10. I look awful.... I have an eye infection and the world's biggest pimple at the same time!!
9. I hiked a mountain in flat sandals from Target today. It was like, 560 km UP. STRAIGHT UP. So badass
8. This hostel (Travellers House) is nicer than my home in Arlington
7. I think the Netherlands are stalking us, I have about six friends that hail from the land of blonde.
6. Portugese is a weird language, it's like Spanish with a Russian accent with a couple of French words tossed in the mix. Why did no one take them over (oh wait....) and make them learn a more valuable language?
6. b. I am not French, but people seem to think saying "yes" and "thank you" and nodding and smiling qualifies so I let them rest easy.
5. Alfama is the most confusing place in the world. The only way we don't get lost once we get out the front door is because of the 1755 earth quake.
4. The food here sucks, except for the pastries (pasteis??) which are heavenly. Vinho verde is good, but it's just sweet white wine.
4. b. (i know it doesn't work, but i don't care) I am adventurous with food in Europe. I ate octopus salad today. TWO separate bites! It wasn't bad, just too bouncy for my poor teeth.
3. I bought a sweater with dorky professor elbow patches today. So glad I did too, I froze my ass off on the top of the Sintra hills, but man did my torso/arms/elbows stay cozy! *totally worth it, wait until you see the pictures of us on these insane cliffs*
2. Everything should always always always be tiled. Even streets/sidewalks.
2. b. It is really hard to walk when tipsy here... see above.
1. I never want to leave here. It's wonderful!
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
real(ly) madrid?!?!
ok.
it's unfair, but we hated madrid. i wanted to give it a couple of days and see if Lisbon softened the blow, but in fact it did not. Lisbon is wonderful, and the juxtaposition is only made more and more apparent.
madrid smells like pee, it's hot as hell (at least ten degrees hotter than France), we got lost so many times and every time we got lost people stared at us, and some guy called my face funny.
to be fair, i also met the most beautiful man in the entire world.... his name was Alejandro and he was Brazilian and he sucked on my shoulder and whispered things in my ear that made me laugh in embarassment. My thing is, I don't want to have some guy drool all over my eyes *one of which is currently infected... in case you were wondering...* and tell me I look beautiful. What ever happened to people befriending members of the opposite sex? i already have a hubby plan, thanks, and it does not include someone who used to be a footballer/swimmer (which might be a mistake on my part).
we befriended some dutch people (we make friends with the Dutch where'er we go... maybe it's just that Arians can afford vacation time??) and Julie reeealllyy befriended some.. hahaha. Basically we watched dogs fight over bones and then went to the Prado, which was surprisingly wonderful. and we got stuck in the airport for four hours before flying to Lisboa. pronounced like lish-boa.
portugese is the only bad thing about lisbon.
it's unfair, but we hated madrid. i wanted to give it a couple of days and see if Lisbon softened the blow, but in fact it did not. Lisbon is wonderful, and the juxtaposition is only made more and more apparent.
madrid smells like pee, it's hot as hell (at least ten degrees hotter than France), we got lost so many times and every time we got lost people stared at us, and some guy called my face funny.
to be fair, i also met the most beautiful man in the entire world.... his name was Alejandro and he was Brazilian and he sucked on my shoulder and whispered things in my ear that made me laugh in embarassment. My thing is, I don't want to have some guy drool all over my eyes *one of which is currently infected... in case you were wondering...* and tell me I look beautiful. What ever happened to people befriending members of the opposite sex? i already have a hubby plan, thanks, and it does not include someone who used to be a footballer/swimmer (which might be a mistake on my part).
we befriended some dutch people (we make friends with the Dutch where'er we go... maybe it's just that Arians can afford vacation time??) and Julie reeealllyy befriended some.. hahaha. Basically we watched dogs fight over bones and then went to the Prado, which was surprisingly wonderful. and we got stuck in the airport for four hours before flying to Lisboa. pronounced like lish-boa.
portugese is the only bad thing about lisbon.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
bordeaux or bust.... or inbetween...
which was not the city's fault, but our poor planning and naive trust in the european rail system.
a train (tgv is the most frequently running and fastest) from paris to bordeaux takes about three hours. however, due to countless improbabilities against us, julie and i depart two hours later than planned on the slow ass train. eta is 7:00 and we left at 1:30. double dangit. after spending the majority of those hours discovering how our rail passes actually work, we depart and tackle the ticket window attempting to get from bordeaux to madrid (an over night train for monday). turns out irun is as close as the french can get us. and it won't be a night train, it'll be in about 15 hours from that moment. great.
we steal a tram ride and would have been fresh frust, but bordeaux is so beautiful! it reminds me of rome with narrow windy streets. despite our heavy backpacks and the fact that our hotel is weeeeeeeird (not like, slasher film, more like why-in-the-hell-is-there-a-mammouth-tin-circle-in-the-fireplace-oh-must-be-the-shower kind of way) we are determined to drink wine, eat food, and see frenchies. went to place st. pierre and ate a badass dinner and drank the best bottle of sauvignon blanc... ever...?
some guy sends me a rose as i'm working through the business end of a plate of profiteroles and almonds and the waiter delivers a speech that i'm sure should be charming and hilarious, but my french vocabulary does not extend to woo-ing so i stare like a moron with ice cream all over my face. the guy (his name shall be Hot Rose Sender from Bordeaux) waves and julie is dying and the rest of his party stares at me until we pay for our meal.
i wander over (because social constructs and my friend are bullies) and slur some french to the effect of "we're americans, and i don't speak french, but thanks!" and we peace out to drink wine at a church/movie theatre/bar. should have stayed and made friends, but i was so embarassed that.. yeah
luckily,i deleted all my pictures from france and broke my purse... hahaha
but bordeaux was cool, even though we were there for 15 hours.
posted from madrid, written on the train to irun
a train (tgv is the most frequently running and fastest) from paris to bordeaux takes about three hours. however, due to countless improbabilities against us, julie and i depart two hours later than planned on the slow ass train. eta is 7:00 and we left at 1:30. double dangit. after spending the majority of those hours discovering how our rail passes actually work, we depart and tackle the ticket window attempting to get from bordeaux to madrid (an over night train for monday). turns out irun is as close as the french can get us. and it won't be a night train, it'll be in about 15 hours from that moment. great.
we steal a tram ride and would have been fresh frust, but bordeaux is so beautiful! it reminds me of rome with narrow windy streets. despite our heavy backpacks and the fact that our hotel is weeeeeeeird (not like, slasher film, more like why-in-the-hell-is-there-a-mammouth-tin-circle-in-the-fireplace-oh-must-be-the-shower kind of way) we are determined to drink wine, eat food, and see frenchies. went to place st. pierre and ate a badass dinner and drank the best bottle of sauvignon blanc... ever...?
some guy sends me a rose as i'm working through the business end of a plate of profiteroles and almonds and the waiter delivers a speech that i'm sure should be charming and hilarious, but my french vocabulary does not extend to woo-ing so i stare like a moron with ice cream all over my face. the guy (his name shall be Hot Rose Sender from Bordeaux) waves and julie is dying and the rest of his party stares at me until we pay for our meal.
i wander over (because social constructs and my friend are bullies) and slur some french to the effect of "we're americans, and i don't speak french, but thanks!" and we peace out to drink wine at a church/movie theatre/bar. should have stayed and made friends, but i was so embarassed that.. yeah
luckily,i deleted all my pictures from france and broke my purse... hahaha
but bordeaux was cool, even though we were there for 15 hours.
posted from madrid, written on the train to irun
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Paris is Boss because....
1. asthetics, baby. absolutely everything is beautiful and absolutely nothing needs to be functional. women, men, streets, clothes, this keyboard-beautiful. and yet i cannot find the shift key for the life of me. who cares if streets go in circles, and women teeter cobblestone streets in towering heels at the end of their fat-free legs? they look good. and they know it.
2. men wear purple unabashedly.
3. being a student forever just means free/discounted things, not that you're simply too dumb to complete undergrad in three years.
4. even commonplace words sound beautiful. english can only boast of "cellar door" whereas even "car" (voiture) sounds ballin'.
5. mayonnaise. mayonnaise is not mayo, it is delicious-light, buttery, and divine. bread has become a vehicle for it.
6. it's socially encouraged to eat huge sandwiches where'er you go. sandwiches of glory!
7. no high fructose corn syrup. means coke and nutella taste amazing.
8. nutella
9. crêpes.
10. tiny portions means you can taste everything, you don't need to confine your buds. and even though wine glasses are smaller, they pack more punch. i got tipsy off of 1 teensy restaurant recommended bordeaux red.
2. men wear purple unabashedly.
3. being a student forever just means free/discounted things, not that you're simply too dumb to complete undergrad in three years.
4. even commonplace words sound beautiful. english can only boast of "cellar door" whereas even "car" (voiture) sounds ballin'.
5. mayonnaise. mayonnaise is not mayo, it is delicious-light, buttery, and divine. bread has become a vehicle for it.
6. it's socially encouraged to eat huge sandwiches where'er you go. sandwiches of glory!
7. no high fructose corn syrup. means coke and nutella taste amazing.
8. nutella
9. crêpes.
10. tiny portions means you can taste everything, you don't need to confine your buds. and even though wine glasses are smaller, they pack more punch. i got tipsy off of 1 teensy restaurant recommended bordeaux red.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
BACON OUT!
Paris, Bordeaux, Madrid, Lisbon, Lagos, Sevilla, Barcelona, Cadaques, Aix-en-Provence, Genoa, Cinque Terre, Florence, Venice, Verona, Lake Como, Chambery, Paris.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Packing Dilemmas
I pack late. I wait til the last possible second and throw every possible combination of outfits into my bag, jump on it a few times to mash everything down, and run off. This has resulted in 22 years of over-packing and extremely wrinkled Anthropologie dresses.
NO MORE I SAY! I shall pack in advance. I leave for the airport Wednesday around 2:00. This gives me 37 hours. I'll be at work for like twelve of them so 25 hours. Plus I really do need to sleep tonight and tomorrow night so let's say 7 hours. And well, showering and eating and things makes it more like 5. Okay, 4.
All I really need is my camera and my journal and some face wash. I'm so nervous I'll look like a dorky American. And with that backpack on... well, I'm definitely gonna look like a dweeb. Je wanna be hip, garcon. I'm already twice the width of the French and twice the height of the Spanish.
NO MORE I SAY! I shall pack in advance. I leave for the airport Wednesday around 2:00. This gives me 37 hours. I'll be at work for like twelve of them so 25 hours. Plus I really do need to sleep tonight and tomorrow night so let's say 7 hours. And well, showering and eating and things makes it more like 5. Okay, 4.
All I really need is my camera and my journal and some face wash. I'm so nervous I'll look like a dorky American. And with that backpack on... well, I'm definitely gonna look like a dweeb. Je wanna be hip, garcon. I'm already twice the width of the French and twice the height of the Spanish.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Calamity Jane in the Kitchen
I am a notoriously awful cook. I am an even worse baker. There's a particularly grisly story involving brownies from a box that ended up gritty and rock hard for an ACDA meeting... Today I hit an all-time cooking wipeout though, when while sitting on my bed watching Flight of the Conchords it suddenly hit me that I had been boiling water for the last twenty minutes. I leapt off the bed, raced upstairs and thankfully nothing was aflame. Can't even boil water. Probably not going to add that to the ol' resume.
I don't understand how I'm so horrible at cooking. I remember helping my mom cook and bake when I was little, and she's a wonderful cook. My brother is even better, and no one seems to have taught him. Even my dad can throw together a decent tasting meal, and he will literally eat anything.
Doesn't that look awesome?! Shan, I want this for my birthday, please. We both know I'll never be able to create this myself. Sorry you'll have to find strawberries in December...
Currently Reading: The Ballad of the Whiskey Robber
Number of Days til Europe: 9
Number of Bikes Ridden: 0
Number of Blondies Consumed (this week): 4
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