The other day I was just about to leave the restroom, when I was suddenly incapacitated by some horrifically painful foreign object that found its way into my eye. No amount of rinsing or searching seemed to help. I soon became a pitiable sight, with one red eye with water and tears turned black with my mascara smeared all over my face. It was awful. Many a girl looked at me sympathetically before going about her merry life.
As it turns out, the restroom in this hostel is co-ed, something I have never had to deal with before. One young man had apparently become quite comfortable with the idea, and entered the bathroom in only his briefs. As he washed his hands next to me, he again gave me a look of sincere sympathy, but unlike all the fully clothed people that pitied me in the bathroom that day, he insisted on helping me. Part of me wanted to run away, part of me wanted to be scandalized by the company I was keeping. Part of me wanted to hold on to Provo me, rejecting the idea the Europe has desensitized me. But I was in no position to deny help. The searing pain in my left eye threatened to undo all the good that LASIK has done for me, so I consented. Besides, I was half blind at the moment anyway.
When we saw eachother in the restroom this morning he was again in his briefs, and greeted me warmly.
Oh, hostel life.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
you win some, you lose some
Yesterday was funny. Upon arriving in Lisbon, I reverted to my pre-Spain self, the self that wants to run around like a chicken with its head cut off, frantically seeing all that a city has to offer in the seemingly short amount of time that I have. I was told that Sintra, a 45 minute train ride away was a "must". And, you can see why people might say that.
So we willingly paid the €4 for the train ride there and back. Upon arriving in Sintra, we felt compelled to pay the €5 for the train ride to and from the castle, and upon arriving at the castle, we had no choice but to pay €12 to get in to see it. Wow. That was the fastest I'd spent €20 my whole trip, and had I known, I wouldn't have even bothered. Then they wanted €2 for a trolly up the mountain to the castle, but we begrudgingly huffed and puffed our own way up instead.
The Quita da Regaleira, a fancy house with really cool gardens and even some secret doors and spooky tunnels was "only" €4.
It was a neat day, but not worth all the money they milked from me, and I couldn't help but feel a little sheepish for being so easily suckered out of so much money.
Later, though, we went with Ben to an institute activity. I was just beginning to pride myself on how well I was understanding Portuguese, even with this weird continental accent, when the sweet senior missionary sister started her lesson. I caught about one word in three using all of my powers of concentration. But then the youth (including some Brazilians! <3) started to share their testimonies about the temple. I had to force myself to look concerned durring the sad parts of their stories, because the rest of the time I had a big silly grin on my face. It felt so good to have organized religion in my life, to hear others' testimonies, to talk about the temple, and to hear Brazilian Portuguese.
Today, Ben took us out to Belem, where I did amazing things like see the tomb of my favorite poet, the uber famous Camões and eat the uber famous pasteis de Belem. And, today being a holiday, they let us into everything for free! Then he took us to some other pleasant and beautiful places he has discovered around Lisbon. In comparing the past two days, I thought to myself, "you win some, you lose some" but I quickly realized that I win lots more than I lose. Thanks again, Ben!
I love it here in Lisbon. Of all my travels, I think I could live in Granada or Ljublana, or Lisbon.
So we willingly paid the €4 for the train ride there and back. Upon arriving in Sintra, we felt compelled to pay the €5 for the train ride to and from the castle, and upon arriving at the castle, we had no choice but to pay €12 to get in to see it. Wow. That was the fastest I'd spent €20 my whole trip, and had I known, I wouldn't have even bothered. Then they wanted €2 for a trolly up the mountain to the castle, but we begrudgingly huffed and puffed our own way up instead.
The Quita da Regaleira, a fancy house with really cool gardens and even some secret doors and spooky tunnels was "only" €4.
It was a neat day, but not worth all the money they milked from me, and I couldn't help but feel a little sheepish for being so easily suckered out of so much money.
Later, though, we went with Ben to an institute activity. I was just beginning to pride myself on how well I was understanding Portuguese, even with this weird continental accent, when the sweet senior missionary sister started her lesson. I caught about one word in three using all of my powers of concentration. But then the youth (including some Brazilians! <3) started to share their testimonies about the temple. I had to force myself to look concerned durring the sad parts of their stories, because the rest of the time I had a big silly grin on my face. It felt so good to have organized religion in my life, to hear others' testimonies, to talk about the temple, and to hear Brazilian Portuguese.
Today, Ben took us out to Belem, where I did amazing things like see the tomb of my favorite poet, the uber famous Camões and eat the uber famous pasteis de Belem. And, today being a holiday, they let us into everything for free! Then he took us to some other pleasant and beautiful places he has discovered around Lisbon. In comparing the past two days, I thought to myself, "you win some, you lose some" but I quickly realized that I win lots more than I lose. Thanks again, Ben!
I love it here in Lisbon. Of all my travels, I think I could live in Granada or Ljublana, or Lisbon.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
my backyard
Thus far, I have justified my diet of pizza, kebabs, yogurt, fresh fruit, gelato, and chocolate by the amount of walking that I have been doing. In Spain and now in Portugal my amount of walking has decreased by almost half, while my kebab and gelato consumption continue unchanged. I have started to feel a slight twinge of guilt—not enough to change anything, of course—but then I remind myself that in a week I will go back to my spinach smoothies and gym membership, so that makes me feel better. Until then…
The past few hostels have been so great—decently priced, clean, free laundry and breakfast, and great locations. This was our backyard in Sevilla:
On our last night there Ariel and I sat on the balcony and admired the view as the sun set and these buildings became lit up for the night. I love my life.
On Monday Ariel and I met up with Ben in Lagos on the southern coast of Portugal. We went swimming here, again, practically in our backyard:
Apparently, we weren’t supposed to swim through all those caves and arches, something about waves and rocks and danger—I didn’t really get it. Ben told me afterwards that there were lots of signs saying so, but I’m going to claim ignorance and in this case, ignorance was bliss. While we were swimming there, Ben kept saying, “This is so awesome!” And, although he had teased me somewhat for my method of choosing where I wanted to go (Google image search), he admitted that in this case, it worked well. I’ve been to amazing places and done amazing things for seven weeks, and still, I couldn’t believe I was actually there.
Now we are in Lisbon, and after a kebab (of course) we bought some pasteis de nata to eat here, again, practically in our backyard:
It has been super nice having Ben around. I don’t have to think about where we are going, I can just follow him and his “male sense of direction.” Although that has proved to be less than infallible, it lead to some fun adventures scrambling through the brush along the cliffs. And I love having three of us. I sometimes just like to be quiet and by myself, which is why traveling by myself has been so awesome. So, I can just let Ben and Ariel entertain themselves when I don’t feel like talking, and join in the group and conversation when I do. It’s perfect.
Ben asked me today how I feel about going home in a week and I told him the truth, “I have no idea.” I have a pretty awesome life all around and lots to miss and look forward to in the U.S. (I even look forward to a good spinach smoothie), but once I’m home I’m really going to miss feeling like the world is my backyard.
Quote of the day:
Ben: You know in the movies how they say “she’s not like other girls”? That’s you.
Thanks, Ben.
The past few hostels have been so great—decently priced, clean, free laundry and breakfast, and great locations. This was our backyard in Sevilla:
On our last night there Ariel and I sat on the balcony and admired the view as the sun set and these buildings became lit up for the night. I love my life.
On Monday Ariel and I met up with Ben in Lagos on the southern coast of Portugal. We went swimming here, again, practically in our backyard:
Apparently, we weren’t supposed to swim through all those caves and arches, something about waves and rocks and danger—I didn’t really get it. Ben told me afterwards that there were lots of signs saying so, but I’m going to claim ignorance and in this case, ignorance was bliss. While we were swimming there, Ben kept saying, “This is so awesome!” And, although he had teased me somewhat for my method of choosing where I wanted to go (Google image search), he admitted that in this case, it worked well. I’ve been to amazing places and done amazing things for seven weeks, and still, I couldn’t believe I was actually there.
Now we are in Lisbon, and after a kebab (of course) we bought some pasteis de nata to eat here, again, practically in our backyard:
It has been super nice having Ben around. I don’t have to think about where we are going, I can just follow him and his “male sense of direction.” Although that has proved to be less than infallible, it lead to some fun adventures scrambling through the brush along the cliffs. And I love having three of us. I sometimes just like to be quiet and by myself, which is why traveling by myself has been so awesome. So, I can just let Ben and Ariel entertain themselves when I don’t feel like talking, and join in the group and conversation when I do. It’s perfect.
Ben asked me today how I feel about going home in a week and I told him the truth, “I have no idea.” I have a pretty awesome life all around and lots to miss and look forward to in the U.S. (I even look forward to a good spinach smoothie), but once I’m home I’m really going to miss feeling like the world is my backyard.
Quote of the day:
Ben: You know in the movies how they say “she’s not like other girls”? That’s you.
Thanks, Ben.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Truth
I missed church again today, and I mean "missed" in both senses of that word.
It surely wasn´t for lack of trying, either. Ariel and I woke up in time for 10:30 church, but couldn´t find it. We spent the whole morning in the heat (it was 101 today) trying to find it and asking many people for directions; each had something different to say, except that several agreed that they had no idea where that street was. And by 12:30, we gave up on finding it in time for the 11:50 meeting either. I was heartbroken. We had to settle for a religious discussion with some J-Dubs (which I excitedly flagged down, hoping they were church members and could point us in the right direction) and watching the Joseph Smith: Prophet of the Restoration movie on Ariel´s laptop.
I´m a little upset with Heavenly Father. Every week I look up the address to the church, research how to get there, ask people how to get there, try to leave with plenty of time, pray for His help in finding it, and every week something else comes up to keep me away. Ariel suggested that maybe the reason He doesn´t just help me get there is to help me appreciate what I have more. Maybe it´s working or maybe I´m just reacting to my conversation with the J-Dubs, but today I really felt my loss at missing church and felt such gratitude for for what I know. I even wanted to set up a profile on mormon.org, to present more eloquently the things I wanted to say to the J-Dubs today, but struggled because they aren´t the best listeners and because my church talk comes out in Russian. But I don´t have my membership number, so I´ll have to settle for blogging. Here´s what I know:
I know there is such a thing as truth. You can choose to look at in anyway you want; you can twist it to fit your opinions and call it "your" truth, but you are lying to yourself. You don´t get to pick what is real and what is not. I can choose to believe that junk food is good for me and eat it all the time, but I cannot change the truth that it is bad for me and the consequence is weight gain and decrease in health. I can choose to believe that the night will never come, but it is better to know the truth and be prepared than to learn it too late and be stuck in the dark.
I know that only God knows, really knows, what truth is. Not Google, not Wikipedia, and not even Dr. Turley. Shocking, I know. I am headstrong and a huge advocate of agency, so I will not accept anyone´s idea of "truth" except His. The only way to really know truth is to ask God. No one else can study or reason it out, no matter how logical their arguments are. Truth is worth seeking, but only comes from God, only by revelation through the Holy Ghost.
Having sought and recieved truth directly from the source, I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God; that God spoke to him and taught him Truth, including the truth that through the Atonement of Christ all people can have their mistakes completely erased and forgotten and recieve infinite and unspeakable happiness, but only on conditions of repentence.
I know that the Book of Mormon is true: it really was written by ancient prophets, it really does testify of Christ and it really has done more for me in bringing me closer to Christ than anything else in the world. For that reason it is the most important thing to me in the world.
I know that commandments were designed for the sole purpose of making us happy, of protecting us from ourselves and our underdeveloped desires. It´s just like a parent making rules for children who don´t really know what´s good for them. Commandments=recipe for happiness. End of story. For any of you that remember my religious musings, I found something that I obey not because I want to, but because I believe that Christ wants me to. Modesty. I would love to wear tank tops in the summer; I hate the heat and would love to have a less awkward tan line. But the great privilege of wearing garments and being temple worthy WAY outweighs the small sacrifice of putting up with sleeves. Still, I can see that modesty leads to happiness. That´s just how commandments work. Why else would He give us commandments? To make life more boring or difficult or for His own amusement or as a way to keep heaven a little less crowded? False, and if you believe any of those reasons, you don´t know God. Because I do know Him, and He is love.
I know that it´s really all about family, always has been, always will be. Eternal families are the end goal, and it´s my dearest, most anticipated, most cherished goal.
But don´t take my word for it, because I don´t decide what is true, I just testify of it. I got all this from the Source (God, not Wikipedia) and you can too, and it will bless you like it has me. I´m so grateful for Truth.
Other updates:
Sevilla was cool, but other than the Alcazar, which was almost as cool as the Alhambra, it didn´t have too many things to see. Tomorrow we are off to Lagos, Portugal to meet up with Ben for a day on the beautiful southern coast. We´re stoked!
It surely wasn´t for lack of trying, either. Ariel and I woke up in time for 10:30 church, but couldn´t find it. We spent the whole morning in the heat (it was 101 today) trying to find it and asking many people for directions; each had something different to say, except that several agreed that they had no idea where that street was. And by 12:30, we gave up on finding it in time for the 11:50 meeting either. I was heartbroken. We had to settle for a religious discussion with some J-Dubs (which I excitedly flagged down, hoping they were church members and could point us in the right direction) and watching the Joseph Smith: Prophet of the Restoration movie on Ariel´s laptop.
I´m a little upset with Heavenly Father. Every week I look up the address to the church, research how to get there, ask people how to get there, try to leave with plenty of time, pray for His help in finding it, and every week something else comes up to keep me away. Ariel suggested that maybe the reason He doesn´t just help me get there is to help me appreciate what I have more. Maybe it´s working or maybe I´m just reacting to my conversation with the J-Dubs, but today I really felt my loss at missing church and felt such gratitude for for what I know. I even wanted to set up a profile on mormon.org, to present more eloquently the things I wanted to say to the J-Dubs today, but struggled because they aren´t the best listeners and because my church talk comes out in Russian. But I don´t have my membership number, so I´ll have to settle for blogging. Here´s what I know:
I know there is such a thing as truth. You can choose to look at in anyway you want; you can twist it to fit your opinions and call it "your" truth, but you are lying to yourself. You don´t get to pick what is real and what is not. I can choose to believe that junk food is good for me and eat it all the time, but I cannot change the truth that it is bad for me and the consequence is weight gain and decrease in health. I can choose to believe that the night will never come, but it is better to know the truth and be prepared than to learn it too late and be stuck in the dark.
I know that only God knows, really knows, what truth is. Not Google, not Wikipedia, and not even Dr. Turley. Shocking, I know. I am headstrong and a huge advocate of agency, so I will not accept anyone´s idea of "truth" except His. The only way to really know truth is to ask God. No one else can study or reason it out, no matter how logical their arguments are. Truth is worth seeking, but only comes from God, only by revelation through the Holy Ghost.
Having sought and recieved truth directly from the source, I know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God; that God spoke to him and taught him Truth, including the truth that through the Atonement of Christ all people can have their mistakes completely erased and forgotten and recieve infinite and unspeakable happiness, but only on conditions of repentence.
I know that the Book of Mormon is true: it really was written by ancient prophets, it really does testify of Christ and it really has done more for me in bringing me closer to Christ than anything else in the world. For that reason it is the most important thing to me in the world.
I know that commandments were designed for the sole purpose of making us happy, of protecting us from ourselves and our underdeveloped desires. It´s just like a parent making rules for children who don´t really know what´s good for them. Commandments=recipe for happiness. End of story. For any of you that remember my religious musings, I found something that I obey not because I want to, but because I believe that Christ wants me to. Modesty. I would love to wear tank tops in the summer; I hate the heat and would love to have a less awkward tan line. But the great privilege of wearing garments and being temple worthy WAY outweighs the small sacrifice of putting up with sleeves. Still, I can see that modesty leads to happiness. That´s just how commandments work. Why else would He give us commandments? To make life more boring or difficult or for His own amusement or as a way to keep heaven a little less crowded? False, and if you believe any of those reasons, you don´t know God. Because I do know Him, and He is love.
I know that it´s really all about family, always has been, always will be. Eternal families are the end goal, and it´s my dearest, most anticipated, most cherished goal.
But don´t take my word for it, because I don´t decide what is true, I just testify of it. I got all this from the Source (God, not Wikipedia) and you can too, and it will bless you like it has me. I´m so grateful for Truth.
Other updates:
Sevilla was cool, but other than the Alcazar, which was almost as cool as the Alhambra, it didn´t have too many things to see. Tomorrow we are off to Lagos, Portugal to meet up with Ben for a day on the beautiful southern coast. We´re stoked!
Friday, June 17, 2011
walking on sunshine
I had such a happy surprise yesterday, I feel like I’m walking on sunshine (oh oh, and don’t it feel good?)
In budgeting my spending here in Europe, I have always gone for worst case scenario. I always rounded the exchange rate against my favor, planned on needing more than I really would, rounded up how much I had actually spent that day, planned on not being reimbursed for things not because I didn’t trust that person, just because that’s how I’ve been doing my budget. Well, yesterday I was reimbursed so I took a moment to re-evaluate my budget and I HAVE MONEY!! I’m not going to go on any spending sprees, and it’s still going to be a tight summer in Provo unless EFY comes to my rescue, but I have so much more to work with than I thought, so I guess Ben is off the hook.
Today, Ariel said goodbye to oh-so-perfect Granada to come to Sevilla. Our wanderings didn’t produce anything super amazing, but it is a pleasant enough sort of place, even though it is super hot. Granada was about 91 F, Sevilla is about 100 F. But it is a dry heat, so after Croatia and with the breezes here, it’s still not as bad as I had expected even though we had to walk an extra bus stop length hauling all our stuff to find our hostel.
After some tasty paella and gelato, we went to a bar (*gasp*) to watch a “free” flamenco show. We had to buy really expensive drinks (a juice and a coke, sheesh, what kind of a girl do you think I am?) for the privilege of being there, but it was such a great way to spend a Friday night IN SPAIN!!! I felt so grown-up and authentic. So, so far, Ariel and I have been to a bar and a nude beach. Yikes.
So now I have 10 days left. I know that because of redoing my budget and because I’m a little bit OCD when it comes to counting things, not because I’m “counting down the days.” I have such mixed feelings about it. Europe has been so good to me, everything I dreamed it would be with only about half the stress, I couldn’t have planned it any better if I had known then what I know now. But there are people and things that I miss in the states and other things in my life to look forward to. And for that, I count my blessings. So for now I’m going to try to forget how long I have left and enjoy every minute.
Also, here is the quote of the day:
Ariel: What's a day without a kebab and gelato?
Me: Pft. You might as well be in Provo.
In budgeting my spending here in Europe, I have always gone for worst case scenario. I always rounded the exchange rate against my favor, planned on needing more than I really would, rounded up how much I had actually spent that day, planned on not being reimbursed for things not because I didn’t trust that person, just because that’s how I’ve been doing my budget. Well, yesterday I was reimbursed so I took a moment to re-evaluate my budget and I HAVE MONEY!! I’m not going to go on any spending sprees, and it’s still going to be a tight summer in Provo unless EFY comes to my rescue, but I have so much more to work with than I thought, so I guess Ben is off the hook.
Today, Ariel said goodbye to oh-so-perfect Granada to come to Sevilla. Our wanderings didn’t produce anything super amazing, but it is a pleasant enough sort of place, even though it is super hot. Granada was about 91 F, Sevilla is about 100 F. But it is a dry heat, so after Croatia and with the breezes here, it’s still not as bad as I had expected even though we had to walk an extra bus stop length hauling all our stuff to find our hostel.
After some tasty paella and gelato, we went to a bar (*gasp*) to watch a “free” flamenco show. We had to buy really expensive drinks (a juice and a coke, sheesh, what kind of a girl do you think I am?) for the privilege of being there, but it was such a great way to spend a Friday night IN SPAIN!!! I felt so grown-up and authentic. So, so far, Ariel and I have been to a bar and a nude beach. Yikes.
So now I have 10 days left. I know that because of redoing my budget and because I’m a little bit OCD when it comes to counting things, not because I’m “counting down the days.” I have such mixed feelings about it. Europe has been so good to me, everything I dreamed it would be with only about half the stress, I couldn’t have planned it any better if I had known then what I know now. But there are people and things that I miss in the states and other things in my life to look forward to. And for that, I count my blessings. So for now I’m going to try to forget how long I have left and enjoy every minute.
Also, here is the quote of the day:
Ariel: What's a day without a kebab and gelato?
Me: Pft. You might as well be in Provo.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
thanks, Granada!
With absolutely no effort on my part, and with no outside influence to really explain it, my Spanish accent has naturally and mysteriously come out somewhat Spain-sounding. Now I know why. Because I was meant for Spain. I love the people here, they are so friendly. I can't seem to consult a map without some cute old person stopping and offering to help us and then walking us to our destination. They have drinking fountains here, something that I have always used as proof positive of America's superiority. The weather here is wonderful, hot and sunny but not miserable in the least. I haven't seen cuter kids anywhere in the world. They have the tastiest food: the best kebabs I've found, paella, and I love Spanish tortillas (more like omelettes). It smells divine, especially the streets where they sell a multitude of different teas by weight. The sidewalks are clean and beautiful, and it just feels good here. I'm even falling in love (dare I admit this?) with the theta. There, I said it. I like the theta!
Also, Spanish people are constantly making me laugh because they actually talk like they do in this youtube video that I was introduced to before coming.
Ariel and I will frequently hear someone talking just like that, give each other a knowing glance, and then burst into laughter. Good times.
Today we went to the Alhambra (which was SO AMAZING!), something that has been a life goal for the both of us. We mentioned that we need to come up with new life goals to replace the ones we are living out, and the Alhambra conveniently provided me with its own replacement. My new life goal is to one day own a house so I can turn the backyard into my own piece of Alhambra heaven complete with mosaics, a jasmine covered arch, roses, lavender, a pool with water lillies, and an intricate pebble walkway. If this backyard happens to be in Granada along with its inspiration...let's just say I wouldn't complain. This is the first place I've felt like I would be excited to live in long-term. Thanks, Granada!
Also, Spanish people are constantly making me laugh because they actually talk like they do in this youtube video that I was introduced to before coming.
Ariel and I will frequently hear someone talking just like that, give each other a knowing glance, and then burst into laughter. Good times.
Today we went to the Alhambra (which was SO AMAZING!), something that has been a life goal for the both of us. We mentioned that we need to come up with new life goals to replace the ones we are living out, and the Alhambra conveniently provided me with its own replacement. My new life goal is to one day own a house so I can turn the backyard into my own piece of Alhambra heaven complete with mosaics, a jasmine covered arch, roses, lavender, a pool with water lillies, and an intricate pebble walkway. If this backyard happens to be in Granada along with its inspiration...let's just say I wouldn't complain. This is the first place I've felt like I would be excited to live in long-term. Thanks, Granada!
Sunday, June 12, 2011
between the rocks and a hard place
What a strange few days it has been. Thursday I didn’t really eat anything, foolishly telling myself that I could eat once my train got to Zagreb. I forgot that my train was almost 6 hours, and that everything in Zagreb would be closed before I got there. So when I got to Zagreb, I stood there in the night rain, forlornly staring at all the closed stores and starving to death. Luckily I found an underground mall so I had my fill of junk food before waiting for my midnight train to Venice which turned out to be a 1 a.m. train and the seats didn’t recline. After a pleasant but not very exciting day in Venice I was off to the airport for my 11:00 p.m. plane, which also changed to a 1 a.m. plane.
Sleeping in the airport was interesting. I first tried the floor but it was so cold that I knew I’d be miserable, so I moved to the metal chairs with the obtrusive arm rests. I only got about an hour of sleep at a time before some numb appendage forced me to wake up and change positions, but I managed to make it through the night. But after two nearly sleepless nights in Split, one night sitting upright on a train, and one night sitting upright in an airport, I am SO excited to sleep in a REAL BED!
I noticed as I tried to find my Barcelona hostel (which was no easy feat this time) that I had limited mobility in my ankles. I thought that maybe my skin was just really dry or maybe my shin splints had just stiffened them up somehow. When I arrived and met up with Ariel and had a moment to rest, I looked closer and realized that it was actually elephantitis. OK,OK, it’s probably not really elephantitis, but for the life of me I can’t think of any other reason for both of my ankles to randomly swell up. They got a litttle better after soaking them in the Mediterranean for a while, but they’re swelling up again. They’re not really painful, other than the painful shock of waking up one day with cankles.
As I mentioned, Ariel and I went to the Mediterranean today, as she had never been to it before and we were both in the mood for a lazy day. The map showed the beach to be a simple enough walk, but roads and walkways would randomly just end in fields and trees. Ariel hurt her foot previously and I had my cankles to deal with, and it was rough enough going without the added frustration of being able to see the sea at almost every turn, but never actually being able to get there. We finally did manage to get to the coast and had to walk along it for a way on extremely unstable, golf ball sized rocks with our feet in less than ideal condition and both of us in flip-flops. As we hobbled along on our poor legs, we both laughed at what a fine pair we were. We rejoiced when we finally got to a sandy beach, but alas, our rejoicings were short lived, as we soon discovered it to be a nude beach. I was offended not so much by all the naked people (heaven knows I saw enough of that in Florence!), but by the lack of signs or warnings. This beach was also right next to the train tracks, so any innocent traveler looking out the window might have been scared for life. We were left with a tough decision: retrace our painful steps over the rocks and risk not being able to find another beach, or traverse the nude beach in hopes that the people on the next beach over would be wearing bathing suits, however skimpy they might be. With our eyes conveniently seaward, we chose the latter option, and to our great relief, no one at the next beach was nude. Crisis averted. Now I just hope my first decent night’s sleep this week won’t be marred by nightmares of endless nude beaches!
EPILOGUE
Today my ankles were back to normal and we went around to see all the Gaudi architecture that I’ve dreamed of seeing for so long. Too bad they wanted like a billion euros to actually go inside. Good thing the Parc Guell was free!
Sleeping in the airport was interesting. I first tried the floor but it was so cold that I knew I’d be miserable, so I moved to the metal chairs with the obtrusive arm rests. I only got about an hour of sleep at a time before some numb appendage forced me to wake up and change positions, but I managed to make it through the night. But after two nearly sleepless nights in Split, one night sitting upright on a train, and one night sitting upright in an airport, I am SO excited to sleep in a REAL BED!
I noticed as I tried to find my Barcelona hostel (which was no easy feat this time) that I had limited mobility in my ankles. I thought that maybe my skin was just really dry or maybe my shin splints had just stiffened them up somehow. When I arrived and met up with Ariel and had a moment to rest, I looked closer and realized that it was actually elephantitis. OK,OK, it’s probably not really elephantitis, but for the life of me I can’t think of any other reason for both of my ankles to randomly swell up. They got a litttle better after soaking them in the Mediterranean for a while, but they’re swelling up again. They’re not really painful, other than the painful shock of waking up one day with cankles.
As I mentioned, Ariel and I went to the Mediterranean today, as she had never been to it before and we were both in the mood for a lazy day. The map showed the beach to be a simple enough walk, but roads and walkways would randomly just end in fields and trees. Ariel hurt her foot previously and I had my cankles to deal with, and it was rough enough going without the added frustration of being able to see the sea at almost every turn, but never actually being able to get there. We finally did manage to get to the coast and had to walk along it for a way on extremely unstable, golf ball sized rocks with our feet in less than ideal condition and both of us in flip-flops. As we hobbled along on our poor legs, we both laughed at what a fine pair we were. We rejoiced when we finally got to a sandy beach, but alas, our rejoicings were short lived, as we soon discovered it to be a nude beach. I was offended not so much by all the naked people (heaven knows I saw enough of that in Florence!), but by the lack of signs or warnings. This beach was also right next to the train tracks, so any innocent traveler looking out the window might have been scared for life. We were left with a tough decision: retrace our painful steps over the rocks and risk not being able to find another beach, or traverse the nude beach in hopes that the people on the next beach over would be wearing bathing suits, however skimpy they might be. With our eyes conveniently seaward, we chose the latter option, and to our great relief, no one at the next beach was nude. Crisis averted. Now I just hope my first decent night’s sleep this week won’t be marred by nightmares of endless nude beaches!
EPILOGUE
Today my ankles were back to normal and we went around to see all the Gaudi architecture that I’ve dreamed of seeing for so long. Too bad they wanted like a billion euros to actually go inside. Good thing the Parc Guell was free!
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
fortunately, unfortunately
In fourth grade Mrs. Louder read us a story called Fortunately, Unfortunately, in which those two words alternately started sentences to describe the unlikely adventure of a young boy. We, then, were supposed to write our own version. I'm not sure why I remember that particular assignment so well, maybe because, to a fourth grader, using a five syllable word is a momentous occasion. I'll not try your patience (or my own) by repeatedly typing those words, but you will see how today reminded me of that story.
After talking to my lovely roommate Rose, she reminded me of another national park here in Croatia that I had somehow forgotten about. So I got on the early bus to go there, hoping to avoid a rerun of Plitvice. It was a bit overcast when the bus left, but no fog. But as the bus progressed, the clouds gathered in thicker and stronger and then, simultaneously with a huge streak of lightning, the pouring rain began. At one point it looked like there could be some real flooding as we drove through a lake fed by a river gushing down another street into the intersection. Then my sleepless night met the side effects of dramamine and I was suddenly and deeply asleep.
I woke with a start. I didn't know where I was, and had no idea what my bus stop would look like, but an old man nearby assured me that I hadn't missed my stop and told me where to get off. The next connecting bus wasn't for over an hour, leaving me wishing I hadn't gotten up so early. But at least the weather was clearing. But I checked myself immediately. I dared not hope for good weather, fearing that my optimism would be a self-destructing prophesy and immediately summon a blinding fog.
I'm going to abridge this next part, but know that the weather kept changing back and forth rapidly, and slow boats and slow people kept getting in my way with me not having much time and not knowing how much time I would need for the park. Also, the signs were terrible. One sign to the free ferry into the park lead me into a line of, solid, immovable, and very un-ferry-like buildings. On the way back I saw one sign that said to get to Split you had to go straight, while the sign right below it said that Split was to the right. Luckily that was for the bus driver to deal with.
Anyway, this is where I went swimming today.
It was awesome.
On the first bus out of the park, I forgot to take my dramamine because I was so wrapped up in reading Dracula, and the reading hastened and exacerbated my motion sickness. The second bus was to come to platform 5,6, OR 7, according to the ticket. So, around the time of my bus, there was only one bus on those platforms, and since it said Split in the window (my destination), I jumped in. A few minutes into the drive they came to check my ticket and the man shook his head, "Oh, no. You go Split" (he points at the back of the bus), "this bus opposite" (he points at the front of the bus). He persuaded the unwilling driver to pull over and let me out, whereupon I began to book it back to the bus station. This was made difficult by my flip flops, my huge purse, the narrow, crowded sidewalks, poor directions from people, and my dramamine induced, zombie-like trance, but facilitated greatly by the fact that it was all downhill. I arrived back at the bus stop not more that two minutes after my scheduled bus, so had it been there, I should have seen it pulling away. As it turns out, I had to change my ticket for the next bus (only fifteen minutes later) and only had to pay an extra three kuna (about $0.65). That bus was ten minutes late, and, although it was also supposed to be on platform 5,6, OR 7, and although all of those platforms were empty, it pulled into platform 8 for the sole purpose, it seemed, of giving me grief.
But fortunately I got to see and go swimming in paradise after all.
Croatia is like one of those girls who, thanks to their stunning and exotic beauty, can be fickle, demanding, and petulant, and still win everybody's heart. She sure has won mine.
I can't believe I'll soon be moving on to the last chapter of my amazing trip. It's like reading an awesome book; you can't stop reading, but at the same time you don't want it to end
Chapter 1: The Mish- amazing.
Chapter 2: Prague and Budapest, flying solo- wonderful
Chapter 3: Italy with Robyn - So. Much. Fun.
Chapter 4: Slovenia and Croata, solo- unbelievable
Chapter 5: Spain and Portugal w/ BYU buddies- I can't wait.
But that's it. I can't believe it!
After talking to my lovely roommate Rose, she reminded me of another national park here in Croatia that I had somehow forgotten about. So I got on the early bus to go there, hoping to avoid a rerun of Plitvice. It was a bit overcast when the bus left, but no fog. But as the bus progressed, the clouds gathered in thicker and stronger and then, simultaneously with a huge streak of lightning, the pouring rain began. At one point it looked like there could be some real flooding as we drove through a lake fed by a river gushing down another street into the intersection. Then my sleepless night met the side effects of dramamine and I was suddenly and deeply asleep.
I woke with a start. I didn't know where I was, and had no idea what my bus stop would look like, but an old man nearby assured me that I hadn't missed my stop and told me where to get off. The next connecting bus wasn't for over an hour, leaving me wishing I hadn't gotten up so early. But at least the weather was clearing. But I checked myself immediately. I dared not hope for good weather, fearing that my optimism would be a self-destructing prophesy and immediately summon a blinding fog.
I'm going to abridge this next part, but know that the weather kept changing back and forth rapidly, and slow boats and slow people kept getting in my way with me not having much time and not knowing how much time I would need for the park. Also, the signs were terrible. One sign to the free ferry into the park lead me into a line of, solid, immovable, and very un-ferry-like buildings. On the way back I saw one sign that said to get to Split you had to go straight, while the sign right below it said that Split was to the right. Luckily that was for the bus driver to deal with.
Anyway, this is where I went swimming today.
It was awesome.
On the first bus out of the park, I forgot to take my dramamine because I was so wrapped up in reading Dracula, and the reading hastened and exacerbated my motion sickness. The second bus was to come to platform 5,6, OR 7, according to the ticket. So, around the time of my bus, there was only one bus on those platforms, and since it said Split in the window (my destination), I jumped in. A few minutes into the drive they came to check my ticket and the man shook his head, "Oh, no. You go Split" (he points at the back of the bus), "this bus opposite" (he points at the front of the bus). He persuaded the unwilling driver to pull over and let me out, whereupon I began to book it back to the bus station. This was made difficult by my flip flops, my huge purse, the narrow, crowded sidewalks, poor directions from people, and my dramamine induced, zombie-like trance, but facilitated greatly by the fact that it was all downhill. I arrived back at the bus stop not more that two minutes after my scheduled bus, so had it been there, I should have seen it pulling away. As it turns out, I had to change my ticket for the next bus (only fifteen minutes later) and only had to pay an extra three kuna (about $0.65). That bus was ten minutes late, and, although it was also supposed to be on platform 5,6, OR 7, and although all of those platforms were empty, it pulled into platform 8 for the sole purpose, it seemed, of giving me grief.
But fortunately I got to see and go swimming in paradise after all.
Croatia is like one of those girls who, thanks to their stunning and exotic beauty, can be fickle, demanding, and petulant, and still win everybody's heart. She sure has won mine.
I can't believe I'll soon be moving on to the last chapter of my amazing trip. It's like reading an awesome book; you can't stop reading, but at the same time you don't want it to end
Chapter 1: The Mish- amazing.
Chapter 2: Prague and Budapest, flying solo- wonderful
Chapter 3: Italy with Robyn - So. Much. Fun.
Chapter 4: Slovenia and Croata, solo- unbelievable
Chapter 5: Spain and Portugal w/ BYU buddies- I can't wait.
But that's it. I can't believe it!
Monday, June 6, 2011
religious musings
Slovenia and Croatia have marked a stark change in my travels. I love architecture. I know nothing about it, I just like to look at really old buildings and say, "OOOOO, Pretty!", which I got to do quite frequently in Prague, Budapest, and throughout Italy. But Slovenia and Croatia have been all about nature. Yesterday as I was swimming in the Adriatic sea, I got to contemplating the temple ceremony when it talks about the creation. Jesus really did a great job, from everything that I've seen, and I feel so privileged to be able to see so much of it. But it made me long for the temple in a way I haven't done since my mission when I didn't get to go for over a year.
The other day a girl asked me why I don't drink, and my first response was that it was a religious conviction. But that got me thinking again about something I've been contemplating for a while. Am I really a disciple of Christ, or do I live this way because I find it more appealing? Do I follow Christ out of love and gratitude and awe and humility, or do I do it selfishly, since that is the kind of life that appeals to me? I think cigarettes and alcohol are vile, smelly things, and have never had the slightest inkling to try them. I have seen far too much misery caused by not living the law of chastity to ever feel like the law of chastity is asking too much, and I want a stable and long-lasting relationship for myself that I know can only come through obedience to that law. I miss going to church when I don't get to, and I really miss the temple. And, when I think about it, there isn't anything that I am commanded to do that I don't enjoy, or at least see the wisdom in obeying. If Heavenly Father ever asked me to do something I didn't feel inclined to do, or that I didn't understand as well as I understand the commandments by which I now live, would I be as obedient as I am? What if I were commanded not to eat ice cream or not to play pinochle or not to travel? How would I take it?
Or is that just how God works? Is that just the nature of commandments, that those with eyes to see will see how they lead to happiness, that that is their only purpose? I keep wracking my brain for a time when the gospel was hard to live, but the only difficulties I can remember in living the gospel were the consequences of my not living it, and then having to change. Maybe it only makes sense that I can think of no instances of the gospel being difficult. As it says in Alma 41:11, "and they have gone contrary to the nature of God; therefore, they are in a state contrary to the nature of happiness." And then in Matt 11:30 "For my yoke is easy and my burden light."
Though I haven't got this satisfactorily settled in my mind, there is one thing that seems certain to me. The gospel of Jesus Christ as found in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints makes sense and makes people happy. Even if it didn't make so much sense, I would still know of its truthfulness. Indeed, there were parts that made little sense to me at all when I received that first, strong witness from the Holy Ghost of its truthfulness. But I'm super grateful that, even when it doesn't make sense, it makes me happy.
The other day a girl asked me why I don't drink, and my first response was that it was a religious conviction. But that got me thinking again about something I've been contemplating for a while. Am I really a disciple of Christ, or do I live this way because I find it more appealing? Do I follow Christ out of love and gratitude and awe and humility, or do I do it selfishly, since that is the kind of life that appeals to me? I think cigarettes and alcohol are vile, smelly things, and have never had the slightest inkling to try them. I have seen far too much misery caused by not living the law of chastity to ever feel like the law of chastity is asking too much, and I want a stable and long-lasting relationship for myself that I know can only come through obedience to that law. I miss going to church when I don't get to, and I really miss the temple. And, when I think about it, there isn't anything that I am commanded to do that I don't enjoy, or at least see the wisdom in obeying. If Heavenly Father ever asked me to do something I didn't feel inclined to do, or that I didn't understand as well as I understand the commandments by which I now live, would I be as obedient as I am? What if I were commanded not to eat ice cream or not to play pinochle or not to travel? How would I take it?
Or is that just how God works? Is that just the nature of commandments, that those with eyes to see will see how they lead to happiness, that that is their only purpose? I keep wracking my brain for a time when the gospel was hard to live, but the only difficulties I can remember in living the gospel were the consequences of my not living it, and then having to change. Maybe it only makes sense that I can think of no instances of the gospel being difficult. As it says in Alma 41:11, "and they have gone contrary to the nature of God; therefore, they are in a state contrary to the nature of happiness." And then in Matt 11:30 "For my yoke is easy and my burden light."
Though I haven't got this satisfactorily settled in my mind, there is one thing that seems certain to me. The gospel of Jesus Christ as found in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints makes sense and makes people happy. Even if it didn't make so much sense, I would still know of its truthfulness. Indeed, there were parts that made little sense to me at all when I received that first, strong witness from the Holy Ghost of its truthfulness. But I'm super grateful that, even when it doesn't make sense, it makes me happy.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
paradise lost
This is where I went two days ago:
And I couldn't see anything but FOG!!
I wouldn't have complained about the rain. I wouldn't have complained about all the tourists, not even the old ones. I wouldn't have complained about slipping and squelching in the deep mud, up and down the hills in my flip flops, which fipped mud all over my legs until I looked like the creature from the black lagoon. I would even have laughed good-naturedly at the looks of condescending pity and outright superiority from the people who were outraged by my unsuitable footwear. But I was pretty mad about the fog.
I was unaffected by the bad weather in Rome and in Daugavpils. When I lost my rings, I was disappointed, but I quickly got over it. When I lost my shoes in Florence, I laughed and called it typical. But I was pretty mad about the fog.
The Plitvice lakes were supposed to be the highlight of my trip, the one day above all others that I was looking forward to. That is the picture I would show people to try to convince them to come to Croatia with me, and as I looked around me at all the gray fog, I couldn't help feeling that that I lost my chance to see paradise. It cost so much to get there that there is almost no way I can afford to go again on this trip, and who goes to Croatia twice in one life time?
I found myself thinking that it was an unnecessarily cruel way of teaching me to deal with disappointment, but then it occurred to me that it wouldn't be disappointing if it weren't something that is important to me, would it? And believing, as I strongly do, that our emotions are a choice completely within our agency, I set about to overcome my bitterness. It was not easy, but I feel better now. It was only one day in the midst of the trip of a lifetime. Daugavpils, Prague, Cinque Terre, and Bled have all been their own kinds of paradise, and I dare say I've seen a good deal more wonderful places like that than many, many people. And maybe one day when I'm rich, I'll come back to this area of the world to visit Turkey and can take another shot at Plitvice Lakes.
P.S. Today is Sunday, and there are no branches that meet in this area, so this is week 2 with no church attendance. I guess that technically makes me less active this month. Ooops.
And I couldn't see anything but FOG!!
I wouldn't have complained about the rain. I wouldn't have complained about all the tourists, not even the old ones. I wouldn't have complained about slipping and squelching in the deep mud, up and down the hills in my flip flops, which fipped mud all over my legs until I looked like the creature from the black lagoon. I would even have laughed good-naturedly at the looks of condescending pity and outright superiority from the people who were outraged by my unsuitable footwear. But I was pretty mad about the fog.
I was unaffected by the bad weather in Rome and in Daugavpils. When I lost my rings, I was disappointed, but I quickly got over it. When I lost my shoes in Florence, I laughed and called it typical. But I was pretty mad about the fog.
The Plitvice lakes were supposed to be the highlight of my trip, the one day above all others that I was looking forward to. That is the picture I would show people to try to convince them to come to Croatia with me, and as I looked around me at all the gray fog, I couldn't help feeling that that I lost my chance to see paradise. It cost so much to get there that there is almost no way I can afford to go again on this trip, and who goes to Croatia twice in one life time?
I found myself thinking that it was an unnecessarily cruel way of teaching me to deal with disappointment, but then it occurred to me that it wouldn't be disappointing if it weren't something that is important to me, would it? And believing, as I strongly do, that our emotions are a choice completely within our agency, I set about to overcome my bitterness. It was not easy, but I feel better now. It was only one day in the midst of the trip of a lifetime. Daugavpils, Prague, Cinque Terre, and Bled have all been their own kinds of paradise, and I dare say I've seen a good deal more wonderful places like that than many, many people. And maybe one day when I'm rich, I'll come back to this area of the world to visit Turkey and can take another shot at Plitvice Lakes.
P.S. Today is Sunday, and there are no branches that meet in this area, so this is week 2 with no church attendance. I guess that technically makes me less active this month. Ooops.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
I am NOT a PROSTITUTE!!!!
The past couple of days have been so weird.
For the most part, I have been left alone on my trip. I've gotten some weird looks (especially in Budapest) and a few cat calls, but nothing major. But not the past couple of days.
It all started when I was sitting in the train station in Ljubljana, Slovenia. There I was, half in my pajamas since my laundry hadn't finished drying, with a couple pairs of pants spread out over my back pack in hopes that they would dry before my train came. My hair was up in a librarian, no fun and no nonsense style bun, and I had, as has become my custom on this trip, very little make-up on. Who do I have to impress here anyway? In short, there was nothing about my appearance that would suggest that I was in any mood for any monkey business.
Anyway, I must have inadvertently made some hand signal that means "Hey! I'm a prostitute! Come and get it!" Because I was suddenly approached by a man. I didn't understand Slovenian enough to know exactly what he was saying, but enough to know that he was trying to strike up a conversation, not just asking the time or something. I smiled and sweetly explained that I didn't speak his language, but that did not discourage him. I then ignored him and read my Nook for a while before he finally gave up and walked away.
Just then, a little boy who couldn't have been more than 14 sat down beside me. He started muttering to me, with his eyes cast down. At first I thought he was apologizing for the creepy man who had just left, but he just kept going. Again, I tried to explain that I didn't speak that language, and went back to my Nook. The muttering continued until I looked over and asked, "Are you talking to me?" I couldn't be sure, since he wasn't looking at me. That's when I saw the vile hand gestures he was making at me, and I stuffed my still-moist pants into my bag and left to go get some lunch.
When I came back, I sat on the other side of train station, and for some reason that little pervert was still there, and somehow he found me. He started his creepy muttering and tried to grab my butt, so the pants went back in my bag and I left again. Creeper.
In my "flustration", as my dad would say, I'm ashamed to admit that I got on a train going the wrong way. But that's another story.
Then today, I was again innocently sitting in front of a church when a sweet old man came and sat next to me on the bench and started talking to me. Again, I smiled and sweetly tried to explain that I don't speak Croatian. My Russian skills might have made a short conversation possible, but I just wasn't in the mood. He persisted. "What the heck," I thought, "why won't people just stop talking to me when they find out we don't speak the same language." I tried ignoring him and pulling out my Nook to read a bit, and he kept talking. Then he put his arm around me.
Could somebody please tell me what I am doing that makes people think I am a prostitute? Because I'd really like to stop doing it.
And what made any of them think that they could afford me is beyond me.
P.S. When I showed up at my hostel here in Zagreb (a few hours late because of my train-going-the-wrong-way adventure), the girl was showing me up to my room, when out of the next room came a bunch of girls that I had met in Austria. We greeted each other warmly, and the hostel girl gave me the weirdest look. It was as if she were saying, "So, you just walk into a hostel in Zagreb, Croatia, and you know people here?" It was awesome.
For the most part, I have been left alone on my trip. I've gotten some weird looks (especially in Budapest) and a few cat calls, but nothing major. But not the past couple of days.
It all started when I was sitting in the train station in Ljubljana, Slovenia. There I was, half in my pajamas since my laundry hadn't finished drying, with a couple pairs of pants spread out over my back pack in hopes that they would dry before my train came. My hair was up in a librarian, no fun and no nonsense style bun, and I had, as has become my custom on this trip, very little make-up on. Who do I have to impress here anyway? In short, there was nothing about my appearance that would suggest that I was in any mood for any monkey business.
Anyway, I must have inadvertently made some hand signal that means "Hey! I'm a prostitute! Come and get it!" Because I was suddenly approached by a man. I didn't understand Slovenian enough to know exactly what he was saying, but enough to know that he was trying to strike up a conversation, not just asking the time or something. I smiled and sweetly explained that I didn't speak his language, but that did not discourage him. I then ignored him and read my Nook for a while before he finally gave up and walked away.
Just then, a little boy who couldn't have been more than 14 sat down beside me. He started muttering to me, with his eyes cast down. At first I thought he was apologizing for the creepy man who had just left, but he just kept going. Again, I tried to explain that I didn't speak that language, and went back to my Nook. The muttering continued until I looked over and asked, "Are you talking to me?" I couldn't be sure, since he wasn't looking at me. That's when I saw the vile hand gestures he was making at me, and I stuffed my still-moist pants into my bag and left to go get some lunch.
When I came back, I sat on the other side of train station, and for some reason that little pervert was still there, and somehow he found me. He started his creepy muttering and tried to grab my butt, so the pants went back in my bag and I left again. Creeper.
In my "flustration", as my dad would say, I'm ashamed to admit that I got on a train going the wrong way. But that's another story.
Then today, I was again innocently sitting in front of a church when a sweet old man came and sat next to me on the bench and started talking to me. Again, I smiled and sweetly tried to explain that I don't speak Croatian. My Russian skills might have made a short conversation possible, but I just wasn't in the mood. He persisted. "What the heck," I thought, "why won't people just stop talking to me when they find out we don't speak the same language." I tried ignoring him and pulling out my Nook to read a bit, and he kept talking. Then he put his arm around me.
Could somebody please tell me what I am doing that makes people think I am a prostitute? Because I'd really like to stop doing it.
And what made any of them think that they could afford me is beyond me.
P.S. When I showed up at my hostel here in Zagreb (a few hours late because of my train-going-the-wrong-way adventure), the girl was showing me up to my room, when out of the next room came a bunch of girls that I had met in Austria. We greeted each other warmly, and the hostel girl gave me the weirdest look. It was as if she were saying, "So, you just walk into a hostel in Zagreb, Croatia, and you know people here?" It was awesome.
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