AFRICA

Alright, just kidding. I didn't go to Africa. But almost!

After experiencing the giant pain that is Ryanair and suffering through a four hour flight with the world's least classy, drunkest, most obnoxious "Hen Party" (Irish bachelorette party) complete with pink cowgirl hats and booty shorts, I arrived in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, the capital city of the Canary Islands. The Canaries are an autonomous community belonging to Spain located about 62 miles off the coast of Africa. Pretty cool.

After the cold and rainy weather of Ireland, the sun and sand of Gran Canaria was very much welcomed. As with everything I experienced in Europe, I felt a little like I was dreaming as I stood on that beautiful tropical island. And wearing flip flops for the first time in months was pretty freeing.

Kristi, Carli, Dan, Taylor and I hopped a bus to our hostel in downtown Las Palmas. The drive along the coast was absolutely breathtaking, but when we arrived, we were a little confused. There didn't seem to be a lot going on, and our hostel was in a bit of a sketchy area. After Carli haggled/harassed the proprietors about the rate we had agreed to for the week, we finally settled in. Somehow the day had passed, and the evening too, so by the time we went to get dinner, it was close to 10 p.m.

And nothing was open. Not even those generic Chinese restaurants you can find anywhere in the world. We walked and walked the deserted streets of the capital city, not really sure where the island's 900,000 residents were. Finally we stumbled upon this fancy Japanese/Thai/Fusion/Confusion restaurant where our very helpful and attractive waiter let us know that the party happens on the southern part of the island, about an hour away from where we were staying.

CRISIS. It was spring break. We had come to "make party" (as Europeans always translate), and our only opportunity was an hour away from our hostel. No. Wrong. We left the restaurant full but frustrated. That night, we tried looking for available hotels in the south, specifically in Playa del Inglés which we discovered was the beach resort town we had been planning for. The guys, who had been responsible for booking our Canary trip, refused to take any responsibility. There was a lot of hostility. A lot of general crankiness.

The next day (Wednesday) we paid some more euros to take another bus to the south, where we walked around all day in the heat with our suitcases attempting to find a place to stay. We quickly learned that it was some kind of European tourism week, a festival or something, so everything was booked except this really expensive resort-type deal. OF COURSE. After lots of sass and general disagreement, we eventually agreed to stay at the resort for two nights (while still paying for the other hostel). The guys, low-maintenance as they were, needed their own room. So instead of paying for one room (where the five of us would have easily fit), we paid for two. Whatever. I still have lots of not good feelings about that whole situation.

But it hit me that I was still in THE CANARY ISLANDS, so I should probably have a blast. So I did.

We discovered the most delicious salad on the face of the earth, the Canary Salad. Which we proceeded to eat like four more times over the course of the week. In that time we did a lot of flirting with the waiters, these old Spanish guys who really couldn't get enough of us.

Lettuce, tuna, tomatoes, avocados, eggs, cucumbers, carrots, pineapple. Perfection.

Diva.

Every day pretty much went like this: Wake up, hit the beach (where we were, with the exception of these two Irish lads, by far the palest people on the island), Canary Salad and gin & tonics (Bloody Marys for Kristi), more gin & tonics, beach, fruit parfaits and stealing Wi-Fi at McDonald's, gin & tonics. Usually in that order but not always.

Coastline 

The water was pretty chilly..

View from our balcony!

O-she-an.

Oh hey Audrey! 

Mischief.

It was perfect. Our resort pools were perfect. Our resort bar was perfect. The only downside was that Spain is very receptive to topless older women. I'm trying to think of specific antics to write about, but most of them are very odd and very much inside jokes (Hello Kitty stickers, trolls, mixing drinks in the pool bathroom, etc.)

On Friday night, we (reluctantly) returned to our hostel in Las Palmas after days in the Panama City (Florida) of Europe. Saturday, we walked around the city, did a bit of shopping, and nommed some more McDonald's. We had to be up so early on Sunday to return to Genève that sleeping was really out of the question. Instead we hung out on our hostel roof, looking at the stars and shooting the breeze until our taxis arrived at some heinous hour to take us, and all the junk we had acquired, to the airport.

Las Palmas!

Espagne

Adios, Gran Canaria!

After Irish adventures, beaches, and lots of bickering, I must admit I was pretty happy to get back to our Geneva home, French, and the Rhône.

I'm not really sure how I've gotten through this post without crying. Probably because I haven't yet added pictures. I have been feeling so, so nostalgic lately, especially this afternoon, watching ANTM in beautiful Roma.

I can't believe I was ever ready, excited even, to come home. Which means it's about time to figure out how I can get back to Europe as soon as humanly possible.

#LeftmyheartinSwitzerland.

Long Overdue: IRELAND

My oh my, this post is way way way overdue. But I have been pretty busy re-enjoying everything that America is all about (i.e. burgers, driving, things that cost a dollar)..

IRELAND.

When in Europe, the only logical thing to do is to go to Ireland for St. Patrick's Day. So that's exactly what we did.

Early Thursday morning, we boarded an AerLingus (what a name) flight to Dublin and arrived in the country of green. In a word?

Absurd.

Imagine the biggest party you can think of and then multiply that times 100. I have never seen so much green, so many Irish flags, so many drunk people in one place in my entire life. Once we arrived in the city center, we found our hotel and immediately went to the parade. Absolutely ridiculous. Irish people are sooooo freaking happy.

So naturally, we found the nearest pub and ordered a round of Guinness.

The rest of the day was a blur of green, beer, and Irish music. We spent the majority of the day in the Temple Bar District, possibly the biggest block of celebration in the world. It was the world's most perfect St. Patrick's Day. We (somehow) all made it back to the hotel unharmed, all rolling in from our respective adventures.

The next day we recovered, walked around Dublin, went to the Guinness factory, shopped, etc. Overall, Dublin was a great place to visit. It was a nice break from all the French for sure.

Early Saturday morning, we took a lovely cab ride back to the airport where we had to pick up our rental car. WHAT A PAIN. Unbeknownst to us, you have to be like 30 or something to rent a van in Ireland. So we learned that the seven of us, plus suitcases for a week+ of travel, would be stuck in a five-seater. SOMEHOW we wedged everyone (and everything) in and were on our way. After probably two hours of sleep (generous estimate), Terence managed to be pretty boss at driving stick and driving on the wrong side of the car and on the wrong side of the road.

For those who say half the fun is getting there, it's clear to me that they have never been to Ireland (where almost all the fun is getting there). What an incredibly beautiful drive. Absolutely breathtaking. I don't know how to appropriately put it into words, and pictures of course will never do it justice. So if you can make it to Ireland, go to the countryside. Especially if you love sheeeeeeep. There are copious amounts of sheep in Ireland.

Eventually we made it to our destination: Galway, a city on the west coast of Ireland known for its vibrant cultural life. Roads of restaurants and pubs and sweater shops everywhere. I'm pretty sure all I did in Ireland was eat incredible food and drink lots of beer. It was absolutely perfect. I didn't even take very many pictures, which is pathetic, but I think it's okay because it means I was too busy soaking it all in. Now that I am writing this in June, I am thinking about how I should have just taken the time to do this back in March because of how fuzzy things already are. I remember everything, but I'm not so sure about the chronology. I know that I loved Galway, although it was super cold and rainy there in March.

On Monday, we squashed into the car again and began the adventure to Dingle, Ireland. Well. It's a lot more entertaining looking back on it now (from my comfortable bed in June in Ohio), but I truly could have done without the Dingle adventure to say the least.

On the way to Dingle, we detoured to the Cliffs of Moher. I'd love to go back there in the summer when it's not 40 degrees and raining, but it was stunning nonetheless. It was one of those times where I just had to take a minute and think about how lucky I was to be able to be seeing this.

The drive to Dingle was a gorgeous drive, but it got a little less gorgeous as it was closing in on darkness and we weren't there yet. (It's especially important to keep in mind that we had something like a 9 am flight to the Canary Islands out of Dublin the next morning). We finally arrived around 9 pm and commenced driving around looking for our hostel. After half an hour of no luck, Taylor went into one of the only open stores to ask where it was..

Two minutes later, he came back out laughing. "Well, apparently our hostel isn't even in this city," he said, and it took everything I had in me not to punch him in the face. We'd been in the car for probably eight hours, had nowhere to stay, had been spending ridiculous amounts of money, and had to leave at 4 am to get back to Dublin. NOT FUNNY. I was annoyed. Kristi was annoyed. Everyone else thought it was hilarious; I really envy their senses of humor.

Regardless, we found a B&B where we could stay for the night, had an expensive (but tasty) dinner at the only open restaurant, found the only open bar (full of Americans), and went to sleep around 2 am. Right. Young adult decision-making is absolutely terrible. Two hours later, we were on the road again, cranky as all get out. But all that matters is that we made it to the airport in time. Next stop, Canary Islands!

Watching America's Next Top Model

As I'm writing this, I am indeed watching America's Next Top Model. That's because I AM HOME IN AMERICA. (I don't even really like ANTM, I'm just too lazy to get up and get the remote, another reason I know I'm in America).

I truly can't believe it. I can't believe four months can go so quickly. Or that I can have so many great memories from such a short amount of time. I'm not adept enough at writing to try to put those four months into any kind of good sentence or paragraph or anything.

But everyone should study abroad. Everyone. It's been the best experience of my life so far. I keep trying to explain it to everyone here at home, but I end up fumbling for the right words to say.

It was incredible. Absolutely incredible. I am going to miss my roommates, my housemates, and seeing the Rhône River out my window. I am going to miss shopping at Migros, Coop, and Manor. I am going to miss eating frozen pizzas and turkey sandwiches for every meal. I am even going to miss the snobby French/Swiss/Genevois. I am going to miss the Swiss Franc (although I do appreciate American prices), and I am going to miss the walls of chocolate everywhere. I am going to miss the incredible weather of Europe.

It seems weird now to recap my travels from my couch in Ohio, but I still need to share photos and thoughts from Ireland, the Canaries, Mallorca, and Paris.

Now, all I have are pictures, memories, and a bit of confetti from Carnevale in Rome. But this trip and the people in it will be with me for the rest of my life.

Europe, je t'aime.

München!

I'm not entirely sure if Blogger will cooperate tonight. It doesn't seem to want to post my pictures as much as I do. But I'll give it a try because two 3,000-word papers are not exactly what I want to be doing with my late-night hours.

Before I recap my journey to Munich, Germany, I'd like to point out that it's APRIL 23. Which means less than three weeks left here in Genève. That thought is a bit too much to handle right now. Because as much as I miss everyone (family, friends, 513-ers), I think I might miss this continent so much more. School right now is a bit rough, what with all these term papers and impending finals, but the feeling that we're winding down is pretty terrifying. Where did the past 3.5 months go? I feel like I was just getting off the plane, jet-lagged as all hell, trying to take in all the European-ness surrounding me. Weird weird weird.

But. München.

SO LONG AGO. More than a month actually.

On Thursday morning, March 10, I took the train(s) by myself for the first time, and it was honestly one of my favorite parts of the trip. It was so great to travel alone. Not that I don't love the people from my program, but we don't exactly get a lot of time away from each other. So I just read and wrote and looked out the window a whole lot.

I met Riley at the train station, and we found our hostel with minimal getting-lost. We stayed at the Wombat's City Hostel, which insists on putting the prefix WOM before every word (i.e. the womMap, the womBar, the womCrew, etc.).

Wom

After a so so so so so good dinner of Schnitzel and beer at a traditional German restaurant (where the waitress taught us some helpful German phrases and Riley pretended to know German), we enjoyed our complimentary drink at the womBar and went up to our room.

And that was when disaster struck.

Just kidding. But I did walk into the bathroom, turn on the light, and see a bedbug. After a pretty catastrophic experience at the UC Honors Retreat last fall, I was not trying to deal with that particular insect. After convincing Riley that bedbugs are much more harmful/blood-sucking/life-ruining than they appear, we went to the desk and had our room changed to one far, far away from the nasty little critter. Which meant that we had to sleep in the same room as some random-ass guy who was already passed out when we got there, but hostel life obviously isn't the most glamorous.

Since Riley is a lazy bum, we got a reasonably late start the next day. But the weather was gorgeous, and we spend the early afternoon exploring the city (after starting our day with a beer of course). I'm going to take this opportunity (and I'll probably take several more) to point out how much I love Germany. Love it, love it, love it. Everything about it is wonderful.

Karlstor (Carl's Gate)

Deutschland at its best

BAVARIA

We went back to the hostel after a few hours to meet up with Terence, Taylor, Dan, and Carli who had taken a train at 6 a.m. that morning. Spent the rest of the day walking around possibly every part of München and the evening having a wonderful German time.

We went to another fantastic German restaurant, and we experienced the less-than-hospitable personalities of what can only be described as very stereotypical, middle-aged German women. There was no small talk, and there was certainly no free tap water. You order, you eat, you pay. But it was so delicious. I had some form of pork/dumpling mess, and there were PRETZELS EVERYWHERE. And of course, we had some beer. I feel like every German has beer with every meal. It can't possibly be done any other way.

Frauenkirche (Cathedral of our Dear Lady)

Nues Rathaus (New Town Hall)

Feldherrnhalle (Field Marshals' Hall)

Theatinerkirche (Theatine Church)

That night, I met some English/Irish/Australian bros in the womBar who thought they could school me in geography; turns out they couldn't. I've found that although Americans get such a bad rap for being ignorant of anything outside America, it's pretty much the same everywhere else.  Although the fact that Europeans tend to know more than one language does give them some street cred. Point is, thank you Dr. Kevin Raleigh for teaching me European geography.

On Saturday morning, we took a tour of Dachau, the first concentration camp in Germany. It was an absolutely incredible experience. Definitely in the top five of all the things I have done/seen/experienced in Europe. We had a truly wonderful tour guide who gave us far more than the standard, paid-for tour of Dachau. He spends his spare time studying Dachau specifically, so his knowledge on the subject was pretty insurmountable. I highly, highly suggest taking the time to go to Dachau if you're ever in Munich. It was weird to take pictures of a place where such unbelievably cruel things happened. It's also strange to try to find things to say about an experience that is so deeply rooted in the darker side of world history. Go there, see it, think about it.

Dachau

Border of Prisoner's Compound

"Work will make you free."

That afternoon, we went to the Englischer Garten, a giant public park in the middle of Munich. It was the first day the park's biergarten's were open, so we enjoyed quite a bit of time sitting with roughly thousands of people, eating yet more delicious food, listening to the traditional brass band playing from the Chinese Tower (Chinesischer Turm), and obviously drinking beer. Obviously.

Chinesischer Turm

ZOMG.

We walked around some more and stumbled upon the Viktualienmarkt, where I saw some of the most beautiful spreads of produce and flowers ever to grace this earth.

Maypole

Om noms

As the evening rolled around, we decided it was only appropriate to dine at the famous (and infamous) Hofbrauhaus. Although the food was less than spectacular and horribly overpriced, the Hofbrauhaus might also be in my top five Europe experiences. Top ten, easily. We scored a table right next to the stage, where there was traditional German dancing and whipcracking all evening long. It's an absolutely unreal experience to be in a gigantic hall filled with people singing, eating, and consuming beer from barrel-sized mugs at alarming rates. (Cincinnati Hofbrauhaus, nice try.) We even witnessed a few throwdowns between customers and customers as well as customers and staff. Quite eventful, quite entertaining, quite expensive. I think we spent the remainder of the night stumbling around Munich, bar hopping and making generally questionable decisions. In other words, we were living the charmed life of young Germans in Bavaria. (I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize to the city of Munich for taking unpaid advantage of your excellent public transportation system. We are very sorry.)

Possibly the Greatest Place on Earth

Blurry dancers

BEERHALL

Whipcracking!

Sunday was spent on the trains again, something like eight hours of travel time. Missing Munich more and more as I got further and further away, thinking about how unprepared I was to go back to Genf.


I think one day I might move to Germany. There is a very good chance. There's too much good there to be anywhere else, I think. Too much history, too much culture, too much to see and do and love.


And then I spent the next two days writing an economics paper. Gross. But the following Thursday was St. Patrick's Day, and there's only one place in the world where that particular holiday can be properly celebrated. So to continue the far-from-real life I had been living, I spent Wednesday night packing my bags for the Emerald Isle...


Right. Unreal.