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[3packsfrom21]

With that, Let it Snow

Our final post, finished in the Seattle airport, waiting for our final flight to Calgary. Last you heard, we were getting on a bus bound for Bangkok. The bus was to arrive in Bangkok at 11:00am. Well, very long story short, that was not at all the case. The bus ride ended up involving a 3 hour wait where our driver disappeared, a two hour wait in a customs line, having to walk our bags across the border and wait for a new (much smaller) shuttle van. In the end, we didn’t arrive in Bangkok until 4:00pm. Fortunately, we were still able to get three 3rd class train tickets (3rd class is a whole other story) to Chiang Mai for that night. We made it to Chiang Mai (our LAST destination) by 12:00pm on December 8th. We then spent the next week (until the 14th) there. Highlights of Chiang Mai largely involve food, markets, and journaling time. We love all things Thai food: Kao Soi Kai, Pad Thai, mango sticky rice, deep fried taro, spring rolls, and on and on. We drank our share of smoothies and bubble tea and indulged in a nice breakfast at our hostel every morning. We also did a lot of chatting, laughing, and sleeping in our snuggly beds (the evenings and mornings got chilly – down to 15 degrees!). Chiang Mai was the “fall” to our trip and we felt it’s bitter-sweetness in the air. We’ve enjoyed the spontaneity and lack of responsibility of these last few months, and aren’t really too thrilled it’s ending. Yet, at the sound of a Christmas tune played in 7/11, the bitterness is replaced with chills of excitement.

For our final thoughts, we’ll each reflect on what we’ve learned over the past 4 months. Enjoy, and thanks for reading!

***

I’m writing this from a cafeteria in Taipei airport, waiting for a connecting flight to Seattle; from there, we catch our final flight home. As I think about the conclusion of a trip that I’ve dreamt of (as cliché as that sounds) since graduating high school, I have conflicting thoughts. I wanted this trip to have more purpose, and wanted to make learning a focus; neither of these are things that can be easily measured. So, as I come home, how do I know that they were accomplished?

In the past 4 months I have traveled through nine countries (3 were repeats), over 2 continents. I have walked the cliffs of Moher, explored ancient Rome, stood on Mars Hill where Apostle Paul preached almost 2000yrs ago, and biked through the Angkor Wat, the largest religious monument in the world. I’ve experienced my share of stressful travel days and endured a few bumps in the road, all of which God worked out in the end. Before leaving home, I had many doubts and worries about how things would go. Would we find places to stay, argue too much, get sick, run out of money? And how would we get from A to B? It’s impossible to prepare for every outcome, and very rarely do my preparations include relying on God. However, when in the moment, He’s usually the first one I turn to (thanks to his prompting), and the only reason I’m able to find a way out. Sadly, He’s also usually the last to be given any recognition; therefore, I continue trying to prepare and the cycle continues. I’ve learned (though I’m quick at forgetting) that everything makes more sense in the moment, because He lives in the moment. God can only be experienced in the present; he can give you peace about the past or future, but that peace is something experienced in the moment. So, rather than imagining and trying to prepare for all life’s “What Ifs,” I’m instead trying to trust His promise that He is “[a] very present help in trouble” Ps. 46:1. This is quite a relief, especially for someone who is coming home near the end of 2019, having no idea how next year will go. So, I think with time and reflection, I will realize what the trip accomplished. The true purpose will change with perspective and I will continue to learn from it.

Kiana

***

So, what can I say to summarize a trip that has fashioned itself as “normal?” It amazes me how, as I try and jot down some last poetic words, I am completely lacking. Where have I grown? I don’t believe I’ve grown all that much, to be honest. When we started to plan this adventure, the topic of “purpose” arose. I must say, I struggled with an answer. Was there a purpose for us to go traveling for four months? Because, if there wasn’t one, then the other, more harsh question would need to be answered. That is, should we be even be going at all? For me, at least, I didn’t really get that epiphany moment I was hoping for. Instead, I flew off, hoping I wasn’t missing a cue that said He wasn’t really on board with my plans.

Now, though, it’s clear that this trip came in His timing. It’s funny how I sometimes I find myself reciting “its all in His timing… all in His perfect timing.” as if that means it can’t possibly also fit alongside my own. In my mind, me and God always worked in different time zones. His was the right one, while I was either a couple hours ahead or a whole day behind. But as I have thought about His perfect timing, and how it miraculously aligned with my desires, I wonder if I’ve missed the hint that is so blatantly given through the name “Father”. He is the Almighty I AM, the Alfa and Omega, the Beginning and the End, and yet I call him Dad. It sort of messes with my mind a little. Because, when I think of His perfect Will, I feel the need to remind myself that His will is not always my will. And when I think of Him as the Alfa and Omega, I get this image of surrender and dying to my old self. But when I think of Him as Father… I think of playing soccer with my dad, and laughing with him about stupid jokes, that aren’t really that funny, but are hilarious because of how he said it. He’s that dude too. He delights in having fun, and through that, I can do wild things just to have fun with him. Now, He is still the Almighty that calls us to worship and feed His sheep. I am aware that to become more like Jesus I am called down a path of submission and focus. But if this trip has taught me anything, it’s that He’s also there for when I want to do something crazy, something for my own enjoyment. He’s there for the joke. His timing isn’t always hard to get on board with because He isn’t meant to be this hard, crusted old man that I’ve somehow pictured him as. I have seen a bit more of God’s humor these past few months and it’s been pretty cool.

Lynece

***

What have I learned? At first, I actually thought I wasn’t learning anything. The purpose of this trip, in my hopes and dreams, was to read a ton of books and become an expert on religion so that I don’t have to question or doubt anymore, and so I can answer anyone’s questions and convince them that I’m right without looking like a fool. Well, there wasn’t much time for reading in Europe, truth be told, and I remember myself somewhere in Spain, thinking I’d failed at my purpose for the trip. I really wasn’t learning anything at all and I certainly wasn’t going to be Ravi Zacharias by the time I went home. Looking back, I was right on the second of those (of course), but I can now definitely recognize some things that I’ve learned – both through the reading I was able to catch up on in Asia, and through the simple experiences of my journey.

So, what have I learned? The biggest thing that comes to mind has to do with my pride and image-management. But I’d rather not talk about my pride. You know, because of my pride. See, I always knew I struggled with pride. What I didn’t realize was how deeply it was affecting my relationship with the Lord. By trying to so precisely maintain my self-image, I distanced myself from things that might hurt that image. In the process, I distanced myself from Jesus, because, regardless of what our pop-worship culture might say, Jesus will never be popular. In truth, much to my anguish, following Jesus means sometimes looking like a fool to those around me. That is perhaps the most difficult thing I’ve ever been confronted with. I actually cannot maintain image and live according to Jesus’ truth and life. There is no having it both ways. No “a little of this and a little of that.” You can have the image, or, you can live with Jesus. That’s it.

Reading through Ezekiel, this hit me hard. Ezekiel did some strange things, listening to the Lord’s commands. I don’t understand most of the book, but from what I gather, Ezekiel was a prophet, chosen by God to be an image to Israel of what was to come. God often told him to demonstrate these things-to-come through enactments, body posture, clothing, etc. Let me just say that Ezekiel’s self-image wasn’t exactly boosted by the ordeal. In fact, from my perspective, he wouldn’t merely have looked foolish to everyone around him, he would’ve looked positively insane. I bristle at the thought of such humiliation, but then am reminded that that is the calling. I can then only praise Him for His great patience and mercy, because I am only beginning to learn, understand, and surrender, but he has already been a kind, guiding hand, giving me tangible examples of what it means to ditch the pride in favor of connection to Him and His people.

You may wonder how a trip to Europe/Asia taught me about pride. So do I. I read some books that certainly pointed me in the right direction, but, other than that, I suppose the answer lies somewhere in the Lord’s mysterious ways.

Janae

***

Dear trip 2019, you’ve been a blast.

|3packsfrom21|

[3packsfrom21]

Taste of Asia

I’m writing this with just under a week left in our trip, wondering where the time went. Cambodia has been visited and crossed off our list, leaving us with only one more country to go. We arrived in Phnom Penh, Cambodia’s capital, on November 22 (Janae’s birthday) and got a bit of a shock. I think Janae and I had forgot what Asia is truly like, and after already spending 2 weeks in Indonesia, I thought the culture shock had passed. To our surprise, it was just beginning. We took a tuk-tuk from the airport (cheapest way we’d found that wasn’t extremely complicated) and were assailed by a sensory overload. The streets were a mash of vehicles of various shapes and sizes, all trying to usurp authority on the road in the absence of any order. Along the streets were people selling anything from a shoeshine to fish squewers, and I’ll let you imagine how the two of those would smell mixed together along with the constant smell of urine and car fumes. We planned on staying only long enough to do laundry and find a way of getting out to the Islands. So, we only had two nights booked at a cheap hostel in the city center. This was probably the worst place we’d stayed so far. A fellow traveler compared it to a meth lab. He wasn’t far off. The place was dirty overall and the walls were covered in writing and graffiti. Our room was on the fifth floor and there was no elevator. This is not usually a problem, but with heavy packs and stairs that had no consistent depth or spacing, it was a bit of a climb. Watching Lynece try and scale them with her lack of depth perception was slightly amusing.

When we went out to explore, we found produce markets selling fresh fruit beside fresh fish (some were still squirming in their buckets); we ate anything from (what I can only imagine was) blood pudding, to ice cream in a young coconut, to oversized cheerios swimming in dry ice (only in Asia); we sat along the rivers edge, observing the life of locals around us - a young boy playing ecstatically in the mud and diving for fish in the filthy water, baby bath time with Dad, and a local family living on a small long-tail boat. On the second evening, we found a night market that Janae and Lynece spent an abnormally (though not uncharacteristically) long amount of time admiring. For the first time on this trip, I felt very far from home.

As it turns out, getting to the less touristy island of Koh Ta Kiev was a bit more complicated that we anticipated. Therefore, we ended up spending 3 nights in the Phnom Penh. During that time we came to really enjoy all that it had to offer and yet weren’t able to shake the feeling that a lot was happening behind closed doors. So, it was with mixed feeling that we left Phnom Penh (November 25th) on a 5h shuttle bus to the city of Sihanoukville (I use the word city loosely, I would more accurately use words like big heap of rubble under construction, armpit of the world, sewer, tragic devastation, post-apocalyptic landfill etc…). We spent the night in a dorm room on Otras beach. The next day, we caught a longboat to Koh Ta Kiev. We had read that the island had little electricity and no cell service (or wifi), which was true, making it all the more special. I’ve never been to a place that embodies the word “paradise” more. We spent the week waking up early (to get the most out of the sunlight), taking a morning swim before a delicious breakfast, relaxing in hammocks and reading the many books that Janae had convinced us to bring (that we hadn’t had the chance to read), dipping and sipping in the afternoon, before indulging in delicious dinner - curry or marvelous wood-oven pizza. We spent many of the nights star-gazing and having those night-time deep conversations, amazed that there were still many topics left to explore. Then, back at our bungalow, we were greeted each night by beetles (sizes ranging anywhere from a small bumblebee to a large cockroach), that found our bags to be their perfect new home. We were glad to escape into our net-covered beds and go to sleep to the (roaring) sound of the jungle.

One night we went on an excursion to elephant rock, located on the other side of the island. Janae and Lynece both got to try cliff jumping, crossing it off of their list of things they wanted to do. The rock (which really did look like an elephant) was between 6-8 meters high, depending on the tide; Janae and Lynece were the only girls who jumped and did so with only mild discomfort to their bottoms. I decided to just swim and hold their life jackets (I think I had more fun). We then went and watched the sun set from the boat, before returning to our hostel.

Before coming to the island we’d read that there were glowing plankton that would show up in the water after dark. I was skeptical after not seeing them the first few nights, but turns our you actually have to go in. We made our way down the beach in the dark, praying to not come into contact with anything harmful in the black water. The unsettled feeling left as we entered the water, finding it to be full of sparkling lights which twinkled with the slightest movement of your body. This will be something I will remember for the rest of my life; it reminded me of something you might see in the land of Avatar, something out of this world. Swimming after dark became part of our nightly routine and was just as magical each time. It’s so fun discovering the mysteries that God has placed throughout his creation. They have to be experienced, the imagination just doesn’t cut it.

With much sadness, we left our paradise (Dec. 3) and took an overnight bus to Siem Reap. We booked a sleeper bus that was supposed to have double beds, but in Cambodia a double bed just means a single with two pillows on it. We’d met a couple on the island that gave us tons of advice on how to go about seeing the Angkor Wat and so our first day in Siem Reap was spent preparing for the next two days - renting bikes and buying our tickets for the temple.

We spent the next two days biking under massive trees and wandering around the temples in the massive Angkor area, trying to see as many things as possible while still enjoying ourselves. We covered around 60-70km, spending 22hours over 2 days. We ate breakfast (PB&J on bread) on temple steps while watching the sunrise over the Angkor Wat, had our lunch among ruined pillars in Prasat Preah Khan, and drank young coconut while sitting on massive tree roots overlooking Prasat Ta Keo. In order to make the most out of our mountain bikes, we spent a bit of time both days bombing around on jungle paths, doing our best to get lost. Between the three of us, it would take a couple days to go through all our pictures. Even with all that, we agreed that it would take another 3-7 day pass in order to feel like we’d actually seen it.

The temples are covered in intricate carvings and many have large portions of crumbled rubble. Still, there are very few areas that are actually closed off to visitors. Not many safety barricades, much to our adventuring delight. Out of the 8 temples we got to, our favorite was Prasat Preah Khan. We saw it during the second day, and, as usual, it wasn’t even part of our plan. Just something we happened across. When walking up to it, it looks rather small, but as soon as you step inside you are met with a corridor of open doorways as far as you can see. From the center, there are hallways shooting off into four different directions. Each hallway seems to be unending. We learned later that the complex was once a university, which explained its short, sprawling layout. It also contained a small two-story library with round pillars. According to the security guard we talked to, the library was the only building in Cambodia with these Roman-style round pillars. We spent a fair amount of time wandering and admiring the details, before we had to move on. We probably only saw 1/3 of the complex.

In the end, we were all very bottom-sore and exhausted, though thoroughly thrilled and amazed. We ended our second day with an overnight bus to Bangkok, ending our time in Cambodia. Thailand marks the end of our trip and the last of our posts. Till next time…

Akun ~ Kiana

[3packsfrom21]

Something New

Well here we are again - another country finished and with it another blog to write. We are coming to the end of our time abroad and it’s becoming more tempting to not finish this blog. But, for Indonesia, at least, here is another.

We left Europe on the 5th of November. I can say with complete confidence that all three of us were happy to say goodbye to part one. As much as we loved Europe, it held too many sweater days, and not enough “do nothing” ones. So, when we touched down a mere seventeen hours later, let me tell you, we were happy to be sweating like hotdogs over a campfire. We landed in Denpasar Bali in the morning and took a taxi to our hostel in Kuta (the main tourist spot on the coast). We had booked two nights in a small run down hostel about ten minutes walk from the beach. For four bucks/night, we got a bed in a room with a very drippy AirCon machine (but hey, I won’t complain), free (self serve) pancakes for breakfast, a toilet that – besides the smell of stagnant water – was actually better than what I was expecting, and a beautiful pool. A great way to start Asia. We were a bit disappointed with how westernized Kuta was, but we guessed that if we left this hot spot we should be able to find a quiet cove to fry on. The three days we did stay in Kuta were spent trying to tan our pale skin. As all of us agreed, it would be a crime to go home the same shade we left with. We also enjoyed a myriad of different kinds of fresh fruit juice (Indonesia is known for these) and had our first taste of Indonesian cuisine. We tried to find a street market, but weren’t very successful.

After some recommendations and a bit of research, we decided to leave Kuta for better places. We knew we weren’t leaving the tourist attractions entirely, however, we hoped that the Gili Islands would have less crowds and some secluded beaches to hide away on. The Gili Islands consist of three small islands off the cost of Lombok. One has become more of a party scene, while the other two are left a little more untouched. The plan was to go to the most secluded of the three, but after talking with a few people we decided to go to Gili Air. It was supposed to have the great secluded beaches of Gili Meno while still having a bit of Gili T’s life. We took a fast boat on the 9th to the island. It took two hours and I almost jumped off. If you haven’t noticed a trend with me (and any sort of vehicle), I get a little motion sick. Knowing this, I still was not prepared for the rocky, nausea-inducing ride that was the fast boat. For a while, the only thing that kept me from throwing up was one thought: “I will not throw up, I will not throw up, I will not throw up”. Two hours later, we docked and I had made it. The idea that in a few days I would have to board it again was not one I wanted to discuss, but I. Had. Made. It.

Gili Air was a much needed get away spot. It has no vehicles besides donkey carriages and pedal bikes. We stayed in a small grass hut to ourselves. Even though it was deathly hot, we loved it. Such an unusual hostel to stay in! Originally, we were going to spend a few days there. It turned out to be over a week. The beaches weren’t everything we’d heard they’d be, and there were a fair amount of people there, but we still enjoyed our little island. We spent the first couple of days on the beach, of course. We were shocked at how quickly we burned in the sun, even with sunscreen and a base tan to prevent it. It wasn’t until we looked up the UV index that we understood. Bangkok’s UV is an 8 and Phnom Pen is 7, meanwhile, Bali sits at a UV index of 11. So, I guess that’s the answer for why we burned after an hour on the beach! I would like to add, that, at one point on the trip, a local came up to me and marveled at how “Indonesian” and “brown” my skin was. I mean, I don’t mean to gloat… but what can I say, the Lord gave me beautiful skin.

The other (very significant) thing this island held was amazing food. We ate at two restaurants and were consistently struck by how delicious each meal was. We had purple sweet potato falafel and fried chicken sambal; we enjoyed a coconut soup and smoothie bowls. Of course, there was always room for a fruit juice and maybe a Magnum ice cream bar on the walk back. All in all, I will dream of that food.

Besides having little to do, we were rarely board. We snorkeled, read, hung out in front of the fan in our room, and ate. Literally all things I love. The only down side of our time there was our health. Kiana managed to catch a cold (going through the aches, soar throat, lack of appetite, and stuffy nose), while Janae and I took turns with our stomachs feeling a bit off.

We booked our boat back to Bali for the 17th, taking a “lovely” fast boat that morning. Prior to this dreaded event, mom and I had bounced around different ideas of how to minimize the nausea. We concluded that I would stand, hoping to even out the rockiness. It helped! I stood for about an hour, and spent the rest of the time trying to ignore the guy puking beside me and thinking happy thoughts. The ride wasn’t as rough as our way there and I cannot tell you how happy I am to say that. From the port, we took a free shuttle to Ubud. We decided we’d finish off Indonesia in the wild, yogi city that has been made famous by the book “Eat Pray Love.”

It was busy, and not our fav. But it was also a great time to be in one of those places because we were sort of feeling a bit home sick and just wanted to hang out. Our four days were spent eating, reading, coffee shop sitting, and walking around a tad. We found that “street food” isn’t as much of a thing in Bali. We weren’t sure if that was because of our location or that we were looking in the wrong places; however we found very little for street vendors, instead finding little hole-in-the-walls to eat at.

We did do two different activities in Ubud. We did a cooking class, and even though we weren’t “feeling it” at 7:00 that morning, it was so worth it. We saw the local market and then cooked seven Indonesian plates. The cool part was that we were the only ones in the class that day. Usually, there are at least nine people in one class, but we managed to hit the perfect day (and the fact that it is their low season) and got our own private class. The second thing we splurged on was a Balinese message which checked all of the relaxation boxes. Just thinking about it makes me want to crawl into bed and sleep.

On the 21st of November we said goodbye to Indonesia, vowing to return and do it justice. We had struggled with our longing to do nothing and the guilt of not seeing everything Bali had to offer. When we had planned this trip, we had made a point of putting Asia last, as we assumed that all we’d want to do is beach it. Still, its hard to stay guilt free when we knew that if we put in a bit more effort, we’d have been absolutely amazed with Indonesia. In the end, what silenced our debating was the promise we’d return.

Indonesia has been a weird Asian country; it carries the wild feel of new culture, but is cut-out from the rest of Asia. There were no Tuk-Tuks here, nor were there the street markets that Asia’s known for. Instead, it has its own character. Wild and beautiful in a new way.

Sampai Lain waktu, Indo.

Terima Kasih - Lynece

[3packsfrom21]

Gander through Greece

On October 22, we flew from Rome to Athens. Knowing that Greece was nearing the end of its warm season, we only stayed in Athens for 2 nights before heading to Thira (Santorini). Our days in Athens were spent close to the hostel. I was feeling a bit of a stomach bug, so I needed to lay low. However, we were thrilled to discover some delicious food for cheaper prices than we’d seen in months! Greece is known for its gyros – wraps comparable to kebabs with generally either chicken, pork, or lamb, along with onions, tomatoes, tzatziki sauce, lettuce, and fries (inside). We were just grateful to have meat options that we could afford that weren’t just smoked ham, prosciutto ham, fake deli meat ham, or slightly-more-expensive-but-probably-actually-has-meat-in-it-ham. We also discovered feta cheese and HOLY. I didn’t think feta cheese could get better than ours at home, but I assure you it can. [In case you’re confused, my stomach bug didn’t eliminate my appetite].

The morning of the 24th, we woke bright and early (4:30 a.m.) to catch our ferry. Our receptionist had recommended that we show up two hours early, so although our ferry didn’t leave until 7:30, we caught a cab down to the harbor at 5. We were then confused because no one knew where our boat was supposed to dock. Our taxi driver was immensely helpful (another one of the Lord’s saving gifts) and helped us until we figured it out. Apparently, it is ridiculous to show up to a ferry 2 hours early. So, although we kept showing ticket offices the name of our boat, nothing made sense until we finally showed them the time when we would be leaving. They weren’t even considering boats that were arriving that far in the future. Our taxi driver thought we were crazy. With everything sorted, we sat at our gate for 45 min, while Lynece gloated (she’s the “no need to be too early, everything will work out” type), Kiana sat, resolutely unfazed (she’s the “better to be early cause what if [insert literally any possible obstacle that could arise here]” type), and I sat between them, admiring the boats and early morning breeze (I’m the “sure, ok” type). We all had a good laugh, and did get some pretty sweet seats on the ferry (which we later learned were reserved for people who paid more, but regardless). The ride was 7 hours long. We experienced the most amazing sunrise, the kind that can only be witnessed from aboard a boat, and spent the rest of the time chatting. You’d think that we’d eventually run out of things to talk about, but, although we do have our moments of silence, we always have more to say.

Now, to talk about Santorini. In the last post, Lynece told you about Venice being her “must-see” destination. Santorini was mine. In fifth grade English class, I had to do a project, which focused on traveling to another country. I remember basically nothing about the project itself, but I know I did mine on Santorini. I priced out flights and accommodations (pretty sweet deal when you’re 11 and have all the money in the world). I recall choosing a private home in Oia, with a pool that overlooked the stunning view of pearly-white-walled and sky-blue-domed houses, as well as the surrounding islands and endless ocean. From then on, I was GOING to Santorini (“like, when I’m old enough, like probably when I’m 16, or something”). My resolve was further strengthened by the likes of Mama Mia and The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I, too, put it on my list of 10 places that I wanted to see for my 13th birthday trip, and even cajoled Aasta into putting it on hers. And yet, somehow, even with turning 16 and everything, the plan had yet to materialize. Until now.

Since 5th grade, I’ve learned that apparently (and disappointingly) I’m not alone in wanting to go to Santorini. It’s chocked full of tourists who were as convinced as I by Meryl Streep and Abba. So, my expectations were sufficiently checked. Still, the 11 year old inside me couldn’t help but jump with glee as we neared the white-topped cliffs. We didn’t stay in a private home with a pool and a view (although, my fifth grade research was pretty accurate - there are plenty of these homes available). But, our hostel in Fira was clean, had plenty of people to meet, and did have a pool (minus the view). On our first morning, after picking up some groceries and Freddo Cappuccinos (iced espresso, with some kind of special sweetener, topped with just-under-whipped, whipped cream), we sat looking out over all of the magnificent view, feet dangling over the wall, and I couldn’t help but be filled with overwhelmingly joyous tears. It was all too cool.

We spent 5 lovely days in Santorini. The first was spent exploring the climbing streets of Fira. The second was spent in Oia (we went to Oia!), where we explored some more, found the classic windmills as well as an an epic bookstore (that I’d still be in now if it weren’t for Kiana and Lynece’s prompting), and discovered the unpredictable nature of the local bus system (I say local because that’s what it is called, but it is used much more by tourists than locals, from what I could tell). The bus is supposed to come every 20 minutes; however, the bus that brought us back from Oia to Fira was 45 min late. A new understanding of “island time.” The third day was a life maintenance day, where we caught up on journals, did laundry, etc. On the fourth day (I’m beginning to remind myself of Genesis, here), we went to the heavenly “Red Beach,” named after the red sand. It was a cove perfect for swimming, with the kind of water you see on people’s screen savers. We swam and soaked up the rays aaand.. I forgot to drink enough water. Which brings me to the fifth day, where I had a touch of heat stroke, so we lounged around the pool of our hostel all day before catching our ferry back to Athens in the evening. While here, we caught the famed sunsets almost every night (there aren’t enough words), and were blessed with absolutely perfect weather. Also, being at the end of the season, there were sales everywhere and we were each able to pick out a ring we liked.

There is something truly magical about Santorini. It is undeniably westernized. It’s busy. But there’s just a feeling about it that leaves you wanting more. It has an almost Arabic feel to it (I say this with admittedly zero grounding, as I’ve never been to an Arabic country). It feels island-y and luxurious but also feels like real things have happened here. It makes me curious to explore other Greek islands to see what even more spectacular gems might be waiting outside of all the vacationers’ sights. But I would be more than thrilled to spend a season just here, working at one of the shops (preferably the book store mentioned above). Many of the people that we met who were working at the shops were from elsewhere in Europe; they all go home for the down season. So I know it is frequently done! Maybe when I’m finished my degree..

Anyway. We loved Santorini. And I will be back.

As I started saying, on the evening of the 29th, we caught a ferry ride back to Athens. A 12 hour, overnight ferry this time. There were no cabins (and we wouldn’t have been able to afford them even if there had been) but, luckily, the boat was not too busy and there were plenty of open sofas to lie down on. Even better, the ride was incredibly smooth, especially compared to the rather choppy waters on the way there. It was a surprisingly incredible sleep!

We arrived in Athens at around 9:00 a.m. We stayed at the same hostel as before – it was particularly lovely because there were curtains around the bunks which gave us a little bit of privacy. You come to really appreciate these kinds of things! The heat stroke had thrown me off; I lost my appetite towards anything Greek food and was just not feeling myself. So, we spent the 30th and 31st laying low, once again. Truthfully, we were glad to have an excuse to take a break from any kind of sightseeing. Europe was tremendous, but we were exhausted, especially after Rome. Rome really took it all out of us. So those two days of rainy weather and bed/café chilling were necessary for us.

We ventured out a bit more on the 1st. We went and explored the area around the Acropolis, called the Plaka. I was feeling particularly moody and, frankly, angry with still being in Europe, still having to eat this stupid food and sleep in these stupid foreign beds. All I wanted was Mum’s chicken and dumplings, or noodle soup, or Dad’s buttermilk pancakes. It’s funny, writing this and noticing how drastically my attitude towards Greek food changed. Don’t let this deter you; the food is GOOD. This was just the post-heat stroke talking. Anyway, the good news was that our little bit of exploring helped to brighten all of our spirits. We didn’t overdo it - soon returning to the hostel to begin to prepare for our flight to Asia – but it was enough to move through some of the blues.

The next day was Acropolis day. The Acropolis did not get the astonishment it probably deserves. As I’ve mentioned, we were tired. And there comes a time when another set of ruins is kind of just another set of ruins. We put in our best effort, reading lots of the placards for more info and taking time to admire the sights. It really was cool. My favourite part of any ruins is when they still have old engravings on them, and some of these did. On the South slope, there is an ancient stadium/theatre that spans a large portion of the hill. In this stadium there are still the seats that were reserved for the priests/priestesses and on the front of many of the seats there is still the engravings dictating which priest got to sit where: “The priest of Zeus” and so on. We couldn’t actually read the letters, of course, but we overheard a nearby tour guide telling her group about it.

As for the Acropolis itself, I’ll need to return to appreciate it fully. It was remarkable to think of all the history that occurred there (in other circumstances, it would’ve likely been mind-blowing). My highlight of the day was seeing the Areopagus (Mars hill). It is quite the experience to know that you are standing in the place where Apostle Paul preached the gospel to the Greek philosophers. To think: in this spot, Christianity was introduced for one of the first times to this land. Woah. It’s really just a craggy rock on the top of a hill, but it was more impactful to us than any of the pillars in the Acropolis.

Acropolis day was also wonderful because I had my appetite back. To celebrate, we went to one of the most famous Greek restaurant chains, called O Thanasis. O Thanasis is known for its yogurtlu: souvlaki meat, covered in warm Greek yogurt and various spices, and served on a bed of pita bread. GUYS. This food is SO GOOD. Ah. We shared a yogurtlu and a Thanasis souvlaki kebab (basically the same thing, but just onions and tomato instead of yogurt), and were filled and happy, happy, happy. What’s more, it only set us back 19 euro in total. For dessert, we went to Lukumades to try Greek doughnut balls, called loukoumades. Traditionally, they are served with honey and cinnamon. So, we shared one order of traditional ones (with a side of ice cream, of course) and one order with Bueno chocolate drizzle on top. Enough said.

With the 2nd at a close, we only had two remaining days in Greece (and in Europe!) and we had plenty to do. You see, paying to check bags would’ve cost a ridiculous amount of money. So, we embarked on the task of trying to carry everything on. This meant that a) we needed to make our packs look small enough to carry on (the easy part) and b) we needed to ensure that each of us only had 10kilos of weight (the slightly harder part). This task was made easier by the fact that we knew we were entering hot country, so we left pants, sweaters, and other unnecessary layers at the hostel, for other travelers to look through. There were some things that we didn’t want to part with, so we also sent a package home. However, even after all of this, we were still over our weight. We began seeing how much we could fit into our pockets. Turns out, the inner pockets of my sweater can fit our iPad on one side and a novel on the other. I look like a walking brick, but oh well. We debated significantly about how much we could carry in our arms without looking suspicious. Finally, we caved a little for the sake of comfort and bought an extra 5 kilos of carry-on weight. This meant that with just the right number of layers, and with our pockets as full as reasonably possible, we could probably squeeze by.

And so, the morning of the 5th came. We donned our layers and took the hour-long metro ride to the airport. And what were we wearing? Well let’s see. Kiana: 1 pair of capris; 1 pair of pants; 1 t-shirt; 1 long sleeve shirt; 1 sweater; 1 rain jacket; 1 pair of socks; and sandals. Lynece: 1 pair of shorts; 1 pair of pants; 1 t-shirt; 1 long-sleeve; 1 sweater; 1 rain jacket; 1 pair of thick wool skiing socks; and sandals. And me? 1 pair of capris; 1 pair of pants; 1 t-shirt; 1 long-sleeve; 1 sweater; 1 rain jacket; 1 pair of socks; 2 bandanas (one on each wrist) and sandals. And what did we have in our pockets? Kiana: pillowcase, 2 bandanas, phone, charging cords, and glasses case. Me: charging battery, charging cords, sunglasses case, phone, a deck of cards, and my camera. Lynece: phone, charging cords, camera, and 4 adaptors. To top it all off, we each have a multi-colored sheet (Kiana, Lynece, and Dad brought them home from the Philippines) that is sewn like a sleeping bag (except open on both ends). Naturally, we wore them around our necks like face-eating, overgrown scarfs. Needless to say, the metro ride was a little warm.

Just imagine 3 huffing girls walking down the airport hallway (in Athens, a warm country, mind you), topped with massive scarfs, each wearing two backpacks, weighed down by their sagging pockets, wearing socks in their sandals. That was us. We decided that if anyone asked we’d just say we’d come from Canada. We acted as normal as we could, standing in line at the check-in counter, and comparing the size of our packs to the size of everyone else’s. Our anticipation rose as we stepped up to the counter. The man gave us one look, asked for our Passports, printed our passes, nodded, and sent us on our way. HE DIDN’T EVEN WEIGH OUR PACKS. We stood outside of line, stunned, for a minute. The email had been explicit in warning that “each person is only permitted 2 bags with a combined total weight of 10 kilos.” We thought there must be some mistake. Maybe they weigh them later. So, we refrained from removing any layers or putting anything more into our packs. We cleared security (that was a sight, as we emptied the electronics from our pockets). Still no weighing. We found our gate, thinking: “Is it possible that they’d weigh them at the gate? That makes no sense!” Still, we stayed in our layers, pockets full. And so, we boarded the plane with our 16 layers. No weighing necessary. It was all somewhat anti-climactic and highly hilarious. At least we wouldn’t be cold on the flight.

Our plane took off at 11:00 a.m. It was a 10 hour flight, followed by a 3 hour layover in Singapore, and then a 2 hour flight to Denpasar, Indonesia. We said goodbye to Europe, part 1 of our trip. Wild. We’d dreamed of our sister trip to Europe for so many years and it has now come to a close. We were sad to see the end, but also so excited for Asia. We were really too tired to continue in Europe; Indonesia couldn’t have come at a better time.

Cheers // Janae

[3packsfrom21]

Throwback to Italy

:[ Yes, I am finishing this post two weeks late. Yes, Italy is a whole country in the past. Yes, I get it mom, you wanted the post out a while ago. But guess what, I love you and that’s all that matters. ]:

Well, once again we said goodbye to another country. Italy was definitely our fastest place in Europe; looking back it seems detached. The memories I have, when compared to the amount of time we spent making them, are disjointed. But I will make an effort to recall them in some sort of order.

We arrived in Italy by bus on the 6th of October. We pulled up to the border crossing (that, might I add, is more like a scary prison entrance) and weren’t surprised when the bus pulled over and two police officers came on. The usual boarder inspection. This time, they asked us to grab all of our bags, exit the bus and line up. We were lucky to be one of the first in line. The officers asked us a few routine questions - where we came from, our destination, what our plans were, etc. We were surprised at how friendly and kind they were, when compared to many other border officers. They were satisfied with our responses and we were allowed to re-board the bus. We then watched as the officers went through the rest of the line. What we assumed would be a half hour stop turned out to be quite a bit longer. On multiple occasions, they inspected peoples bags. And when I say inspect, I mean going to the extent of even reading the ingredients on one lady’s lotion bottle. The last woman in line was even asked to go with the officers inside for further investigation. We ended up sitting there, watching other buses go through without inspection, for two hours. Some passengers were less than impressed. Anyway, our four hour ride suddenly became over six hours long. Even worse because once we were able to cross through (with all of the passengers and all of the bags – it was never really clear why the search was so intense), the rest of the drive to Turin took longer than expected.

Turin: our first taste of Italy. Mixed emotions surround this food capital. It was dirty, big, frustrating, exciting, fantastic, delicious, and bland all at once. When we arrived, we made the thirty minute walk across the city (only getting turned around a couple times) and followed the directions given by our AirBnB host on how to get the key. We were to go to the cleaning lady’s apartment, ring the bell, and she would give it to us. Of course, the language barrier made things a bit fun. The kind old man who brought us the key spoke no English whatsoever. However, with a lot of pausing and a little game of charades, we managed to understand that he was asking when we would return the key. Always fun, communicating without words!

Our AirBnB was very nice, and made our time in Turin even better. We made our first whole meal – full of fried vegetables, homemade fries, and frozen pasta (because you can’t have everything fresh). There is something very rejuvenating about making good food. I cannot fully describe it but I’m sure all of you who have travelled are well versed in the feeling. Turin held our first real look at markets and, much to Kiana’s chagrin, we explored them thoroughly. We learned that there are designated times for eating – as in, if you find a restaurant that is open before 8AM and between 3PM and 7PM you are very lucky. [As an aside; I’d like to add that just because a place is the “Food Capital” does not mean it doesn’t have some pretty crappy food.] Feeling satisfied and excited for the rest of Italy, we said goodbye to our two-day city and took a night bus to Venice.

Now, I’m afraid you may have drawn the short straw, as I am the one writing about our next destination. I have heard many things about Venice, most of them holding a more negative connotation. If you ask the average Italian joe their thoughts on the small westernized Island, you will get some sort of muffled grunt followed with a brushing off motion. I have heard the streets are smelly, that it’s overpriced, that it is not authentic, and that it is a must see (one day) destination. But to me, I will only remember being completely baffled, because it was everything I had imagined. It will remain the beautiful city on water that captured my attention at age thirteen. Except now, instead of expectations, I have memories.

Each of us has one must-see place that we will hit on this trip. This was mine.

Ever since I got my postcard from Leona and Amanda eight years ago, asking for the top ten places that I’d choose to go to (for my 13 year old birthday trip), Venice has had a spot on my list (like actually it was in my top three). I saw pictures of an oasis and wanted to live there for eternity. Looking back, I think its safe to say Venice would have been very interesting with the boys (Ben and Anthony) as they’d have been bored out of their minds! So I say once again, Roatan was a good choice Leona and Amanda, good choice.

Anyway, back to Venice. We got in at 5AM on the 9th. Our hostel was easy to find and very accommodating – they checked us in early. We dropped our bags (as quietly as we could) and fell into bed. We didn’t wake up until later in the morning so it wasn’t surprising that it was already 2PM when we took our seat on the train going to Venice. There are many pictures of my giddy face from that ride, you can be assured of that.

Now, for a quick summary of Venice…

People were right. It was overpriced, westernized, and very touristy. You had to pay for table settings and pay even more to sit outside. And yet, I cannot stamp my time there with that as the title. Because even though every square had crowds of people, there were even more tiny back streets waiting to be seen solely by us. We got lost in the picturesque buildings, going over countless quaint bridges and marveling at each one. It was home to great gelato and the best pasta you can get for 6€. The air was clean and the canals were blue. Both days were spent in complete contentment and thankfulness. So I will stand by those who say it’s a must see, but I can assure you, one day is not enough.

From Venice we took one of our last European buses to Florence. We had booked one night there and hadn’t a clue where we’d go after that. Now I don’t know if you all recall my exploration of Irish buses, but if not, you will get a retelling here. There has been very few rides to compare with our bus to Lahinch, Ireland. But this bus…. this may have been worse. I don’t know who they get to drive these vehicles, but it is not licensed drivers. The thing was, there wasn’t even that many corners! See, we in Canada have this thing call ROLLING: rolling to a stop and rolling forward. We seem to be the only ones to have figured this out. Instead, Italy has something called MURDER: murder passengers by ignoring the multitude of break lights in front of you, until you are going to hit them and at the last second slam on the breaks. Murder passengers by giving them all whiplash because I want to be moving at 60km/h, 20 seconds from a complete stop. Europe is incredible in many aspects of their society but please, can someone teach them how to drive!

Many people say Florence is a highlight city in Italy. We wouldn’t know, as we saw absolutely none of it. We took the tram across town to our hostel, slept, got up and spent the whole afternoon trying to find a place to stay for that night. We aren’t sure what was happening in Florence that weekend but there were absolutely no places to stay under 130 CAN. So we booked a place in a very small town out in the Tuscan countryside. When I say small, I mean Google maps didn’t even know where we were, small. We took a train to Arezzo, and from there a ten minute train to a town called Giovi. No, you wont be able to find it. There, we spent a little under a week in a Tuscan cottage to ourselves. Our AirBnB hosts were a young Italian family who were over-the-top helpful. When we tried to go into Arezzo on Sunday and figured out (at the train stop) that no trains come out on Sundays, they picked us up and brought us into Arezzo. When we had asked how to get out to the cottage, as it is 3km outside of Giovi, they offered to pick us up. They dropped us off, supplied us with water and a beautiful home to stay in. I say this with complete confidence: this was our European home. Yes, Dromore was amazing, and Champfleuri held the treasure of Christian community, but Giovi gave us a bit of comfort that all of those lacked. We made supper every night (Pasta, Pasta, Pasta and a bit more Pasta) and watched the sunset from our upstairs window. We woke up chilly to the sound of dawn and did our devotions in our own perfect nooks. We shared Thanksgiving supper across the world (pasta) and came to love our walk to town, surrounded by vineyards.

There are many stories I could tell you of our time in the countryside, ones I’m sure you’ll all hear of when we return home. But for now, at least, rest assured, we learned a myriad of lessons and laughed at them all. Arezzo held a wonderful food festival that, in a way, let us have a bit of thanksgiving all the way over here. But as I said before – a story for another time.

Rome:

Rejuvenated, and ready to move on, we took a train to Florence and from there a bus to Rome. This was a much smoother bus, much to my pleasure. We were in Rome from the 16th to the 22nd and it was not enough time.

We arrived in the evening, and took a train across town to our hostel. Funnily enough, as we walked down the street, Janae remembered where she had stayed ten years ago (with Leona and Amanda) and pointed up at it as we passed by. We stayed on the same street, just a little bit farther down. That night, we grabbed pizza and walked down to see the Coliseum lit up. Back at our hostel we were told that there was a mix up and that we were all in separate rooms for one night but that the next we’d all have a room together. It was a bit annoying, but nothing to get our nickers in a knot over.

The next day we set out to do a free walking tour. We got half way there before realizing we had no money to take the metro, and so, after much deliberation, we skipped the tour and went to the Vatican. Now, most people say the Vatican is a one day affair. Well, not for us.

We went, and got in the long line to see the St Peters Basilica. We hoped it wouldn’t take forever to get through. As we waited, I looked up some information on the Basilica and, as I read, came across something to do with a dress code. To anyone wanting to visit the Vatican: there is a dress code. And shorts, sandals and tank tops do not fit the criteria. Looking around at everyone else in line, it seemed we’d obviously missed a very well known memo. That’s what you run into when you do everything off-the-cuff. So, frustrated that we hadn’t read up on it before coming, we got out of line and pushed seeing the Vatican to the following day. With two of our plans thwarted, we went to find something to eat. *Another tip, don’t eat in the area surrounding the Vatican; you might think it would be cheaper than by the Coliseum, but you are wrong. Go across town and eat. That took us three days to figure out.

After being filled by more pizza, we embarked on plan C. Instead of the walking tour, and instead of the Vatican, we checked out the Pantheon and the Spanish Steps (which, PS – still not really sure why they are so cool. I mean guys, its not the first staircase to have 176 steps so what’s the big deal? I get it, Audrey H shot a movie there, but still ). We also dunked our hands in the Trevi Fountain (and didn’t get caught), and finished Kiana’s last day of being 24 with a beautiful view of the sunset. Overall, a very good day!

Day two of Rome brought us back to the Vatican. This time fully dress and prepared for long lines. We read our books and looked like nerds but didn’t think twice about it. We managed to get into the Basilica in under 1 hour. The basilica was cool. Busy, but cool. I mean, how much can you say about a church, you know? Ask Kiana if you have a couple days to spare. All in all, we were in there for two hours. We waited in the woman’s bathroom line for another 45 minutes – lamenting on the fact that for some reason architects have yet to figure out that women need more than four stalls!

After St. Peter’s we went for pizza, yet again. We had hoped to hit the Vatican Museums after lunch. But a quick look at the time decided that for us. The Vatican closes at 4PM; it was 2. We did not have enough time to see them, so once again we chose to leave seeing the whole Vatican for another day. The rest of Kiana’s Birthday was spent looking around, eating Gelato and once again finding a great look out over the city at sunset.

Round three of the Vatican started early, and still we waited 1.5 hours to get in. I like museums, but the Vatican museums were a bit too busy for me. Basically, you entered the mob of people, shuffled through a billion different rooms, unable to stop, as the mob pushed you forward. The Sistine Chapel was really cool to see, but we were so drained from all the crowds that our appreciation level was running low. Overall, we were able to appreciate the grandeur of the museums but were fairly happy to exit them as well.

So now you understand how we managed to get so confused with the Vatican. It’s because we did absolutely no research and ended up somehow missing important pieces of information two days in a row.

That night, looking for a gelato place, Kiana looked up a place near our hostel. Turns out it was the place Janae went to on her thirteenth birthday trip. This made the gelato even better; just watching her face made it for me. (PS – I haven’t explored what the “Leona and Amanda trips” are. I am hoping most of you know already. If not, I will give you a very short explanation: We have two amazing cousins named Leona and Amanda. When all their first cousins turned thirteen, they took them on a trip. It was their birthday gift to us for our entire life. Kiana went to Jamaica, Janae – Rome, and I went to Roatan. These trips are what sparked our love for traveling and have founded the rest of our adventures.)

The next day (we’re on the 20th now), we saw the Coliseum and the Roman Forum. These were crazy to see, so it wasn’t at all odd that we spent the entire day exploring them. We spent from 2:00 until 7:00 in the Roman forum and still we felt rushed. Had our feet not been so tired from standing in lines all day, we would have been able to see all of it with greater enthusiasm. But alas, it was still one of our highlights from Italy. There is just something really cool about walking on cobble stone streets that were laid down 90 BC.

Our last couple of days were spent getting ready for Greece. And, on the 22nd of October, at 5 AM we took a taxi to the airport, saying goodbye to our time in Italy.

Somewhere in Italy we hit the half-way point in our trip. This held mixed emotions. From the beginning of our trip, we all felt that the first half would go by slower than the second. This idea founds our dilemma; we crave the normality of home as much as we wish for more time. Sometimes you wake up feeling low; in that fog, you struggle to find enthusiasm for the time you have left. But the next minute, the fog has cleared; you see something amazing, or talk to people who do this for much longer than you, and just like that, all you want is for time to freeze a little. I guess what I’m saying is, when people say traveling gives perspective, I’ve always taken it to mean you start your trip as this naïve girl and come out a well conditioned woman ready for the next step in her life. But as this trip hits its last month I have come to the conclusion that, in fact it is a perspective of questioning, not of answers. And I’m not sure I like that as much.

As a final note: I’m sure all of you have started noticing a trend. The trend where all three of us McCluskeys end our blogs the same way. As I do my final edits, I can’t help but notice that all of our mindsets are the same. You have read multiple accounts of how we long for home while still wanting more time, or how we appreciate our four months, while recognizing that it isn’t what we expected, or.. bla bla bla. And if I was you, I would be thinking: man, we get it, you want to come home. Bear with us. We have all said the same thing, multiple times, basically in the same way. But, hey, at this point, we’ve been asked if we’re triplets so many times, we decided to take it one step further.

Ciao - Lynece

[3packsfrom21]

Ma Belle France - Part 2

*And here we are again, posting this a week after I’ve written it and nearly a month after we actually left France.*

I’m back on another bus! Shorter one this time - 3 hours from Florence to Rome. I’ll be honest, I was going to let this post slide until Mum reminded me that my last post about France was entitled “Part One,” and you can’t leave that hanging.

After we left Spain, we returned to see the southern part of France. We started in Lyon (arriving on September 28 and leaving) and met up with a couple of people. First, we met up with a girl named Lea, who we first met when we were in Killarney, Ireland. She had shared a hostel room with us, and as we talked she had told us that she was from Lyon, and that if we came there she would tour us around. It is really neat to be able to make friends along the way and then to be able to reconnect with them later on. Lea was a great tour guide, even though we only had a few hours to spend with her. She let us store our bags in her apartment when we first arrived (if you’re looking to please us, this is the way to do it). Afterwards, she showed us the remains of an outdoor Roman theatre, the large cathedral on the hill, (with the most incredible view of the city), the old portion of the city, and a famous square - one of the largest in France. It was a lovely few hours, for which we are grateful.

We also met up with some of Kiana’s friends from Champfleuri. The morning after we arrived, we woke up early to meet Nelly, and to join her at her church. The church is about an hour long train ride away, in the little town of Firminy. The train ride (Lynece’s first ever experience on a train) through the countryside and the little villages along the way, alone, made the trip worth it; the church’s love put the day over the top. I was struck immediately by their welcoming. Perhaps it had something to do with the way the French greet one another (with kisses on each cheek), but I felt so loved and genuinely wanted at that church. Numerous people came to talk with us, thanking us for coming and telling us how much they love to see new faces at the church. Multiple times, the conversation turned to how we are all brothers and sisters in Christ, and how we will one day see one another again “au ciel.” Their joy was radiant, as was evident in their jubilant, genuine worship and through their prayers (in many of the churches that we’ve been to in Europe, there is time between each song for members of the congregation to voice their prayers and thanksgivings). After the service, there was a potluck, to which we were invited. They set the tables as if it were a family meal, and we all sat down and ate together. I don’t mean to be romantic or idealistic about the experience, but I certainly think that our churches in Canada could take something home from this little village church.

After potluck, we returned with Nelly to Lyon. We met another of Kiana’s friends, Noelline, for a very Lyonnaise dinner (3 courses and all), and talked late into the night before parting ways and returning to our AirBnB. It has been cool to meet some of Kiana’s friends during this trip. We have heard tons about them over the years, but it has been largely just names and pictures. Now we have been able to bridge some of the gaps with real faces.

On September 30, we made our way from Lyon to the Champlfleuri Bible school. Talk about bridging gaps! A place that was once just a confused blend of pictures, Skype calls, and a bit of imagination, suddenly materialized into an actual place. Kiana showed us the building where she stayed, the tree that she always sat under, the kitchen which hosted the water fight that we’d heard about oh so many times, and so on. Champfleuri was a place of tranquility, where we were able to enjoy the scenery, catch up on some of the things that we had gotten behind on (keeping track of finances and writing our daily journal entries), and eat some of the best food that we’d had all trip. We stayed there for 6 days. In that time, we also got to meet and become acquainted with some of the new Bible school students, that had only arrived two weeks before.

Champfleuri is right in the Alps, looking out onto the Chartreuse mountain ridge line. Needless to say (with Kiana as a sister), we did a couple of hikes. The first took us along the edge of a valley, allowing us to look down and across at the Alps. I won’t even bother attempting to describe them, because you’ve all seen the Rockies, and thus understand how badly words fail at encompassing the grandeur of mountains. The next hike was even more spectacular. We accompanied the students on their hike up the Chartreuse ridge. To try and put it into perspective, Champfleuri faces the Chartreuse mountain ridge. Behind Champfleuri is the alps. So, our first hike took us through the alps, whereas this one was across the valley, trekking up the Chartreuse. If that didn’t make any sense, ignore it and we can show you with pictures when we get home. Anyway, we started out this hike by all hopping into the school’s vans, crossing the valley, and driving up an exceptionally skinny, windy road, to the trail head. We climbed 1400+ meters, but the hike wasn’t too difficult (even Lynece, who previously stood in stark opposition to Kiana’s love of hikes, thoroughly enjoyed the climb). The views as we walked, and, ultimately, at the top, were awe-inspiring. The top was a grassy hill, surrounded by mountain views. 

We became quite comfortable at Champfleuri, and didn’t want to say goodbye. But alas, that’s what traveling is. So, on October 5 we made our way by train to Annecy, our final location in France. 

Annecy is a small but popular town in the mountains. It is famed for its lake, which is backed by gorgeous mountains. We spent one night there, exploring the shops, spending an excessive amount of money on Chai latte’s (only once), and, obviously, touring the lake. I would love to go back.

And just like that, France came to a close. We got on our 11:00 a.m. bus on October 6, and said goodbye to the mountains, to the familiar language, and to the friends. We looked forward to the adventure of Italy, but France had felt a bit like home, so goodbye was bittersweet. 

---

We’ve been in Italy for just over a week now, but you’ll have to wait for the next post to hear the specifics about it. We’re getting to that point in the trip where we can all pack our bags in under 10 minutes, where wearing (and re-wearing) smelly clothes is an ordinary affair, and where the tug between home and the ‘big, wide world’ becomes increasingly complex. We try to never lose perspective on how fortunate we are to be able to travel the world. To be able to leave work and all of the obligations of home, in order to embark on a four month long adventure across multiple countries and continents is nothing to take lightly, and we don’t. At the same time, the more I do life, and the more I travel, the more I resonate with the saying, “anywhere you go, there you are.” This trip, with all of it's amazing experiences, has not (and will not) fulfill me. I don’t feel like a more complete person because I’ve seen more places. I certainly don’t feel like that tanned, weathered-but-naturally-beautiful nomad that I imagine a traveler to be. The truth is, I’m a bit tanned from Spain, but not really, my hair is product-less and frizzy (not in the cute way), and I’ve probably gained 10 pounds from all of the bread. Some moments, I think, “Wow, how incredible is this?” Some, I think, “I am so tired and I just want to go home.” Most often, I just live, as I live ordinary life, not really thinking about ’the moment’ at all. I’m not sure why I’ve written this; I suppose it's more for my own self-reflection than anything else. Basically, I’m having a great time. Some moments are spectacular and some are common. I miss home - my family, watching movies with Sam and Jess, and driving my own car. I do not miss snow and I do not miss work. And I’m ultimately grateful for all of this. 

Cheers // Janae

[3packsfrom21]

Changing It Up

Well, they coerced me into writing the summary on Spain and you are all witnesses to the fact that it did not take me a year (it may, however, have taken me a couple weeks).

Up till now you may have heard that the cool weather and rain have been chasing us; we were all hoping that Spain would end that cycle and it did not disappoint. We had one day of rain in the two weeks that we were there.

Spain - the land of fiesta, siesta, paella, and sangria. We arrived on the 13th, (September) with our first stop being Barcelona. We all wanted to get a beach in before Jessica left (since we couldn't send her home without some sort of a tan). The day that we arrived was overcast and therefore not super hot, so we walked to a famous park (Park Guell) which has an amazing lookout on the city. The park was only 3.5km away, with an elevation of 144m (not much). Like I said, it wasn’t hot and the previous day we had sat in a park all day waiting for our bus. I knew it would be a completely reasonable walk, as I had already done it myself last year. If you’re asking yourself why I'm giving such detail, it's because if you ask either of my sisters or Jessica, they will tell you that it was a hike up a mountain that never seemed to end, and that I had not properly prepared them for it. They would go on to say that the park had no grass for them to collapse upon, only rocky benches. Much to their surprise we all survived and made it out in one piece. 

***Janae is editing this post and I’d just like to say that when someone says “let’s go to a green space to look at a view and relax for a bit,” I’m expecting a green space that includes grass and a place to actually do that relaxing. What I am not expecting is to walk up-hill through a city (after not sleeping the night before) so that we can sit for a few seconds on a rock bench (the only green in this place was the leaves on the trees), before doing some more walking to see architecture and a view. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Park Guell is lovely. Just not on a day with already swollen ankles and a head heavy with exhaustion. And guys, it may not have been the hottest day, but it was certainly warm.***

***Now Lynece is editing this post as well and I would like to add the fact that before we ventured out, Kiana had made it clear that there was always the option to “catch a bus whenever you guys want”. However, the three times we said that a bus would be a good idea, Kiana seemed to either ignore us or state that it “isn’t that much farther!” Now, I'm all for seeing architecture but there are a few things I need. For instance, food (one small empanada is insufficient). It would also be nice to have a true estimate of the length of the trek, as well as an actual explanation that it is in fact a trek, not just an easy walk across town.***

The following days were dedicated to beach time and tans, as well as trying to eat as much Spanish food as we could so that Jess could go home tanned and well fed (neither of these things have consistently happened in the past month). We ate paella, tapas, churros, tacos, pastries and gelato (I’m aware that the last three aren’t necessarily Spanish foods, but they are the best we’ve had in Europe so far). We learned that Jessica really loves the beach (her favourite part of the trip). She thoroughly enjoyed playing in the waves (or more accurately having them hit her in the face). She was also quite proud of her acquired tan lines; they were well fought for. 

We did do some exploring as well - I took them to a park where there was more than enough grass for them all to collapse on (therefore redeeming myself). Barcelona is also known for the many architectural works of Antoni Gaudi, not the least of which includes the very famous and unfinished (under construction for the past 200yrs, its estimated completion date is in 2026), Sagrada Familia. We walked around this massive cathedral, marvelling at its size, and, frankly, its weirdness. It looks like it came out of a Dr.Seuss book. We also went to admire Gaudi’s other works, which are spread around the city, each one unique and fantastical. They always stand out in comparison to the surrounding buildings, which is an accomplishment since many of the surrounding buildings are also great and beautiful. We, of course, did some shopping (another one of Jessica's favorite activities) and, with each purchase, we lamented the ever decreasing amount of room in our packs.

Then, the very sad day came when our group of 4 was reduced to 3. Jessica returned home on the 18th (Sept). The three of us stood, waving goodbye at the gate, acutely aware of the fact that the next time Jess slept in a bed, it would be her own. We  wished she could stay longer as much as we wished we could go with her. This is a feeling that traveling brings me consistently: a desire to continue exploring forever and a desire to return to the comfort and familiarity of home. I have to say that no matter the feeling, I'm deeply thankful that the more I see of the world, the more my appreciation for Alberta increases. There are many places I would really love to live and yet I’m completely content (more like thrilled) to remain a resident in the place where I grew up.

Continuing on. Our plan was to leave Barcelona for another city on the same day that Jess left. However, though Spain may be cheap for food and accommodations, transportation is ridiculously overpriced (when compared to the cost of living). On top of that, there are only two bus lines that run between Barcelona and Madrid and only one was actually open when we went to book our tickets. Also, when we tried to look for a place to stay in Madrid, the price on the weekends was double what it was during the week. Therefore, we decided, after much research and deliberation, that we would stay in Barcelona the rest of the week and would push Madrid to Sunday night. So, for the rest of our time in Barcelona we did some more beachin’, eatin’, budgeting and journaling. We then said goodbye to our beloved city of Barcelona on the 22nd...

Now, when travelling, I'm the kind of person that always plans to be very early, rather than just on time. This is to account for washroom breaks and unforeseeable delays (which seem to always arise on travel days). The night of the 22nd was no exception, but somehow my added time wasn’t quite sufficient and we ended up being just slightly rushed. As is the case with most overnight busses, there is some rearranging that needs to be done. For example, our pillows (pillow cases stuffed with clothes) need to be made up, our outfits need to be changed to allow for more comfort (you never know whether the driver will crank the heat or the AC, but either way you can bet that it will be done in the extreme). On top of that, teeth need to be brushed and valuables put into daypacks. 

This all still had to be done. So, while we are usually the paranoid travellers clutching their bags every time someone passes, tonight, our tardiness made it so we were a little less observant. Our bags were left in a “that will have to do” sort of fashion. They were a little too spread out to be watched by just one person. But, as time was of the essence, that is just what happened. As Janae and I were in the bathroom, Lynece was left with our packs, and was also trying to finish her list of travel needs (pillow, blanket, socks). Suddenly, someone came and urgently asked her if the pay phone beside her was working. She responded that she didn't know, and he proceeded to walk out the door without even checking the phone. It seemed very odd to her, and she automatically looked around to see if anything had been taken. She noticed that my daypack was absent, but surmised that I'd probably brought it to the bathroom with me. It wasn't until I came back minutes later that we realized it indeed had been stolen. Luckily, I'd taken out my camera and the thief had only enough time to grab the one bag. To add a bit of extra heat to our situation, however, was the fact that we had only a little over 5min until we were supposed to be checking onto our bus. I quickly went to the nearest security guard to inform him of what happened. As this happens frequently (I can’t count the amount of times the locals had told us to keep our bags close), he was less than surprised and said that if I wanted to, I could go to the police station nearby and let them know. We didn’t have enough time for that, so I went and looked to see if maybe the thief had taken the money out of the bag and just tossed it nearby. All the while, I was praying, asking God to help me find it, even just to recover the pack itself (which I used daily to carry water, snacks, my jacket etc…). Unsuccessful, I returned to Lynece and Janae, both of whom were wondering what was taking me so long, as they were worried that we would miss our bus. We quickly went through what had been in my pack, so we knew what the damage was. I’d lost my phone, 30€ in our change purse, my journal (probably one of my most valued possessions in the pack), a Ravi Zacharias book called Jesus Among Other Gods, and my compression socks. As none of these prevented us from catching our bus, we picked up our bags and were about to leave, when there was a tap on my shoulder. Behind me stood a different security guard and in his hands was my pack. We were shocked and just started thanking him repeatedly, while he was trying to get us to actually look in the pack to see if anything was missing. When I looked through the pockets of the pack, I miraculously found that my phone was still there, as well as my journal and my book! All of them had been rearranged and moved to different pockets, so I knew that the thief had thoroughly searched through my pack, but everything was still there. The only thing I didn't find was the change purse, so I surmised that the thief must've only been looking for cash. The 30€ was small cookies (I was just glad to have my stuff back), so we reassured the guard that all was well, thanked him again, and headed for the bus, praising the Lord. We were shocked and amazed. Once seated, and with time to think, I reorganized my pack to the way that I like it. I moved my water bottle, only to find none other than our little change purse tucked underneath. Inside the purse was our 30€. Unheard of. Hilariously, the only casualty to the stolen bag crisis, in the end, was one compression sock (not a pair, just one). So now I just walk off of busses and flights with one ankle the normal size and the other the size of a small watermelon. 

The cool thing is that all In all, God prepared us for both situations. Had the pack indeed not been returned, I would have lost the pack itself (which, though inconvenient, could have been replaced) and my phone (I had only taken maybe a half dozen photos on it so it wouldn't have been the worst). Furthermore, this was one of the only times that we had printed off our bus tickets, rather than keeping them on my phone, so we would still have had those. I still had my camera, which I had taken out just before going to the bathroom. Our iPad and tablet were in Janae and Lynece's packs. I would have lost my journal, which would have been sad, but, again, Janae and Lynece both have one as well, so it wouldn't have been the end of the world. The last thing that could have been lost would have been my book, which maybe the thief could have read. So, even if it had all been lost, the Lord prepared it in such a way that we would have been fine. To then have it all returned (minus the compression sock) is nothing short of a miracle, one that has humbled me and given me perspective. 

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We arrived in Madrid the next morning to an amazing sunrise. We had managed to get a hostel right in the heart of Madrid. Madrid is more European than Barcelona, in terms of its style of architecture; it's also much less touristy, so you can still really feel some of the original culture. This being my 2nd time in the city, I had many things that I wanted to share with my sisters. Most of them included food. Some of the bars in Madrid still hold the old tradition of giving free tapas (appetizers) with the purchase of a drink. This started back when there were many people living and working in Spain who still were not able to afford food. Business owners found that their employees were very hard working during the hours before lunch but after siesta time they came back a bit lazy. When they investigated, they discovered that their employees didn't have enough money to buy food for lunch so they would go home/out, have a couple drinks and go back to work feeling a little buzzed and lazy. In response, the government imposed a law that required places selling alcohol to provide a small portion of food (tapas) with the purchase of every drink, thus helping to solve the problem. Now it's become a bit of a tradition and there are still places that practice this. One night, we went to one such place. It was a tiny place, basically one small room and then a small hallway. It was absolutely packed with people. There were some tables but most people ate standing up along the edge of the room, where there was a skinny shelf/bar that was attached to all the walls. We all ordered a drink and were given 4 plates of finger food (tapas). We ate in the hallway facing the wall. Every now and then a waiter would squeeze by (literally squeeze - our backs were nearly touching the backs of the people on the other side of the hallway). It was delicious food and quite the experience. 

While in Madrid we also went on our first free walking tour of the trip. Most cities offer them, but we hadn’t made it on one yet. We started the tour around 11 and it went all around the old part of the city, taking close to 3 hours. We saw the oldest operating restaurant in the world; heard about how Madrid became the capital it is today when it had originally been only a small village; learned how the country moved from kingdom, to republic, to dictatorship, to the monarchy it is today; and so on. Overall, it was way too much information to absorb at once, but we greatly enjoyed it.  

Madrid also has some great parks and museums. The biggest park is acres large, we spent a little time almost everyday walking around it (more like sitting in it) and enjoying its serenity. The park was also really close to the Del Prado museum, one of the best classical art museums in the world. Fortunately for us, they offer free entrance on certain days (and at certain times) of the week. Due to its enormous size and our lack of time (you’d need a couple days, if not more, to see the whole museum), we had to be strategic on what exhibitions we wanted to see. We decided to do a little portion of the Spanish art section, along with some sculptures, as Lynece had yet to really see any. The paintings were lovely, as is the case with most classical art, in my opinion. I enjoyed how the museum had proportioned the rooms; often there were only 4 or so paintings in a room because the paintings were wall sized. Not overcrowding the art allowed me to appreciate it even more. As for the sculptures, I'm not sure if it's a normal thing that sculptures are extremely old but we saw ones that were dated to 300BC, which, for me, is mind blowing! To have something right in front of you, close enough to touch, that was created 300 years before Christ was even born (and was around when he was doing his ministry), made my head spin. 

Now, 2 weeks after leaving, I'm thankful for all the adventures that Spain brought. For me, it was the place where we finally found the sun, where we had some of the best food so far, and where our group of 4 became 3. I think with each place we leave, we hope for the same thing, to someday return and redo some experiences as well as add new memories.  At the same time, each new place lengthens the list of places that I want to take my parents and family (all of you!) to. Of course, I’m grateful that I get to already share these experiences with my sisters. I’ve traveled alone and with friends, but one of the most special things I’ve done is travel with my sisters. As we move from place to place, meeting new people along the way, most conversations go to who you're traveling with (friends, people you’ve met along the way etc…). One thing I’ve noticed is that when we tell people that we are sisters, people generally look surprised. We are not sure why; maybe they are surprised that we all like each other enough to go traveling together for so long. Or that we’ve all, at the same time, managed to get time away. Either way, we are grateful to have been fortunate enough that both of these factors worked out; we have God to thank and give the glory to. 

Gracias ~ Kiana

[3packsfrom21]

One Month In

So we are down to three, as Jessica went home this week. It gets me thinking of when we decided to make this trip happen. I remember having to remind myself to keep my expectations to a minimum. But as comes with any first adventure of this size, before long, I’d imagined what I wanted these four months to look like. It is very hard for me to go into something this big with a blank canvas. I had unmarked plans that involved sleeping in grimy hostels (but not being bothered because the experience made up for it). In my mind, we wouldn’t be looking for somewhere to eat for five hours, but instead Europe would be this revolutionized system where all the good cheap places would have neon signs saying, “EAT HERE - CHEAP AUTHENTIC FOOD.” Somehow the twenty-five pound pack that I brought would get lighter the more I wore it, even if I bought things along the way. And with my musical imagination, there was always some folk music playing in the background, giving the entire trip the perfect “I’m young and free” soundtrack. Of course, with all expectations, there are quite a few let downs (obviously). Weather is unpredictable and seems to never be as it should. I wasn’t expecting to be recalculating money three or four time every day and therefore am a little too aware of the fact that the savings I brought aren’t getting any bigger. I am struck by how many beds I’ve slept in and how all of them have left me feeling slightly unsatisfied. It amazes me how hard it is to try and order food when you don’t understand what you’re ordering, and its even better when you can’t ask questions because they don’t speak English. Even the constant searching through crowds, trying to locate the least suspecting thief, is exhausting.

Yet, that’s the thing about traveling, it is a completely different way of life. It isn’t routine, nor is it something you can get familiar with. You are in a completely new environment -

All. The. Time.

It is exciting and unnerving. Ultimately, a sense of numb bafflement follows you wherever you go, stemming from being unable to fully grasp what you are doing. We are immersed in a different culture and yet we stand apart. Because of this, I find myself longing to understand the goings on of life here, longing to not be so much of a tourist and somehow fit in. But just as we get the feel for a place, we pack up and move. That’s just how it goes; you see glimpses of life in many different windows. So its true, the picture I had imagined on how traveling would be was skewed, but in many ways I’m glad it was. Because what is there to be remembered if something is exactly what we expected? There is no growth, no discomfort, no gut wrenching laughter spent on awkward moments. Above all, there often isn’t room for God, in the known. How are we to learn to lean on his strength and timing when everything is how we thought it would be? And looking back on this past month that is what makes all the little quirks worth it. Because when I am doing something this spontaneous, I have to fall on Him and therefore I am in the center of His faithfulness.

When I look at the time we’ve been here versus the amount of things I’ve seen, it doesn’t seem to fit. It has gone extremely quickly and yet I have a strong feeling that I’ve been traveling for much longer than only one month. I have walked the Cliffs of Moher, smelled the bus station in Paris, ate gelato on the steps of the Notre Dame Cathedral de Strasbourg at sunset. I have experienced the determined character of European bees when eating fish and have smelled fresh croissants early in the morning. I spent a day doing puzzles with young French children, finding joy in their dramatic characters. I have crossed the border without showing my passport, walked through the streets of Barcelona that are two people wide, causing my chest to grow with claustrophobia when if I looked up too much. I have spent days on a white sand beach and floated in the ocean. In the years to come, when the Basilica of Santa Maria Del Mar has begun to crumble, I will be able to say that I saw it in its entirety. It is these experiences that keeps the sometimes-not-so-small voice, longing for the comfort of home, at bay.

So as a whole, there have been moments in the last couple of weeks that have got me missing home. But, that’s life, so what better way to get used to not being there, then to be.. here. This month has been one of the most mind blowing of my life, so I count it as a success.

For a bit more detail of our time in France and for those who want a beautiful and much more poetic arrangement of words you will (and always will) find it in Janae’s post.

Bis - Lynece

[3packsfrom21]

Ma Belle France - Part 1

I wrote most of this a week ago, but alas, I’m only posting it now. Enjoy.

I’m beginning to realize that bus time is blog time. Thus, as we embark on this 7 hour bus ride (followed by a 9 hour layover and then another 8 hour bus ride), taking us from Nancy in Northern France to Barcelona, I’ll give another brief update on our travels. 

We’ve been in France for 10 days now. We began our time by flying into Paris. Our first night was far from romantic - we spent it on an icy marble floor in the airport. Dear airports everywhere: please, PLEASE provide a carpeted space for travelers. As much as we love the comfort of cold, hard rock, we would still prefer carpets, even with the additional dirt and bacteria they may hold. What’s worse is that the room was pumped full of AC. Jessica’s lips were positively blue by the next morning. The experience was even more fun because at this point I could no longer walk on my left leg. Lynece mentions why in the last post, if you’re unsure. Turns out you need to give advanced notice in order to acquire an airport wheelchair, but Kiana and Lynece sure had fun giving me piggy-back rides. I’m certain that if Lynece was writing this, there would be ample space dedicated to lamenting this entire airport experience, complete with many pronounced exaggerations, but I’ll leave it here.

The next morning saw many fun adventures: the small town Alberta girls learned how to call an Uber (thank you Jessica for your patience in teaching us); we learned that our AirBnB was a 45 minute walk from the nearest metro station (which ordinarily would’ve been fine, but my leg complicated matters a tad); and most importantly, we took a nap. Then, after much deliberation and a thorough massage on my leg (which helped), we called another Uber and headed for the city centre. Our day in Paris was dreamy. To cut the walking, we rode electric scooters around. I would now say that this is the best way to see Paris. There’s nothing quite like scooting along past the architecture and grandeur of Paris - the Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the Alexandre III bridge, the Louvre - with the wind in you hair and the river by your side. This all may sound a little romantic. It was. 

The next day (September 4), we took an eight hour bus ride to Strasbourg. We ended up spending 6 days in Strasbourg; we couldn’t get enough! The city holds twice the population of Red Deer, but is only a bit larger in size. It is right on the German border. In fact, you can take the tram into Kehl, the neighbouring city in Germany. Some of the most memorable moments spent here, for me, involve the street musicians playing anything from horns to violins to the cello; the tiny, winding streets; the fresh pastries in the morning; the various different fresh cheeses that we bought from the market; the thrift store, full of the funkiest colors and patterns (the limited backpack space strikes again and I’m still sad), and so on. But I can’t fit it all into a list. 

The second day there, we went to see the famed Notre Dame de Strasbourg cathedral. We knew nothing of what to expect. We took the tram, were walking along the adorable French/German style streets; we rounded a corner and were suddenly met with the most gargantuan, astounding, colossal (pulling all the stops on the adjectives here) superstructure. A sight that quite literally makes you gasp, as you look up, up, up, at the dark brown coloured, sculpture clad, monstrosity (in a good way). It is a gothic cathedral, one of the few early gothic cathedrals with only one spire. We spent a while there - the time frame changes depending on who you ask. The story goes like this. When we walked in and began to admire the front of the cathedral, we noticed Jessica was missing. Little did we know at the time, that she had gone ahead at her own pace, unsure of where we went. She completed her tour of the entire cathedral, only to return to the doors to find the three of us still standing there, admiring the front of the church. We had yet to move. You see, Jessica appreciates cathedrals like an ordinary human; Kiana, however, loves cathedrals like a mother loves her children. So, of course, our tour of the cathedral (Jessica’s now second tour) was marked by many long pauses and ponderings. Jessica found a seat at some point and began to wait. It got worse when Kiana discovered that the earliest portion of the cathedral was built in 1190. Jessica claims that Kiana stood in the same square foot area for twenty minutes, rotating with wide eyes and mouthing “1190!” Thus, while Kiana argues that we were there for around 45 minute to 1 hour, Jessica is certain that it was at least 2 hours. The important part, I suppose, is that we did eventually manage to leave. It was a close one. 

The rest of our time in Strasbourg was largely spent at a relaxed pace. We explored the streets, took the tram into Germany to do some shopping (this is much more in line with Jessica’s preferences - we had to apologize for the cathedral incident somehow), spent time in cafes and in our lovely French-style apartment. We did laundry (this was a remarkable event) and visited the palace. Altogether a laid-back approach to the city. 

Other than that, I can tell you of one other marked experience: the day of the unfortunate meal. In our time in Strasbourg, we passed by one particular restaurant that seemed to be always packed with people. So, we decided we would try and eat there for our final dinner in the city. In order to fit it into our budget, however, we knew that we would need to eat very little else all day. And so, the day came. We had some croissants and bread for breakfast, a very disappointing milkshake for lunch, and we anticipated supper with hopeful hearts. We wore the new shirts and fun earrings we’d bought in Germany (feeling very dressed up). At the restaurant, we admired the quaint French atmosphere. Then, we looked at the menu and were surprised to find that all of the food was between 5 and 7 euro - pretty cheap for the area. But not to worry, we soon noticed a different menu posted on the wall, with prices still cheaper than, but more closely aligned with, what we’d anticipated (around 10 euro). When trying to order, we were informed that the wall menu didn’t open until 6:00p.m. So we waited the 5 minutes (literally 5 minutes) to order, feeling affirmed that we must be ordering off of the dinner menu, rather than the paper-copy lunch menus. We each ordered a dinner item (admittedly, we had very little idea what we were ordering, even with our proficient French) and got a dish off of the lunch menu to share.

The shared lunch dish came rather quickly. A warmed piece of bread with thick pieces of unmelted Brie on top, sprinkled with walnuts and drizzled with honey. Delicious, but we were so glad that we hadn’t relied on the lunch menu for our dinner! We were hungry. We then braced ourselves for a wait. We were the first ones to order dinner so the wait would likely be a bit longer. Surprisingly, not more than 6 minutes later, two waiters came carrying four plates. We thought, “oh good, how efficient!” Then they put the plates down. We each had one piece of toasted bread, cut in half, with melted cheese on top. The toppings varied slightly - Lynece had one piece of bacon (she wanted to make sure it was clear that it was one and only one piece) in her melted cheese and Kiana and I had a sprinkling of walnut pieces and a drizzle of honey. Jessica even had some bruschetta on top. But that was it. A piece of toast. With melted cheese on top. We wondered if they’d made a mistake, but remembered that they’d said the names of the dishes as they sat them down, and they were all correct. So, we sat there, trying to enjoy the “meal” we’d fasted for, wondering what the difference was between the lunch menu items and the dinner menu items (besides the price). To put it into perspective, we spent about 85 dollars on 5 pieces of toast and 4 beer. We finally determined that the cheese we ate must’ve been gleaned from the nomadic cows of the Amazonian rainforest. Regardless, the evening was a rather large disappointment. Fortunately, we were able to rectify the situation at our next destination. 

On September 10, we caught a bus at 1:30 in the afternoon for Nancy, in order to meet up with one of Kiana’s friends that she met through Champfleuri (Capernwray). It was lovely to be able to stay with Marie and her husband Josue for a few days. On the 11th, we went with Marie to an afterschool program (of sorts) for children. We played games with the kids, ages ranging from 4 to 12. Later in the evening, we made up for the disastrous Strasbourg meal with a raclette dinner. Raclette is a French dish where you dip delicious meats and potatoes in various different melted cheese fondue-type dishes. It is heaven. We had enough left over to feed all three of us again, and we stuffed ourselves pretty-well to the brim. We then explored Place Stanislas (a famous square in Nancy), all lit up at night, before returning to Marie’s. To sum it up, our time in Nancy was a taste of true French living. We are so grateful to Marie and Josue for opening their home to us - this is truly the best way to travel. 

And now (September 12), here we are (thankfully - we almost missed our bus this morning), on our way to a sunnier and hotter Spain. We plan on being in Spain for around two weeks, before returning to see Southern France. Jessica will be leaving us on the 18th, sadly! She’s been a great addition to our traveling team, often much more level-headed than we. We’ll miss her moments of sass. 

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As an aside, I think it is worth noting that my leg is feeling much better! Yay for being able to walk places. Thank you to those of you who kept me (and all of us) in your prayers. We appreciate it more than you know. 

You can expect a post about Spain coming in the next few weeks. Also, in response to the many inquiries, we will post pictures on Facebook at some point soon! We aren’t exactly the most attached to social media - it is more labor than love. It is also possible that we may be able to coerce Kiana into writing something on here at some point. She might be finished by next year this time. ;) Thanks for reading!

Cheers // Janae

[3packsfrom21]

Looking back on Ireland

Where to begin? Two weeks ago Kiana, Janae and I left for Ireland. We covered a LOT of ground in two weeks! It wasn’t exactly the start we were hoping for; Kiana was barely finished her go with bronchitis and I had just finish my last day of antibiotics for a chest cold that Sunday. It was a seven hour direct flight to Ireland. Our plan was to arrive into Dublin around 11AM Monday. There, we would meet up with our cousin Jessica McCluskey who was flying in from Toronto. Dublin airport isn’t very big, so when we landed, we were able meet up pretty quickly. Unfortunately, Jessica’s flight wasn’t as smooth as ours. Turns out that a seventeen year old Canadian traveling by herself is the perfect profile of an Irish terrorist. Customs questioned her for over an hour. Even after that, they put a limit on how long she was allowed to stay in the Country.

Anyway, we catch a bus from the airport out of Dublin to Belfast. Its a half-hour trek across town to our hostel. I will just put it at this: we were very happy to see those doors! When we went to check in, the receptionist asked for our ID’s. What we didn’t know when we booked this hostel was that they don’t allow minors to stay in public rooms, which was a problem, as Jessica is seventeen. The hostel would usually just move people around to give us a private room, but we arrived on the exact same night that the Foo Fighters (a popular band) were playing. So, of course every room was full, and that goes for every hostel in Belfast. So, now we don’t have a place to stay, we haven’t eaten since we left Calgary and we are looking at our next two weeks wondering what the heck we got ourselves into. The other thing was the way the receptionist had explained the whole underage issue made it sound like this was a law. Meaning the other three hostel we had booked would most likely have an issue with Jessica’s age as well. The icing on the top was we had no wifi. So we literally couldn’t do anything! The receptionist said he’d call his boss and see what he could do and miraculously the boss was willing to let it slide. He would let us stay so long as we didn’t do any drinking (which, of course, isn’t our thing anyway). So one hurtle down. Next was the issue that we needed to get some way to call our next hostels. Heading out, we manage to find a grocery store that sold SIM cards. Grabbing some food, we went back to try and figure out our next couple days. Of course, we couldn’t get ahold of any of the hostels, and all it said on their websites was that there was an age restriction with no detail on what that meant. Finally, Kiana manages to find the Hostel World’s (the app we use to book hostels) rules. They said that minors could only stay if there was an adult with them. So we just had to hope that that was everyone’s rule as well. Last thing was we needed to organize our tomorrow. The Hostel had a tour discount on but we needed to get pounds out – because, of course, with our luck, we had thought to bring Euro with us, but Northern Ireland is its own country within the British isle and carries a different currency. In the end, as we laid in our beds, I can’t say we were all that settled. If this was how all of Ireland was and if our start was to be any outlook on the rest of the trip, we most likely would end up leaving Ireland early.

The next day was better. We went on a bus tour to the Giant’s Causeway. It was a long day as all of us were suffering from jet-leg. We only had one full day in Belfast, so this was our day to see it if we wanted to. The bus stopped at a few places and funnily enough we ended up enjoying the first stop at Larry Bane more then the actual Causeway. It was known for this fisherman’s rope bridge the extends between two cliffs. You had to pay to walk it. Instead, we just went and sat at the base of the cliffs and enjoyed the warm weather and beautiful view. Once we got to the Giants Causeway, we went on our tour through each cove and all in all found the 9 pound we spent to be a bit of a waste. The Causeway itself was very cool, we just don’t really care about giants (the tour gave us myths, we wanted science and facts).

Our next day was more relaxed. We saw this massive museum - and when I say massive, I mean we spent almost three hours and did not even reach the fourth floor! Honestly, I think it was never ending – they’re just making more and more rooms full of the most bizarre things. It wasn’t even just one particular museum, it was EVERY kind museum artifacts put together. I mean they had a room completely dedicated to chemistry elements, people, like come on! Of course, if we would’ve let her, Janae would have just stayed there for her two weeks. But I, for one, have this thing called hunger that reminds me that this painting of a flower vase may be very pretty but it will not satisfy my needs. So we left.

Belfast was so unique to anything I had seen before. There was just so much age resting within the cobblestone streets. I have never seen so much brick in my life! And it wasn’t the fake brick we have back home, where they paint it to make it look better. No, this was iconic rusty red with all its beauty resting in its natural state. Looking at Ireland as a whole, Belfast really isn’t very old. I guess it was cool because it was the first. I will forever have Belfast as the first place I saw of all Europe. To me, that’s cool!

Our second day was also our last day in Belfast. We needed to catch our bus for 3:00, so we started looking for a café to spend our last bit of time in, before going back to the hostel, grabbing our packs, and making the half hour walk back across town. It was raining and as we passed this church, a woman offered us free pastries and free coffee if we came in, so of course we did. We ended up meeting this really nice girl a bit older than Kiana. We were so comfortable there, we stayed for much longer than anticipated just chatting with her. And as we left we all felt so filled. Its funny really, because now I look back and we had been there for two days, that’s it! Yet, we already felt drained. It reminded me a lot of how God calls us to be in community with each other. Yes, we are to bring the gospel to those in darkness, but I think, for myself at least, I forget how quickly my energy runs out. I think its just so comforting to realize that he calls us to go, but he also has created such an easy way to become renewed.

Next was Dromore: a small town out in the middle of nowhere. We stayed in an Airbnb in the country for two nights. Dromore is one of our highlights of Ireland. Even though we forgot to buy groceries before heading out and therefore lived off of cereal and one single-size bag of instant rice, it was quite a nice place. Out of the city, Ireland is home to so many different shades of green, rolling hills, and, above all, very genuine people. They say Canadians are nice, but I beg to differ. The amount of times over our two weeks that we had strangers help us for no other reason than because they wanted to is remarkable. However, Dromore was our first taste. The only downside to it all was that my chest cold returned just to remind me that swallowing can hurt. I would go into our adventures in Dromore further, but I will never finish this post if I do. So just trust me, it was crazy and beautiful and sort of mind blowing.

Our next stop was only for one night. We had decided to go far up north to Derry, basically for my dad. Thankfully, we had no issue with the hostel age restriction and took this as a very good sign that it wasn’t a law in all of Ireland. Derry is where my dad’s family originated from, and so he wanted us to go and find out more about our ancestry. To him, all you have to do is go to the Parish church and ask to look up William McCluskey in their records and magically everything will be written down there for us to read. I mean, it takes years for other people to find out about their ancestry, but no, the McCluskey name is enough for us. Lets just put it this way; Derry was really, really cool to see. It was actually old, and it was quaint and safe and probably another highlight of our stay. It, however, was not very informative. Dad gave us five names, five very generic names. The McCluskey’s may have been many things, but they were not very creative with names. I mean, when you think of Irish names your first five will most likely be them. There was William McCluskey, Patrick McCluskey and Charlie McCluskey, John McCluskey and Ralph McCluskey. Once again, I challenge you to find any info from those names. The other thing was, like most cities, there isn’t just one church. Derry had at least 3 Parish churches and all of them had had at least two fires that had burned some of their records. Let that sink in.

From Derry we headed south to Galway. A tip to any traveler doing a similar trek. This will be ONE of the longest bus ride of your life, and it will be expensive. My take on our lovely adventure is this: you are on a roller-coaster except its not just you on the track, there are people coming at you. This roller-coaster doesn’t just go up and down, it also goes side to side in a rocking-want-to-die sort of way. Plus, there is the every three minute - slam your head against the seat in front of you – gentle break to allow the other travelers to pass you by.

I assure you, you wont forget it.

Galway is known for its night life and therefore everything is a bit dirtier and all the more expensive. It was still very cool to see. Live music is a big thing in Ireland and we all really enjoyed walking through the cute streets and listening as every couple of blocks there was a change in genre and mood. Although it was only a couple of nights we enjoyed our time there. We had very good seafood and began to recognize a trend in small-sized food portions, which saddened everyone immensely.

From there, we left behind the city lights and headed to a small surfers' town named Lahinch, or maybe it was Lehinch, or Le Hinch, we didn’t really figure it out as even the store owners weren’t sure. This WAS the longest bus ride of my life. In actuality, when we got off the three hour ride I am sure I had lost at least two years of my life. You say I’m exaggerating, we’ll never know now will we? The town was on the coast and, had it not rained for 95% of our time there, it would have been a lot more fun. The one reason we went was to see the Cliffs of Moher. These were a definite highlight of mine. I would go into detail but I’m sure my mother will be reading and I would like her to still be alive when I get back. Just kidding mom! We were safe and stayed a mile away from the edge the entire time… Anyway, very cool – amazing, actually. Again, Lahinch was expensive!

Our last stop was most likely one of our favorite cities in Ireland. Originally, we weren’t going to see it, but it was recommended to us and we are really happy it was. Killarney is like the Amazon of Ireland. It was still fairly pricy, but there were a couple of places we found with some really good food. Plus, there were a lot of cafés (aka: the reason Kiana and I are on this trip). We were able to go to church here and thoroughly enjoyed the service. Somehow, we managed to land our stay on the same Sunday that a very very crucial football (or at least what they call football) match between Dublin and Kerry. The atmosphere of that game was so cool to experience even if we hadn’t had a clue how the game was played. Also, we let Kiana talk us into doing a 19 km trek to see these waterfalls. In her defense, it was only supposed to be a mere 14km, but we stopped and looked around these abbey ruins. During the marathon, Janae seems to have strained a tendon or something in her leg, and even now we are still trying to figure out how to get her around painlessly. From there it was to Dublin, straight thru to the airport and onto France.

In entirety, Ireland was for sure a perfect start to our trip. It was safe, clean, and beautiful. And as I look across the fields in France, I can attest that Ireland is remarkable in a completely unique way, standing apart from the rest Europe.

Well that's was long...

Lynece

[3packsfrom21]

Irish Reflections

We’re moving so fast, it seems. It’s difficult to stop and reflect on what we’ve done. Here I am, on an eight hour long bus ride from Paris to Strasbourg. Ireland already seems far away, though we only left on Monday. What to say about Ireland? It was not what I was expecting. I find it interesting that so often, at least for myself, the expectations I hold with regard to other countries are associated with the countries’ past and history. I often hold a subconscious misconception that the other countries of the world have not developed past the romantic histories I hold in my head. Going to Ireland, I don’t know exactly what I was expecting, but it had something to do with old wizened men leading sheep through rolling green, misty hills. This is not an altogether incorrect view of the country, per se, but it is certainly a narrow and incomplete one; I learned that lesson even in the short two weeks we spent there. That is one of the most crucial parts about traveling: having the opportunity to correct the stereotype-riddled and often problematic gaze with which we see the countries of the world. When I think of Ireland now, I see the lush green rolling hills speckled with sheep, yes. I also see the church who pulled us out of the rain in Belfast to stuff us full of tea, scones, freshly baked banana loaf, and, most importantly, the feeling of safety and the warmth of Jesus; I see the Derry wall, which has stood through the history a nation; I see the fashion of the young people, with their chunky shined shoes (much to my great envy - you can only fit so much in a backpack); I see the woman from the jewellery store who shared our last name (though was likely not related to us at all). I see the charming barista in Dromore, who let us leave our packs in the corner while we went to explore the town; I see the bubbling, boisterous crowd watching the Gaelic football final on the big screen outside of a pub in Killarney; I see the welcoming people of the Living Rock church on a Sunday morning. I see the inside of many buses, on long and exceptionally windy roads; the toilets that would only flush once before taking time to refill (four people using the washroom can suddenly become a lengthy process); the dirt-caked carpets of our hostel in Galway; the man relieving himself on a shopfront window (as much as I’d like to un-see it). I see the grey foaming seashore in Lahinch and the beauty of the Cliffs of Moher. I see rain. Lots of rain. I see every nook and cranny of the well-preserved but not over-barricaded ruins of Muckross Abbey (we explored them extensively, much to Lynece’s and my delight, and Kiana’s eventual exhaustion); I see the giddy joy on Jessica’s face at the prospect of gas station ice cream cones and Lynece’s wide eyes as we passed by pastries (every. single. time.). I see brick buildings and Instagram-worthy backstreets, “mountains” (more like large hills) and trailing stone walls. And on and on it goes. This could become a very long list.

All in all, being in Ireland opened my eyes to see complexity: the rich history leading to the vibrant present. This country is something to see for what it is now, not just what it once was. I suppose the same can be said of most any country. How grateful I am to have the opportunity to explore the world in true and honest light.

Lynece will give more detail into the wheres, whens and general experiences in her upcoming post. For now, you have this brief reflection to munch on.

Cheers // Janae

[3packsfrom21]

What the Heck are we doing?

So, We have FINALLY got our act together and have found a format for this travel blog. I don’t know if any of you know my sister at all but when it comes to Janae, these things are never as simple as "cool this looks good, lets do it!". I am not exaggerating when I say; we debated over the color of the background for a solid half hour before Kiana piped in and told us it's so close to white that no one’s ever going to notice it has color.

Anyway, we are here in Ireland and have been since last Monday. It started with a few extra bumps than we expected. Aka: more like mini lurches. But as we look into our last week here, I can for sure say we LOVE Ireland! The people here are some of the nicest and most genuine that any of us have encountered. It is a gorgeous place that would be perfect, if not for every day being rainy! On one hand, it feels like we've been here for so much longer than a week, seeing as we have seen most of Northern Ireland within the span of seven days. On the other hand, our time here is almost done. It seems like these four months are going to fly by with barely enough time for us to take a breath!

With the last Asian trip my sisters did, they wished they would have had a way to tell everyone what’s going on, and so we decided to create a space like that for this trip. We are going to try and post at the end of each country - about every two weeks. Besides that, we will try to upload some videos and photos of our travels as much as we can during the next four months. That said, this blog is likely going to resemble the rest of our trip – very spontaneous and sporadic!

On another note - we wanted to put out a wide request to anyone who knows anyone living in any of the countries we are going to: if you are looking around your home and wondering where you could get four young travelers to liven up your space... WE ARE THOSE TRAVELERS!

Well that’s all folks! One of us will be uploading an Ireland post soon but until then, we hope everyone’s doing well!

Ireland, France, Germany, Spain, Italy, Greece, Indonesia, Cambodia, Thailand.

Lynece M