"Are you lost? American?"

Today I ran into my friend Steph at school. She's leaving for home tomorrow, so I asked her how she felt. She gave me the same answer as everyone else: "I'm not sure. I just feel weird." 


So do I. This afternoon I bought an old Wonderful Copenhagen poster which reads simply, "A fairy tale." And that's what it's been: a fairy tale. It's not real life, and I think when I land in Minneapolis on Friday I'll feel like I never left, and that these last four months have been a film I saw in a theater once.


I don't know what to expect of real life when I get back, but I know it'll be good.


But while I'm still here, I'll bequeath to you my final adventures in Europe.

Amsterdam
Day 1
It's 10 p.m. Kylie and I are wandering Amsterdam in search of Sarphati Park, the name of the street our hostel will allegedly be on. It's never a for-sure thing, directions to hostels. They always say, "Turn right out of the station. Go straight, you'll run right into it!" But what Europeans don't know is that in the U.S., the roads are straight, like ruler-straight, and you turn when there's a stop sign and a 90-degree intersection.

After missing our tram stop twice, we walk and find the sign: Sarphati Park. Que trumpet sounds. We follow the signs, looking for number 58. But between 57 and 59, there's nothing. We step back, puzzled.

Whizzzzzzzzzz, goes a bicycle, two inches from my back. I'm paralyzed with fear, knowing that I'd nearly suffered death by bicycle. I always knew I'd die this way, I thought. The biker, a blurred man in a gray suit, narrated my near-collision mockingly: "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Surprisingly, we find our hostel. I say surprisingly because another thing Europeans don't know is that it's illogical to name every street adjacent to said park the same name.

Day 2
Visited the Van Gogh Museum, but really just marveled at the gift shop because we didn't have enough money to go inside. We remain however unsurprised by this recurring theme.

Dani, our third adventurer, felt sick the night before and had flown out of Copenhagen this morning at 8, so Kylie and I ate waffles and drank Coke by the canals as we waited.

Experienced the Heineken Experience, as it's a brewery and a party combined. I had forgotten my ID and asked the ticket guy if I would be able to get in. He responded, "You know the drinking age in Holland is 14, right? I think you'll be fine." At the gate, we stated our nationality on request. The gate guy responded, "Ah, American. (Checked three marks by U.S.) You're winning!" The rest of the countries have only a few marks each. The American box is densely filled with black marks. Again, not surprised.

Don't worry, if you'd like a break from your Experience, you can sit in these green
chairs and watch Looney Toons.

Bottles make up the ceilings in this rave room

Made music videos to send to our parents. We're truly gifted singers, so please listen to this clip.

http://www.heinekenexperience.com/wall-of-fame/singalong/3887077F253D1B0FA72D3399E67CB14A

This Experience with our three free beers was a good precursor to the Anne Frank museum. Otto Frank upon gifting this museum requested that every room remain unfurnished, giving it a very spooky, melancholy feel. The first floor is Otto's office and below that is the warehouse, where the workers didn't know about the Franks hiding in the annex on the second and third floors. From the secretarial room, you ascent an incredibly steep staircase up to the secret annex, where the paint is peeling, the absent furniture has left shadows on the walls, and the windows are covered with blackout shades so no outsiders could see in. The Franks could never speak or walk around during the day due to the presence of the workers in the warehouse.

We also couldn't photograph the rooms out of respect for the memory of the families, but here's an amazing online guided tour of the house. It's worth looking at. I would also consider drinking a Heineken as you view it. Because that's what I did before and it helped. http://www.annefrank.org/en/Subsites/Home/.

On the way back to our hostel for the night, Dani had to throw up. So she ran to KFC and paid 50 cent euro to throw up in their bathroom. Kylie and I got on the tram, but then felt bad for leaving her alone in the KFC bathroom in Amsterdam on a Friday night. But she came back, so that was good.

London
Day 3
The first item on our agenda was to eat British pub food. I ordered an extremely delicious and immensely filling steak and ale pot pie, topped off with sips of Dani's Strongbow when she wasn't looking.

On our way to the underground, a little boy ran his scooter into Kylie and yelled at her with a British accent. Too cute to take seriously. Though she didn't, because she yelled at him for running into her.

Went to the Natural History Museum. London's fabulous for three reasons: every woman wears a pencil skirt and stilletos, London black cabs, and the museums are all free. This museum was enormous, and we wished we had more time. I did especially, because I found out that my lack of science classes since the 10th grade had a pretty prevalent impact on my knowledge of geology. Thankfully I'm taking Nature in the City this summer, where we will learn how to identify plants and animals in Minneapolis city parks. Yes, this is a class. I know now you wish you didn't take o-chem.

Advertising the big bang theory. And Pluto as a planet. 

This refuses to rotate, but the rock crystals are still beautiful sideways.

Ate cheesecake at Harrod's and admired the designer purses.

Saw the Tower of London and London Bridge.

Checked out the Globe Theater. Got snickered at by the ticket guy when we tried to get in for half price (hey, the play was half over!) because the tickets were sold out for two months.

Ate Indian food. Got treated very poorly (and thus did not tip, saving us money anyhow) by the waiting staff because we didn't order enough. Talked to the two guys sitting at the table next to us. Explained the geographical location of Minnesota. "It's below Canada. No, that's Iowa. No, Chicago is in Illinois. Yes, very cold."

Walked across Waterloo Bridge and saw the London Eye at night.

Day 4:
Searched for Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross per Dani's request. We're still waiting for our letters, but we thought we'd give it a try anyway.

Got harassed by shopkeepers at Camden Market. Kylie impressed us both by eating falaffel and liking it.

Checked out Trafalger Square. Were complimented for having nice teeth. Saw Parliament and Big Ben, and Westminster Abbey.

Saw Buckingham Palace. Frolicked in Hyde Park.

Saw mummies and other amazing ancient artifacts in the British Museum. Drank tea in the courtyard. Correction: Spit out my first cup because Dani sipped hers and yelled, "Hot hot hot!" And all the Brits stared at us and wondered how we could be so unladylike.

Courtyard/cafe

Saw St. Paul's Cathedral and Millennium Bridge.

The most important thing I've learned about traveling is to always carry on. No matter how long you're going to be away, it can always fit into a backpack. Then you go through security very quickly and never have to wait for or worry about your luggage.
Dani did not follow this rule.
On one of the London underground's mile-long, 75-degree-angled escalator mountains, a large woman fell. People screamed, and Kylie saved the day by lunging at the emergency stop. Therefore, we carried Dani's large checkable suitcase up probably 200 steps.

Slept at the airport. Ran out of money, but needed to buy dinner.

Me: I have 40 pence (cents). What can I get?
Server man: What do you want?
Me: A grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup.
Server man: Sounds good, here's a Coke as well.

I love London. 

Happiness Pt. 2

Last night I figured out Danishness. Yep, all of it. In one day.


My host sister Benedicte and her theater group put on a comedy improv show in the community center in Vaerlose. My host mom Margit and I drove there together, my first time in a car probably all semester. Except in Germany, but this time I felt less petrified and didn't sit in the back with my head cradled between my legs out of fear for my life. It felt nice, but it made me wonder if I would remember how to drive when I returned home. Probably not, but if asking to drive home fueled by jet lag through Minneapolis on I35-W at 11 p.m. after a 15-hour flight isn't the best way to try, I don't know what is!


Before we left, I sat at the kitchen table deliberating for literally an hour as to whether I should go see the play. "Do you want to know how I'm feeling, Margit? I feel like I need to talk about this." I asked her, the only person sitting at the table with me. "I guess so," she replied.


"Ok," I said. "On one hand, I know I'm not going to understand anything. Ok, like maybe two things, but I'll probably misinterpret everything. Then on the other hand, I want to go to support Benedicte because she's been working so hard on it all year."


"Do you think she cares that much if we go?" asked Margit.


"Uh... I don't know, actually. I told her on Monday that I might go, but I wasn't sure if I could, but I might go Wednesday, but maybe not, but good luck anyway. And all she said was, 'Thanks.' And she hasn't said anything since."


"You know," Margit said, "I don't know why all of these things take so much thought. You have to decide in the end, and it's going to happen anyway. There's never a way to know that you're making 100% the right decision ever. It's either you go, or you don't. Is there a half way?"


I think that sentiment is pretty applicable to everything that could ever happen in life. You don't know for sure, and you never will. You can deliberate all you want, but in the end, it's going to happen without you. It just matters whether you decide to be included in it. Or, in my case most often, whether you decide not to be included in it, whether your reasons are sound or otherwise.


Anyway, this group decided to take a stab at improv after seeing an improv performance in Copenhagen. I said to Margit, "They probably just decided to do this, right, because they just saw this performance two weeks ago or something?" Margit replied, "Sadly, I think they've been working on this for a long time."


I understood probably half of the performance with my Danish-speaking skill set of a three-year-old. Enough where Margit said to me, "Did you understand the part where they kept singing, 'I'm going to eat the fat boy, I'm going to bite his arm off?'" and I said, "Yep, that part was actually pretty self-explanatory."


At intermission we all went outside. Everyone did. Like, outside, through the back door of the room, and stood outside, in the cold. Some kids ran around in the background, and all the parents stood on the porch. The same thing would happen in America, but in the entrance to the auditorium, or the bar.


On the way home I told Margit, "I was dying inside, both from laughter and coldness, when everyone just went outside during intermission. Of course we would go outside! Of course, you Danes need fresh air after 30 minutes of sitting inside, and I as an American stood outside and choked on the fresh air."


She replied, "Why is that even funny? Out of all the things that were supposed to be funny tonight, you chose that. It's completely normal to go outside! Fresh air is good for you! From the sounds of it, you should probably be getting more!"


My travel journal, continued:


Rome
Day 11:
Arrived in Rome at 11 a.m. and waited 3 hours for Chris to meet me in the baggage claim. Read my Vanity Fair and turned away from the clock, because only 5 minutes had passed any time I checked.

Texted Chris: "Hey, I'll meet you at claim 13. If I'm not there, just wait for me and I'll come find you."

Started talking to a woman about Amsterdam, studying abroad and summer work. Chris had to come find me instead.

Took three forms of public transportation to our hotel, the extremely long way. Complained most of the way. Chris was happy to be hanging out with me in all my positiveness. Saw a sign for a hotel in the distance, said to Chris, "Please God, don't let that be our hotel." It was. But the inside was redeeming, minus the absence of free internet.

Day 12:
Woke up early and walked to the metro. An old woman walking next to us came up to me and said, "Calina! Calina!" and I said, "Sorry, we don't speak Italian." and she said, "Bella! Bella, bella, bella." I was flattered, but somewhat frightened, because I think she was crazy, as she followed us for several blocks saying "bella, bella, bella" over and over again.

Chris kept worrying I'd get run over my traffic and got into the habit of holding me back from crossing the street. Valid decision. He also didn't like when Italian men would make kissy faces at me when we passed by them, but I told him they were probably aimed at him anyway, so I didn't know why he was getting so upset.

Visited the Colloseum. Stood in line for a half hour. Got to the front and the ticket guy wouldn't accept our student IDs for a reduced rate. Stormed out of line. Bought Roma passes, enabling us to visit two archeological sites for free, then discounted visits to museums from then on, and free access to all forms of public transportation for three days. Skipped the line, tried to make eye contact with the first ticket guy.

The Colluseum was incredibly fascinating. The floors at one time had been made of wood and had deteriorated with time, revealing the underworkings of Gladiator training rooms, hallways, slave rooms, shops and places to store the animals and supplies. We deduced that the wood floors were a calculated decision, because the rest of the building was made of Tavertine stone, mined throughout Italy. Besides gladiator and live animal fights, the Colloseum would also host navel battles, complete with water and war ships. We figured that wood was easily replaceable and could be removed when water was used, as well as opened up to hoist animals out of the stalls below.

Had our first taste of legit neopolitan pizza. Never going back. Except when I'm at work and everyone orders Dominoes.

Spoke English while walking back to our hotel from the metro, past a group of 20-somethings. Completely stopped their conversation to do a double-take.

Day 13:
Visited the Vatican Museum and saw the Sistine Chapel. Nearly missed it. Walked into a crowded room and Chris said, "Is this it?" "No," I said, "I think we have to keep going this way. Find a sign." And then we looked up and there was the Creation of Adam, right there on the ceiling. Guess I just thought the painting would be in an elaborate chapel and not just a regular room, and for some unexplained reason I also thought it would be oval. I simply do not know.
Snapped a picture. "Should we go?" "I don't know. Maybe we should look at it for a little longer?" Most anti-climactic moment of my life.

Extremely illegal photo of the Sistine Chapel

Had a hunger breakdown in Vatican City. Was quickly given pizza (because apparently I'm four years old) from a cart and the most delicious gelato I'd ever tasted. My mood increased significantly with the taste of rice pudding and blood orange gelato.

Threw a kroner into the Fontana di Trevi, hoped true love would find us :)

Better mood

Was nearly suffocated in the metro several times.

Saw the Pantheon, which is in a very cute neighborhood filled with small alleyways and little boutique restaurants. Ate risotto, fettuccine and wine for dinner because lucky for us, the wine was cheaper than the water. Why would I pay 6 euro for a bottle of water when I can pay 2 for a bottle of wine? Why would anyone?

Day 14:
Went to Villa and Galeria Borghese, a huge park area with many fountains, lakes, museums and bicyclists. Grossly underestimated the temperature, but refused to buy a sweater because the street vender wouldn't barter with me.

Vender: No, no barter. You pay 10 euro.
Me: Oh yeah? Well you can just have your stupid sweater. I hope no one buys it.
Chris: We should go. Do you need some food?

Used our Roma pass to get into the Galeria, which had a four-day waiting list. Suckers. Saw David by Michaelangelo and paintings by Raphael, minus the very important Lady with the Unicorn, which was on loan to Australia, who had apparently forgotten about the length of their lease.

Then I got mad about that and wanted to complain, but Chris said, "To tell you the truth, I lost interest like, 500 paintings ago, so we can go if you want." So we did.

Hung out on the Spanish Steps for a while. Again, more accosting by men trying to force Chris to buy flowers for me. They would put a bouquet of roses in my hand and say, "Here you go bella, for free." then to Chris they would say, "Your girlfriend, so beautiful! You pay for those flowers." Several times I had to shove the flowers back into their hands and run away.

One man grabbed Chris and started tying a string on his finger, clearly trying to make a bracelet for him to buy and be like "HA now I made this for you, you pay." before he could say no.

Italian Scammer to Chris: So, you from America. Yeah? You go to University? Mmhmm. (Braiding string on Chris' index finger)
Me to IS: Take that off! He's not going to buy it.
IS: Meow, meow, meow. (Shakes head, chuckles and motions to Chris about how crazy I am. Chris looks at me helplessly.)
Me: That's it. (Manually takes string off finger. Sprint through crowd for shelter.) 

On the way back to our hotel, in a last spurt of energy, I ran ahead while Chris took a photo, and hid behind a large potted plant. Jumped out and shouted, "ROAR!" At the wrong person. Strange man shouts something in Italian, runs away in fear.

Found late night pizza. Became their most valuable customers. Ordered the last pizza of the night. The guy who came in right after us tried to bribe the pizza makers to make him one. Thought about selling ours to him for 20 euro, but were too hungry.

Pompeii
Day 15: 
Took the cheapest train at 6 a.m. to Naples and then took the metro to Pompeii. Ended up not being cheap when we forgot to validate our tickets, costing us 100 euro. Did not laugh. Also didn't laugh when I tried to buy water in the morning from the train station and practically got it thrown at me for ordering in English. Most Italians were very unfriendly and unhelpful, especially if they were paid to be exactly that.

On the three-hour ride, read Chris' Dan Brown book. Brain started melting. Decided to stare out the window and eat snacks instead.

Spent all day at Pompeii, a city frozen in time so quickly that paintings still cover the walls, both inside and out, the floors are made of intricate tile designs, and wagon ruts still echo the horse's carts. All that's missing are the people.

Pompeii began as a safe port to Greek and Hurculean (a nearby city, also devastated under the same means as Pompeii) merchant ships. It was an important trading crossroads, but also was conquered several times. However, both of these factors were beneficial, as they helped build Pompeii into one of the most intellectual cities, structurally and administrative, in all of Italy, and the world. It was also an extremely profitable city for this reason, as well as its huge prosperity in agriculture, which was considered to be the best in the country due to the richness of the volcanic soil. Their linguistic and artistic skills are evident in their wall paintings and town infrastructure including nearly every modern day convenience, and their infrastructure is cutting edge, the streets of the city sloping down to drain runoff. It was one of the first forms of plumbing and street cleaning, though the two don't seem to mesh very efficiently.

Looking at Pompeii, you can tell it's not just another city of ruins. First it was damaged by several earthquake, which took only a few years to make repairs, which is evident in much of the architecture. The area was prone to earthquakes, so they were nothing new, but this earthquake was seismic in comparison. Unfortunately, not long after that was the historically devastating eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Every inhabitant of the city was killed within six hours, if not from the heat, then from suffocation from the 10 meters of volcanic ash that buried them.

The photos of the victims are heartbreaking, but seeing them in real life is worse. You probably know the famous dog. The city, even empty, is preserved in a way that it reflects a happy, valued way of life, and I think I'd like to preserve that in this blog as well.

Day 16:
Easter. Spent all morning looking for food. Didn't find any. None of the stores opened until 7:30 at night. Surprise; happy Easter!

Rationed our strength by lying around watching movies. Skyped our parents, who were happy to discover that our lives did not mirror the movie "Taken," as they had been imagining. Who'd have known that a week of no outside communication would ensue mass pandemonium?

My cousin Morgan's message on my Facebook read:
Ashley you are putting the family in panic. Everybody has come up with different theorys on why you havent contacted us including chris and you have been abducted and held for ransom but they havent contacted us yet, and the movie taken is becoming a reality with you. please stop this hysteria and let us know you are okay. 

Followed by:this message is really from grandma and she thought she was using my account while she was really using my moms. she told me it was my fault because i dont ever log out and she cant tell the difference between users.anyway not like you care you are in Italy. Happy Easter. miss you lots

Life was a blur until 7:30, but I was uncharacteristically well behaved. At dinner, we were hysterical and could hardly read the menu. The server brought us free bread, then free lasagna for dessert. 


Found out we could have been drinking the tap water the entire time. Too bad, because all along I was hoping to build an immunity to chalk and calcify my arteries.


Day 17:
Got on a 9 a.m. flight to Amsterdam, where we had a nine-hour layover. Amsterdam is like Copenhagen, but with canals and drugs. We saw a 40-year old woman toking up on the steps of a church, and a group of adults chasing pigeons. It's a very happy city.

Bought waffles because they were amaaaazing. Wished I didn't have to share, but did because Chris bought them so they weren't really mine anyway.

Bought sushi also, because, also unlike Copenhagen, this coastal city does not host ridiculous and contradictory prices on fish. Except then the water came in a glass bottle and cost 6 euro. Chris said, "I knew it was bad news when they brought out the glass bottle."
.
On the way back to the train, Chris was splashed in the mouth by a white truck with a big tank on the back and hosting indiscernible Dutch words on it.

Chris: (Gagging) What was that? I'm going to throw up.
Me: I don't know. Don't think about it.  It was water. Just keep walking.

Later:

Chris: Did you write about how you bought the most expensive water in the world?Me: There better have been diamonds in there.

On the train, a man jumped on just before the door closed, inches through the crowd. Puts his bag by Chris' feet and says, "Ok if my dog goes there too?" The dog is a large black lab. Dog is squished between Chris' legs and the seat in front of him, then a little bit of the dog hangs out in the aisle. Dog gets run over by drink cart.

Flight cancelled 15 minutes before boarding. Sent apologetic emails to my teachers: Sorry I had to miss the first day back to class to take another week off for vacation. Actually I didn't say that at all. And I hope none of my teachers are reading this. Except Inger Marie, because this is for class. In retrospect, I should just delete this entire blog.

Spent the night at a luxury 4-star hotel, Dorint, and met three Swedish guys. They bought 15 double shots of Jager and 25 beers and said, "It's on us." Hard to resist such an offer. Talked about Swedish girls and how they watch The Hills too much so it's turned their brains into mush. They out-partied us.

Copenhagen
Day 18:
Got to Copenhagen. Chris got stuck in the revolving doors at the airport, so I had to go get airport security to let him out. Got a ride on the security cart to the baggage claim. Everyone looked at us with extreme jealousy.

I had to

Slept.

Day 19:
Chris got to come along on my canal-tour field trip with my Danish class since Christiana, the original plan, was rioting.

Tried to not make mac n cheese, but Benedicte came in our room and said, "I'm going to stare at you until you make me mac n cheese." And actually did.

Benedicte and Margit experienced their first mac n cheese and loved it. And I am not allowed to tell anyone.


Ireland
Day 20:
To Galway via London and Dublin. Was interrogated by customs. Felt good about someone actually looking at my passport when I enter the country. 
Got to Dublin at 8:30, and Katie, Chris' sister, took the bus with us three hours to Galway. 


Witnessed a cab driver fight because you're supposed to get into cabs in the order the line up, and if you don't, the cab driver is supposed to tell you to go to the first cab in line. In essence, in a kind world. That did not happen. The first cab driver in line stormed out of his car and started yelling at the customer in Gaelic, and I'm extremely surprised the customer wasn't convinced to get out and get into his cab. 


Aran Islands: Inismor
Day 21:
Took the bus, then the ferry to Inismor, the largest of the three Aran Islands off Ireland. Biked all over the hills and countryside of the island with Katie's class. I wondered how they divided up the land since the stone walls were so old and couldn't be removed according to law. The girls in the class all just laughed and answered, "They probably wouldn't care."

Here is a long string of photos to suffice for my description:

The wind was chilly, but Katie's Irish teacher got very sunburnt and had to sit inside the ferry on the way home.

Explored runes and cliffs.

Got home somehow. Listened to Galway Girl.

Passed out at 6 p.m. from sunburn and bike-riding exhaustion, despite Katie begging us to experience Irish pub life.

Galway
Day 22:
Visited National University of Ireland, Galway, where Katie goes to school. Took a stroll on Shop Street.

Chris made friends with a little boy wearing zombie face paint.

Ate strawberries by the river, strolled the beach. Kicked the lighthouse for good luck.

Felt bad about not going out the night before. Briefly remembered that it was 9 p.m. and our bus left at 3 a.m. Went out anyway. Danced to Irish jigs and drank cider and Guinness.

Took the bus at 3:15 a.m., froze. Blurrily looked around the airport at 6 a.m., managed to check in. Chris made sure we got on our plane while I passed out in the waiting room chairs without realizing. Freaked out out loud, in front of the guy sitting next to me on the plane, because when I woke up (fully) we had touched down in London, but I didn't even remember taking off, or getting on the plane, for that matter.

7 hour layover in London. Passed up going into London because we couldn't comprehend the words on the train chart, even though they were in English. Laid around in the airport in the baby playground section, watched Dora the Explorer and Eebies.

Copenhagen again
So this is where we left off, and it's not hard to understand why. I've been home for I believe... 3 days now? Actually 5. I just turned in my last paper of the semester. Actually..... now I have. Forgot about that. 


Despite the culture shock of these last three weeks and the reverse-culture shock I'm about to feel in two weeks when I return home, I only feel one thing: Happiness. On the train home from class today I thought, "I just had my last class. What should I be feeling right now?" And then I thought, "You're 20 years old and you just visited 15 cities and eight countries in three weeks. You can feel anything you want."


I think the best way to end this travel journal (not fully end it, because I'm leaving for Amsterdam and London after my final exams and then I still have a full week to fill here!) is to give another look into the everyday happiness of my Danish life:

Benedicte: (Skipping into my room) I want to hear all about your trip!Me: Ok, come sit down on my bed with me.Benedicte: Where's Chris?Me: I brought him to the airport really early this morning.Benedicte: Oh. Ok. (Walks out of room).

And it feels nice to be old news.


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