool colored room (read royal blue walls) and went to the equally bright (Canary yellow and crayon red) hall and then into the restroom.  Now, I don’t expect much when it comes to hostels, so this bathroom didn’t disappoint.  I couldn’t find the light switch and it was dirty.  Gross.  So I went, brushed my teeth, and left. 

The most abrasive thing about this place was the smell.  You know that dirty, musty house smell?  that’s what this was.  The thing that made it really bad was the scent of pine-sol.  This smell was in no way the lovely clean smell that pine-sol imbues.  It was more like they had thrown mass quantities on the floor, swished it around with a dirty, musty mop and then didn’t rinse it.  It was overwhelming and made the whole place seem even dirtier.

Needless to say we stayed our night and took off in the morning.  Just today, Flor told me she had a blood drip stain on her blanket….EW!

After we checked out, we began the lengthy process of finding another hostel which took almost three hours, but was a raging success because we ended up at a convent hostel run by nuns.  It was lovely, peaceful, and best of all we felt like we were in a safe, and clean environment.

After getting situated and taking a nap (SO NICE) we decided to locate some attractions to go to that night.  We only found one. A popular museum was opening its door for free due to Three Colors Day.  So we trudged along with our very large map (we got a new one) to the Piazza Venezia where the museum was located.  When we got there, we were greeted with this massive monument and an amazing light display.  Three large buildings were being lit by a laser light ensemble which changed the colors from red to green to white.  It was very awesome.

Turns out that this year is the 150th anniversary of Italy being a cohesive country so we showed up in time for three days of extreme patriotism.  Very cool. I even bought a flag.  So we were completely drenched.  I did mention we were in the middle of a cold downpour, right? We went up some crazy steep stairs to the center of the museum grounds which incidentally also housed the Senate building. When we got up there there was a band playing the national anthem and other rousing music.  They were in full regalia with the cool hats and marching uniforms.  People were standing around under umbrellas with Italian flags or wrapped in large Italian flags.  It was inspiring, or would have been if I weren’t so sick.

Progressively as the day went on, I had gotten sicker and sicker.  So, by the time we were in the courtyard listening to the band and waiting until the museum opened, I was frozen, miserable, and really couldn’t handle much more.  I climbed the stairs to what I later learned was the senate building but what I had been told would be where the exhibit would be, and I spoke to a guard and in broken English, he welcomed me inside took me to the security office, asked me if I needed a doctor, offered me a blanket, and offered me tea.  It was very sweet.  I must have looked and sounded terrible, which is how I felt, for them to be so sweet.

It was surreal to be in the senate building of Rome and seeing first hand the Capitoline Wolf.  She is the symbol of Rome and is one of the first pieces you study in every Art Appreciation class.  It was very cool.

After the Senate building, we headed back to the hostel.  I was so happy to sleep. 

Our second day in Rome (also freaking rainy) was monument day.  We wandered around looking for fountains, ruins, the Coliseum, the Pantheon and we found them all.  I was in the freaking Pantheon!! 

When we got to the Pantheon, a ceremony of some sort was happening and we had to shove through a HUGE crowd to get in.  I am so glad we did though.  It was so beautiful.  I am still in awe of it being 2000 years old without ever having been renovated.  I was walking on the original 2000 year old marble floor.  EEEEEEEEE!

After the Pantheon, we wandered all over, randomly looking for the Coliseum.  We wandered forever.  We came upon the Roman Forum which was seriously cool.  It was everything that you imagine Roman ruins to be. There were crumbling columns, beautiful arches, grown over remnants of an ancient time.  It was very lovely.  We looked up from the Forum and saw the Coliseum.  It appeared almost magically in front of us.  I have to say that after seeing it so many times in movies, art history classes, and just pictures, it was crazy to see it in real life.  I almost expected it to be a poster when I came up to it.  I actually walked up to the side of this iconic amazing thing and touched it with my hands. 

So many things in Italy looked just like the movies.  Venice was exactly like every movie I’d ever seen that took place in it.  Milan’s Duomo was as stunning as it is proclaimed to be, and Rome especially didn’t disappoint.

We entered into the Coliseum through one of it’s big beautiful arches and I think I stood in frozen, drenched, sick awe.  I was in the Coliseum.  EEEEEEEEEEE!  Due again to the Three Colors Celebration, all monuments were free that day so we grabbed our tickets and entered into the massive stadium.  There is something about climbing stairs that Ceasar climbed that made me feel the need to whisper.  I don’t believe in ghosts or spirits, but if anywhere would have them, the Coliseum would be the place.  Such an awesome spectacle of architecture and technological advance in that time, but a place of such horrendous death and disregard for human life.  It is at once a marvel and something gruesome.

We took lots of pictures but once again, the intensity of my cold got the better of me and I had to go into the bookstore to get warm.  I was having trouble breathing and I couldn’t stop hurting.  Every joint was in pain.  Still we powered on.  We went in search of the mythical Trevi fountain.

Have I mentioned that everything in Rome is uphill.  This is literally the only place where you could walk uphill to school both ways.  My grandparents should have lived there.  I would have no choice but to believe them when they tell me about their trips to elementary school.

We found what we thought was the fountain up a really really really steep hill followed by a really really really steep staircase.  We tossed the requisite coins, made the requisite wishes (mine was for wellness and sunshine) and then we went back to the hostel where I gave up the ghost and covered myself in four blankets and tried to sleep off my cold.  I woke up four hours later and was still sick but made myself get up and go downstairs to have tea and check my email, which turned out to be a very good thing because my car was in danger of repossession due to some signature issue.  Also, I found out that some hotel called Hotel Magnifico had taken $116 out of my bank account without authorization so I had to send out emails.  By the time I was done with that, Flor and Zach came back and it was time for sleep.  I wanted to be done with this freaking cold and ready for a great day at the Vatican.

I went back upstairs, crawled back under my layers of warm blankets and slept. At 3 AM, I woke up drenched in sweat and in need of a drink.  I had finally burnt off my fever.  THANK GOD!!!  After getting a drink, shedding a few blankets, and running a cool cloth over my face and neck, I crawled back into bed and slept a few more hours broken only by coughing.

When I woke in the morning I felt so much better.  I wasn’t feverish and my throat had tempered itself down to mildly irritated.  The only thing in full force was the cough.  I was so happy.  I actually spoke without my voice vanishing.  It was lovely.  Even better, when we walked outside to go catch a bus to the Vatican, it was SUNNY!!!!  Seriously, this was so great!

We jumped on a bus and headed to the Vatican.  I think I was the only one as excited about it as I was.  I think I may be a complete anomaly when it comes to art and religion.  I can separate the two.  I can walk into a completely beautiful place designed to be a house of prayer and regardless of my faith and the faith of the location, I can see the beauty.  I can be in awe of the lovely face of the Virgin and feel her pain.  I can take in with breathless amazement the soaring architecture, ornate windows, and intricate tile work and look beyond what they portray, (saints, martyrs, or scenes from mythology) which I also enjoy greatly because there is always a story and an underlying meaning, and see the work and the care used in creating them and love them because of these things.  I don’t look at them with the eyes of a religion, I look at them with the eyes of appreciation and awe.

So many times on this trip I have met with an inability in people to comprehend what a lot of the things and places we are seeing mean.  How they show a marked timetable in human comprehension and human innovation.  I have been met with both the argument that these places are disgusting shows of wealth that should be liquidated or no longer focused on and the money be spent on the poor.  This also comes with the argument that all the things we see are built by slaves who were forced to create and pay for creating them. Which is entirely inaccurate in most cases. The other side can’t look upon a statue of the Virgin and see the skill and feel the emotion portrayed, only that it is an icon in a faith not agreed with.  I don’t know what this means.  Maybe it means nothing.  I know that it makes me sad.  I wish that I could make the connections for people but it is impossible to make people see what they don’t want to and I am hoping that with age will come the eyes needed to truly see.  The world will one day hear these voices because they belong to brilliant, observant individuals and I hope that if not love, an appreciation for the things seen here will be what the world hears.

That said, the Vatican was incredible.  Saint Peter’s Basilica was quite possibly the most opulent, rich church I have ever seen.  Michelangelo's Pieta was six feet in front of me.  Hundreds of sculptured pieces were everywhere.  There wasn’t a single surface that didn’t have some sort of ornamentation.  The floors were gorgeous  the ceiling even more so.  Almost the most impressive thing about the basilica is that it doesn’t look very big from the outside.  I really wasn’t expecting the richly embellished cavern of art and faith that I found inside.  It blew me away.  By far the most impressive thing to me was the feeling of intense respect.  This was a tourist destination and millions of people came every year to see it’s art, but it was treated as a place of faith and given immeasurable respect.  People walked in a still awe of the place, but no voices were raised, no disrespectful words were uttered.  I truly happy to see it.

We waited around forty-five minutes in line to go into the Vatican museum which included the Sistine chapel.  We toured several galleries of sculpture.  It was incredible.  I was a little surprised to see all the work in the Vatican portraying ancient Roman and Greek mythological imagery.  It was pleasant surprise.  There were rooms and room and rooms of sculpture.  I was in awe but at the same time, I was very overwhelmed.  I can easily see why someone might want to take three or four days to tour the galleries.  It actually gets to the point of being numbing.  After a lot of it, my mind and eyes weren’t processing everything the same as it had been when we began.

The Sistine Chapel was GORGEOUS.  I have to say that I expected it to be much larger.  I don’t really know why, when I had heard chapel so many times, that I was expecting the ceiling of some massive church, but I was.  I wasn’t disappointed though, rather I was pleased because it made it much easier to take in.  The room was not at all large and SOOOOO many people were in it that time for true appreciation wasn’t available, but I took in what I could in 15 minutes and we got out to make room for others. Someday, when I am rich and famous, I hope to be able to go into the chapel by myself, light it with the same lighting as would have been used during its creation, and then lie on my back in the center of the floor and stare at it.  It is such a beautiful and amazing piece of work.  Just the construction of it, let alone the complete beauty is awe inspiring.

After the Vatican we went out to our daily gelato indulgence.  I really do love gelato.  It is just better than ice cream.  I can’t explain how, but it is.  We then were going to catch a bus, but instead ended up walking back to the hostel. It was so sunny and so warm that even I, in my illness, had taken off my jacket and just enjoyed our first completely beautiful Italian day.

Even though I was completely exhausted by the time we got back to the hostel, I needed to go to talk to the people at Hotel Magnifico about my bank account so I grabbed the address, dropped off my souvenirs, grabbed my wallet and took off.  I walked for around 20 minutes to get there and when I did, I tried to calmly explain myself and my situation to them.  When no mutual understanding was achieved, I asked to use their computer and got onto Google translate and explained myself.  I told them that I had been charged a large amount of money and had never stayed there.  He typed back that they owned several hotels and hostels in the area.  They owned the hostel run by “Dane.” 

Evidently when we canceled our last two nights with them, they had some small print that stated we gave them the right to charge us for 72 hours of residency.  So, we paid cash for the first night and they took two addition days for each of us on my credit card.  Of course, considering this left me with quite literally no money, I was livid.  We weren’t told by “Dane” when we left the hostel that we would be accruing fees or that we would be penalized for leaving.  Instead we were told it was okay.  I actually started tearing up because I was so frustrated and mad.  I tried reasoning with them and all four of them started yelling at me in Italian.  At one point I pointed to the computer and asked them to use translate and the owner slammed the screen down and told me to sit.  Finally it was too much.  One too many Italians in my face yelling at me and in no way allowing me to communicate so I stood up, slamming the door on my way out.  I hadn’t even taken a step away from the door when it opened and the owner kicked me in the ass, hard.  It didn’t hurt, but it made me even more angry.  I threw the tissue in my hand at him (I hope he gets this plague) and I walked out.  I was crying in frustration part of the way home and then to add insult to injury, the sky opened up in  flash.  I was instantly drenched….again.  It sucked.

Later that night, we were packing up and I was flipping through my postcards, I came across one with a photo of the Trevi fountain on it.  this was not the Trevi fountain that we had seen.  the fountain we had seen wasn’t the Trevi fountain at all.  (thankfully, because it wasn’t at all impressive.)  So, we decided to go find the actual Trevi fountain and to have Flor’s big Italian dinner out.  We started walking and came upon the restaurant.  We ate delicious food.  I tried Zach’s mussels and they were really good.  After eating, it was after 11PM.  we kept on though.  This was our last night in Rome and we hadn’t seen this fountain.  I am really glad we did.  This fountain is GORGEOUS.  I am not certain of the history, but there is some story about tossing a coin over your shoulder while making a wish.  So we all did it.  Since my wish at the other “Trevi” fountain, for warmth and wellness, had come true, I wished for something even more important to me.  It was a good night.

The next morning we had a long train ride to deal with so we were up early and to the train station.  We got there and got on the train only to find out literally 8 minutes before it was supposed to leave, that the date on mine was wrong and that I had to go get it fixed.  I ran like hell.  I jumped a line of twenty people and went to the counter where the lady, fully aware of my problem, asked me why I had skipped the line…um I have 5 minutes?!?  Regardless, she fixed my ticket and I ran all the way back and we got in the right places for our really long train ride.  I think we were all really grateful that we had plane tickets after that ride.  It felt really long.

We stayed the night at the Hotel Panizza (the hostel we had stayed at in Milan on the way to Rome) and met up with Jacob.  We all went to dinner and then I came back to the hostel and they went out.

The next morning we got up and set about to get to the airport to catch our plane.  We missed our plane. Between trains and the charter bus, we ran out of time.  We probably should have woken up an hour earlier, but we thought that would put us there too early.  Needless to say, that left us with only one option, a train ride home. 

This was an easy thing for Flor, Zach, and Jacob.  They had EuRail tickets.  I had to buy mine individually.  In order to do that, I had to borrow nearly $300 American dollars from Jacob to buy mine.  I am so grateful he was there.  I have no idea what I would have done. 

So, we got on a train home.  12 hours later we found us in Braunschwieg, Germany.  Our train had run a half hour late and this meant that if we took the train leaving Braunschwieg to Magdeburg (the town we catch the train to Quedlinburg in) we would be stranded overnight in the train station.  By opting to stay in the Braunschwieg we were comp-ed four hotel rooms across the street from the station and we would catch the first morning train.  We chose this option.  It was the only one to get us to Quedlinburg in time for class at 9AM. 

Needless to say, our Italian adventure was incredible and exhausting, and filled with crazy happenstance.  We were very glad to be home at 8:30 this morning, even though we hadn’t slept and we had class in thirty minutes.

Three Blind Mice 03-16-2011

We went to bed last night with the goal of a lovely relaxing day of just wandering Florence.  When I woke up, I knew something was wrong.  My throat was raw and I had a horrible dry cough.  I knew it was a cold, but I crossed my fingers that I was wrong, grabbed a soda and headed out with Flor and Zach to wander aimlessly.

We took this incredibly long walk towards what we thought was the end of town and after about three hours, I was in actual agony.  Every joint in my body hurt, I couldn’t breathe, my voice was in and out, my head was swimming.  I thought maybe I was feeling that way because I hadn’t had coffee and I hadn’t eaten so I stopped at this little hole in the wall produce stand and bought an orange and 8 fat olives. 

Oranges in Italy are amazing.  We call them blood oranges in Texas.  They are much juicier and much sweeter than Florida oranges.  I am hooked.  I am also completely addicted to olives here.  I am going to buy a great big jar of them before I head back to Berlin if I have the money.  They are nowhere near as salty as the green olives you find in the states.  I love them.

After we snacked on the olives and I ate my orange, I still felt like crap but I kept walking, hoping it would pass or that we would find a perfect street café at which we could enjoy pasta with Flor.  We did end up finding one and I had the special; fusili with gorgonzola and spinach.  It was heaven.  I also had a hot tea that felt so good on my throat.  After eating real food, I still didn’t feel better, so I knew I would have to give up.  I told Flor and Zach that I was going to cut out for the rest of the day and hope that even though we had checked out, the hostel guys would let me crash for a few hours.  I figured they would because they were pretty awesome.  Turns out they did, and they let us hang around and cook dinner until 8:30 when we got on the train to Rome. 

I slept for almost three hours.  When I woke up, my throat wasn’t ay better, but my muscles weren’t as achy and I felt like I could handle life.  I messed around with my photos on Facebook and when They got back from their Florence excursion, Flor and I headed out to buy pasta, sauce and bread.

It was a good day, even though I was sick.

The train to Rome was an entirely separate thing.  We got to the station and located our train, boarded and got situated.  The train was late at every stop.  I fell asleep several times which was nice, but the ticket guys kept waking me up bc My shoes were touching a seat.  The restrooms were nasty (no toilet paper, no water, the toilets were like backed up out houses because they had no water,)  AND the train was 30 minutes late getting into Rome. 

When we got into Rome it was full on raining.  I hope this isn’t and indication of what we have to look forward to in the next four days. 

Nicolas and Jacopo +10 03-14-2011

We arrived in Venice and got room at our hostel.  First off we went to the common area to check and see if Jacob or Zach had contacted us to give us info on their arrival.

In the room, we met Kristina and Kate.  They are both students from Holland and they rock something awesome.  We actually hung out with them the entire time we were in Venice. Anyway, we all decided to go to this amazing club that was only 2 blocks from the hostel.  We got all prettied up and headed out.

When we got there, we were turned away.  They told us it was a private party and we weren’t allowed in.  Turns out it was a gay party and they didn’t want straight people in attendance.  Even Flor was bummed and told them we don’t care if it’s gay, we just want to dance! 

So, as we were leaving and contemplating our going out options we met the mostbeautiful gay boy, Marco.  Marco spoke incredibly good English and informed us that he would get us into the party.  WOO HOO!!!  I have wanted to go to a gay bar/club the entire time I have been here.  These are my people!  He hooked us up with a guy who knew the name you had to have to get in the club…he said to tell them we were on the list of Nicolas n Jacobo +10.  We were in.  Later on, our beautiful blonde glittery gay boy brought Nicolas over to meet us.  He was gorgeous.  Turns out he was the dance/singer who would be performing and he was wonderful.

This particular club has a weird method of payment.  They give you a card when you enter and it has little dots on it.  When you check your coat the punch a dot, when you buy a drink they punch a dot and so on…  Well at the end of the night and you are ready to leave you take this card to the bartender and he rings you up and gives you a ticket so you can give it to the bouncer at the door who won’t let you leave without it.  I only brought 20 Euro and I got really drunk (story to be told later on) and I had an interesting night I don’t really remember.

So, I don’t get really really drunk very easily.  It takes a fair amount of alcohol to get me that way.  That night at the club, I literally had three drinks.  One was red bull and vodka, the other was this beautiful blue drink that Marco recommended.  I had two of those and I was WASTED.  I actually have memory gaps.  No more blue drinks for me.

Anywho, it was a beautiful night with all of my lovely gay people and It is full of beautiful memories I only have because I took a million photos that night.

The next morning, we headed to Venice (the actual island)  We went by bus and climbed over this lovely bridge that is lighted at night and saw our first glance of Venice.  It was just like the movies.

Being as we really had no particular goal in mind, we wandered the narrow sidewalks randomly and passed through several courtyards.  Venice is incredibly beautiful.  There is just something about it that makes me feel so at peace.  I could live on this island city and travel by boat on my canal streets.  I am very in love with Venice.  We wandered for hours and still only saw a portion of the city before it started to rain and Kristina and Kate decided to head back to the hostel. 

I was determined to go to san Marco and Flor decided to go with me.  We got there just in time for them to close the basilica.  I was very very sad. Then, I decided I was going to suck it up and take the elevator to the top of the Campanile so I could see the city but that turned out to be 8 Euro and I am having a fear of running out of money, so I am being very conservative.  Needless to say, we headed back through narrow walkways and found our way back to the bus station and made our way back to the hostel.

Jacob and Zach showed up that night.  We were hanging out with A Dutch girl (Katrinka) and he traveling buddy from Canada.  (I forget his name.)  We were all just hanging out and chatting when Jacob and Zach arrived.  We all decided (sans Katrinka and Canada man) to go to Venice today so we could finish seeing everything.  I was sooooooo excited.

So today was the best day ever.  We went to Venice and I wanted to see the church and the Campanile (Zach paid for me to go with him,) and Kristina wanted to see the Museum and the Ducal Palace.  We ended up splitting up.  Zach and I and then the girls.

Lets just discuss San Marco.  Words can’t describe the beauty of this place.  Every surface of this massive church was covered in beautiful mosaics.  When I say mosaics, I mean off the charts, intricate mosaics.  It was breathtaking.  Even the floor was beautifully mosaicked marble.  I was in the presence of a monumental work of incredible love of their God.  Of course, workers got paid, craftsmen, guild members, and anyone else who worked to create this beautiful thing, but you can feel the dedication in every single teserae.

Then, we went up the elevator to the Campanile.  This is literally the tallest structure in Venice.  From the top you can see the entire city.  It’s so moving.  I actually was speechless.

While up in the tower, it’s bells chimed the hour.  we were four feet away from the bells. The sound was incredible.  I jotted down this thought when I was up there listening to the bells and seeing Venice:

“I am standing in the Campanile on the Piazza San Marco.  From here I can see all of Venice.  It keeps occurring to me like a shockwave that I am here and that I am so blessed.  The bells in the tower started ringing the hour right in front of me and I closed my eyes and felt tears.  I could feel the vibrations of the bells all through me and when I opened my eyes I had the sound of the bells and the view of Venice spread out all around me”

After the Campanile, Zach and I wandered the street taking fun and also beautiful photos.  We shopped for a shirt for him, and then we hit up a tiny Italian restaurant and shared wine and pasta for lunch.  It literally was the most amazing day.

Now, I am sitting in a hostel kitchen in Florence. We are going to spend the day tomorrow here and go on to Rome tomorrow night.  I am thrilled that we are planning another great day of calm tomorrow.  Venice made me feel alive and in love with the world.  I can’t imagine coming back down.

Milano 03-13-2011

After our harrowing journey through Berlin, Flor and I were beyond exhausted.  We hadn’t slept, except in broken bits, in a 24 hours period and Flor was actually getting a cold. 

We took the easy way from the airport, we paid a charter bus to take us into town and we also paid the return trip so that when we needed to return to Milan for our flight home we would be taken care of. After the bus, we were left with the job of locating our hostel on the giant map of Milan and then getting there on a series of trains.  It was actually quite easy but seemed daunting because we were so tired. 

Flor is a master of randomly picking hostels that are near bus or train stations. we walked about 6 blocks and arrived at our lovely hostel Hotel Panizza.  This hostel was pretty good.  I actually really liked it.  For 24 Euros each, we got the room, breakfast, WiFi, and linens.  I had no complaints. 

Flor was actually feverish and having chills so we wrapped her up in blankets and then both took a nap.  Sleeping in a bed is a beautiful thing.  We woke up a little later and headed out to a little pizza place, recommended by the hostel and had dinner, after which we took a walk.

Walking around Milan, just for enjoyment, was so nice.  It is just a big city and it was nighttime, so it was very relaxing. We found a little gelato store and Flor got her Italian ice cream.  I must admit that it was delicious.  It is creamier and richer than American ice cream.  We found a big park with several playgrounds and benches on our journey.  We even got lost for a minute.  Quite nice.

The next morning, we got up, ate breakfast, and headed off to the Duomo.  Climbing out of the stairs at the station marked Duomo, I was still expecting to have to walk a little bit to get there, but nope, we were right there, literally next to it.

I love Italian Gothic architecture.  This cathedral is every bit gorgeous, imposing and overwhelming.  I have to admit, I was very happy to go inside but more excited to see the outside and the bustle of the post Carnivale celebrations.  Everywhere you turned you saw children in costumes, vendors selling souvenirs, confetti EVERYWHERE!  It was so fun.We did learn quickly that the Italian scam artists have it down.

While walking in the square, two men came, grabbed our cameras, put popcorn kernels in our hands and started snapping pictures of us with our arms and hands covered in pigeons.  It was phenomenal.  They wanted a ton of money but we gave them a little and made our way toward the end of the square opposite the cathedral.  There, we were approached by men from Senegal who grabbed our wrists and tied pretty colorful bracelets on them and then asked for a donation.  They too got a little as we made our way onward. 

It was very nice to just stroll around and take in the environment.  We wandered in a somewhat circle and came back through a large domed corridor that was lovely.  The most memorable part of the corridor though, was the Group with the signs proclaiming “Free Hugs!”  The couch surfers were out in a cluster just hugging people.  So we got our free hugs and then headed back to the hostel to head to Venice.  That process was so much simpler than any process we had dealt with up until that point.

Lost in Berlin 03-11-2011

Yesterday was an eventful and exhausting day.  It started with me going to bed, at 1:30 am.  I had stayed up very late studying for my final.  When I woke up, I knew I would need extra time to study so I rushed through my morning stuff (coffee, tooth brushing, and most importantly, groaning and whining to myself about how much I didn’t want to wake up.)

I got to the school thirty minutes prior to the test and the other students arriving and flipped through my flash cards and prayed for the best.  I think I did alright on my four page test in German…YIKES!!

The plan was to finish the test, go home, pack quickly and meet Flor, Jacob, and Zach to get on a train around 3:30 headed to Berlin’s SXF airport and be prepared to catch our early morning flight to Milan to start our adventure in Italy.  God laughed and said ”You made plans!” 

What was such a simple plan went wrong from the very beginning.  Jacob and Zach went to a long lunch, so 3:30 wasn’t happening.  Jacob’s ERail pass (ticket to use the rail system) hadn’t arrived yet, it was supposed to arrive at 6PM.  So the plan got adapted.  We would leave at 6:30PM and catch the trains necessary to get to the airport.

The tickets were rerouted.  Evidently the delivery person rang the wrong doorbell and when Jacob wasn’t there, he/she/it/they turned around and headed back to Leipzig and the Fedex station.  He wouldn’t receive them until 6PM today.

It was then decided that we (Flor, Zach and I) would catch the 8:30 train to Berlin and catch all subsequent trains to the SXF airport in Berlin.  Or not.

We got to the train station which is only a few blocks from Jacob’s house and there were Sam and Stephen ready and waiting to go on their spur of the moment trip to Munich and then Switzerland.  They decided maybe thirty minutes prior to this that they were going to travel.  They had hostel reservations, travel plans, tickets for a night train (sleeper seats,) and most important, they were organized.

While standing around waiting for the train, we discovered that Zach had left his ERail ticket at Jacob’s house so he wouldn’t be able to travel until nearly midnight.  He grabbed his backpack and headed back to Jacob’s house and Flor and I boarded the train.

Five to ten minutes into our trip, the woman who punched our tickets came to us and told us the train needed repairs so we would be stopping for five minutes to switch trains.  Fun stuff!  We reboarded the new un-in need of repairs-train and the same woman told us that she had called the connecting train that we were in danger of missing so that they would wait for us.  That was very sweet of her and also it was the last place where the train employees were nice to us the rest of the night.

On the train to Berlin (when we ran to make our connection) we finally relaxed a little.  It was an hour and a half until we were scheduled to arrive at the Haupbanhof in Berlin so we were planning to doze and to arrive slightly refreshed to continue our journey.  This was not to be.  Evidently Flor is a creeper magnet.   We were only on the train about 15 minutes when he found us or more appropriately her.  He sat down in a seat opposite us but behind me so he could clearly see her and started smiling and laughing in his creepy creeper way, which I assure you, was incredibly creepy.  He even went to the lengths of making squeaking noise with his shoe in order to get her to look at him.  We ended up where I sat in her spot and she sat in mine in the guise that I needed to use my computer.  He moved to the seat behind her.  Creeper.  We were talking about which location in Berlin to get off on and mentioned the Zoologishergarten stop, he stood up to leave, even putting on his backpack at that stop.  He took it off and put it back down when we didn’t get off the train.  He did end up getting off the train at the same place as us, but he left through a different exit.

Speaking of the Berlin Haupbanhof…what is with service employees being not nice at all to customers and people who need assistance (which is their job to provide?)  We didn’t know where to find the airport or the connections to the airport so we asked for help for the, you guessed it, help desk.  We were greeted with a brusque unpleasant man who did help, but was lacking any customer service skill.  He acted like we were the biggest intrusion in his lonely sitting down doing nothing existence. We came into that once more in Berlin before the night was through.

So, let’s converse about Ostkruez.  That means East-something.  We were required to get on this train as part of our trip to the airport that housed our airline.  It wasn’t listed on our list of stops so we got off one stop early and screwed up the night.  We ended up running like mad to the train the 80’s had forgotten.  The walls were pink and the seats were a brightly colored amalgamation of what looked like big paint strokes.  This train took us to the deep ghetto (or what felt like the deep ghetto)of Berlin.  Keep in mind that it was pretty darned close to one in the morning by this point.  Following that lovely accostive train, we transferred to the train that was supposed to be all the way to the airport.  Except it stopped running at one. While the few passengers that were on the train got off the train, we sat waiting for the train to restart, not knowing that it wouldn’t.

Thank goodness there were couple of very nice people who had gotten off, who noticed we hadn’t gotten off and they came back and told us.  This train station was almost as creepy as Flor’s creeper.  The nice couple who told us about the train walked us outside and helped us figure out which busses and how to get to them. If they hadn’t helped us, we would have been sitting in that train for the hours until it started again.

We walked to where the busses were still running and had to wait A LONG TIME.   We were pretty loopy at this point, so it was random photo time!  This neighborhood was less than savory and we were two women at a bus stop alone and we were obviously not from around these parts.  There was broken glass, bad lighting, graffiti, and all the pluses of a poor neighborhood.  For some reason, we were so loopy that we didn’t care. 

We finally got on the bus and were once again on our way to the airport.  We had been on our way to the Airport since Quedlinburg at 6:30pm.  It was almost two AM.  This bus took us to another connection OUR LAST ONE!  YAY!  While waiting for the next connection, Flor treated me to her happy dances.  There are a few.  She has a We’re Going to Italy Dance for each genre of music.  I am so glad I am not the only person who gets loopy and who is that excited about going to Italy.  OMG I AM GOING TO ITALY!!!

We finally got to the Airport and of course had to pay for internet to check on the boys.  Then, we headed to our gate and took cramped naps on little tiny couches.  The journey to the airport had taken us seven hours and we had been up early because of our test.  We were exhausted.

We woke up from our naps and it was daylight.  Our flight wouldn’t bbe ready for another couple of hours so we chilled and spoke with a friend that Flor made. (She has a gift for making friends.)  We went though security (and I didn’t get checked for additional security measures) and then boarded the plane.  Woo Hoo!  Our arduous journey to get to our flight was complete.

Resurrection 03-07-2011

We left Quedlinburg on Thursday to go to two of the most inspirational cities in Germany. (In my opinion anyway.) 

Near the end of WWII, the allies committed one of the most horrendous tragedies of the war.  They leveled two civilian cities, justifying it by claiming that they were centers for potential support of the Nazis.

Dresden was hit the hardest.  The entire city was destroyed.  Thousands died.  The strike happened in two waves.  A small plane dropped flares and a larger plane came in dropping bombs in the areas where the flares were.  The destruction was massive.  This wasn’t the biggest atrocity though.  Around 2 hours after the first wave, when the rescue workers and citizens had congregated on the area of damage trying to rescue potential survivors, the second wave came in dropping bombs on the original site, killing thousand of rescue workers and citizens.

Along with killing so many people, many ancient building were destroyed.  The legacy of the German people was hit severely.  Dresden didn’t even exist anymore.  Many argue that this was a war crime on the side of the Allies and that appropriate reparations have not been made to this day.

In 1945 this is what all of Dresden looked like.

 

What wasn’t damaged by the bombing was destroyed in fires caused by the bombings.  The fires were so hot that people running to safety would just fall down dead of asphyxiation because the fires were sucking all the oxygen from the air.  Buildings like the Frauenkirche, the Palace (Zwinger, completed in 1728,), the Court’s Cathedral, and so many others that had become the trademark of Dresden (which was a mecca for learning and culture in Dresden,) were completely destroyed.  The Frauenkirche survived the bombings and had been a refuge for many, collapsed due to fires, killing all those seeking safety inside.  The cross that adorned the crown of the dome was warped from the heat of the fires.

What is so inspirational about Dresden and Leipzig ,is that they rebuilt.  They came back.  You look across the Elba river in Dresden and you see a skyline much the same as prior to the war and the bombings.  The Zwinger, which had been built by August the Starke in the 16th century was repaired using the same plans as the original architect.  The Semperbau Opera house has been renovated twice since the attack.

Most inspirational is the Frauenkirche.  This building was left in the condition it was in post war as a monument and reminder.  Not too long ago citizens banded together with donations and started an archeological dig of the church, cataloguing each stone and the church was rebuilt on the funding of individuals all over the world.  Using the same architectural plans as the building was originally designed with, the church rose out of its destructed state.  Stones from the original church were reused when their original location was determinable.    Sitting in this church, even though it is crowded with tourists, is a peaceful and commemorative experience.  I am not a religious person, but these churches in Germany make me want to pray; however, the most powerful message here though is not the word of God, but the unity of the people and the singular desire to return this city to the beauty and cultural importance as it once contained.

The Zwinger’s galleries have been restored and the works house within them are inspiring.  Today I sat at the foot of Rapael’s Madonna.  I saw paintings by Titian and Ruben and I saw the porcelain and treasure collection of August the Starke.  IT is an inspiring thing to see the results of the heart of the people.  The United states has never seen a catastrophe as devastating as what occurred in Dresden and Leipzig.

The Dresden Skyline today

These past few days have been inspiring to say the least.  The unity of people the world over has rebuilt these amazing cities and the beauty is there to inspire and to delight with the awesomeness of it’s presence.

Time for Reflection 03-03-2011

For the most part, this blog has been more information than personal.  I mean, it has a lot of personal observations and my take on a lot of things, but as far as inner thoughts and personal reactions to this trip thus far, there aren’t many.

Before I left home, my girlfriend broke up with me.  We both (at the time) wanted it to be temporary, and I still have hope that it will be.  She said something that at the time hurt me so badly.  She said she wanted to see who I was when I got back.  I didn’t understand.  I didn’t realize how much I had changed in the four years she had known me.

She gave me this beautiful opportunity to go away from everything.  I have some guilt that I wanted so badly to get away from parenting, relationships, the stress of worrying about everything every minute of everyday. I can’t explain it any better than to say life was strangling me slowly.  I just wanted to breathe.  I wanted so badly to breathe.  She knew and she gave me this.

As strange as it sounds, even to my own ears, I spend a lot of time alone and for the most part I enjoy it.  When I have a down day or even moment, I reach out and talk to people or try to leave the solitude of my existence.  I have never been able to do that before.  I still have anxiety about new things, but I am in this world and I don’t know when I will get back, and I will get back to Europe and Egypt and the world, so I do the things that make me nervous.  I go to a club in Berlin, I begged to stay in Cairo even though it was terrifying.  I totally reset all my plans of learning Arabic, which I still want to do, and am learning German so I wouldn’t have to go home without living this.

I wrote goodbye letters to most of the people I know when I was in Cairo and the riots were on the island.  I didn’t think I would ever need to send them, but the writing made me realize how many things I left unsaid.  It made me realize that I don’t want to apologize to my kids for mistakes, I just don’t want to make them.  I want them to have happy memories like so many that I have with my mom and I know she didn’t have an easy time raising us.

I also realized how much pain I was holding onto and I don’t know why I was.  I am thirty years old and I think at least once a day about how awful I felt all the time in high school.  I remember everyday that I was told every single day how unworthy I was of friends and respect by people who didn’t feel that they did and were using me to make themselves feel superior.  And I let them make me feel that way.  I even absorbed it and started believing it myself.  I remember a moment when I was 19 and engaged to my ex husband when I asked his dad if he was saving a snack for later when he dropped a chip on his shirt which was a silly little joke in my family, and he got offended and asked me why I was so rude.  That was eleven almost twelve years ago.  I agonize over it.  It’s ridiculous.

I know my best friend/ex-girlfriend loves me.  I know she never lies to me.  I still find myself wondering if she doesn’t really care about me or if I am just convenient at the moment.  I know I played the primary role in us breaking up, but I also play things prior to our break up through my head and theorize about other reasons we might have broken up.  I wonder if she suddenly realized that she had gotten in over her head when she had told me that one tipsy night, when we first got to New Orleans, that she wanted to marry me.  All this is me not thinking I am deserving and begging for her to love me when she already does.  I feel so foolish for not knowing.  It was never about her and always about me not knowing my own value.

I walk around Quedlinburg, existing only in my head.  I take a deep breath and God, it feels so good to breathe.  I smile to myself stand up straight and move forward.  My life hurts sometimes, but so does everyone elses’.  I have realized, in being here, that it’s okay to love me.  I walk around seeing all these things I love.  These beautiful buildings, all the history, the motivation of these people to rebuild after one of the most devastating wars in history.  We have no idea of what these people went through after the war.  We were bombed once during the war. 

Last night I went out with the other students, and though I know I am outside a little merely because of my age and life circumstance, I am one of them and I have friends.  I get to have friends.  I get to laugh and tease and not wonder if the joke made at my expense was a jab or if it was a joke, because it was a joke.  I get to laugh at myself without denigrating myself and I get to tease and laugh with my friends. 

I am stronger.  When I walk into a room, it isn’t a fake bravado.  Frau Merchant says that if you can put that persona on when you walk into a place then that person is in you somewhere.  You can’t access something that doesn’t exist.  She’s right. 

Learning German is difficult.  I spend a good chunk of my time baffled and feeling unintelligent, but I have done harder things.  Knowing all the things about myself now has brought me a long way.  It doesn’t mean I will never have a moment of weakness and it doesn’t mean that the voice isn’t still in my head telling me all the negatives and stressing me out.  It just means I can tell it to shut up.  I get to do that.

Being here, living here, having time alone in my head has been such a gift.  I don’t think that anyone can comprehend what I am saying because they aren’t me.  I just know that I would have never been able to do this for myself without help.  I needed the support, love, and open window to make it okay.