Stained Glass Travelers

My two days with Erica were spent shopping in Heidelberg and partaking of a very German pastime. I got to see the crumbling castle grounds and the old bridge that I have no idea the significance of, but there was a monkey statue I got to stick my head in.

But before we hit the 'street' I ran into a Starbucks *gasp* because I was needing coffee and if there's one thing I'll even appreciate about Europe is that for some inexplicable reason, their coffee is WAYWAYWAY better than any Starbucks in the US. The shops also look like mini royal palaces. On the down side I waited almost 20 minutes for a drip Pike's Place Roast coffee. The very cute German barista gave me free flavor though for the wait.

The streets were beautiful, though I was well aware this was a tourist area and a historic district so I understood that many of the shops were purposely made to look like old-timey stereotypical German shops. I didn't much mind- I was too busy enjoying the spring and the sunsets We had a great time at an Irish pub with Internet and the most delicious vegetarian pastas dish EVER!!!... and I got a free backpackers catalog that will be epic for collages, which I fully intend on doing after seeing Tara's 'ADVENTURE' sign in her blanket fort.

 

I found some great sales, for Europe, and even the classic cougar huskie rivalry made its way overseas. In this store called Mustang there was a wall of hats, scarves, and gloves all for 3 euros, which is basically 4 dollars. And there, on that wall, were matching hats and gloves that were either crimson and gray or purple and 'gold'. I freaked!....and then I bought the gloves.....but unfortunately didn't think to get the picture- I was remiss.

My last day there, Erica took me up to the castle where we toured the grounds without going inside because frankly most everywhere costs to get into and it's usually it's not worth it.

On a serious note- I really don't like museums. You're stuck inside, looking at things that you can find in most history books. Yeah, originals are cool, but there's not anything really that different. It's smaller/ bigger/ lighter/ darker than I thought. But usually it's just the same. Unless you're really into art and the techniques or colors or styles or something, then it's mostly a waste of money and time. Mostly money where you pay to simply LOOK at something. I have the same issue/ opinion of paying for national parks or anything that in reality should be free, especially for those in 'the land of the free'

The only thing free here were the ground and the hysterical laughter I had to suppress at seeing a couple walking their dogs.... that had ponytails!

However, this one was kinda sweet because it was all crumbly-like and reminded me of Jane Eyre after Rochester's estate went up in flames- I even think I recall that being the reason for the renovations, that there was a fire!

Anywho, my trip back into Paris was as much the same as all the others but this time a couple kicked me out of my NON-reserved seats halfway into the three hour ride. Did I mention I was dead asleep sprawled across the table in front of me practically drooling? Oh, I didn't? Well I WAS!!!

One thing that I loved about all my traveling is not only all the people I got to see, but all the random people I met. Even those that I only conversed with for a second were kind. If you start off smiling them they'll normally end smiling also. It's like the stained glass that is so popularly used in the cathedrals around the world- each piece is separate and unique, carefully crafted so that when all those tiny separate piece are put together that is a magnificent picture grander than any one piece alone could make. Every piece is needed, every piece is important, every piece contribute to the larger picture. I know that I'm not only the piece but also the picture. Each person I've met or know is a integral part of my stained glass that when the light shines through and I can see the whole picture, each piece castes its light of different and varied hues and shades to allow me to revel in its beauty that is my life. I continue to be grateful for the way God has blessed my me.

Americans in Denmark

My last day with Tara brought us to Holstehal for their second of their best of five playoff games against this all Danish team. We lounged a bit in the morning, watching the eerie fog retreat through their diarrhea forest, which is what the name for it translates to in English, then we put ourselves into go mode, stuffed all our bags into Donald and like a baby, we head out.

Two Minutes down the road and I was already missing my fort room. We made our way into Copenhagen none the less and met with the rest of the team for lunch and a beach park where apparently there is no fence to distinguish the regular side of the beach from the nude side. There were volleyball nets though.

While we were milling about, Tara and I had decided to ask the Danish girls about my 2:18 train out of Copenhagen when the European daylight savings was at two, thereby causing me to attempt catching a train that would never be. Their coach ended up calling the station and found my train had been changed to 3 AM or what would previously be 2. The American girls Tara shares the car with were very gracious about having to take me to the train station at 1 in the morning, especially considering they would still have an hour drive to get home after- to Schnake, Noelle, and Sage- I can't thank you girls enough for your warmth and hospitality- it was truly a great trip for me. I won't forget you anytime soon.

Well, we got to the gym that smelled like it had just been painted and I watched a poorly coach volleyball game. The mood after the loss wasn't very uplifting but there was another American's birthday to go to in Copenhagen, which helped give us something to do while waiting for my train.

I was surprised by how many American are in Denmark alone. Several of whom I was connected to in amusingly distant ways. It was a great party but also daunting after a not so great game.

We left sometime around 1230. And I made my train with the right time only to realize it wasn't a straight shot where I could sleep the whole way through, no I stopped about every two hours and had anywhere from 5 minutes to and hour and a half in between catching trains. Where I usually found either something to eat, something to look at, or somewhere to corner up and sleep.

One great thing about Europe is getting to know other peoples stories and connecting with friends world wide. I made friends with Sarah on the plane and if I'm remembering right- Christine [below] who I shared beautiful music with.

Then came my very American moment on the next leg of my journey where I got kicked out of a first class compartment and shluffed into what I like to call the 'Cargo Class' Here is where I was sandwiched between the window and the mother/ wife of the family of three with their 5 year old son- ok he was cute, but I was trying to crash and I didn't think it polite to sprawl across the table we shared.

I felt that after that trip I can handle traveling just about anywhere in the world now. So much so, I got into Frankfurt and had to buy yet another ticket to Leimen where I was thankfully picked up and saved from having to navigate to the gym.

Erica's last game ended in a loss. But the dinner afterward with her past and present teammates was mouthwatering...Baked potato with spinach and this cream sauce with baked cheese over the top. If nothin else I leave Europe with great cooking ideas, phenomenal walking legs, and an intimate knowledge of inner and outer city travel.

Chalk, Crack, and Fog

Waking up in Praesto was like waking up from the perfect dream. The night before was so much fun, and to wake up surrounded by blankets- literally, except this one window that had been decorated with beautiful green wine bottles and a magazine collage and the sun was trickling through the surrounding forest encasing me. It was a perfect moment. But there was a day of adventure ahead so it was no time to lollygag around, no matter how comfortable the double blow-up mattress was.

For my first full day in Vordingborg Tara and her teammate Schnake took me to Mons Klint and the island's chalk cliffs with it's 497 steps down to sea level of the Baltic. The day was perfect and sunny and the hour drive was filled with chatter and laughter. I didn't care what we did at this point- I was already loving Denmark.

During a quick stop for gas I also learned that the dollar/ Danish king krone conversion is easiest when you divide the DKK price by 5. This made more sense when seeing shirts for 200 DKK.

Once we got to the cliffs I wasn't sure what I wanted to look at more- the massive, glaring white chalk cliffs, the near undisturbed Baltic Sea, or scavenge the beach for chalk pieces and shards of natural glass that would sometimes be formed into fossil prints.

    

In between walking, tanning, breaking for lunch, and picking up random objects, we did a little photo shoot. I also decided to scale a chalk cliff. In theory this was a great idea, considering I didn't actually expect to get that far, but since the moisture of the sea mixed with the chalk...dust?... it basically was a hill of more like a dry-ish clay consistency. However, once I was up, I realized how far I got because of how steep it was and because of the whole center of gravity thing while climbing forward and the not wanting to lean forward and tumble down the crumbling cliff thing, the only way I was getting down was by scooting down on my butt. Apparently the chalk/ clayish mixture when packed down and smoothed out make a formidable slide, which I so learned in accumulating a nice layer of it on my backside. Whatever- it was fun!

Our time on the ocean ended with that lovely German lady sharing her beach combing finds, another couple's gorgeous yellow lab chasing chalk chunks, swans, hummingbird sized bees, color accenting our outrageously accented personalities, climbing a tree, being chased by fog and hiking back up the 497 steps that originally took us down seaside, and three words that made me the funniest person ever.

The first moment was when I started using the chalk pieces to re-whiten my shoes that had picked up a few stains. Through commentary with Schnaki and Tara and proving that this method was working, I used that awesomely pathetic pun, "I'm just CHALK full of ideas!" This guaranteed a mildly amused giggle from both girls. Shortly thereafter, Tara and Schnaki was cracking each others back using their own hilarious puns so I threw in my own, "You two CRACK me up." Both of these retorts were followed with the classic knee-slapper but they were still funny in their own right. At this point we were all fairly amused at the terrible puns, mostly because they were terrible, but that is half the fin of them. Until... and we're all still a bit FOGGING on the last pun, but I'm pretty sure it was during the fog chasing sequence, where we finally reached the top- out of breathe... at least on my part- and I was feeling a little lighted headed after the climb where I aptly applied, "I'm feeling a bit FOGGY!" BUAHhahahahahaha (insert more knee-slapping here).

In a quick succession of events, we stopped in one of the mile long towns to look at the stores and grab some snacks. I also bought my Danish souvenir of yarn [shocking-I know] in bright orange, in an attempt to find a similar color to that of the many farm houses was passed.

We returned home in time for the girls to head to volleyball practice, while I wiled away my time back at the apartment. Later in the afternoon I took a very chilly walk down the trail through the woods to enjoy the sunset. And once the girls were back, enjoyed Sage's entertainment with all the things she could use the head massager for.

   

In ending the perfect day, Tara, myself and a couple more teammates went out to dinner at a local cafe- which is not at all like our cafes- and after the most delicious salad I've ever had, went to walk out on the pier... in the dark... with no one else around...

While documenting with some of the coolest shots I've taken in a  long time, Tara and I were left to walk back by ourselves. We were joking around about how this scenario is how horror movies start; with two unassuming girls laughing, right before a walrus jumps out of the water to break the dock and eat us alive... when suddenly we heard this load splashing in the water under the dock, where we had just walked from. Needless to say, we freaked out a bit. We quickly, but as carefully as possible in the dark made our way off the dock, onto the pier and back to the solid land where the car and her teammates were waiting.

We couldn't perfectly describe the sound, but I'd say it was a cross between a bird beating the water with its wings, a fish fin hitting water before diving back underneath, and some nefarious creature lurking underneath, about to strike. But it was still a pretty good day, regardless.

Trains, Planes, Danes, and Automobiles

Today felt more like a day of travel than my flights getting to Paris, where all three legs of my journey went swimmingly. Seriously though, I can hardly get from Spokane to Seattle without at least getting searched or something funky going down. Spokane to seattle= perfect; even my bags came out almost first. Seattle to Iceland= early landing, met a friend, and had free tv and movies the whole 6 hour flight. My gate was so easy to find I felt like I needed to get lost on purpose. Iceland to Paris= same free movies to stay entertained and a window seat. Even with getting in early and having to wait for Christy and Marc wasn't a downfall because I got to stretch mt legs and learn some of the language off of the signs. I started to compose myself for my orientation day that was purposely scheduled so as to keep me awake and get my body acclimated quicker.

With this and my first day alone navigating Paris under my belt, I felt mildly confident in Christy putting me on the train to CDG and having to figuring out the rest on my own. Though I did speak to several people, it was only ever for clarification and past that I always knew where I was going, how to get there, and how quickly I'd need to run to make my train... right up until the end at least

Because of my first flight running a little behind, I missed both of Tara's suggested trains that would allow her to meet me at the station. Thank the Lord that these Germanic countries almost all know English as a second language- Americans are freaking spoiled- because everyone knew where to direct me. I took a train from the airport to Copenhagen central then switched to a train that would take me right out to Vordingborg.

After keeping track of my hour and a half time to be on the train I started to get nervous so I asked the woman sitting across from me which stop ahead was Vordingborg, worried I was going the wrong direction. She said the next stop; well the next stop came but didn'y indicate anything having to do with Vordingborg, Now I'm concerned that the stop doesn't read Vordingborg exactly but another town that is right next to it. I ask an older gentleman. He also says the next stop. I wait and the next stop was definitely not mine. Now I'm starting to hyperventilate. The stop after that STILL wasn't mine. I'm a puddle by now desperately clinging to the boots of bright hair dyed Danes seeking someone with an extra spine. FINALLY.FINALLY, I'm pacing next to the doors and I hear in the thick Danish accent the word Vordingborg.

*sigh of relief*

Now to find the gym..... Walking.... In a strange town in Denmark... Where I can't read the signs...

So what do I do? I follow this spunky, young-ish looking, dyed red head girl. When I tap her on the shoulder she looking at me with what I assume to be fright for some strange hulking American girl asking her for direction to the college. She composed herself and said she can point me in the direction I need to go but first offers to help me get out of the station. Once on the other side of the ticket window she proceeds to turn in circles before admitting she can't be positive of which GENERAL direction the gym is and berating herself that she should know seeing as how she starts classes there next year.

I thank her anyways and turn to go into the 7/11 Tara had mentioned as a meeting place or a center for direction. The lady behind the counter spoke English, looked at the address Tara gave me and instructed me to go up the main road, take a right on the first street and keep walking....

... Ten minutes later having turned and walked a Danish block I was already questioning the 7/11 lady's wise advice, so I'm flagging down a car passing on my left with an elderly-ish couple in the front seats. I ask again as to the location of the college and gym. They inform me their son goes there, I'm walking in EXACTLY the WRONG direction and they were capable and willing to transport me there.

Since I flagged THEM down, I doubt they had any sinister plot in mind and accepted the gracious hospitality that I had already come to know as a trademark of the country Danish people. We spoke during our brief trip about where I was coming from, why I was here, and that though it seemed contradictory since THEY offered ME the ride, that it probably wasn't in my best interest to a accept rides from perfect strangers in a foreign country... Thanks perfect strangers who's car the foreigner is already in... But they truly were a kind couple, the woman exceedingly so.

My journey ended succinctly and early at said gym where I had a ticket waiting with my name from two ladies who apparently has not only heard all about me, but who seemed to know me well themselves. On the back of the card Tara left a note saying, "Hope the walk was ok. So Happy you are here!!!"

Buah hahaha the walk was short lived but gorgeous none the less. I now know the exact color I would paint my house if I had one!

The game was intense, mildly frustrating, horribly reffed and unfortunately lost, but since there in playoff it's best of 5 so its not the end of the road.

After the game I went in a little car named Donald with four other fairly large (tall) volleyball girls where I was welcomed into Tara and Sage's apartment with a blanket fort room sectioning off part off their living/ dining room just for me!!! Queen sized double air mattress ready and made. 

The night was wonderful. We stayed up late talking, venting, drinking wine and enjoying each others company along with two other teammate that live one house over, and one of their boyfriends. Tara taught me a phrase they use in Danish to express the enjoyment of an evening the next time they see those friends, as a reminder. For the sake of willing readers of all this nonsence I'll roughly spell it how it sounds sans guttural inflections:

Tak for sist!

Blisters the Size of Euros

WARNING FOR THOSE OF YOU EITHER FAINT OF HEART OR WITH EASY SYMPATHY PAINS.... THERE IS A GROTESQUE/ GRAPHIC PHOTO OF A MILD WOUND AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS POST. PLEASE DO NOT VIEW IF YOU EASILY HARF.

After walking for a day in the shoes I brought to play in, I realized something- I need a new pair of athletic shoes! It was between these and a pair of runners that rub my Achilles tendon raw every time I run without crew socks. But being in possibly the most beautiful city in the world, I now have a new appreciation for the concept- love is pain. I love volleyball so despite my handicap, I played.

I literally cut off a blister on the inside of my pinky toe that was equivalent to the size of the more appropriate euro. After bandaging them, I played again that night with Christy's team she plays on and it dawned on me... I could play overseas. The only sienna would be finding a job cause I definitely wouldn't get paid. That's not that I don't think I'm good enough to get paid but the reality is- a lot of teams don't have money to pay American to play over here unless they are one of the national 1 or 2 teams. Though talent-wise I think several of my club players could play over here already.

Either way, on this day I walked into Paris unaccompanied. Christy gave me direct intructions on how to get where I was going. Day three and I had Paris all to myself. And their underground metro system, of which I spent a half an hour navigating both from and to Gare de Lyon. But, as the independent woman I am, I made my destinations on my own and with foolish pride.

I was headed to Jardin du Luxembourg for a day of sun and just-blooming apple blossoms. The garden was vast and intricate. Flowers had been planted and statues were stained green with age. I actually pulled up a chair against a tree near a fountain and took a nap bathed in the Parisian sun.

Eventually I decided it was time to continue my journey and truly test my navigational skills. This idea was fairly ridiculous considering I didn't have an ending destination. I finally decided to try my luck at the metro again and get myself and my desperate need for a restroom to Notre Dame where Christy had coached me on their free public toilette. From here I studied the surrounding architecture that is still incomprehensible to me and walked the tire spoked bridges. 

At this point my wandering took me past used book stands, several failed attempts at finding a Starbucks and their infamous wireless and public restrooms, and... Hotel de Ville. The square in front of the hotel was HUGE. The hotel itself was huge, but in general I cease to be amazed and the architecture of these buildings. I sat on the ground and started setting up my tripod for a self-timed photo when I recognized English close behind me. I jumped at the opportunity and asked to vacationing American girls to take the photo for me instead... unfortunately their timing was not quite to my expertise so the closest we got was either pre- or post- jump. But I enjoyed them trying and I think they had fun with the idea

My day ended getting to Christy and Marc's early, falling asleep while reading, missing Christy's 12 year olds but paining myself through her practice and coming 'home' to Marc's delicious home cooking. All-in-all a very happy, joyful, wonderful, good day.



WARNING.......PHOTO BELOW IS VOMIT INDUCING....................................
Following posts take you with me to Denmark!

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Day Two Who Knew

Even now after day two I feel like I belong here. I don't get blown away by things, I love seeing these beautiful monuments and castle buildings and Cathedrals and listening to Christy spout history for me. I enjoy trying to speak French [having never learned any intentionally to date] to people I'm ordering food from, just walking down random streets, and for the most part acting like I belong here.

Our day was mostly covered on my first day tour so all the things Christy had planned for me, we had already done or seen so today was very casual. Intending to get up at 9 we didn't leave Melun until I think the 11:15 train. Our first stop was El' Opera Garnier. The opera house that The Phantom of the Opera was based off of. Since going inside is fairly expensive, we did our own outside tour and went into the gift shop that sold good ol' ballet clothes and shoes.

This is the time where I seem to get hungry so we grabbed some baguettes and eclairs and went to eat our spoils on the steps of Place de la Madeleine, which apparently is something every Parisian does. After our lunch of completely non-tourist proportions we meandered through the Tuileries garden where they had the old school wood boats with these patchwork sails and sticks to push them with and several little kids running around the circular fountain chasing their respective boats

Toward the end of the garden Christy and I noticed a man sitting on the bench fully decked out in kilt wear. There was no question- I needed a picture with this man. He, shockingly, wasn't Scottish, but English and guessed that we were Canadian, which I'm not complaining about. However, we would pose for the photo- he just kept talking to me... so Christy snapped a few shots anyways. When I asked why he was wearing a kilt he said he thought that the other Englishmen who wore trousers were a bunch of... I can't remember the word right now, but it was very British.

One of the things I've enjoyed most is the train ride between Melun and Paris- I love all the old brick housing and minimal three stories with random mansion-like homes that I get to see along the way. The ride is very comforting; I don't have to think about getting up and down or on and off, I can journal, write postcard, actually see the pictures I taken and just all around relax as the Parisian suburbs float by.

Paris Dumpster

Taking after my dear Mama bear- Betsy. I had a great find on my first day in Paris. After getting drug [literally] into my first view of the Eiffel tower, Christy and I snagged some baguette hot dogs and ate our lunch -from a vender who's cappuccino tasted like alcohol. While enjoying this surreal mmomemt we watched silly Asian people pose for your everyday photos.

In the process of leaving I went to throw my napkins and unfinished coffee into a green dumpster a few feet from us. As I tossed in the cup, I noticed a wood framed chalk board with 'Save the Date' written on it that my leftover coffee splashed a bit on. I froze. Now I know that reaching into dumpsters is never a classy thing to do especially in Paris right next to the Eiffel tower, but I'm also of the mindset of 'Don't Waste a Thing' that goes to include: food, talent, clothes, unbroken but old items, efforts, time, and now apparently extends to anything in Parisian dumpsters. So I lifted the lid again. Christy at this point is asking, "What? What is it?" As it so happened- there were TWO!!! The date of the second was 19-Jan-13.. or for those not checking dates in Paris- Jan 19th 2013. While Christy questioned her sanity for taking me in at this point, I grabbed them both, stuck them under my arm and walked away.

For those questioning my sanity right now too- the dumpster was near empty and they were basically placed inside actually leaning against the side untouched with the exception of my own coffee. I also happened to not buy a single thing other than food and train tickets that day soooo SCORE!!!

From there Christy took me on a whirlwind sight seeing tour of, Sacre Coeur, where I almost puked, we drank the life, or more appropriate- stomach saving... Shwepps, we met the man who could jump through walls,  saw Notre Dame^see above photo which is by far the most favorite place I saw, found a Starbucks with both a bathroom AND wireless, wandered outside at the Louvre at night watched the Eiffel tower 'glitter' and after a very amusing train ride to Melun, finally made it to Christy and Marc's loft/attic/apartment home, where Marc had brought my stuff from my pickup outside the airport to and had dinner ready for us.

No way to explain how excited I am to be here with Christy... and Marc. I love the beauty, love my friends and can't wait to see what's on the agenda for tomorrow!