@least100+

Lisbon-Lagos= 4 hrs bus

Lagos- Sevilla= 5 hrs bus

Sevilla- Granada= 4 hrs train

Granada- Nerja= 2 ½ hrs bus

Nerja- Madrid= 8 ½ hrs bus                        

Madrid- Barcelona= 11 hrs bus

Pisa-Florence= 1 hr train

Florence-Split= 12 hrs bus

Split- Florence= 12 hrs bus

Florence- Chianti= 1 ½ hrs bus

Chianti- Florence =1 ½ hrs bus

Florence-Sienna= 2 hrs bus

San Gimingiano- Florence= 2 hrs bus

Florence- Venice= 3 ½ hrs bus

Venice- Florence 3 ½ hrs bus

Florence- Arezzo= 1 ½ train

Arezzo- Florence= 1 ½ train

Florence- Rome= 3 ½ hrs bus

Rome- Florence= 3 ½ hrs bus

Florence- Pisa = 1 hr train

Brussels- Maastricht= 3 hrs train

Maastricht- Brussels= 3 hrs train

Brussels- Prague= 15 hrs train

Prague- Florence= 11 hrs bus

Florence- Sorrento= 6 hrs bus

Pompeii- Florence= 6 hrs bus

Florence- Pisa= 1 hr train

Lucca-Florence= 1 ½ hr train

Florence- Interlaken= 12 hrs bus

Interlaken- Florence= 12 hrs bus

Florence-Milan = 5 hrs train

Running Total of 112 hours of bus travel

And 37 ½ hours of train… a whole lot of seated motion

Needless to say I no longer get carsick! 

Frikadeller

Note: This happened over Thanksgiving break so a tad bit out of order.. oops! 

I have to admit, I was a bit nervous to meet my Danish family I was not aware existed. I knew I had met some of them when I was all of four-years old, but I was not under the impression that I had so many relatives over there. I went over there with no expectations and no plans except wanting to see Tivoli. Good thing, because they sure did have the schedule for me! That’s probably where I get my passion for planning. The first night I was to stay with Bente and her family, where she had prepared me a Danish feast since it was American Thanksgiving. Traditional cuisine from Copenhagen that consisted of frigadella, wine, potato salad, wine, shrimp cocktail, more wine, and chocolate! I was so full- which apparently you can’t say in that context because in Danish it refers to your level of sobriety. Yeah, I probably wouldn’t be telling my family I have met for the first time that I was really drunk, even if I was a little tipsy at the time. I slept in the next morning (did I mention in the most comfortable bed I have laid my head in-probably the best night sleep I have to have while abroad) and we then headed up the coast to the Louisiana Museum.  Modern art looks like a completely different species after living in Florence with art from the Renaissance. After an afternoon nap in the bed of my dreams, Nickolas was to pick me up for dinner at his family’s home. Nickolas is one of my cousins. Just turned 21 so we are very close in age. After another traditional Danish meal and mingling with foreign family, Nickolas and I headed out to his apartment downtown. He was going to show me how the Danish do it.  We ended up taking a tour of the city so he and his friend could show me where the real nightlife took place. Below freezing later, I had surrendered to the cold and went back to Nickolas’ apartment. Brunch was at 11 and then his dad, Kim, was to pick me up so we could go to Tivoli. Brunch is really big in Copenhagen. I really am Danish since breakfast food is my absolute favorite- not to forget those delish pastries that melt in your mouth. It was at that moment that I decided it was going to be a day of sweets. Kim and I had stopped in Tivoli for some Danish pastries (apple balls?) where Lis and Maria met up with us. Lis is Kim’s sister, who is also Bente’s sister. I was able to get my own time with all 3 of the families! Maria and Christopher were great. After more candy and hot chocolate, we finished our afternoon with cappuccino and yet more Danish cakes! I was in heaven. But my stomach was not too keen on all the sugar. I hate when my eyes and stomach don’t agree. But I continued since I knew Bente’s husband, Pier, was preparing plates of steak for us to devour when we returned. Little did I know that Bente had picked up possibly the richest cake I have ever tasted for dessert. Oh well, gotta live it up while in Denmark!  

Lucia

Toady is my final day in Italy. And for how much I have grown to dislike the Italians attitude towards Americans, it would be my last day that completely changes that perspective. I won’t go into the gory, horrid details of my worst traveling disaster yet to come on my travels (obviously had to go out with a bang) but am going to focus on my guardian angel named Lucia. 2 taxis and 2 trains later I had jumped a train headed for Milan.. I knew I didn’t have a ticket, I knew I could get fined. But my credit card was reading in any of the machines and I was desperate. I figured I would hide in the bathroom for as long as possible to avoid the conductor checking tickets- but that was not long enough “This ticket is no good for me. You get out at next stop”. Alrighty, Bologna it is. I am now real worried about catching my flight that leaves from Milan at 5:45 as it is already 1:30. I try yet again to buy a ticket, niente. And then I try a Bancomat convinced that it is only the train ticket automatic machines that won’t take my foreign card, still nothing. At this point I am in tears realizing I have all of 7 euros to my name and no phone to call the parents with. I gloomily walk into Customer Service where she immediately takes me under her wing and assures me everything will be alright. She walks me over to the track my train is on and personally talks to the conductor. I’m not sure how the conversation went as it was all in Italian but it was a great result of me getting on the train. The girl behind me must have recognized I was American (who could miss my two oversized bags of luggage, my purse and my 100% desperateness oozing out of my pores for all to sense). She asked me if I was going to Milan and then I asked her. Thank god! Someone going to the same place as me I can follow like the foreign shadow I am. I told her my predicament of my trains and how my flight was early this evening so it was crucial I make it to the airport.

“Wait! Did you say you’r flight is at 5:45?” 

“Yeah, do you know the best way to the airport from Milano Centrale?”

“No, I’ll call my friend and ask. But we don’t get to Milano until 4:45.”

Sobs come back…

“Well don’t cry, we’ll figure this out!”

So it was shortly after I had to come to terms that I was not going to make my flight. The airport was an hour-train ride away from the city, and a 90 euro taxi ride (90 euros of which I didn’t have).  It was a rough half an hour of a breakdown, which managed to entertain the entire train. One gentleman even came over from his seat a couple rows back to give me some tissues. Lucia was on the phone with her mom who was online looking up flights and trains to Madrid. Lucia kept telling me to eat something so I don’t pass out (Italians solution for absolutely everything- food). The lady across from me than said something to Lucia (in Italian of course), which translated to: My brother is a travel agent let me call him to see what he can do. So as of now, there were 2 people on the train with my flight itinerary back to Boston.  Her brother had concluded that the cheapest flight he could find was Ryanair (which I can’t fly since I have too much luggage) and then EasyJet, (my original airline) but they wouldn’t be able to refund me.  I was in a seriously dark place with no idea what to do. I had 7 euros. 7 euros! That was not going to buy me another flight. Lucia told me that the woman had offered her home for me to stay in that night and that she would drive me to the airport in the morning. Lucia also offered her friends home. SO I had plenty of homes to go to, just no flights to get on. Lucia’s mom called back and had found a flight for 77 euros that left the next morning and would get me into Madrid on time. Lucia asked if she could have my card information so that her mom could rebook it for my online. I was a little nerve pants about getting declined again, which is when I miraculously remembered I had saved my Nani’s information in an email. Thanks Nani!! Not only did Lucia’s mom rebook my flight but she had gotten on the phone with EasyJet with enough time to change my flight rather than rebook an entire new one! I was dozing in and out of this conversation between Lucia and her mom since I was emotionally exhausted from my panic attack earlier. I was hoping I would wake up and be sitting in the Starbucks at Logan Airport with Nani, Connor and Daddy. No such luck. But, on the bright side I now had a flight to Madrid!! When our train finally arrived in Milano Centrale she carefully walked me to the ticket station where I bought a train ticket to the airport for…. you bet ya! 7 euros exactly!!  Wow my luck really was turning around. Not quite yet. The handle of my carry on ripped off when it fell off of my big bag. Guess I won’t be bringing that bag now, have to figure out where I’m going to fit all of that shit… but I’ll focus on that later. One task at a time. Now to the train station. Lucia literally walked me onto the train in fear I would get lost again as the fragile little foreigner I was. I gave her a massive hug and thanked her profusely. She than reached into my pocket and gave me 25 euros. I began to throw it back in her face and she said “NO! It’s not much but please take it just in case anything else happens, you won’t be completely broke.“ She asked me to email her when I finally made it home to my final destination: Maine.

It is now 2 hours later and I am sitting in the Milano Malpensa International Airport. I am dreading what is going to happen next, because with my luck something is bound to happen. Four months ago, I had an especially hard time getting to Italy from Madrid, and now I am again having a particularly hard time via my exit route. I suppose Italy and Madrid airport don’t mesh very well. Or maybe Italy was a little hesitant to let me in, but now they are having a hard time letting me go? Let me go Italy! I want to be home with my family! You gave me my Italian angel, which magically transformed my perspectives of Italians! It was yet another awful learning lesson, but this one gave me the best results.  Imagine how lost I would have been without you Lucia. Thank you!

The process of traveling is completely torturous, and in this case even worse, but this just makes the destination that much more exciting right?! 

36+ hours of traveling later

aka Prague continued...

Nope! Turns out we were actually in the correct city- we finally did something right! Managed to find a taxi service that was almost cheaper than the bus with all 3 of us and it brought us to the door of the lovely CzechInn where we were to reside for the next 2 nights. Oh and did they have the nicest showers, I almost took a second one after my first just because it felt so good to be clean. Great feeling you know, you should try it: go like 3 days without showering or washing your face, ride your city bus around all day just for the effect of traveling and brush your teeth in the train or bus station. Oh and be wearing the same clothes through it all… and when you finally get in that shower its practically the greatest feeling in the world!

Me counting the final coins left to my name.. paying for lunch.

Laura, Cami and I (the wolfpack) were all ready to get out and explore the city. We took a map and headed in the general direction of all the tall buildings that seemed pretty important. Got a quick bite to eat for 89 Czech Crowns (dirt cheap in American terms) and had an eventful day of sites. The Old Town square was my absolute favorite part of this 11-day excursion! It had the best food for the most amazing prices. Pastries with cinnamon and sugar, kielbasas, baked ham over the open fire, potato concoctions, I’m drooling just remembering.  Oh remember me mentioning my bank account back in the Brussels Airport, and how I was wondering how it was doing? Well, I checked, or rather my card most kindly informed me when my purchase of batteries for my camera was not quite accepted- either that or this was some brilliant way of my card telling me that these were crappy batteries?? Nonetheless, I was on a strict budget, $3.97 strict to be precise. I took a loan of 50 euros from the bank of Guatemalan, which managed to last me the entire weekend with 20 to spare! See, look Mom, I do know how to save! Aren’t you proud?!

After my nervous breakdown that morning, I decided that I wasn’t going to be able to go out that night and could definitely use a good nights sleep in a flat vertical position for the first time in… well, in a really long time. I leave Cami and Laura downtown for their ghost tour and head back to the hostel. Surprise!! My magnificent friends Alex and Ellie are in the room and of course getting ready to go out. “I can’t, I’m just going to stay in, I’m broke. Like really broke”

“Out of the question! You’re coming! Get ready! It will be your Christmas present from us!!”

Sitting in front of the John Lennon Wall. 

“Aww thanks guys, but I have nothing to wear that I haven’t already worn about 3 times in the past nine days. Literally have been repeating the shiznit out of my clothing.”

After another little breakdown, a reunion with my favorite little Florentine posse (aka the fun-givers), and an outfit thanks to the fabulous outfitter, Alex Camara, we were off to the Praga Pub Crawl!! Okay, prepare yourself, I am about to give you a little history on Prague which serves as background info for the first pub. If you don’t already know, Prague served as a very central location during the Cold War. All of the nuclear threats surrounding them gave them enough of a reason to prepare for the worst, which resulted in an entire underground city, almost the same size of Prague itself. I’m not sure if the underground shelters were ever really used, but they exist and today serve as great bars! Or ghost tours, or communism museums! There, finished with the history lesson! Hope that wasn’t too bad. On our way to the second bar, we felt adventurous and used the restroom in a total of 3 different hotels. I of course used my hospitality charm to distract while Ellie and Alex would sneak passed the front desk and into the lobby. Speaking from experience from the hotel lobby, Prague has some pretty nice hotels!

On the Charles Bridge!!

Perhaps my favorite club on the continent of Europe (so far in my European shenanigans) was the 80’s/90’s club we went to the next night. It was crazy how much fun seeing the wicked old music videos from Madonna and Spice Girls! Oh Spice Girls, so many memories. Anyways we danced until 3 in the morning when the Latino music started taking over and we couldn’t sing along any longer. But it was very entertaining to watch Cami recite word for word.

And yet another 11 bus ride back to Florence ahead of us. I’ll have to calculate it later, but I think I have logged over 100 hours on busses in Europe in this 4-month span. 

Another Life Lesson??

WARNING: what you are about to read is one long ass blog post. Apologies in advance.


I thought my Madrid traveling horror story was going to be enough of a lesson for a lifetime. I'm afraid not. Turns out you need at lease two. And if it is in a 3 month time span... even better. But I'll start from the very beginning..


Thursday, 6:00 pm:




Obviously I'm late meeting everyone at McDonalds to catch the bus. The bus which I had the tickets for. The bus that also wasn't coming since I booked the Pisa to Florence, not Florence to Pisa. So... train to Pisa airport it is. Late and obviously overpacked. Little did I know that when Ryanair said 1 piece of carry-on luggage, they meant one piece of luggage. One rolly bag. Not a rolly bag and a personal handbag (aka purse). Nope, just a rolly bag. They won't even let you carry a wallet with you. Good job Lizz. Next plan of action? Put on as many layers of clothing as possible to be able to fit my large purse that is already stuffed. Result: Lizz wearing 7 layers of sweaters and my great friend the Guatemalan wearing my other 3 sweaters. So not a great start but we finally got to Edinburgh. Not only do they speak American but they are actually friendly. They acknowledged our presence, smiled at us, said hello. Went above and beyond the standards of friendliness. Even on their best days, Italians are not any where nearly as nice. Which I never understood, you live in one of the most beautiful countries on the planet .. why aren't you happy? Maybe it's all of the tourists? Or those god damn Americans. Besides the point, Edinburgh was exactly what I needed. Fall foliage, American speaking people, bag pipes, kilts, and above all else: Starbucks. Prior to our immaculate confrontation with this Scottish Starbucks, I had not had one of my white chocolate mochas in over 2 months- probably even more than 2 months since Maine doesn't even have Starbucks. Boy was I one happy chick. After sipping on my cup of heaven and walking around the great city we ended our walking tour with a man in a kilt playing folk songs on his set of bag pipes. I'm not sure you could get more Scottish. Maybe a Scottish Terrier?? It was a great day of Scottish heritage, Edinburgh Castle, and a tour of a Whiskey Factory. Day one of eleven, complete.

Saturday, 7:30ish pm:


Back to the Edinburgh Airport. Back to layering myself with 7 layers. But this time I needed to hand some off to my other great friend Edith in addition to the Guat. No clue how I happened to acquire an extra sweater between the 30 hours of the last Ryanair flight?! Nonetheless, we got to Dublin and finally got to our hostel where we collapsed. 5 hours later at 6 in the morning we were up and at em heading off to a bus ride through the Irish countryside. Well turns out the sun doesn't really rise until around 8:30 so until that point the Irish countryside was pitch black. And when I say the sun doesn't rise until 8:30, I obviously mean that's when it gets light out since the sun never really completely shines. Nonetheless, it was a gorgeous ride. We stopped in the little city of Limerick to snap some shots of King John's Castle along the River Shannon, remains of Viking settlement. Our Irish tour guide was quite hilarious and made a great comment about these Viking raids, "Ya know, the Vikings would get set on a piece of land and be determined. Screaming 'Rape! Pillage! Rape! Pillage!' But when they saw them Irish blokes they adapted that famous chant to 'Pilllaagggee!'" Guess we didn't have any Irish on the bus at the time.  Made it to the Cliffs of Moher after passing many Irish wolves and elephants (sheep and cows). Wow. That was pretty feckin craic as the Irish would say. We saw the cave where Harry Potter was filmed. You know that one book where Dumbledore brings Harry in that cave to get the first horcrux?! Yeah that one.  Real cool. Probably the greenest grass I have ever seen. The fuzziest cows on the greenest grass on the coolest cliffs in the prettiest place in Ireland.
Seeing as how it was Halloween weekend we had to go out that night. But we figured we would be okay if we didn't splurge on costumes. First mistake. We were the ones that looked like idiots. After enough "uhhh what are you supposed to be?" comments.. we decided stupid americans would give them enough satisfaction. Extremely horrifying. Unfortunately we were not in Italy where they would have legitimately been terrorized of american tourists (no stupid necessary as that just comes with the territory).  Anyways, we of course did not spend a long time walking around getting scrutinized and popped into a pub where we got cider and brews and listened to live Irish folk music from the locals. New day came and we hit up the Guinness factory (who goes to Dublin and doesn't tour the Guinness factory??) I mean I don't like beer, especially Guinness, but we had to obviously go. And after learning about it for 2 hours I felt like I had to take advantage of the free sample. By the time Laura and Edie had gone back for their 'third' sample Cami and I finished our first. Cami brilliantly got an entire pint up in the Gravity Bar. I conveniently lost my ticket, so I was unable to get my free pint. Oh well. Sorry Uncle Lance. The rest of the day was spent wondering the streets of Dublin. Spent yet another embarrassing night out dressed up as stupid americans and then headed back to the hostal for a good 4 hour shut eye before Isabelle and I left for Brussels. Flying Aerlingus was much more lax and much more accommodating for young travelers. I hope you are reading this Ryanair- take note on the accommodating part, a word that ceases to exist in your vocabulary!! 

Monday, 10:00 am: HALLOWEEN!


Probably the best Halloween I have ever had. Although it would have been a much more enjoyable holiday had I actually had a costume that I could go collect chocolate and candy in- I promise you all that I will never outgrow the act of trick-or-treating. I consider myself an opportunist, and I will take full advantage of the fact that there is one night a year when free candy is given to those who dress up in costumes. Nonetheless, it was a great holiday. We initially thought that our luck of friendliness would change once we got to Belgium seeing as how the French are not known for going out of their way to extend any sort of cheerfulness. Wrong! They were just as nice as the Scottish and the Irish! Imagine that! A very nice gentlemen got us to the city center from the airport, and along the way gave a very detailed tour of the city. Once we walked up the stairs from the metro we realized the city was a lot bigger than we had anticipated. It is the capital of the European Union for goodness sake! I decided to try my luck and ask a garbage man directions to the Royal Palace. Luck is right! He put his little wheeling waste basket and broom to the side and started us showing us the general direction. 20 minutes later we entered the Royal Palace Square. He brought us the entire way!! And we got to hear his life story and a complete, detailed family history. Originally from Brussels, he was born in Turkey where he later came back to be with his family. Very nice gentleman. And quite the world traveller for a public waste official salary! I loved Brussels! But I think my stomach is thanking me for not staying an hour longer. I of course got my Belgian waffle... oh my god was it heavenly. And I managed to avoid most of the chocolate and cookie shops we walked past, only stopping in two. And only making one purchase of Belgian butter cookies that reminded of Christmas cookies with Nani. I planned on buying a truffle for dessert after lunch but the very generous lady said "on the house" and smiled. Made my day!

Our day in Brussels would not have been complete without a traditional Brussel style dinner on the row of restaurants which I would like to call the Vegas strip. A little street of boutiquey restaurants with gentleman persuading you to the extent of offering a back massage during dinner. I kid you not one guy offered free champagne and a back massage! We quickly realized that every restaurant offered the exact same menu, so decided to go with the one that gave us the best deals. We stayed away from the creep offering massages and went with the guys who enticed us with a bottle of champagne and a complimentary bread basket. A 3 course meal for 12 euros.. that is my kind of meal. Tomato bisque for starters, mussels for main dish and finished it off with yet another Belgian waffle drizzled in chocolate sauce and sprinkled with powdered sugar. Mussels in Brussels are apparently a very Belgian cuisine.


I then realized that we had about 25 minutes to make it back to the airport where we were meeting Cami and Laura to catch our train to Maastricht. And had absolutely no idea how to get there. Perfect!
We asked a taxi driver, who just pointed. Once we got to a dead end which was obviously not Station Centrale we asked a group of boys nearby, "uh, I think it might be that way. Oh no, maybe 2 blocks to the left?" No help. No idea how we finally got there, but got on a train heading for the airport. Running up the escalators the first thing I saw were a pair of pink-sequined bunny ears complete with pink fur. Yup! I spotted the Guat!


Tuesday, 10:15 am:

Next thing I know I am waking up in some unfamiliar bed in a hostel in Maastricht. How did I get here?? What country am I even in?! No just kidding. I got on a train and got into the city of Maastricht around midnight. We met a Brussels native who goes to school in Maastricht that brought us to the doorstep of our hostal, again another kind soul without a drop of Italian in his bloodstream. The journey from the train in Brussels to the hostal in Maastricht was almost an out of body experience, since I was basically passed out. Physically I was coherent, but mentally I was already beginning a great nights sleep.

Maastricht was great. One of my favorite cities in Europe I've been to so far. It might have been the fact that we weren't racing around to go from monument to landmark. We went mapless for the first time, getting lost through the tiny, practically empty winding streets through all of the fall foliage. They had bagels with real cream cheese, legitimate salads with actual salad dressing and parks with grass and orange, yellow, and red colored trees. The parks were even complete with farm animals! They had sheep, chickens, some type of antelope species, and tons of ducks and geese. I really liked the mallards. Have you ever looked really closely at a mallard? They are so cool. Their feathers and colors, their beaks? Pretty neat if I'd say so myself. Fascinating creatures.

Going out at night was also a blast. Ran into a bunch of DUers at the local bar The Shamrock aka The Shammy. Got a fab tour of the city at night as Hank meandered us around the streets on our way to the bar. He has a very unique sense of direction… A very very different experience than any other which I of course was loathing.  Wait for it.. we went on a bike ride to Belgium. We rented bikes and decided to take an afternoon bike ride through the farms of Maastricht to the lush greenery of Belgium. I adapted to the bike riding fairly quickly, and I mean you have to give a girl a break when she has not been on one for quite some time. Alright this wasn’t too bad I hadn’t run into anything so far or caused any extreme accidents involving other pedestrians. I decided to move on to the next level and take pictures with my little dinky camera of the scenery. Check. Laura? “Hey Laura look at me!” “FLABBENGHSTHCHFLUGHERSTEIDCHDEIDEN!!!!” came from behind me, my first instinct is to turn because I obviously don’t know what Flabbenghsthchflughersteichdeiden translates to in English but it didn’t seem to be pretty… CRASH! And here it is in sequence: Old man on bike runs into Lizz on bike + Lizz attempts to dive out of the way to the sidewalk… forgetting she’s on bike + Bike follows Lizz onto the sidewalk+ Old man yells again and rides away= absolutely everyone in the street staring at Lizz and bike oh and Laura peeing her pants just up ahead. Once I actually adjusted to the bike and decided that taking pictures was a bit more ahead of my bike riding skills, we took our ride through farm land, past the little Dutch style houses complete with donkeys in the backyard. Forget dogs when you can get a donkey!

Oh in addition to the little biking incident, I managed to stumble upon the coolest hotel I have ever stumbled upon. The hotel itself is in what used to be an ancient renaissance church that was remodeled on the inside. Very chic and completely different than what you were expecting to see from the outside. Note to self: add to bucket list of hotels to stay in. But the StayOk hostel was also very nice. I wish I could tell you if the free breakfast was any good but we never made it in time as it closed by 10 in the morning… drag.

So we dropped off our bikes and got ready for a night on the town. After a cheap bite of a burger and a “snack ball” which is essentially just fried meatball doused with a side of mayonnaise, we were off! Somewhere between the hours of 2 and 3 in the morning we made it back to our hostel. We decided to go out with a bang as our last night in Maastricht ended with a 6 am train ride to Brussels… why sleep??! We made it to the train station and boared the train headed for Brussels like the zombies we never dressed up as for Halloween. This is where my story veers right at the crossroads of rich with happiness and too broke to shed a tear. Tears don’t sell to well on ebay as I’m sure you know. An unfortunate series of events...

Thursday. November 3. 2011. Morning time. Approximately 10 am. 

(All the periods are to get you on the edge of your seat in preparation for the dramatic turn). We arrive safely and on time to the Brussels airport, which is conveniently, located 2 floors above the train station in which we arrived. With 2 hours until boarding we were in no hurry as we were still very zombie like. I even contemplated a Starbucks but resisted all urge. As we were walking through the Brussels Airport we were casually looking for the Ryanair desk to check in. Vueling, Aerlingus, United, easyJet, Swiss, Austrian, BrusselsAir… “It seems like Ryanair is nonexistent in this airport. Must be hiding”. “Let’s just ask the information desk so we can get to the gate and just sit down” Cami suggested. Laura, Isabelle and I just patiently wait for Cami to go ask, and as she walks back over to us I’m thinking how much I want to go get a Starbucks and hope they have one on the other side of security.. I hate it when airports put all the good stuff out front and you are always hesitant to buy thinking it will be easier to get and sit with next to your gate rather than chugging it before you go through the no liquids policy of security. Okay back to the story…

Cami comes over and with a blank face, no expression whatsoever says: We are in the wrong airport. Ryanair flies out of the other airport in Brussels.

Our thoughts: Alright well lets just get there soon!

Cami answering our thoughts before we speak them aloud: the airport is over an hour and a half away. We will miss our flight by the time we get there. There is no possible way to catch our flight.

Our thoughts: shit. (and Cami’s too I’m sure)

My thoughts: Brussels is no longer my favorite city. I try and remember my day in the city 3 days earlier and riding the public transportation and recall seeing Brussels Airport as the final stop for nearly every line we caught, not Brussels Airport Nord, not Brussels International Airport, not Brussels Bigger Airport, nothing. Nothing to suggest that there was two airports in this city. How the hell were we supposed to know that there were two airports!?? Thanks a lot Brussels!

Recap:

We got up at insane hours in the morning but really didn’t actually sleep since we were out all night= exhaustion.

Found out Ryanair only flies out of a baby airport not even technically in the actual city of Brussels but an hour and a half away= frustration

Then realizing we HAVE to make it back to Florence by 6 pm that evening to catch our bus to Prague= stressed out of our minds.

Not a great combination to say the least. I immediately got out my computer and set up camp. Opened the wireless server (6 euros for 30 minutes, ggreat). Skyscanner.com, flight from Brussels to Florence this afternoon. Loading… cheapest flight available 650 euros… ok not so good. Brussels to Pisa, even more expensive. Open Google maps for airports near Brussels to fly out of, or airports near Florence to fly into. I try every combination, nothing under 350 euros. Ok think. Then I figure maybe flying directly into Prague and just getting there a night early might be cheaper? NOT, reached quadruple digits. I try Brussels to Florence for tomorrow, 89 euros… but that means we would miss our bus to Prague, which was already paid for. Do we sacrifice a planned weekend in Prague and waste the nonrefundable 250 euros needed to book it, or do we spend a lot more to get to Prague?? So we had a group discussion and decided that we were going to end up in Prague.

3 hours and 36 euros worth of wireless internet later we had 3 overnight train tickets to Prague for a whopping total of 190 euros. Not too friendly to the bank account… how was that doing by the way? I was not about to spend 6 more euros to find out.

At noon we start our sequence of 3 trains to Prague and get to the Central Station where we set up camp yet again and prepare to wait for our next train that would leave 5 hours later. And of course it costs 50 cents to use the bathroom. Realizing that we are all broke ass poor, we do the budget style eating in the self-service cafeteria. Massive sandwich for 2,50? I’ll take it! This should last me until we get to Germany, hopefully… Nope not going to cut it. But a box of crackers should do the trick. Laura and Cami quickly caught on to my brilliant idea and went to the little supermarket to pick up a box of their own. The guy at the register caught on and asked if we were having a party. Laura explained that we had missed our flight so had to take an overnight train. “Oh, yeah, only the locals really know about the 2 airports. So many people do the same thing”. Well, gee thanks. That makes me feel just great. It still doesn’t help the fact that we just had to spend 190 euros.

We hop on our train to Koln, Germany; which is only about 3 hours. Get to Germany and have another 2 hours until our next train. This time we go real cheap and set up camp in McDonalds. 45 minutes before our train is supposed to arrive we go up to the track to ensure we will not miss it. Not only were we not going to miss it, but nobody else did either since it was over an hour and a half late. More great luck. We get to our cheap seats in the seated sleeper cars squeezing 6 to a room as opposed to the beds provided in the luxurious sleeper cars. After a marvelous nights sleep we arrive in Praga! Finally! We look, feel and smell like shit and just cannot wait to get to our hostel (which we have no idea as how to begin to find that) and shower. We are in a completely foreign city, don’t even have an address of where our hostel is, how to use the public transportation, who knows with our luck there are probably 2 Pragues in the world and we trecked to the wrong one!

Hardly a short story but more a resemblance to a Meave Binchy novel... but hey, I warned you!

Do As the Romans Do

What are the Romans actually known for 'doing'? Aside from barbaric gladiators, power-thirsty rulers, and a politically-hungry government known for conquering half of Europe? I mean I know they have a lot of checked-off items on their long list on their "Personal Goals & Achievements", but I guess I just do not understand the saying: When in Rome, do as the Romans do. I'm sorry but my two days in Rome, I was unable to do any 'Roman' things. I pictured the gladiators below the stage of the colosseum awaiting what could be their last battle, the prisoners locked up in the cells of the Roman Forum, the crowds entering the Pantheon for service, and masses of people in the Vatican City; but I didn't physically do any of these things. I, however, did Rome in the very 'touristy' way following our two group leaders through lines of people. They don't make things particularly easy in Rome. For example, you can't just go see the Sistine Chapel. You have to go through the entire museum, wrap around each corner, shuffle through each room leading up to the infamous ceiling you break your neck to admire. The Vatican Museum could probably fit the entire state of Rhode Island in it, and just the entire building covered in ancient works of art. They say that you need six days to at least step foot in each store of the Mall of America, well I would say you would need at least six months to glance at every piece in the Vatican Museum for no more than ten seconds. And we had three hours. So you can imagine our disappointment while being rushed through these rooms with sculptures done by Donatello and pieces done by Raphael, without so much as a picture.

Overall, Vatican city was very impressive. We opted to not wait in the four-hour line to enter St. Peters Basilica. I'll just have to go back someday. And I apparently will since I threw my coin over my shoulder into the Trevi Fountain. Romans say that if you throw your coin correctly than this signifies your return to Rome someday, just like rubbing the pigs nose in Florence. I threw in a couple coins to ensure I got the best picture, so it looks like I will be returning to Rome a couple of times!

Since we only had two days, which is not nearly enough time to do Rome.. we hit up the major tourist attractions. We kept picturing everything out of the Lizzie McGuire Movie.. but we decided that she didn't have her concert in the actual Colosseum. Vatican, check. Colosseum, check. Trevi, check. Spanish.. still had to get to the Spanish steps and had less than 3 hours. After realizing we had been looking for the only attraction on our map that was listed in spanish (I had figured was a good place to start), we were corrected by one of the Presidents guards that we were in fact going opposite direction of the Spanish steps. I'm not sure what gave us away.. maybe being 106% American tourists idiotically assuming the Spanish embassy was where the Spanish steps were?! So thanks to this very generous guard, he led us to the steps which were jam-packed with people.

Oh and did I mention that there were strikes happening?! Really funny actually, because even though Italians are nonchalant about the essence of time they happen to be very organized in some respects. Such as riots and strikes. Protests have a very strict schedule and this instance was 2 in the afternoon to 6 in the evening. Hundreds of thousands of people marching the streets, and they were not as friendly as the one singing, flag waving one Florence I got caught in. Streets were being blockaded by swarms of police and swat in their gas masks with their shields. They unfortunately did not stop at their deadline and the riots with the tear gas and bombs continued into the night.. kind of put a damper on our evening plans. We got to see some of the destruction in the morning. TONS of graffiti on almost every reachable surface, but I of course had no idea what any of it meant because it was in Italian. I'm assuming something regarding the Italian government?? But I just found out the other day from my great Guatemalan friend that there is a list of schedule days for strikes. As in they have an organized calendar with times too! Maybe they are trying to make a statement and show the Italian government how timed schedules actually work- the bus system could definitely learn a thing or two.

Word Vomit and the Effects of Homesickness

Word Vomit= an uncontrolled spilling of words out of your mouth. 

Thanks urbandictionary. In this case, it is an uncontrolled spilling of words coming from my keyboard. A completely disorganized spilling of words. I have a lot of ground to cover since I haven't posted in over two weeks (minus the "Seriously?!" I posted ten minutes ago but had saved at least 3 weeks ago). I dedicate this post to my nagging family members... enjoy!
 

So before I left DU, they had these mandatory pre-departure sessions we had to attend one gorgeous, spring, weekend afternoon. They gave us a bunch of information that was quite overwhelming at the time, but one thing that stuck was the diagram of the cycles of the abroad "feelings/emotions". There was the initial culture shock, then the crazed "I love Europe slash being on my own" phase, and then the inevitable home sick phase. They call it the emotional rollercoaster. Me, being so independent and adventurous thought "no way will I be getting homesick. I've never been homesick before in my life, why would I be homesick when I'm in one of the coolest cities in the world?!" Well, guess what. For the first time in my life I am homesick for Maine. I'm beginning to think just America in general because all these emails I get from Delta Zeta, Daniels (the Business school) and HRTM (my hospitality school) with invites to career fairs, workshops, formals, homecoming events and other campus updates are really getting to me. I almost cried when I found out that Garbanzos and Spicy Pickle had closed on campus. I suppose I forgot that the rest of the world keeps spinning while I'm gone. I was really missing the fall season, the green grass, the orange and red leaves, the Columbus Day tourney at Shaws Field with hot cocoa, being able to wear a light sweatshirt and jeans, apple picking season, apple cider, the pumpkin patch, pumpkin donuts, I could go on but will stop to avoid further homesickness. The big one though is the greenery. Florence is a city of stone. Ancient, historical, full of culture, beautiful stone. But, nonetheless, stone. Majorly lacking in the vegetation department. Guess I took the gazillions of trees in Maine for granted. (Maine- share the love and send some over to Florence). 

So having this strange, unfamiliar feeling of homesick come over me, I decide to research cheap overnights in the countryside in Tuscany. I managed to find the one hotel with the most gardens, and brightest, greenest pictures. This was Tuesday night. Having sensible friends, they decided it wasn't worth it financially. Fast forward to Thursday morning. Before school. At my desk. Ready to walk to class, with my bag and shoes on. I decide to check my email real quick to see if I have a response from my Danish relatives. Nope. However, I do have a "Booking Confirmation". What? Oh, wow look at that, I have a booking for... tonight! Booking already went through on my credit card. Nice. Looks like we are going to... (still don't know what city we were in). So it was one not so cheap night in a city that only god knows about, but with some of the prettiest gardens I have been in (of course not including Nani's) . It was the perfect garden-getaway I needed. And provided me with the best meal I have yet to eat in Florence. The meal alone was worth it in my book. 

And then obviously chocolate helps everything. The International Chocolate Festival in Perugia was sure to help with my homesickness. Sure did. After eating double my weight at the chocolate lover's haven, I felt much happier. They had miles of tents selling everything you could ever possibly imagine doused in chocolate. The original chocolate truffles and bars in every crazy flavor you could think of, chocolate hot chocolate (which is just melted hot fudge), chocolate pasta, chocolate absynth. Chocolate absynth! As in the alcohol that I get a buzz off of by just sniffing it. I responsibly refrained from that sample. Also wimped out on my pear-flavored chocolate juice box- which I gave to a friend as a gift :) 

I guess I will leave Rome for its own post..