New Year's Eve is going to be, like, SO much fun!

I have been blogging a lot of movie reviews lately, but not much about my shining golden nuggets of opinions that I know you have all come to know and love. If, that is, there is anyone out there in the abyss of the internet that is still reading this.

I think the two girls waiting on their "skinny, sugar-free vanilla lattes" here at my beloved Starbucks have just made my decision not to go out tomorrow night official. Side note- in all I honesty, I have recently taken a liking to just those lattes, so maybe I should not rag on them for that reason. However, I have never heard so many "likes", "OMGs" and mentions of nail polish in a single stream of words. They loudly announced to all the world their plans of suiting up in tight dresses and stilettos taller than the Empire State Building in order to go to multiple happy hours and then a couple, ya know, like, clubs or whatever. I forsee multiple drinks spilled down their fancy new dresses and skeezy old men (who will certainly be out on the prowl for New Years) hitting on them like there is no tomorrow.

I will stick to my quiet gathering among friends, thank you. Personally, I do not want to ring in the new year with creepy old men trying to grind up on me. Maybe I am crazy.

I guess you can't take the "young" out of the Young Adult?

Well, the moral of the film "Young Adult" was.... nothing? That's what I got out of it anyways. And yet, I am not sure if I have a problem with that aspect of it. That fact that the drunken, self-absorbed, unbelievably vain protagonist (Cherleze Theron) did not learn her lesson seems all too realistic to me. I almost saw this film as revolutionary, though not on a major scale, for NOT teaching its audience a lesson. Isn't it true that a lot of people in life just can't seem to change?

Theron plays the girl from highschool that you loved to hate: the prom queen, self-absorbed girl that all the guys want. Mavis is that girl, though 37 years later as a washed up writer still completely living in the past. She got out of the small town of Mercury, MN where she grew up and fled to Minneapolis only to return later to attempt to rekindle an old flame with her highschool boyfriend. Only problem is, he is now married and the reason she even thought of him so many years later is because of the birth announcement which pops up in her e-mail inbox one random day.

So, she returns to Mercury and sparks up an unlikely "friendship" with one of the nerds from highschool (I am skeptical to call it this, they only really spend time together because she does not have any other old friends). Eventually, though many hilarous incidents, Mavis fails completely in her attempt to steal her ex from his wife, and, for a fleeting moment, it seems as though she is going to see the faults in her character and change for the better. However, instead, she just leaves Mercury seemingly the exact same as before. Well, I suppose she did change in one way- she decided not to dwell on the past anymore. Good for her.

Chicago- why can I only think of gangsters?

I love to travel, in case you have not noticed. Esentially, everything about it. I feel like the possibilities are unlimited when one steps onto the plane. On Wednesday, I was doing just that again, stepping from gate onto plane, and thus filled with the familiar aforementioned emotion. Now, of course I was minorly discouraged at the realization that I was once again surrounded by babies on a flight. However, this time it was a little bit different. The parents behind us had a  baby that was only slightly fussy, and the dad was desperately trying to calm his/her nerves by whisting at an extremely high volume in his/her ear. I am still torn on which was a greater annoyance- the father whistling or the baby crying. I have never actually been annoyed by the parent before.

Anyways, the flight was more or less pleasant, my headphones did their job perfectly, and I made it in one piece to Chicago. My excitement renewed at being somewhere away from home, I stepped off the plane and prepared myself for another adventure. I instantly realized, however, that the constant kind feelings felt in Boulder, CO are not a constant in places like Chicago. I think I knew this before, however my optimisitic attitude trumped my common sense reminding me that not everyone is open to positivity. I tried to be friendly to the lady at the salad bar and she blew me off, but I still would not let that get me down. What I did let get me down was the unimaginably evil cab driver.

I should have been able to tell from the get-go that this guy was not going to make for a pleasant ride, despite it being a very short one. I alerted him to it being a short trip, of course, before even getting into the car to avoid any anger from his side. This did not work at all.

I gave him the address I needed to get to along with a chipper smile, helped him load my bags into the trunk, and we were off. Now, of course, I do not know anything about the street layout of Chicaho whatsoever. So, tell me please, how this man expected me to notice when he was making the wrong turn, as he had "misheard" my directions. The answer is there is no way I would have ever known. So he tried to drop me off at the wrong location and essentially lost his mind when I alerted him that it was not the right spot. He goes "oh my GOD, why you say nothing!?" in his broken english and began swearing to himself. At this point, I wanted this cab ride to be over more than anything in the world. He finally got me to the right location, got mad again because it "took me too long to point to the house", dropped me off across the street and let me get my own bags out of the car. Needless to say, I called to complain about him.

Hugo

I wanted to write about this film which surpasses any type of adjectival description while it was still fresh in my mind. However, I attended the 10 o' clock showing and was not out of the theater until well after midnight, so doing so was simply out of the question.

So now, here I am, two days later, and still floored, practically speechless, by the viewing experience provided by Hugo. What a spectacular film! I went in with essentially no preconcieved notions regarding the film or its subject matter. All I knew is that it was bound to be spellbinding, based on the reviews that I had revieved from some friends. Their rave reviews could not have been any more spot-on. Hugo is everything that a film should ever be. The casting could not have been more wonderful, the 3D actually added value, the plot lines were interwoven to perfection and the length was not a minute too long or too short.

The one negative thing that I heard about Hugo was that the "slapstick humor did not work to its advantage." I found this inaccurate, however, as I would not call the comedy in Hugo "slapstick" nor would I say that the humor in the plot was a distraction or any sort of disatvantage. I was led on a, not to sound horribly cliche, roller coaster of emotion, laughing hysterically at scenes with Sacha Baron Cohen (the guy from Borat) to feeling overwhelming sadness for Ben Kingsley's character.

Hugo shows filmgoers an unentered world and allows them to believe in the unbelievable. I strongly believe its success comes from the perfect intermingling of its elements to form something just short of magic.

My Week With Marilyn

There was something lacking in this film that I have yet to pinpoint. It got rave reviews, so I went in with high hopes. During the duration of the movie, however, I felt myself waiting for something more; I found myself more and more expectant of the "wow" factor.

The premise of the film is based on a true story about a young man named Colin Clark (played by newcomer Eddie Redmayne) who becomes involved in the making of a Laurence Olivier film starring Marilyn Monroe. Of course, the two meet and the film revolved around their short "affair" which took place over the course of a week (if you had not guessed that part from the title already). 

I think the film could have been leagues better if the role of the young man were played by someone else. It's not to say that Redmayne was not talented, I just don't think he really made me "believe" his part. I guess that is not entirely his fault, as the whole idea of him falling genuinely in love with the sex idol Monroe after a couple of days seems a bit far-fetched to me. I just did not really buy it. I found myself not really caring about their little relationship. Michelle Williams did a good job with her portrayal of Marilyn, though I do not think she really represents her physically. She certainly did make me pity the late actress, however; she certainly had a tragic life.

Overall, I feel the flaws of this film stem from the true story on which it is based- I am just not sure it was movie-worthy for various reasons. I did not find it to be an extraordinary film, though at least it was not horribly drawn out and did not try to make the affair between the two main characters any more than it was, which was admirable, because it certainly could have attempted to do so.

Tower Heist Review

I do not even know if I just spelled "Heist" right. There is not a spell check on this thing. Anyways, back to the point of this blog. I was pleasently surprised at the film, it was extremely watchable. Of course, my expectations were not very high as it is a Ben Stiller, Eddie Murphy comedy about stealing 20 million dollars from a rich guy. Not that Eddie Murphy and Ben Stiller are not skilled at what they do, but you know what I mean.

The film is basically about a group of employees who work at an extremely ritzy apartment building in NYC who discover that the richest man living there who was put in charge of their pensions was involved in a fraud scandal and their money was gone. So, of course, Ben Stiller decides that with the aid of some of the other screwed-over employees that they need to steal their money back.

It was pretty funny, I did not feel like looking at my watch at all and it was very fast-paced. Of course, it was extremely ridiculous, and the end left a lot unsolved. But for what it was worth, it was a decent comedy.

Everybody's Working for the Weekend

Has anything more true ever been said? I don't think so. I feel like a fresh human being when the weekend comes around, and even more so when I force my mind not to have a thought of work, which is easier said than done as those sneaky little thoughts always try to worm their way in. It also helps not being at a computer screen all day. I got to read, relax, spend time outside and see friends. What a lovely, lovely thing a weekend is. Too bad we have to work for it at all.

Recipes

Hello to anyone who still checks this periodically. I am going to do this new thing where I write down the recipes that I try out and think are worthwhile to share, since I have decided that I want to begin bettering my knowledge of the culinary world. You all can join me in my endeavor! I know you are all excited.
The first one I am going to post is one that I tried last night and was only somewhat of a success. It is called a "Pecan Pie Martini", and I kind of got the idea from a specials menu at a restaurant (shhhh, don't tell!). It was good, but REALLY sweet and REALLY strong at the same time. So, just be VERY prepared for an intense drink. If that is what you are looking for, however, then this is perfect.

Pecan Pie Martini:
Ingredients:
1) Butterscotch Schnapps
2) Frangelico Hazelnut Liqueur
3) Three Olives Cake Vodka

You can play around with the portions for this a bit, we first tried doing 4 ounces total per drink, 2 ounces of Frangelico and one of the other two types of alcohol and then we tried doing 2 ounces of schnapps and one of each of the other two. It really depends on what you want more of taste-wise. Dip rims of martini glasses into corn syrup and then into brown sugar. Pour liquor combination into a shaker and shake, then pour into martini glasses and serve.

Johnny Depp + Rum =... I'm still not sure

I like it when a movie tells me it's purpose of existence. I also like it when movie screenwriters do not just give up at the end and tell me with a block of text that everything worked out somehow. If you are on the same page as me in regards to these thoughts, then I would not recommend seeing The Rum Diaries.

Sexy men and women drinking excessively in Puerto Rico could potentially equal an intriguing film, or at least one that is nice to look at. However, there was seemingly no point to the movie whatsoever. It spent about an hour and a half building up the conflicts of the film only to tie up absolutely none of the loose ends except with the aforementioned text telling us that things ended up well. I think that a film should not be released until it is actually ready, and this one was definitely not there.

Even Johnny Depp failed to charm me. I am not a die hard fan or anything, but I think his rum drinking roles should have ended with Jack Sparrow, because how could he even try to top that? Maybe it was the eyeliner that really made that part come alive for him.

Today is a Marvelous Day

When I awoke today, the birds were singing a much more melodic tune than normal. The sun was beaming in triumphantly through my window, the sky seemed extravagantly blue, and I arose from my bed in a state of calm.

Now, to anyone else, today might have just appeared as normal a day as any, but to me it is particularly special. At five thirty on this marvelous Monday, October 24th, I will be permanently liberated as the nanny of the children with whom I have been spending the past 22 hours a week for the last month.

Today, it will all be over. I am not sure how this last nannying session will go. It could either be pleasently speedy as I remind myself that it is the last time I have to play "ninja teacher" and the last time I deal with the most defiant children I have ever been around. Or, perhaps it will drag down just to make my last moments with them exceedingly painful.

Whatever the case, I am happy, and ready to dive in and start my "big girl" job tomorrow!

The Hanging Chad

I have been filling my time on the weekends picking up some extra cash being a barista at the coffee shop where I held my first real job from the age of 16 to 18. I am greatful for the owner giving me these hours and I enjoy being there in the bustling (well, when it is not slow) atmosphere of a coffee shop. There is light or classic rock on the radio and that lovely scent of coffee lingering on the air. My favorite and least favorite part of the position is the people that come in.

Some of them are friendly and we are on a first name basis, some even remembered me even after so long (even if I may not have remembered them, making for a rather awkward conversation where I had to pretend to remember that particular person), and some are like the Hanging Chad Lady, as she has officially been dubbed.

I think that something that should not ever be brought up in a 5 minute conversation with a bartista just trying to get through the day is politics. Even worse, possibly, as this lady did, is bringing up politics from a good long time ago. When I punched her frequent coffee buyer card, the piece of paper did not fall out all of the way and she said "gotta hate those hanging chads huh!" and I agreed that yes, they were quite annoying, and then bid her have a nice day and went off to make her sandwich. She, however, was not finished with her conversation and came over to the sandwich area to continue talking with me, much to my, um... pleasure...

"You must be WAY too young to know what hanging chads are, I guess," she began. I just smiled at her and told her I knew what they were. "Let me tell you about them", she continued, clearly ignoring my last statement. "Hanging chads are from the presidential election in 2000 between two men named Al Gore and George Bush", she said. I wanted it to end right there so I tried to speed up the sandwich making process. She had not only entered into a subject matter that I really did not want to get into ever, but she also severely insulted my intelligence and clearly thought I was around 12 years old, which is actually about how old I was when the election to which she was referring happened. She then said something to this effect: "you see, in Florida, that happened to a bunch of the ballots and then all went to hell because it was an inaccurate count and Bush won". She sounded so angry, and I just wanted to punch her in the face for assuming that I did not know who Bush and Gore are, and also tell her to get over it because that was 11 years ago. Dwelling on something for 11 years is a bit much.

I said "hm, yes" and handed her the sandwich and she exited the shop and my life, hopefully forever.

Review of...The Ides of March

Now, initially I was disappointed because when I exited the movie theater the only moral I believed the movie to have taught me was something I, and I assume most other people, are already well aware of: politics are dirty. I got into my car and began the drive home, still feeling rather disappointed and empty at the lack of this film's ability to tell me something other than that which I already knew. Then, hark! It hit me. The other moral, possibly an even more important one: don't sleep with interns.

Okay, so maybe not a movie which made the greatest points (unless, of course, it was being shown to Clinton back in the Monica days). I still cannot say with a strong conviction that I disliked it. It was a quick film, which I felt was nice for a fun little evening out although it also meant leaving me a bit unfulfilled. But, perhaps that is what director (and star, of course) George Clooney was going for. I cannot be certain.

So, basic premise of the plot: Stephen (Ryan Gosling) is a young man working as the press secretary for the campaign of a Democratic presidential candidate, Mike Morris (George Clooney). Everything seems to be going well, which makes for a rather uneventful beginning of the film in which the audience wonders when, and if things will pick up. Then, of course, a young, blonde intern named Molly (Evan Rachel Wood) gets involved and all goes to hell. The rest of the film is scandal, more scandal, and then a little side of scandal topped with, you guessed it, scandal.

Worth seeing? Sure, why not. Is it going to top any lists any time soon? I hope not. But hey, at least it contains that oh-so-important message that audiences can carry with them the rest of their lives: never sleep with an intern (although the film put it in a bit more vulgar terms than that. I decided to spare your virgin ears).

Sid And Nancy

Let me just begin by saying that if I was not already quitting for my new job, I would have been driven to quit today even if it had meant me being unemployed. Let's just say that things got a little Sid & Nancy today to say the least between Connor and I. If it was legal to hit kids, this would have been the instance where I'd done so.

I suppose I have not filled any of my readers in with what I am doing lately with my post-European life. Let me just say that the spark and excitement has completely extinguished and I have found myself caring for three children (Christopher age 5, Gracie age 7 and Connor age 9) five days a week. Thankfully, I am starting a new job on Tuesday, so I will no longer be pulling a Mary Poppins starting then.

Connor and I have butted heads since I began my position almost immediately upon my return from London, so about a month ago. However, things got really ugly today. Let me say that I pride myself on at least being civil with the children, and nice when they are nice to me. Today I was pushed to the breaking point.

I went to the bus stop to wait for Connor and Gracie, and once they arrived Gracie immediately began recounting her day to me. The gift of gab is strong in her, and I am often thankful for that as it means that I have to conjure up surprisingly little to talk about. Connor, however, was more silent than usual in that he completely ignored not only me when I asked about his day, but also ignored her sister. And she was asking him if he wanted the candy that she earned in class! Even I would be unable to ignore such a question!

After we arrived at the house, Connor laid on the couch and I asked him if he was alright, to which he responded with a nod. He then took his cell phone (yes, he seriously has one at his age) into his room and called one of his parents and began a twenty minute conversation during which he was bawling frantically. Once this unpleasantry ended, I went into his room only to inform him that we all had to leave to get his brother.

I was actually rather frightened by how I found him in his room. He was standing in his closet, arms folded, scowling at me with a demonic expression, tears flooding his bright-red cheeks. I informed him that I was sorry he was upset but that we had to get going, and he screamed "I HATE YOU!". I tried to keep calm but this was one of MANY unpleasant things that he has done to me in the past, and I remembered that Monday was my last day, so I told him in a stern voice that it was not okay to say that to someone and that I was not too fond of him either. The rest of the day I did not say a word to him. The one thing I was thankful for was that his sister told me that he says so to everyone, and that their last babysitter was "actually mean".

I love nannying.

D'accord, Paris, Je T'aime Aussi!

I feel so horrendous for my previous negative statements that I have made towards the lovely, inviting Paris. i do not know why this time was so different, but perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was the company, perhaps it was what we did and what we saw. Most likely it was the combination of all, but I have completely retracted any negative views about the city.

We were only there for one day, and had a rough time getting to the actual city of Paris because of evil Ryanair and their plotting against humanity, but once we were there I fell in love. Last time I think Paris was going through a rough patch, or having her female monthly-time, but whatever it was she was certainly rude to me and completely made up for it in just one short day and night. Upon arrival, we met up with our friend that we met in Galway and he took us to a charming little restaurant where I ordered in French with complete success and the waiter gave us free rose wine because the guy we were with had been in there the past three days.

Afterwards we got a bottle of wine and enjoyed it along the Seine with Notre Dame right behind us, creating the perfect Parisian atmosphere which one thinks only exists in movies. I can assure you now, it is real- the romantic notions of Paris are completely spot-on.

The next day, we did not have much time but went to see the Eiffel Tower and I actually walked up it this time. The views were gorgeous, although my butt and thighs were hurting for a long time after climbing up all of those stairs. Then we went to the Louvre because Dianna wanted to see Mona Lisa despite my warnings that she was tiny and overrated. But it was alright anyways, I got to see the Spanish paintings that I did not know about during my last visit. After that we met with our friend to say our goodbyes and hopped on the metro to the airport. My heart slightly broke upon leaving such a charming place.

A bientot, Paris!

Ryanair Really likes to Mess with Me

Yes, they sure do. As if I have not complained about them enough...
My warning to all who plan to fly into Paris with Ryanair: it is NOT actually flying into PARIS, it is flying into BEAUVAIS. As most minds are unacquainted with what exactly the difference is, let me enlighten you as one who has not only made this mistake once, but somehow twice.

Ryanair messes with people. It is simply in their nature and probably somehow stated in the contracts of the higher-ups. I can see them now, in their smug little suits and greasy mustaches greedily pondering the new ways they can leech off of and piss off their innocent travelers and their lack of knowledge with regard to obscure French cities. Mind you, these are not the same greasy mustache guys who are the ones that want to squeeze money from the poor traveler for the benefit of the company, but rather for simply the loss of money and time that their sneaky actions result in. Like, "hmmm... we cannot really afford things like actual gates for the plane and crap like that so we cannot afford to fly into a real airport in Paris so let's fly into one in some random city kind of close to Paris... Beauvais, you say? Sounds great. Now they will have to pay 30 euros for an hour and a half bus ride into Paris. But on our website, let's say that the airport is IN Paris! BWA HHAHAHAHA!" and then they rub their greasy hands together and smoke fat cigars and chug whiskey.

Point of the story, if you are flying with Ryainair intending to go to Paris, they will drop you off at an airport about 2 hours away and you need to pay about 20 euros to take the bus that brings you to the city. So, it ends up being not the cheapest option. BE WARNED!

The Birthplace of Harry Potter

It seems an age since I have last written, but that will not stop me from entering the dusty attic of my memory and pulling out some tidbits to tell you dear readers of mine, if any of you remain. Leaving Ireland for me is like leaving your dearest love behind; I know that you all have heard me ramble about the undying love I posess now and always for that dear, sweet country. We awoke at 3:30 AM for our flight to Edinburgh and so all was quiet. Normally, I would be irked beyond words to be awake at that time and thus ignore my surroundings as my rage would consume my entire being. However, the air was so crisp and there was a haunting breeze whipping around me and I felt like I was experiencing a moment between just Ireland and me.
Wow, that was the cheesiest story I have ever written. My apologies to you all. That was a story about my undying love for Ireland, now, here comes a long rant about my sheer, undying hatred for Ryanair. Some people in the world do not seem to understand and are even baffled by my desire for that airline to go under. However, should you have had as many horrendous experiences with them as I, you would feel the exact same sentiments. This experience was one of them. We had to check a bag, and in the cases of most airlines, the weight limit is 20 kg. However, Ryanair being the money sucking leeches that they are have a limit of 15 kg. After the lady took our bags and put them down the conveyor belt, she informed us in a snarky tone that we each had to pay for our overweight bags and that we owed 20 euros per kilo over. Now had the not snatched our bags away, we might have been able to repack them. However, she being the slimy creature that she was, she took them away before we had the chance, thus making it so I had to pay 40 euros and Dianna 60 euros. Add that to the amount we had to pay initially to check the bag of 30 euros and it equals a VERY angry Marisa that should have flown on a decent airline as it likely would have been a hell of a lot cheaper. I hate Ryanair, did I mention that yet? They screwed us over as well on our flight to Paris so do not fret, you will all get to hear more of my thoughts on this airline in time.
Edinburgh is a lovely place, especially when you are not dying of some awful illness such as I was the last time I ventured to this fabulous, gothic city. The last time I was there, I had a constant and seemingly incurable sore throat, unsubsiding pressure in both ears, and swollen lymph nodes all over the place. Spanish doctors being as they are, they prescribed me "fizzy tabs" before I departed, and that, as you can imagine, did nothing.
Anyways, that is the past, and irrelevant except to say that this time was much more pleasant. The hostel was fabulous in that it was esentially right beside the castle and the Royal Mile which are the main attractions of Edinburgh. Other than that, it was not a fantastic place to stay, but after weeks of hostels, my expectations had become extremely low. I do not think there was a single room in which we stayed where no one snored. At least this particular snoring person was not the worst. The worst makes an appearance later in my story, so there is that to look forward to.
Many that we have encountered have said that two days is "more than long enough to see Edinburgh". These people must move at light speed or close to it, as we had plenty to do and see for our five day stay. The first day, we met up with my dear friend Craig who attends university in the city. He met us at the Elephant House cafe, which is famous for allegedly being the "birthplace of Harry Potter" as it refers to itself, since J.K. Rowling used to frequent it and apparently got the idea for the series whilst looking out the window at Edinburgh castle. Whether Harry was born there or not I cannot say with certainty, but they can assuredly credit themselves with having some of the best coffee we had in a good long while. Needless to say, we ended up there at least once a day during the remainder of our trip.
Later we decided to hit the cinema as the desire to see a film had not been met in a good long while since departing the states in my case. We decided to see One Day, a melancholy film about fate and love or whatever. It was only okay. One of the highlights of the next day was going to get fish and chips with Craig for dinner. Of course, fish and chips is always a highlight. The thing that made this meal stand out was the rather comedic element of the waitress. Typically, Dianna and I find ourselves needing to request extra tartare sauce, and this was no exception. Our request, however, seemed to completely baffle the waitress beyond reason. Upon asking the young, apparently Eastern European girl, she grew pale and her eyes extremely wide, and uttered "oh...um..." and other single syllable words of confusion before telling us with a tone of panic that she simply did not think it was possible.
Now, I know a lot of requests that may instill panic in an individual, such as "can you please conceal this dead body for me?" or something else of the like, but never did I think that a simple request for tartare sauce could cause such a reaction. Needless to say, we all had a nice little chuckle about it and I sincerely pitied the girl for her apparently very shaky nerves.
After the chippy Craig took us to a vodka bar which had around 30 different flavours of the liquor. Vodka is likely my favorite hard alcohol, so I was most definitely pleased at this endeavor. I believe that I tried the strawberries & creme, chocolate-toffee, white chocolate and birthday cake. They were all quite good but rather lacking in alcohol content, and sorely over-priced.
We decided despite the costliness of the tour, that it would be worth it to see the Scottish highlands and Loch Ness. As I child I was quite fascinated by the legend of the Loch Ness Monster (and still am), so I figured it would be nice to appease my desire to see the Loch up close and get the chance at my own Nessy sighting. However, though the boat was equipped with sonar and I had my camera at the ready, she decided to remain dormant that day. Maybe next time I shall have more luck. Upon returning from our bus tour, we went out on the town with Craig and his mates, and it was um...interesting...and not much more needs to be said about that evening.
The next day I went to see the museum with Craig and his girlfriend Sileas. It was quite nice and newly rennovated so it was different than the first time I went to see it. Fun fact I learned: temperature of alligator/crocodile eggs is what affects their gender. Afterwards I went to the Elephant Cafe and ended up sitting besides an Asian girl who had just had a Ryanair flight and we got to have a nice long chat about our sheer hatred of the airline. After she left a group of Spaniards sat at my table and we spoke in Spanish for a little while- it was nice to practice.
That night we took the most ridiculous ghost tour that I think exists. We took this particular tour as opposed to others as it was a free tour. However, it consisted of following a creepy little man dressed as William Burke (a serial killer from the 18th century who would strangle people and sell their bodies to science) who would rant about tales that were clearly untrue in an accent which was near impossible to understand. Afterwards, we went to Frankenstein's which is a really famous bar in Edinburgh.

Those Last Wonderful Irish Days

I am starting to feel as if no one reads this anymore, but if there are a few lone stragglers out there still following my life, I appreciate the loyalty.

We spent about three days in Dublin which is not nearly sufficient to see everything it has to offer. Dublin does not tug at my heartstrings in the way that Galway does, of course, nor does it piss me off to the degree that Cork does, but it is a nice place nonetheless. We did make the mistake of going to the Temple Bar, desipite warnings of it being a complete tourist trap, and it truly was atrocious.

Basically, the bar was filled with middle-aged American women jumping around to the "Irish" band who basically just played Sweet Home Alabama and Hey Jude over and over, sometimes combining the two. My point I am trying to make is that if you ever get to Dublin, do not even go there to see it because it is famous, it really is a horrendous place and does not represent anything truly Irish in the slightest.

I was rather astounded by the drunkenness in public, and at really odd times in the day, which we experienced to a terrible degree in Dublin. We took the Rick Steve's recommended day trip to see the Megolithic tombs of Knowth and Newgrange which are fantastic and pre-date both the pyramids of Giza and Stonehenge. It was really lovely except for this one horrible woman who was standing beside us in the line while we waited for the little bus to come take us from the tomb back to the visitor's centre.

Thankfully, she was not American, as we have been embarrassed by them on this entire trip, but rather British, in about her mid-40s to early 50s. She was really a piece of work, and said that the ruins were "40% boring and 10% fun". First of all, what happened to the other 50%? Second, what kind of person really has no ability to appreciate something as grand as that? She continued talking to who I assume was her husband the entire time we were in line about mundane things like getting a specific photo to place above the mantle in their living room.

When the bus arrived, the rain did as well, and the lady began to actually yell at the bus driver when he would not let us on because they had to turn around first. I have never felt so bad for anyone as I did right then for that bus driver. I really wanted to punch her in the face on his account. She kept saying things like "oh, are you going to pay for our flus then??" and he just shrugged her off but I wanted to not-so-kindly inform her that if she would just shut up, he could turn the bus around and we could all be warm and dry inside.

Now on to the story that is just... fantastic...the drunken Irish ladies. We somehow encountered two black-out hammered middle aged women in the span of about a half hour. The first was when we were about to get on our bus back to Dublin. A woman wtih scraggly hair stumbled off the bus as she was aided by a couple different people, and the most charming bit was that her pants were falling down as she walked, and were about down to her knees when she passed me. The second was worse still, however. When we were waiting for the bus there was a woman posted up against a wall pouring a bottle of vodka into her coffee cup filled with coke. I was worried as I saw she was boarding our bus, and hoped she would not end up like pants-around-knees lady. However, as we were about halfway to Dublin she completely fell out of her seat into the aisle onto her head. The bus pulled over and for a good 30 minutes we were stopped deciding what to do with her. Eventually, the man she was with escorted her off the bus much to the relief of everyone on the bus. All I can say is that I feel bad for that bus driver...

The World is Full of Idiots

Maybe I just realized it in Europe and it is a worldwide thing, or maybe it is just in Europe. There are a lot of really stupid people around. My "favorites" that I have encountered are the following:

1) People that are walking in front of you and randomly stop: where is the logic behind this action? Especially on a crowded street. It just does not make sense that people are thinking "hm, this is the perfect place to stop so that a crowd of people slam into me!"

2) People that walk at an unbearably slow pace. I completely get the whole walking at a relaxing pace, but what i do not understand is when people walk so slowly that it would take about an hour to get somewhere that would normally take about 15 minutes. I personally do not want to die of old age just trying to go 1/4 of a mile down the road.

3) People in a group that decide to completely block a sidewalk making it impossible for people to get through.

Those Crazy Irish...

More reasons I love Galway...
1) The people. Everyone there is just excellent for various reasons. Our first day we got lost and asked a lady who appeared to be in a hurry if she knew where our hostel was and she stopped for us and walked us most of the way. When you walk down the street, random people say hello or wave or give you a high five. It is just an excellent vibe throughout the city.
2) It is a city, but has the feel of a town. How do I explain this? Galway is not enormous, you can certainly walk to all of the sites, which I find very plesant. Public transport gives me a headache you cannot imagine, and not having to use it boosts a city up to a very high spot on my list.
3) Preserved tradition of the region: the Connemara area and the Aran Islands, both directly outside of Galway city, are still home to traditional farmers and gorgeous, sweeping landscapes. The inhabitants of these areas still even speak Gaelic. These areas are so peaceful and serene and truly genuine.
After leaving my dear, sweet Galway and the Aran Islands, Dianna and I headed to Killarney with a guy we had met in Galway from California who was also traveling Ireland. While in NY with my cousin this past summer, the extemely Irish bartender told us that he was from Killarney and that it was worth a visit, so we decided to check it out. The city was just alright, nothing phenomenal, but the National Park was breathtaking. We rented bikes and saw the Ross castle before continuing around the lakes and pausing briefly to look at an old monastary. We also had a little bread and cheese break on the rocky shores of one of the lakes to relax and dip our feet in the cool, clear water. One thing I learned in Killarney is that fast food fish and chips is NOT a good idea. It may seem like it when it is late and you are starving, but that was one of the grossest things I have ever eaten.
Now on to reasons that I despise Cork, where Dianna and I went for just one day after Killarney, and why I hope never to return:
1) The city smells like raisins, but not in a good way: I love raisins, but I don't love walking around a sketchy town full of sketchy people while the smell of raisins wafts about me. Gross.
2) A bad attitude: ok, so Dublin is not my favorite city in the world, that award has already been given to Galway. However, Dublin is incomprably superior to Cork in every way. Yet, Cork has to boast this stupid cocky attitude all of the time by claiming to be the "true capital of Ireland". Cork is like the rebel American
3) Commercialization and globalization: the city seems exactly like any big city in the United States in that the only stores that line the main walking area could be seen in my hometown. McDonald's littered the old streets that I would have loved if they were lined with traditional pubs instead.
As you can all imagine, I was rather devastated upon leaving Cork to go to Waterford. Except that I wasn't because Cork was a dreadful place. Waterford was a place I had always wanted to see ever since my father brought me back a pristine crystal horse from the famous factory years ago. The factory really was quite a sight to see, and I was happy for once that I look so insanely young because the lady at the counter assumed I was under 18 and gave me the child admission which was only 4 euro when I should have had to pay about 10.
Our stay in Waterford was overall pleasant, it is a bit more quiet there as it is less youth-oriented than cities like Galway. We had a rather horrendous night at the hostel, however, as we were sharing a room with the most obnoxious Irish and English guys I have ever had the "pleasure" of meeting. They left the room and came back in twice, extremely drunk, and were singing and talking for hours. Needless to say, not much sleeping was done that night. The next day, we intended to go on a walking tour of Waterford which focused mainly on the Viking history. We found out that they don't generally run on weekends, but the tour guide, an enthusiastic little Irish man, agreed to take just Dianna and I around the town.
Dublin came next. I have quite a lot of stories about it but am a little sick of typing, so I will just give a brief summary to keep you in suspense: drunk bus lady, the dreadful temple bar, and angry Brits.

Galway is the Best City in the World

Well, perhaps I cannot really say that seeing as how I would have needed to visit every single city before making such a declaration. However, I have a feeling that I will never love a place as much as I love that gorgeous little city on Ireland's coast. I was only frustrated with my dear, sweet Galway for a brief instant upon arriving at a different bus stop as last time and thus being uncertain of where the hostel was. Though, it was not the city's fault, really, it was my memory's. The hostel was just as nice as last time, perhaps even more so because this time we had a room en suite.

The first night there was a Saturday, and I was not ready at all for the sheer insanity of the city on the weekend. Last time I was in Galway it was mid week during the end of March, thus the pubs were esentially empty. This time, it was certainly not the case. All of the women were dressed to impress which Dianna and I certainly did not do, we decided to sport the jeans and long sleeve shirts look. This was remedied the second night however after we felt completely out of place on the first.

We still had fun, however, we went to the hot spots in town and could barely squeeze through the crowds. We met the usual dose of strange people but also some nice ones throughout the night. There was a shocking amount of stag and hen parties (as they refer to bachellor and bachellorette parties) about, and it was just an overall crazy amount of people.

More to come!

Sausage Skins

As previously stated, Dianna and I made our way on a rather uncomfortable train to Munich. Though our stay in Munich was brief, it was definitely entertaining. Munich is a lovely place with a bustling atmosphere and tremendous food! I could easily live off of sauerkraut and sausages followed by a warm apple strudel smothered in vanilla sauce. After arriving at our hostel and making ourselves feel a tiny bit less repulsive after the sweaty train ride, we headed out to what is likely the most well-known beer garden in Munich: the Hofbrauhaus. We got a tip from a local to try the veal sausages- a strange, white sausage served piping hot with sweet mustard. We began to eat the sausage despite the rubbery skin and were quickly greeted with laughter from the table beside us. The German man told us that we were supposed to remove the skin, which we immediately realized made the entire experience better. The food at this brewhouse, especially the desserts, were truly phenomenal and despite the association of this brewery as extremely touristy, it is worth it in my oh-so-humble opinion, if you ever find yourselves in Munich's welcoming arms.

Ice is an Amazing Thing

Sorry I have not posted in a few days, there was a slight issue with internet use and I am making up for that now in Munich. So, brace yourselves for the longest post in the history of this blog.
Well, I am not sure what the deal is, but there seems to be a general lack of A/C usage in Germany. Also their trains suck, especially after I was so spoiled with awesome Czech trains. Dianna and I are currently en route to Munich on the most uncomfortable train ever. There are what appear to be signs informing us of the air conditioning on this train, so I am not sure if they are not using it intentionally to make us suffer, or if this particular train does not have it, or if it is so ungodly hot outside and there are way too many people and their bags stuffed into too small of a space and the combination of such things cancels out any affect the air conditioning would have.
It is time for me to list the little things that I completely miss about the states, and what I am looking forward to upon my return.
1) ICE- in general, I have not encountered any use of ice in beverages in Europe. When I am sweating like a pig in 90 to 100 degree weather, all I really want is a free water filled with ice. But even the things that they refrigerate are not that cold at all, which is extremely disappointing.
2) Free water- I am so sick of drinking lukewarm bottled water after lukewarm bottled water. I just want to be able to go to a restaurtant and be presented with a nice glass of cold, ice water and be able to drink as much as I want of it for free.
3) Free bathroom usage- all I really have to say on this topic is when nature calls, you should be able to take care of that without having to drop ,70 euro.
Okay, now I should probably stop complaining and get to the good part. Lake Constance was truly quite a wonder. I know that I never would have visited this heavenly location if not for my friend residing there, so I am extemely thankful for that. It was also an ideal spot because of it's proximity to both Switzerland and Austria. Because of that, we were able to take a day trip to Bregenz, Austria to do a bit of walking around on the mountain there. It was a gorgeous mountain, we are talking lush greenery, gorgeous views of more mountains and Lake Constance, and even a small zoo and playground at the top. I particularly enjoyed when an elderly German man went down the slide while smoking a cigarette in the playground.
Also, fun fact time, Bregenz is where part of Quantum of Solace was filmed during the scene where they were at the opera. So, now maybe I will recognize it when I see the movie next, although that may not happen because it was not a very high-quality flick.
Ah this will be an enjoyable train ride, there is a lady sitting across from me staring angrily and a group of drunken teen males behind me, conversing much too loudly to be acceptable in public with two six packs on their little table. In a couple more uncomfortable hours, we shall be in Munich and ready to start another adventure.

Berlin Stories and The Worst Car Ride EVER

8/24/11

Wow, Lake Constance is amazing. I almost thought that I would never make it here, though. My friend Anna who lives here arranged for Dianna and I to get a ride with a girl from Berlin to Lake Constance yesterday at 8:30 AM. Everything was going well at first; we met up with her fine and she seemed nice enough despite the difficulty she had understanding Dianna and my English. The ride in the car was supposed to take 8 hours, so we should have been there by 4:30. Timewise, we were doing amazingly until we hit the halfway point. Around noon, we hit the WORST traffic jam I have ever been in, let alone seen or heard about, in my entire life. To make matters worse, it was on the hottest day in Germany for that year- about 102 degrees. So, we were completely stuck in a stop-and-go traffic jam for literally three hours and resulting in Dianna and I playing a game where we listed all of the things we would rather be doing than being stuck in a car with NO A/C in that horrible, horrible traffic jam. Upon reaching the end, it turned out that it was all the result of a tiny amount of construction- I have never been so pissed off in my entire life.

Berlin August 22, 2011
I am amazed at the sheer amount of strange people that Dianna and i have encountered thus far on our European adventure. I guess the list is about at this point: British bartender in Copenhagen, creepy Copenhagen guys, the cool Copenhagen kayak guys, the sketchy smokers, the Air Berlin eye-candy seating host and sex-obsessed army Bryan. I should probably elaborate for all of your sakes.
1) British bartender in Copenhagen: on our first night in Denmark, Dianna and I went to the Old English Pub where we encountered a very friendly bartender. He kept telling us not to convert the prices, and we chatted about our trip and it was very pleasant.
2) Creepy Copenhagen guys: Dianna and I were walking in Copenhagen to try and find a place to eat our delicious supermarket dinner when all of a sudden we were stopped by two guys asking us for directions, but were clearly not lost at all. They said that it was obvious that we were Americans, which is not the first step towards making a good impression, and we parted ways, only to be chased down by them two minutes later when they asked if they could join us to our destination. They were alright, one was from Africa and one from Portugal, but we were very happy when we parted ways from them.
3) Cool Copenhagen Kayak Guys: Dianna and I were enjoying a 5$ bottle of wine along the pier and in the water below us were three men in kayaks. They were friendly, requested that we please not drop our bottle on their heads, asked us what our plans were in Copenhagen, and then were on their merry way. It was nice- they were not creepy, simply friendly and interested, and gave us a good impression of the locals.
4) The Sketchy Smokers: okay these guys were totally creepy. Upon the departure of the kayak guys, these two men in about their late forties parked their boat directly underneath us. They said "hi" to us and then they were clearly gossiping about us in Danish for a long time while smoking about 20 cigs.
5) The Air Berlin Eye-Candy Flight Attendant: This guy was amazing. He completely made the flight from Copenhagen to Berlin. He was one of the most attractive men I have seen in my entire life and it made me wish that the flight was longer than one measly hour.
6) Sex-Obsessed Army Bryan: He was an um...interesting....person. Basically, we were in the bar in our AMAZING hostel and he spoke to Dianna while she was getting a drink and was really enthused to learn that we were from the states, and especially that I was born in MD because he was from there. So, he sat with us and went on and on about how he was in the army and how he loved photography and then decided to give us a WAY too detailed account of his trip to the zoo where he watched elephants have sex. It was extremely graphic and unnecessary and his horrible descriptions will never leave my brain. Thank you so much for that, Bryan....

I hope they make I Heart Berlin T-Shirts...

With Berlin... it was love at first sight. And my first sight of it happened to be the unbelievably sexy flight attendant for Air Berlin. I was skeptical about them as an airline until I sat down and saw that amazing piece of eye candy walking down the aisle. I wish it had been a longer flight just so I could check him out a little bit longer. Also, they gave us free chocolate muffins. So... A+ for Air Berlin. They have climbed up the airline-quality ladder right to where Czech Airlines is. If that hot man leaves their service, however, it might be a different story.

Oh Berlin, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways (so far, and I have only been here for a couple of hours):

1) Super attractive flight attendant man

2) Friendly residents- Dianna and I were hopelessly lost looking for our hostel and three nice people led us to the hostel.

3) NORMAL PRICES! I could not have been any more excited when I saw that a cocktail was only 4 euros. I wanted to hug the waitress upon realizing that truly, not everywhere is like Copenhagen.

4) One of the best hostels of my life thus far. I thought that nothing would ever be as amazing as Yes! Hostel in Lisbon. However, this is a gorgeous building, has one of the cleanest restrooms I have ever seen in my life, and an awesome bar right downstairs. Maybe I will just spend the next two days sitting here and drinking and playing pool instead of actually seeing the city...

Wow, this place is wonderful. Tomorrow we will go to see the Holocaust Memorial, Hitler's bunker and the Berlin wall. I almost wish I was staying here longer!

The C in Copenhagen stands for: Costs a LOT

So if any of you are planning a trip to Copenhagen, you must be aware of the following:
1) Be prepared to spend the money you would hope to spend in about 10 days in just one. No joke. I cannot emphasize enough the sheer cost of absolutely everything there. Perhaps it seemed so extreme to me because of the drastic constrast from the Czech Republic's low prices, but regardless, I was disappointed and I feel like it limited my fun a lot.
2) In Denmark, every credit card needs a pin. I am not sure how this is the case, because I feel like a lot of credit cards in the states do not even HAVE a pin. That is for debit cards. Therefore I am confused because where is this alleged credit card pin supposed to come from? If it does not exist in the first place, how is one supposed to know it?
3) The birds poop on you. Or maybe I am just so lucky and they only poop on me, who knows. Either way, it was one of the grossest experiences of my life and I really thought I was going to throw up. It had amazing accuracy, too.
Now it is time to complain a little bit about the hostel. Shockingly, the hostels were also unbelievably expensive, so we decided to go with the absolutely cheapest one possible, Danhostel, but not the one that was downtown in a central location, but the one that was ungodly far away. In retrospect, it may have actually been cheaper to stay in the central one because it would have meant no expensive bus fares to the city center every day. Also, when we got there they informed us of a lot more fees that we needed to cover such as renting linens since we did not bring our own and the fee for the "guest hostel card" which is one of the most vague expenses I have ever heard of. Also, we got the pleasure of sharing a room with some of the most obnoxious people I have ever encountered. They did not in any way attempt to be quiet the first night when they came in around 3 or 4 AM and they also turned on all of the lights and were talking in a normal volume and getting ready for about an hour. Also, they left at the crack of dawn on our last day and did the exact same thing.
Okay i feel like I have been complaining this whole time. I just want to clarify that most of the issues stemmed simply from insufficient funds. I had as good of a time as my pocketbook allowed and still did enjoy the sights. Tivoli gardens was a very nice area, there were stunning flowers and fountains and it was really pleasing to the eye. We even got to go on one ride, Hans Christian Andersens Wonderful World, because the worker felt bad for us dumb Americans that could not figure out the credit care machine. It was essentially the Danish version of the It's A Small World ride in Disneyland, but it featured all of the H.C. Andersens fairytales and did not feature a horribly repetitive tune. On that same note, we also went to go and see the Little Mermaid statue. Once again, the H.C. Andersens version, not Disney. So in this case it was a depressed mermaid. She really did look lonely, but at least she was surrounded by more gorgeous flowers, a nice park to stroll around in, and one of my new favorite fountains. I am not sure who it was of, it was some goddess-type woman with a whip riding a chariot pulled by four bulls. It was quite a sight, however.
Now I am waiting at the airport in Copenhagen next to my friend Dianna who is fast asleep. Living proof of the fantastic sleep quality providad by Danhostel. Our flight to Berlin has been delayed 40 minutes. Oh the joys of traveling :)

Last Thoughts on Prague

Wow, the Backstreet Boys just came on in the cafe I am sitting in and I just got way too excited about that...
So today I discovered another one of the reasons that everyone seems a lot more angry in Europe, whether they truly are or not. Here, there is always the issue of language and language barriers, one of which leads to the appearance of everyone being totally pissed. When I run into people here or hit them on the bus with my suitcase which seems to happen much more than would ever be considered normal, I never know which language I need to say "sorry" and/or "excuse me" in. I have thankfully learned it in various languages, but I don't want to say "prominta, lo siento, izvinitye, je suis desolee, sorry" so I just kind of awkwardly walk past and mumble whichever one comes to mind. Point being that despite my sincere desire to apologize for my spazzy nature, I just feel like I can't.
In the past few years, I have been on many, many different airlines including some of the best like Southwest and some of the very worst, like Ryanair. My new favorite by far is certainly Czech Airlines. They are friendly which is awesome, give you a meal even on a short flight (mine was 2 hours) and wine and the best coffee I have had in a long time. Today i will be flying with Cimber Sterling, whose name alone sounds extremely suspicious, so wish me luck on that one.

In case anyone happens to be going to the Czech Republic anytime soon, I have a few tips for you:
1) Do NOT stay at the Hotel Svaty Jan. Not only is it completely impossible to pronounce that name, but it is likely the most overpriced and overrated hotel in which i have ever stayed. The hotel is located in a historical building that upon passing I initially thought was some sort of important monument. This might sound cool, but basically just seems more like a creepy horror movie set. I was terrified by every tiny sound I heard and my room had vaulted cielings and windows facing a dark, sculpture-filled courtyard with cast-iron bars over them. My room was right next to the lobby as well meaning I could hear the obnoxious doorbell sound made everytime someone needed to be buzzed in. Worse yet, the employees were typically smoking outside, talking loudly with eachother so it echoed throughout the building, or napping on the lobby couch and so they never heard the first ring, meaning I had to hear the horrible doorbell sound at least three times per guest. The hotel allows dogs, which I suppose is good for their owners, but not good for their room neighbors who are trying to sleep and do not want to be woken up 6 times a night (I'm refering to me). On the second day it got even BETTER when a SECOND couple with a dog checked in and was staying across the hall so the dogs would bark to each other. How nice. The employees were all horrible, too. I mostly just had to deal with one woman, but she never really seemed to be doing her job. She also seemed beyond annoyed whenever I asked her for anything. I wanted to suggest to her that maybe customer service was not the best job choice for her personality...
2) Tip two would be to go to the Charle's Bridge during one of two times: ridiculously early or in the rain. I was actually rather surprised at the deterring powers of the rain, it turned the bridge from being covered with tourists packed together like sardines and almost unable to move to a lovely, almost empty and extremely charming place to be.
3) It's not just about the Pilsner. Everyone seems to think that it is the absolute best beer without a doubt of the Czech Republic, but I enjoyed the dark Kozel much more.
4) AVOID Cafe Mystic at all costs! This little restaurant may seem charming at first, but that is an extremely decieving facade. The name is fitting, however; the waiters provide you with a "mysterious" menu which conviniently leaves out the prices. Upon asking for a menu which does include them, you can instantly discover why. They also include a few mysterious upcharges on the bill which jack the prices up about 20%, and then are extremely evasive explaining these charges.

Bats Flying Amock and a Strangled Tavern Mistress

I know that you are all quite intrigued by that title there. So, without further ado...

Yesterday the Farmers and I (family friends who also happened to be in Prague) decided that we wanted to have a unique Czech experience and do something that was not listed in the guidebooks. The hotel clerk woman told us to go to the zoo because it is one of the top 10 in Europe and not very touristy. Not touristy is completely right. On one hand it meant much lower prices. Food there was unbelieveably cheap. At one point the worker just got too confused when we tried to speak English with him and charged us way too little but just wanted us to leave so he told us it was ok.

First strange thing: admission price for dogs. People here are crazy about their dogs, I have never seen so many Yorkshire terriers in handbags with bows in their hair. So, people would rather pay than leave their dogs at home while they spend the day at the zoo. Second really strange thing was the sheer amount of naked children running around, and in some cases nature would call and they would take care of it in the nearest patch of grass... not normal. Third thing was the indoor exhibit called the "Indonesian Jungle". As we entered, there was a whoosh of air and a bat flew right by us. Yes, there were bats freely flying around in the entire building. And there was a pitch black hallway at one point and they were flapping around madly, it was terrifying. Upon opening the curtain to leave the terrifying hall, one was waiting on the other side and flew right into my friend's face. How is that even legal!?

All in all, it was definitely quite the experience and the animals were really active and interesting so I would recommend it, just not the bat building unless that kind of encounter sounds fun to you.

Tonight we went to a restaurant recommended by Rick Steves. The name translated to The Rope-Maker's Wife and on the menus included what was labeled as the "charming" story about her. She was a lovely woman who seduced all men, but she only loved her husband and was always faithful. However, she often got lonely because her husband was always off making ropes in foreign lands, so she asked him to build her a pub so she could stay entertained. He did so, and there were always men oggling her but she was still faithful. However, her rope-maker husband heard that she offered her customers "other services" (direct quote from the menu) so he rushed home to strangle her with his self-made rope. Now she is doomed to haunt the pub forever until she helps everyone with their love problems. Nice story, right?

Ah, family...

I am really happy that I went to visit my grandfather's village. I got to meet my great uncle who looks exactly like James Cromwell. They call him Unlce Standa which is short for some Czech name which I could never remember, let alone try to spell. So i will refrain from that. Anyways, he was so nice and showed me pictures of my grandfather's family and showed me around his home which is the one in which my grandfather was born. He also did a shot of Slivo with me and he gave me what is equivalent to 60 dollars in cash. I love family.

Lot of Blogs!

Hello to my loyal followers who have missed me oh-so-much and to my not-so-loyal followers who did not even notice how long it has been since I last posted. Basically, I have had limited or no internet access for the past few days, so I have been typing blogs on my computer and will now post them all chronologically, typing the actual date on which I wrote them in the title. So, ignore the title that the blog site says, and only pay attention to what I write.

August 9, 2011

So, my last day in St. Petersburg was interesting as my English-speaking friend who was translating for me the whole time I was in Russia left in the morning, a good six hours or so before me. So, after saying our goodbyes, I left his parents' apartment with friend of my friend's mother and her daughter to go and see the Hermitage museum, as I had not yet done so. I could tell that the family friend and her daugher, a 13-year-old girl, were very nice people. I mean, it is not often that friends will take a foreign friend of their friends' kids to state sites and wait in painfully long lines just to suit their fancies. This woman and her daughter were willing to do so, and for that I am eternally greatful. I did realize by being around them that I literally sound retarded speaking in Russian around people who speak it as their mother tongue. As we walked around the city, I got overly excited whenever I saw anything of which I knew the word in Russian. So, picture this: we were walking around the sidewalk and suddenly I pointed and shouted "orange flowers!" or "big cat!" like a toddler learning to speak. Then they looked at me and said something along the lines of "yes, yes very good!!" just like proud parents. So, after this happened a number of times, the lady and her daughter started wondering if I was just inept with language or with life itself, and so they started pointing to things and saying what they were, and making sure I was able to get on the escalator alright. It is so tough not to be able to communicate properly with people. But we ended up making it all right, and the three of us had a good time and we shared some laughs and some eye-rolls at the horrendously long lines outside the Hermitage. I will always be thankful to them for their patience with me.

August 9, 2011

So upon turning on my computer, I saw that the St. Petersburg airport has free internet and thought to myself, "wow, this is literally the only positive thing about this horrible, horrible airport". Everyone is mean, you go from one line that moves about an inch every 10 minutes to the next, and they make you show your passport about 70 times. Thereofre, I really should not have been shocked when the alleged "free internet" did not work. Then, I thought, it was possibly just done by the employees at this crazy place to mess with travelers. I mean, I felt like a cow being herded everywhere by a dog nipping at my heels for the whole hour and a half it took me just to get my boarding pass and go through the passport check. Actually, maybe not a cow, because they at least like being in tight knight groups together. I felt like just one more gross and sweaty person amongst a ton of other sweaty and angry people trying to not-so-sneakily cut in front of me in line. That is one thing that gets on my nerves in Europe. Why does everyone have to be so panties-in-a-knot all the time? It just seems illogical to me. I feel like the high level of anger eminating from the stern faces of Europeans is one of the reasons that many of them dislike Americans. They look at us crazy folk smiling at people and saying "hello" and "how are you" and actually talking to our friends on the metro and think "wow, Americans are really annoying". I guess my theory is that Americans look really hyperactive and annoying because of the way that Europeans are quiet and solemn-faced all the time.

August 8, 2011

I had a good last few days here in Russia. A group of us went to Peterhof for the day and it was seriously breathtakingly gorgeous. It is the place where the Czars had their summer palace and let me just say, I would not mind living there in the slightest. There were extrordinary foundtains everywhere and buildings colvered in gold and flowers in extravagant patters all around. I completely understand now why the word Sveti was the first one that Rosetta Stone taught me. Not only are all the babushki selling them on every street corner, but basically every other store along the street is a Sveti shop. It was nice, it definitely brightened up the city.

So I think that relativity can be a funny thing. Story time! When I went to study abroad in Spain I would get super excited whenever I heard someone speaking English. It would be the kind of thing that would completely brighten my day. When I was in Russia these past few days, hearing Spanish or French was the most exciting thing ever because essentially no one spoke English and I was completely lost in a world of Russian. Now this whole thing has gotten to a ridiculous level where I got really excited when I heard Russian in the Czech Republic. I was excited for that, but then excited to a ridiculous level when there was a British couple at my bus stop. They were so helpful, they spoke Czech and English and basically told me exactly where I needed to go and what to do to get where I was meeting my second cousin. I did not even get their names, but we talked for a long time and they are officially my heroes of the day. Who knows if I would have even made it here without them?

August 10, 2011

Today was Brno. It was interesting, there are odd legends about everything in the city which is odd to say the least. The main one of the city, I suppose, was the one about the "dragon". And by dragon I mean large crocidile, but I guess there is an ongoing argument amongst the citizens of Brno whether it is a dragon or a crocodile and trust me, it is a crocodile (or alligator?), I saw it. Basically the story goes that long, long ago there was a huge "dragon" terrorizing the entire village and everyone was too scared to try and kill it until a traveling butcher came along and fed the dragon a dried lime, which made the dragon thirsty and it drank until the lime in it's stomach expanded and burst, thus killing the dragon. Ok, fine. So, this story raises a plethora of questions for me. One, since when is there such thing as a "traveling butcher"? Why would there ever be a need for such a profession? Do they run out of things to kill in their town of residence and need to move on? I just do not understand that. Also, the alleged "dragon" is now hanging in the town hall, and I saw it. It happens to be an average-sized alligator/crocidile (if Brno was argueing about which of those two aforementioned creatures it was, that would provide more valid. Dragon vs. alligator, however, not so much). Why were the townspeople so afraid to kill an average-sized reptile? I get that it is just a legend, but still.

August 13, 2011

My grandfather was and still is certainly a celebrity in his hometown of Vlcnov in the Czech Republic, and now I can say that I am one, too. Why is my grandfather a celebrity here? And, why am I now one? All in due time, my dear readers. Let's begin with the first question you persistantly asked me. I have realized that everyone here, even complete randos, knows my grandfather. I was wandering around the wine-making region of the village, and we were lucky enough to run into an elderly man walking into his wine cellar, so he allowed us to go in and have a look. My family mentioned to him who I am and who my grandfather is, and he got really excited and said that he and my grandfather shared a few laughs during his last visit in the early 2000s, and he made me sign his guest book. Then we were walking back to the car and we ran into another man who let us into his wine cellar and the exact same thing happenned. I felt really cool, and even more proud to be the granddaughter of Antonin Mostek than I already was. But, that is not even why I am a celebrity. When my second cousin and I arrived in Vlcnov, we looked around a bit and then hit up a couple of museums. The first was the museum of Slivovice which is esentially the moonshine of the Czech Republic. Then, we went to the old preserved building with an original rooftop and a ton of preserved artifacts inside. While in aforementioned building, a man heard me speaking in English and asked where I was from and why I was visiting. Then he told me that he and his crew were producing an informative film about the southern region of the Czech Republic and asked if I was willing to be interviewed for the film. Uhm, yes! I may have only been in that region for about a half an hour, but the offer of my fifteen minutes of fame made me suddenly very talkative about Vlcnov.

Fish Jerky

People here really like seafood in all forms. As previously mentioned, this includes fish egg flavored potato chips. Also includes strips of dried out fish and squid, sushi and more. I guess the whole being located along water has something to do with this...

I have been to Europe before for an extended period of time, but I have never experienced a language barrier to such an extreme degree as I am experiencing right now. It is very strange to spend hours upon hours with people and only understand when they say the few words and phrases that the first level of Russian Rosetta Stone provides you with. "Big dog", "I am thirsty", and the numbers 1-60 are a few examples. Despite this language barrier, however, it amazes me that I still feel a connection with those that I meet, and still feel that we are able to communicate.

I have a very odd roommate here at the hostel who speaks French, English and Russian and is from Montreal. A tan woman in her early to mid thirties, I would guess, named Olga. She has the bunk above me and really likes telling me about her numerous dates with Russian men, often in detail that I simply do not want to know.

In case anyone reading this is thinking about visiting St. Petersburg, here is my advice after spending a little over two days here:
1) Learn at least enough Russian to get around, or travel with someone who speaks it.
2) Use the restroom EVERY time you are near one- they are rather sparse around here leading me to believe that all Russians have bladders of steel
3) If you want to blend in, dress like you are going clubbing no matter where you go- also, NO SNEAKERS

That is all for now. I am exhausted and tomorrow is going to be a long day of sight-seeing. 

Monkeys and Bears, Oh My!

Russia is a strange, strange place.
It took me a little while to realize it. Yes, the women are a lot better looking than anywhere else I've seen. Yes, there is basically nothing in English. Yes, there is a completely abnormal amount of flower shops and absolutely no one smiles at you. However, none of this seemed bizarrely out of the ordinary. The thing that really did it for me was the man holding the two monkeys and the parrot in the park. We were on our way to take a boat ride down the Neva river, and there he was, the man with the monkeys and bird, standing next to (yes, seriously) the woman with the BEAR on a leash ready to take your picture for the low, low price of 200 rubles.
This led me to wonder so many things. 1) Is that even legal? 2) Where does the bear/the monkeys/the parrot go after their long day of exploitation? 3) Do I even want to know the answers to these things? I am going to assume no.
Oh, this is on a completely unrelated note, but they also have fish egg flavored potato chips here.

Scrubs Look Good on Everyone

Well, the only positive thing I can say about my dad being in the ICU is that I feel like I am in an episode of Scrubs whenever I am there. All of the ICU employees were awesome and really friendly, and it amazes me that they are always so bubbly and amiable because they definitely see a lot of butts every day. Thankfully my dad is moving to a regular room tomorrow out of intensive care, but I will say that I will miss the doctor that looks like Doug from the Hangover (or, if you prefer, the guy from National Treasure), and the Paul Bettany guy and sweet, older nurse who was constantly warning me not to go into the medical field because of all the work, and nurse with somewhat of a mid western accent.

Baby Clothes

I was babysitting for my cousin today and naturally, after lunch, her 1 and a half year old baby needed a whole new outfit. Maybe for an experienced mother it would have taken about 10 minutes to get him dressed, but for me, it took about 30. I guess my question here is, why must some baby clothes be so difficult? I feel like this particular outfit was designed by someone who really wanted to piss off babysitters. It had like 80 buttons, and not the kind that just look like they are buttons but are actually snaps and really easy. Also, it was a one-sy with pants and sleeves, and not stretchy material, and it is not like a baby is going to help get itself dressed, but rather is going to squirm around and make it as difficult as possible. My idea- babies should only wear those really easy -to-get-on pants and shirts, and not things designed by rocket scientists.

I'm in An Empire State of Mind

I admit it, I hate to sound cliche, but I <3 NY.
There, I said it. There might be unpleasant smells akin to Indian food wrapped in a used diaper eminating out of the grates on the street, there might be hundreds of thousands of people cramming into way too small of a space and drivers and pedestrians with a complete disregard for any sort of traffic laws, but aren't these things part of the charm? As we drove away, I couldn't help but miss that dear, sexy tease of a city who had officially claimed another to add to her millions of lovers around the world. I now have a crush on her just like I would on a person- I felt super nervous and giddy in her presence.

I got to NYC and felt star-struck immediately- I was looking at the biggest celebrity of my life; the city herself. My cousin and I saw Central Park, Madison Square, Times Square, the Empire State Building, the new World Trade Center and of course, Lady Liberty. We had really good pizza for only 1$ a slice, which ended up being the even remotely resonably-priced thing we purchased the whole trip.

If anyone want my recommendation about bars in NYC, I will tell you, and you will read it even if you don't want to know. Skip the fancy, ritzy places where the snobs hang out and check your ID twice because they REALLY do not belive that you are 21. Which reminds me of another story from a couple days ago where someone did not believe that I was 21, but that is for another time, so someone needs to remind me to tell that later. Anyways, definitely go to the smaller, more quaint bars on the side-streets. In our case, it was Playwright, which was a little Irish bar with a VERY Irish bartender. I ended up meeting someone who was born in the same hospital as me. How presh.

I am back in DC now, the city that gets a solid 8 hours of sleep a night. It is much cleaner, but I will dream about my new love, NYC, tonight.

Ariel's Black and Deaf Mermaid Friend

The other day I was babysitting my cousin's two daughters in Blaine, Minnesota. After dinner, we were all really excited to watch Gnomeo and Juliet. However, the difficulty of trying to figure out how to get the Blu-Ray player to function on my cousin's TV was on par with disabling an atomic bomb. Thus, after about a half an hour of trying all of the different inputs, outputs, throughputs, and any other "puts", my father somehow figured out how to get it on the DVD player. NOT the Blu-Ray, mind you, so all of our Gnomeo and Juliet desires quickly were ripped out from under us. However, the messing with the TV became like building a house of cards, and we were too scared to touch anything else on the remotes.

The remotes reminded me of a particularly hilarious stand-up comedian named Kyle Cease, as he ranted about the sheer complexity of remotes, especially the ones at other peoples' houses. "You press one button and their blender starts, another and their dog dies and you sit there thinking 'you have a dog death button? Why would you want a button for that...?'"

Anyways, back to the story. So, we told the girls they had to choose a DVD, and I am pretty sure they chose the worst one out there: Princess Stories. It was basically a collection of horribly "heart-felt" stories told by the Disney Princesses that were supposed to teach life lessons to little girls. My particular favorite was the story told by Ariel, better known as the Little Mermaid. This was during her pre-human years, and she was swimming around with her little aquatic friends and saw a human dancing, and decided that she could never be happy until she could express herself with her legs and dance. Somehow (I was not paying that detailed of attention) she met a black, deaf mermaid girl and her interpreter-octopus who felt that she would never be happy until she could sing. So the black deaf mermaid tells Ariel that she knows of a place that they could go to wish on a giant starfish and get their wishes, but that it would be a very dangerous journey. It was about a 15-20 minute short story, so the journey was not all that perilous. However, when they reached the giant starfish it turned out that for some reason he could no longer preform magic. How sad. But then, the girls learn that they can ALREADY express themselves, JUST THE WAY THEY ARE!

Isn't that touching on so many levels? Well, you would think so, but right after Ariel learns that it is okay to be a mermaid, doesn't she turn into a human anyways? How do you think her black and deaf friend feels about that? Probably not too happy...

Drove to Chicago...

My feet hurt. I can barely keep my eyes open. I am tired and cranky. But still so excited to be in Chicago. I love spending time with everyone here for they all mean a lot to me- I have loved learning about my grandfather's past. No one has lived a life quite like his.

The ride here from MN was actually rather painless. One of my favorite parts was the various entertaining billboards we saw on the side of the road. Two of them in particular stood out to me as being particularly hilarious: one was for an "adult fantasy shop SLASH bakery" and the other was for "Fireworks and cheese".
I am a little concerned about these combinations and wondering who it is that is shopping at these places. I guess  I should think less hard about it and just think "only in Wisconsin..."

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” – St. Augustine

Isn't that a perfectly perfect quote?
I agree. Anyways, I am about to embark, trying to relax at the moment and lying in bed before the first flight that kicks off my adventure. I wish I could do this for my entire life. I also wish I was more interesting at this moment, but trust me, it will get more entertaining.