A Date With a Homophobe and a Mute

Waking up in my bed on the night train to look out the window and see Vienna, Austria was a sight I will never forget. So far each country we have been to on this trip, I have been to before when I was younger. I have never been to Austria before so when we got off the train It felt like I was seeing snow for the first time. We got to our hostel, which is GORGEOUS. It is on the top of a hill that overlooks the entire city and we have an ice skating rink! After we threw our stuff down, I felt the need to put braids in my hair (to get into the Austrian spirit?) before we took off to wander the city. As soon as we got to the centre of town, we went to the Stephansdom church which is an amazing building right in the middle of the city. We have slightly overdone the museums and sight-seeing, so we decided to skip out on going inside and just walked around instead. While walking around a man in a big red cape came up to us to try and sell us tickets to a Mozart concert complete with opera and ballet. We were intrigued and let him give us his clearly memorized speech. When he was done he said he would give us front row tickets for 55 euro each. We laughed and started to walk away. Before we got too far he quickly came after us and offered to give us two for the price of one. We agreed. As he was giving us the tickets, he asked us (in very broken English) if we wanted to meet him for coffee after the show. Neither one of us is very good at lying on the spot, so we just sort of smiled and giggled for a few minutes before he told us he would meet us at the subway station across the street from the venue which the concert was being held at. We really couldn’t say anything to him at this point because a) he just sold us the tickets so he knew we would be lying if we said we already had plans, and b) he probably wouldn’t have understood anything we said to him that didn’t involve simple English like, “hello, I have a dog.” After we left with our tickets Kimmy and I looked at each other and almost in unison said “that’s not happening”.

We walked around for the rest of the day under Vienna’s Christmas lights and taking in the atmosphere. It really is a beautiful city and I felt very familiar with it even on my first day there. We went back to our hostel to get dressed up for the first time since leaving home and it was a miracle either of us ended up looking the way we did since neither of us has brushed our hair in a month because we both forgot to pack brushes (knotted hair is like, totally in style these days, duh!). We went to the concert hall (which is where Mozart had his first public appearance) and enjoyed two hours of classical music, ballet and opera. I must say, I felt very grown up (and even more so because I actually enjoyed it!) It was an amazing evening and we had such a good time… until…

We realized that in order to get home, we needed to go to the subway station which our friend in the red cape said he would meet us at. I noticed that the show got out a half hour later than it was supposed to so we had high hopes that he would have forgotten about us by then. Just to be safe, we did a couple of “walk-bys” past the door to the station to have a quick peek in to see if he was waiting for us. No sign of red-caped man. Kimmy opened the door to the station and I pulled a James Bond and did a 180 with my imaginary gun and jumped through the door to see an empty station. Phew. He forgot about us. We weren’t out of the woods yet though, so we literally clung to each other as we tip-toed down the stairs to the tracks and we were actually jumpy whenever someone would turn the corner. While we were on the tracks waiting for the train we did a little victory dance because we were finally out of the woods. We wouldn’t have to make awkward conversation in broken English and German and we wouldn’t have to be scared by every stranger walking towards us. Hooray! And then it happened… The tap on my shoulder which I will have nightmares about for months. I heard a man attempting to say my name with a very thick accent. I ignored it and kept looking straight ahead. I heard it again. And I ignored it again. Then he said, “Kim?” We didn’t stand a chance at that point. We acknowledged his presence and he said, “do you remember me?” I said, “vaguely, we met a lot of people today” (this was the line that has made us randomly break out into hysterics all day today). At this point he motioned for his friend to come over and join us who had been standing about 15 feet away just staring at us while I attempted to morph myself into a bird so I could fly away. Just then the train came and we jumped on it… and they followed. We told them we hadn’t yet eaten dinner so we were going to say no to their kind offer for coffee, and we were going to get something to eat. They said they knew a great place for great beer so we should go with them there. “No, no. FOOD not BEER, we are hungry girls”. He replied, “Ah, yes, food. Drink few beers, you won’t be hungry anymore”. This is when I resorted to trying to hype up my cough and cold. I had been able to keep my cough to a minimum during the concert, and I was feeling pretty good, but desperate times call for desperate measures and I forced a few coughs to show them what a poor sick little girl I was and that I was not well enough for a night out. They acknowledged my cough, and then said “bar this way, follow me”. What gentlemen. We all sat down at a table and Kimmy and I ordered food and tried to make awkward conversation with one of these guys (only one could speak English, the other just stared at me. Literally. Just sat and stared at me. He didn’t say a single word, didn’t order food, didn’t attempt to listen to his wingman talking to Kimmy and I. He just sat and stared). At this point my fake cough turned into my real cough and I was literally miserable. I couldn’t even open my mouth to speak because I would end up coughing instead (that’s Karma for you I guess).

So here are the characters sitting at this table in Vienna:

Creepy Man #1 – 28 year old studying Business in Vienna who hates gay people (that should have been our signal to pretend we were lesbians so they would go away) and loves movies.

Creepy Man #2 – Man who sells concert tickets by wearing a red cape. He doesn’t speak English and likes to stare at me.

Joanna (no middle name) Nettelfield – Incapable of holding a broken conversation because of a cough, which is ruining her life.

Kimberly Kelly Spencer– Stuffs her face with French fries and attempts to humor Creepy Man #1 by asking him what time the subway stops running in Vienna.

When we finished eating they had a little secret conversation in German and then asked us if we wanted to go dancing. You have GOT to be kidding me guys! I’m sitting in front of you literally dying, nobody has said a word to each other in 4 minutes and 27 seconds, and Creepy Man #2 hasn’t blinked since the subway. No we don’t want to go dancing, and no I don’t want to give you my real email address, but, here, take this fake one (you really aren’t getting my real email address especially since you asked us out for a coffee but forced us to sit in a smoky bar instead while I can’t even enjoy my food because of a certain someone who doesn’t know that it’s impolite to stare!). But thank you Creepy Man #1 & #2. You have given us a night that we will never forget, even though we have already forgotten your names.

Venice

We got there at 11am. It was raining. We tried walking around but the wind broke our umbrellas. We were wet. We were cold. Then we got really wet, and really cold. The bell tower was closed. It got dark. We left. Check √.

Thankful for Thanksgiving in Firenze

First off, I would like to wish all of my little Americans a Happy Thanksgiving. I appreciate the Italian lesson Mego, but unfortunately, no turkey for us because we spent this day of thanks at the top of a mountain in pitch black with no flashlight. I'll get to that story later, as well as to all that I am thankful for on this day.

We arrived in Florence Sunday afternoon after taking the earliest train we could away from our friend, the naked Salerno girl. We got to our hostel relatively easily for the first time ever and walked up the red-carpeted stairs to an automatic door (yes, the little things in life still amuse me). This hostel, Plus Florence, has a spa, a pool, a bar, a restaurant, and a movie theatre. I told you, we left the slums for Utopia. Our first order of business was to get our traditional hostel map of the city which has big pictures of all the tourist sites (I'm 22 and still respond better to picture books than words.. odd). We saw a bit of Florence that night and had an amazing dinner complete with a bottle of wine that made us a little too giddy when our conversation turned to us exploring the humor in different types of laughs (again, easily amused). *This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for good cheap Italian wine.*

The following day we took out our picutre map and did our walking self-tour of the city. We went into the Duomo, the Medici Chapels and went for a walk by the Ponte Vecchio. Unfortunately, the weather finally turned on us and we were caught in the rain which led us back to the first hot, clean shower we had in weeks (some of these showers have actually made me dirtier than when I got in, I swear). We ended up meeting some Aussies at the hostel and spent the night playing cards and watching one Aussie get so drunk, she got lost going to her room at 10:30pm (I thought you were supposed to hold your liquor down under!). *Again, I am thankful for that cheap wine*

In the next couple of days we went to some Firenze markets, held up the leading tower of Piza (yes, it is actually leaning!!), and went for a sunset horseback ride in Chiante. (My life is a fairy tale right now, so where is my Prince Charming? He was probably one of the guys I ignored hitting on my blue eyes.. my favorite pick-up line being, "You dropped something... my heart".) The horseback ride was actually incredible. We rode through the vineyards and the counrtyside and ended the excursion with the best meal I have had in Italy and a wine tasting. Thankfully we didn't have to get back on horseback after that because by that point our group was playing "eye sthpyyyy, wif my little eyeeeee, something that begins wittthhhhh - hicup!" *I'm thankful for sunsets in Tuscany*

This brings me to my first Thanksgiving not spent at home with my family (awww, miss me?! miss me?! huh?! huh?! Don't roll your eyes Dad. I'm a million miles away but I can still see you...). We had a bit of a sleep-in this morning and then went to Cinque Terre. Cinque Terre is basically five amazing little villages along the northern coast of Italy which have a trail in the mountains connecting them. We underestimated the time it would take us to get there, so we arrived just in time to see the sun set over the first village. Since we traveled for about three hours to get there, this hike was happening even thought it was already 5:30pm. We started to climb a huge cliff overlooking the water and we had an amazing view the whole way up. We got to a part of the trail where the path was no wider than the width of my body and a huge cliff was right next to us... oh, and did I mention that it was also pitch black at this point? Neither of us could see anything so I whipped out my cell phone and with some encouraging words from Kimmy (and songs, specifically the lost boy song from Peter Pan) we entered a cave of vines by the light of my cell phone. *I'm thankful for cell phones* Along the way we ran into a family doing our hike in reverse. They of course were well prepared for the darkness and each had a flashlight. There Kimmy and I are in the middle of a trail with certain death inches to our right, walking by the light of my dying cell phone talking to a family with backpacks, walking sticks, and flashlights (just take a minute to appreciate that image). They warned us of how dangerous the path ahead was and that we really shouldn't go on without a flashlight. Oh! Okay Mrs. Minnesota! Thank you so much for your terrifying speech about narrow paths in utter darkness. If you were so concerned for our safety, you would have skipped the horrifying speech and your entire family history (three generations climbing through Cinque Terre "don't ya know?!). If you were really concerned about us you would have GIVEN US ONE OF YOUR FLASHLIGHTS!!! *I'm thankful for not being from Minnesota and for my self-restraint to not throw my cell phone at her face*

This Thanksgiving has been one to remember, and has given me a lot to be thankful for: my family, my friends, my Dougal Dog, my warm Uggs, gelotti, black and white dancing shoes, Thithavong Thai food, Channing Tatum, bows that I can put in my hair, and the fact that I can have each of these things when I return home in a few weeks (well, maybe not Channing Tatum...).

HAPPY THANKSGIVING TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

From the Ghetto to the Slums

Last you read, we were sulking out of the Roma ghetto. In retrospect, Roma was a little piece of heaven compared to our next destination: Naples. My favorite part of Naples you ask? It's a 3-way tie between the trash covering ever part of every street, the parakeet calls from homeless men, and it's where I caught my annual horrendous cough (which I STILL have). I actually can't be too brutal about Naples because we didn't actually see any of it. As soon as we arrived at our hostel, we locked our backpacks up with more security features than the White House, loaded our guns, and headed outside into what I can only describe as a market filled with ex-convicts staring at two pieces of fresh meat. We got on a train to Pompeii because the idea of standing on a volcano that could erupt at any moment seemed safer than staying in our hostel (to the mothers reading this, we actually stayed in a castle and sat in a hot tub while servants brought us ice cream sundays and had a big guard standing at our door watching over us). Seeing the old village of Pompeii was actually pretty amazing. Kimmy and I have wasted our money in the past paying for the guided audio tours, so we decided to skip it and just walk around on our own. Of COURSE that was the one time that we actually needed them. Since there were no signs on the inside telling you what each room was, we decided to play a game and make up what we thought the purpose of room was (for example, one room was where they kept sheep, and another was where they sacrificed virgins). In the middle of our extremely educational experience, a man came up to us and asked us if we knew where we were. I replied "aren't we in Spain?" He gave us a nervous laugh, and then introduced himself as a tour guide and said that we should stick by him for the rest of the afternoon because our game was starting to give him chest pains. We had no objections.

This is where our trip gets interesting. We decided to run as fast as we could out of the Napoli slums, down to the Amalfi Coast. I should first mention that this would be our second time going there, as we got on the wrong train leaving Pompeii and ended up at the very bottom tip of Italy before either of us woke up to realize we had been going in the complete opposite direction for 2 hours. Yay! We got on the train and decided that since we had already been to the Amalfi train stop the night before, we would know when to get off again. However, this is Kimmy and Joanna you are dealing with, so of course we didn't end up in Amalfi. We got off at a random train stop with our backpacks, looked around at the empty world around us, and started laughing hysterically because we suddenly realized we had no plan for what to do next. We weren't even sure if we were in Amalfi. We just started walking. And walking. And walking.... And walking. Back spasms and empty stomachs combined with a cold and a cough made the two of us very pleasant people. We stumbled into a restaurant to get something to eat and basically collapsed at a table about 3 hours after we got off the train. There were no hostels in sight, and the one hotel we went into cost 100 euro a night (NOT HAPPENING!!). Over lunch we decided that seeing the coast was fun, and beautiful, but the severe lack of civilization and cheap beds was about to force us out of the south of Italy and into florence a day early. Just as we were bundling up to leave lunch, our waiter asked us if we had a place to say. When we looked up at him with our sad pathetic faces, I can swear that I saw a halo appear above his head as he handed us the address of a hostel for 10 euro a night. When we got to our room (which we realized was in Salerno, not Amalfi.. that's right, we WALKED from Amalfi to Salerno with our backpacks because that's obviously what the cool kids are doing these days) we were greeted by our roommate we was walking around completely naked and then decided to do crunches on the ground... completely naked. I chalked the situation up to culture shock, but when I was forced to step around her while trying to leave the room, that just crossed the line. Since I have preached the amazing benefits from wandering and getting lost, something good had to happen from accidently ending up in this town called Salerno; it did. We went for a long walk (as if we didn't walk enough that day) down to the coast and sat by the water for a long time watching some of the most spectacular waves I have ever seen, had the best gnocchi ever made, and found this amazing street filled with cute shops lit by only Christmas lights. Something is to be said about my getting lost philosophy because each time I do, I find something I would have never picked out on a map.

After the Roma ghetto, the Napoli slums and the naked girl hostel, we arrived in paradise; Firenze. I'm going to wait until my mother can catch her breath before I blog about Florence, but I can assure you, it has been nothing but a Utopia (which should make my next blog post very boring).

When in Rome… Don’t Look American

Saying goodbye to Barcelona was especially difficult because of how amazing it was there. We were completely spoiled by our experience there, and we both agreed that if we hadn’t already booked a flight to Rome, we would have stayed there a bit longer (if not the rest of the month!). Before we flew out, we had to go and see one more Gaudi building. We woke up at the crack of dawn to pack up and check out of Kabul hostel, and took our backpacks with us to Casa Mila (or La Pedrera which means stone quarry). We had seen it before from the outside, and had not been inside any of the houses yet, so we figured it was then or never. The inside of these buildings are just as impressive, if not more, as the outside. Casa Mila’s inspiration was either waves and kelp, or a sandy desert, however you wanted to interpret it (I swear I’m going to give you visual learners some pictures as soon as I am able to access internet for more than 15 minutes a day. In the meantime, look it up, okay? Thanks!). We said goodbye to Gaudi and Barcelona, and had a pretty uneventful Ryan Air flight to Roma (yes, I said uneventful, and I actually mean it for once!).

We arrived in Rome at around 5:30 and took a bus to our hostel, or should I say, to the ghetto. Kimmy and I were both silent as we walked through a dark alley way with greasy Italian men staring at us and actually meowing at us. Yes, meowing. Clearly we look like cats so when a man gave us a cat call from across the street we were ready to run over and go home with them. If only I didn’t have that bloody heavy backpack Daddy could have a new son-in-law. We dropped our bags off, and quickly decided to meet up with some friends we made in Spain who happened to be in Rome as well. I was starting to feel a bit sick and my throat was so scratchy I could barely swallow, but as they say, “when in Rome, do as the Roman’s do”, so I went with Kimmy and our friends on a pub crawl. I think everyone in the first pub could tell how cranky and miserable I was so they offered to give me a discount so I would shut my mouth and just walk around with all of them. I painted on my million dollar smile and imagined swallowing whole ice cubes to appear as if I were having a good time. Despite the fact that I felt awful, it was a fun way to see Rome on our first night. We walked all over the city and even though the other 49 people on the pub crawl won’t remember this, I saw some awesome sites late at night which was pretty spectacular. I took the next morning off because I woke up feeling awful. Rome was not getting off to a good start for me. However, I wasn’t about to let this fantastic city go to waste just because of a little sore throat. We went to the Colosseo for the afternoon and after walking inside, I forgot why I was so miserable. After that we took out a map and decided to see everything that we could possibly see before our legs collapsed. And so the check list begins:

- Area Sacrata
- Piazza Navona (had my 6 euro coffee for you Dad, Merry Christmas)
- Ara Pacis
- Trinita dei Monti (where I went to mass at the top of the steps like a good little Catholic)
- Fontana di Trevi (I threw in my 3 coins, made my wish, and will have to have a word with the fountain operators if I don’t marry Prince William)

We saw so much more, but the day quickly turned into a whirlwind blur of cough drops and ancient architecture. I got a good night’s sleep and woke up very early to make up for lost time the day before. First stop was the Vatican. My handy-dandy RDubs student ID card got me into the museum for 5 euro (if I hear one wise crack about graduating and being old I’m staying in Europe and not coming home. That is a serious threat so DON’T do it). We wandered around inside for a few hours and ended up in the Sistine Chapel where we were strictly forbidden to take pictures. Man, you won’t believe some of the amazing photos I took of the ceiling! Taking some advice from friends at home who have been to Roma before, I decided that taking a trip up to the top of the Basilica San Pietro was something I wanted to do. We stood in line for maybe a full 2 and a half minutes (contrary to what every tour guide on the street was telling us in hopes that we would pay them 50 euro so we could skip the line. H-A-H, two dumb American tourists? Try two street savy international beauties. – well, the New Yorker might be, but I can’t say the same for my small town Massachusetts friend who has been known to stop and chat with anyone who says Ciao Bella!). We decided to skip the elevator to the top, and took the stairs. As we took our first steps, we were wished good luck by a group of middle-aged women who really wanted us know they were too old to climb a few hundred stairs. I dropped a few pounds (weight, not currency) and got to the top to see the most incredible view of all of Roma. Honestly, I was speechless, and still am. There is nothing I can say about that view, and none of the 75 pictures I took from the top will allow you to see what I saw. After spending the day at the Vatican, we slowly wandered home and stopped at the Fontana di Trevi again because I decided I needed to make a more realistic wish (Prince William, I’m sorry, but I think I’m just too good for you).
Early tomorrow morning we are leaving to take a train down to Naples for a night or two. Everyone we have talked to about Naples so far says that we are going to be mugged and robbed and smacked around by big scary men, so I’m looking forward to it! Mom and Mrs. Spencer… WE ARE GOING TO BE FINE! *crosses fingers and sulks out of the Roma ghetto….*

Donde Esta... umm, food?

The past few days have been a complete whirlwind. I’m sleep deprived, shower deprived, internet deprived, and text deprived, but you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way. Barcelona has taken every concept of time and date I had so I am living in a world where people only exist for the moment they are in. It’s an amazing feeling.

We arrived at our hostel, Kabul, on Thursday night at around 12:30am. The hostel is located in Placia Reial on Las Ramblas which is THE place to be in Barcelona. The hostel was one huge pre-game party before everyone left to go to the bars and clubs at around 1:30am. I was not prepared to be nocturnal! Kimmy and I were exhausted from our journey, so we just got a good nights sleep before the city drained us of all our energy. On Friday morning the hostel provided a walking tour of the city and we decided to sign up for it. We made friends with some people on the tour with us who happened to be our roommates as well. These five people made Barcelona what it has been to me. They are each doing their masters at LSE in London and we all hit it off immediately. Each personality brought something to the group (I was dubbed as the cartoon character stuck in a real world with an abundance of energy and giggles… Sorry everyone from America, but this trip will never take the inner Disney kid out of me) and we ended up roaming through Barcelona attached to each other and having an amazing time touring the sites. We went to see many of the Gaudi buildings, my favorite being the Sagrada Familia which is a huge temple in the middle of the city. We went right up the inside of it and had a breathtaking view of all of Barcelona. Me and my stupid fear of heights made me the annoying Mama Jo (per usual) and I was flipping out on everyone who tried to sit the balcony a few hundred feet away from sure death had a crazed bird swooped down and pushed them with it’s beak (hey, it could happen!). Later that afternoon we went to Park Guell and climbed to the top of a hill to have yet another amazing view of the city. We all hung out at the top and had a siesta in the burning hot sun (I am TOTALLY bringing siestas back to the states with me… who said nap time had to end after kindergarten?!) Later that night we went out into the streets to get ourselves lost which was my idea of how to find the best local Spanish food. An hour later and my mouth was in cuisine heaven. After dinner we decided to check out the night life so at 2am we went out to a shot bar which had well over 100 different types of shots. I had one called a Willy Wonka, and another one which I have no idea what was in it, but they lit it on fire and handed me a marshmallow on a stick and I got to roast it on the flame before drinking it. Yeah, it was seriously cool and seriously tasty! Before I bore you with my hourly itinerary, the past few days consisted of a day trip to Sitges, a cable car ride over the water, a flamenco show, a long hike up Tibidabo, and a walk through the Barcelona ghetto (it’s okay mom, it was daylight.. kinda..).
I’m learning so much about so much. Not only cultural information and the history of the city, but a lot about myself. My newest thing which I learned I love is getting lost. I purposely take the wrong way so I can end up in a place that I didn’t expect to find. I’m also learning of a deeper inner-happiness within myself. Little things in live have always made me happy (like sippy-cups, and the cap of a Snapple bottle that clicks), but I’m realizing that the big things in life make me happy too. Meeting a group of the most amazing people and forming friendships that after 48 hours will last me a lifetime, is a huge happiness that I am now much more appreciative of.



Tonight is my last night in Barcelona and tomorrow afternoon we fly to Rome. I can only hope that the next stop on our journey is as amazing as the first two have been.

Bon Voyage Barcelona!

Tootles England, Hola Barcelona!

It’s hard to believe that a month has gone by already. I started and lived a different life in London. It was sad leaving a place I have called home for a month. Saying goodbye to people who have taken care of me and walked in and out of my daily life in London will be sorely missed. On my second to last night in London I decided to take one last walk down the millennium mile with nothing but my ipod and my thoughts. I walked to the London eye because I hadn’t seen it at night before and I thought there was something appealing about having my last London night mirror my first London day. While Third Eye Blind sang Motorcycle Drive By to me I stood completely alone in an empty street underneath the icy blue lights. There are very few times in my life where I can say that I was happier than I was in that moment. “I’ve never been so alone, and I’ve never been so alive” (perfect song choice if I do say so myself).

My last day in London I took my ipod with me again (I should name him Frank or Bob, any suggestions?) and decided I wanted to get myself lost so I could see something that only I would find. I got on the tube and got off at a stop called Tower Hill because I thought that maybe, just maybe, the name was hinting to the fact that I would find the Tower of London there. Imagine the irony of me walking out of Tower Hill tube station to find… The Tower of London (okay, MAYBE I was hoping I would end up there)! I took a guided tour of the Tower of London from a Beefeater (yes they really do exist, and yes they do wear the same ridiculous outfits you see on the bottle of gin. Apparently to become one you have to serve in the army for 20 years – that number could be wrong, but I was too distracted by his big red hat to remember the specifics). He told us stories of kings and queens losing their heads by guillotine and kept the whole crowd entertained by bringing us back to that time and having us yell and scream as an angry riot preparing for a beheading. Great fun! After the tour I walked around for a bit longer and saw the crown jewels. Let’s just say that after being in a room with the biggest diamond in the world, I gained an unrealistic expectation of what my engagement ring will look like (or maybe a tiara?!). After the Tower, I walked over to the Tower Bridge and walked along it twice because once wasn’t enough to experience it. I went home that evening and played tennis with Rob and his neighbor George and had a fabulous time. I was told that if I stayed there longer I could have played on the women’s team, oh well!

This morning I packed up my little London room (thanks Joshy!) and Kimmy and I headed to Luton airport to catch our plane to Barcelona! Got to the airport, got on the plane, safe flight, landed in Barcelona. Pretty dull trip. *starts to giggle* Alright I couldn’t keep a straight face with that one. Of course our adventures are never dull. We got to the airport and stood waiting in line to board our plane for over an hour. After that hour and change we realized they changed our gate number without any notice what-so-ever. We went from being the first in line at gate 24 to the last in line at gate 22. After standing there for another 15 minutes, an announcement came on and said that our gate had been changed yet again to gate 20. Well, I don’t need to see the running of the bulls while I’m in Spain because I was literally caught in the middle of a stampede of people sprinting to the new gate as if a herd of angry bulls were chasing us. As for the flight; WORST turbulence I have ever experienced in my entire life.

Right, well, I made it to the first hostel in our first country with a backpack; Barcelona! Everything is more incredible than I imagined. Our Hostel is on Las Ramblas and we have an incredible view of a gorgeous square. I have met some AMAZING people that have already had a huge impact on my life and after only 48 hours with them, I know they are people I can and will never forget. More stories to come I am sure, so stay tuned!

It's up to you

Just about a month of my trip has gone by, and it would be an understatement to say that I am having an amazing time. I have been very fortunate to have been able to keep in touch with friends and family from home (some more than others; Mom & Dad: I appreciate the laundry list of things I need to do every time you call me; Malee: I think I talk to you more now that I’m out of the country, Lucy: GoogleTalk is a lifeline, Brad: your name appears in my inbox more than spam). I have really enjoyed writing about my trip, and letting everyone know about my London adventures and mishaps. Kimmy and I plan to leave to go backpacking through Europe next week, which brings me to the point of this post: should I bring my laptop with me?

I had planned from the start to bring my laptop on my trip with me so I would be able to keep up with my blog on a regular basis, to let everyone from home (both homes, the states and London) know where I was and what I was up to. However, I have been completely underwhelmed by the communication I have received through this blog. Despite my great efforts to beg people to comment on my posts, and communicate with me through this blog, I have been contacted by two people (thanks TJ and Dad). As soon as I leave my comfortable London bubble, I will be extremely limited to my time on the internet, which means no more personal emails, IMing and GoogleTalk. I would rather not risk losing my laptop or having it stolen abroad, if I am just blogging to please myself. I am very content doing what my travel buddy is doing and writing a journal in a pretty little notebook with a pretty little purple flower on the cover. So guys, it’s up to you. If you want me to continue with this blog, you need to tell me. Use this blog for it’s intended use, and use it to communicate (“to exchange thoughts by speech, writing or other means”.. key word, *exchange*) with me. If I get no feedback, the expensive laptop stays in London, and I will write my entries in an inexpensive notebook. It’s up to you!

PS. Today was my last day at my UM internship. I left today with some great friends, awesome experience, a set of new ipod speakers, and an invitation to come back to UM if I come back to London! All-in-all I'd say the past 2 and a half weeks have definitely been worth it, and it looks like I will be coming back to London to work in the future!

Whiskers + Satan = One Interesting Weekend

This past weekend was pretty hectic for me and included a Halloween extravaganza, a fight with a train ticket machine (not man, but machine), a visit to the country to see my family, and a reunion with my favourite English boy, Josh!

A Clutter of Cats
On Halloween I decided that just because I was in London, land of the dull boring people who don’t dress up in ridiculous costumes, I wasn’t going to forget one of my favourite holidays. After work I met up with Kimmy do to a bit of costume shopping. After we failed miserably, I went home to my closet, thew on all black clothes, painted some whiskers on my face, and voila, I was a cat! We went to a pub near our house which was having a Halloween party, realized that every girl in the pub also decided to paint whiskers on their faces, and danced the night away as a clutter of cats.



Satan’s Ticket Machine
Saturday morning came extremely quickly, and I had to wake up early to catch a train to go to see my Grandmother and the rest of my family for lunch in the country. Since my family reads this blog, I will just say that my first experience with the London overground was not a pleasant one. I took the tube to the overground station and allowed myself 40 minutes to buy my ticket, find the train, and grab a much needed cup of coffee. I stood in a queue (I’m SO English) at a ticket machine for 15 of my 40 minutes allowed before my train left, and then proceeded to push what seemed like a hundred different buttons just to purchase the correct ticket. I then had to put in one of the 20£ notes Rachel had lent me (because somehow Sebastian came to be in possession of my cash card the night before and I realized in the morning that he never returned home... I told you, I really needed that cup of coffee), and then the fun began. The machine failed to tell me that it only accepts 10£ notes which obviously I had none of. I kindly asked the machine to accept my money as I forced it back into the money slot over and over and over again. As I watched my allotted coffee time slipping away, I noticed the line I would have to wait in to talk to an actual human being if the ticket machine refused my generous offer to kick it repeatedly if it didn’t take my money. I consider myself a stubborn person (okay Mum, a VERY stubborn person), but I graciously accepted defeat as I listened to the crowd of angry Englishmen get riled up behind me, and I limped away from Satan. I moved into the next line to go purchase my ticket from the ticket window and found myself to be the 9,000,001st person in line. I realized that not only was I not getting my coffee, but I wasn’t going to make the train. I called my uncle who was supposed to pick me up at the other end, and was told to catch a different train to a different station which he would then kindly drive through horrendous traffic to pick me up from. No coffee. Sprinted to the train. Sat next to a man who’s music could be heard through my own headphones. Finally arrived. Is it coffee time yet?

When I got to GM’s I was given my coffee, and I was a treat to be around for the rest of the afternoon. I saw 4 of my 5 first cousins, my uncle Hugh, my aunt Alex and her husband Jonathan. It’s a very rare occasion to get everyone together for one afternoon and I absolutely loved spending time with all of them. My cousin Zoe and I caught a train back to London that evening, and then I went off to see Lydia’s show for the second time.



My Joshy
When I got back to London, Josh Wilson had come home from university for the weekend to come see the show with us. Josh is one of my best friends despite the fact that I only see him once a year in Provincetown. We got to hang out all night Saturday and Sunday. I miss him terribly every time I leave Ptown, and it was so great not to have to wait a full year to see him again!
Even though I had a bit of a rough Saturday morning, my weekend was otherwise fabulous. And because I got to see my family and an old friend, I really don’t mind my still-throbbing foot (damn you Satan, we WILL meet again!).

Introducing Miss Lydia Wilson (I know her!)

Lydia Wilson. Remember that name everybody. When you hear about her becoming the biggest star of the London stage, or see her in a movie, you will all hear the story about the time I came to London and lived with her in her house and watched her star in her first public play at RADA. Lydia is another Provincetown vacationer who I have grown up with and watched become the most fantastic actress I have ever known in the flesh. I am not just boasting her acting abilities because she is my friend, but because she is actually an incredible actress. Lydia is in her third and final year at the most prestigious acting school in the world, RADA (Royal Academy of Dramatic Art). Still don’t believe that she is something special? RADA only accepts about 30 students out of thousands of applicants every year. So not only was Lydia accepted into the school, but in her first play open to the public, she was given the lead roll (hey lydz, I love you!).



This past week I have seen the show twice. The play was called Villette which is a Charlotte Bronte novel. Lydia played the character of Lucy Snow who seems to be trapped in a world that is half reality and common sense, and half fiction and dreams. Watching Lydia in the play the first time, I suddenly realized that I had no idea what was going on in the play, because I had spent the entirety of the first half only watching the star (my friend.. Who I lived with in London.. Who I see every year in Provincetown. Did I mention that we go way back?). I realized that it was hopeless to try and pick up on the story line after that, so I had to go back and see the play again.

Congratulations Lydia on an amazing performance, and I can't wait to follow your career as the star I know you will become!