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18 --> 19

It’s funny to read these posts summarizing past years in my life. It’s been awhile since I’ve taken time for this kind of introspection and put pen to paper (well, keyboard to computer screen). But I think its valuable to process my thoughts at a moment in time when we pause to assess our lives, and imagine chapters closing and beginning. So I’m back in the game, at least for now.

Something I’ve been waiting for for a long time finally happened, actually before 2018 started. I am so damn in love. I’m in love with someone who is funny and smart and silly and kind and has these delicious dimples. I’m wearing his sweatshirt as I write this, and keep burrowing further into it so I can immerse myself in the smell of him. It is so nice to have a partner who is in it—this life—alongside you.

I will officially be attending grad school for art history this fall; I’m still waiting to hear back from one school, but I know I’m at least going somewhere. And I’ve got a real job doing something consequential in the art field under my belt, which I hope will help me after I graduate. We visited a company for a corporate art consultation and it was so life-affirming to see all the employees in cubicles and to not be one of them. I may or may not have inwardly done a happy dance.

All these steps lead me closer to my goal of being a curator. Yet each time I think about that, I remember the time my sister read tarot cards for me and told me I wouldn’t achieve my career goals, mostly due to me getting in my own way. I know tarot isn’t real, but I can’t help but think it’s prophecy is true, and that I won’t succeed, because I don’t know if I have what it takes.

Yet, for some reason I feel more optimistic going into this year than I did going into last year. Last year I was doing fairly well in a steady job and was newly in love. And since then, even more atrocious things have happened in the world. So I don’t know what to account for the difference in attitude. Maybe it’s because we are closer to the end of the current White House tenant’s term. Maybe it’s because my connection with my partner has deepened. Maybe it’s because my mom is retired and is happy. Maybe it’s because I feel like I’m delving into more and more fascinating and beautiful art. Whatever the reason, it’s nice to feel this way.

Pretty much all of my wishes for my future from the last post failed. Nonetheless, here are my wishes for 2019:

- Get into a healthy routine

- Meditate

- Read more

- Write down my thoughts more

- Be as surrounded by love as I am now this time next year

Sending love to future me.

[quatrainofthought]

16 -> 17

Hey, I haven’t posted in a year!

I thought about writing a post. I wanted to do some kind of summation about what my spring internship taught me. But I had a hard time processing as if I had completed something, when really it feels like just the beginning.

I had a curatorial internship at a great museum that has a stellar collection combining American history, anthropology, and fine art. It was so cool to be in that world and feel like I was actually contributing and learning valuable information; the experience cemented that this is what I want to do with my life.

I was also incredibly anxious the entire time.

I moved to Boston. I was so worried that the city wouldn’t live up to the place I had painted it to be, which I had projected all my hopes and dreams onto. But, somehow, magically, it managed to be one of the only things I anxiously anticipated that didn’t let me down. I visited places all over the city, museums and parks and neighborhoods and shops and restaurants. Unoriginally, the Boston Common became one of my favorite places. To me, it is the closest you can get to stepping inside of a painting: weeping willows, in green or vibrant fall oranges, cascade across the lagoon, where ducks and swans glide. Families amble down the crisscrossing paths or stop to look out from the bridge, and lone, content visitors sit on benches or read leaning against trees. I feel content there, like I’m part of something greater, in a place of solitude and connection.

I think I could write a love letter to Boston. It’s a big city with big city amenities, but feels small, with discrete neighborhoods. It’s got so much history and importance and pride. I vibe with the personality. It’s so New England.

The rest of the year has been kind of muddled. I have had jobs involved in museums, and I’m grateful that I’ve gotten to have a job where I’ve had a real, meaningful camaraderie with my coworkers. I’m thankful for those friendships. I’ve had better connections in friendships and relationships, although they aren’t exactly what I’d like them to be. I am questioning what I am doing in my life and whether I’ve got what it takes to become a curator. I am very good at self doubt. But I’ve come to the conclusion that art history is the subject matter I most want to follow, and that I will be unhappy if I don’t pursue this. I’m taking steps forward.

I ended my post last year with wishes for 2016: that I spend quality time with people I care about and who care about me, that it bring more hope and real possibilities, and that I continue to quiet my anxious, overanalyzing brain. 2016 has brought all of those. The last one in certain ways and not others. But that will never be an obstacle I completely conquer. I am destabilized in other ways; the election challenged my fundamental belief that reason and human decency will win out in the end. That still has me adrift.

But, my wishes for 2017:

that the world not turn to shit

I return to feeling good about my body

keep strong connection with people important to me

go forth with confidence in these career steps

meditate, so I allow myself the space to succeed

[quatrainofthought]

5 --> 6

A little bit of reflecting, since that’s why we make New Year’s a thing. 2015 has been pretty good to me. 15 is my favorite number, so while I don’t really believe in fate, I still kinda thought something special would happen. And it kinda did. My personal relationships improved. But also some things happened which made them worse. I graduated college, which I previously viewed as The End. I lived mostly independently in a big city. I made a personal leap I would never have thought I would make. I began to feel more hope for my future. But also, it wasn’t until I started feeling less confident in my abilities recently that I realized what a good place I had been in. I kind of feel like I’m just beginning post-grad life now. For about three years, Boston has been the thing to keep me going. It became an enchanted place, the world of possibility that I wasn’t sure I believed in after college. When I think of Boston, I have a gauzy vision of walking through the streets at night, pinpoints of lights in windows and street lamps like stars. I think of clouds of breath visible in the cold, hurrying with my friends to catch our bus. I think of the weeping willows in the Common, fairy lights around Quincy Market, brick and shiny metal. The familiar relics of the Revolutionary history. Cannolis in the North End. Big cities often seem bloated and corporate and soulless to me, but Boston feels unique in its character. And now I am finally moving there. The dream is becoming a reality. But when something has been a dream for so long, the confrontation with reality often is like being knocked on your ass. 2015 was a year of learning to hope, and of accepting being okay. I am ending this year on a lower note, but it has made me realize how important other people are to me, which was something I didn’t really feel four years ago.

So may 2016 be a year of spending quality time with people I care about and who care about me. May it bring more hope and real possibilities. May the leveling of my crazy analyzing inner monologue and interpersonal relations and communication continue so I continue trying to be okay.

[quatrainofthought]

My Sartorial Autobiography

For my internship I worked with a curator on a project about adornment and identity. She asks all of her interns to write a piece on their own experiences, and I thought I would repost mine here.

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I am somehow the fashionable one in my family. Yet my style was once described by one of my friends as “very New Hampshire” (where both of us grew up), which I take to mean small town, or unsophisticated. Or, at least, I’m the one in my family who cares most about appearances; neither of my parents nor my sister care much about putting together a “look.” Even though I want to look put-together and classy, I mostly just choose individual pieces I like. I still feel like I don’t have a “style.” I wish my mom and friends had been more interested in fashion and makeup so I could have learned more about style and products.

As I got older I attempted to insert my own personality with a few quirky choices: for a while I decided wearing mismatched solid color socks would be my “thing,” and at one point I owned around 5 or 6 t-shirts with Harry Potter references. I made small attempts to assert individuality in my own measured way. I dyed a strip of my hair purple in high school, and in my senior year of college I started to wear winged eyeliner, my first real time wearing makeup. I liked the look of it, and tried it out myself over the summer, looking up online tutorials. I think it looks stylish and classy, and to me it felt slightly daring.

I made a choice for a permanent adornment just a few months ago in the form of a small tattoo on the inside of my right wrist. I had never thought of myself as a “tattoo person,” because I usually play things safe and I’ve never liked traditional tattoo designs anyway. But over time the idea became attractive to me; it is a touchstone to remind me of something meaningful. The Tree of Life is an important motif in the Jewish tradition. To me it signifies my values of knowledge, nature, family, balance, and reaching toward spirituality while still remaining grounded. Once I finally decided to commit, right after I graduated college, the process took about two months. I met with my rabbi to hear her perspectives. I searched online for an affordable artist to commission, and sent her some inspiration pictures. I wanted a braided trunk, similar to the braided bread and candles used on Shabbat, and I wanted it to be colorful, which ended up being in the form of multicolored leaves. I did not want a spooky, dead-looking tree, but something vibrant and joyful, because that is what being Jewish is to me, and that is what I want this reminder, a part of my life philosophy, to be. I’ve had experiences where people tried to delegitimize my connection to Judaism, but now it is permanently inked onto my body. I love it because it’s not going away. For me, the pain of the process was in a way part of the appeal. You have to earn the design if you want to keep it. You have to be brave and commit. I was proving that to myself and the world.

I joke that I’m still in the honeymoon stage with my tattoo. It’s still new, so I still just look at it and admire it from time to time. I love that it’s unique; I didn’t pick it out from pre-made merchandise at a store. For me, this symbol is adding a beautiful adornment to my skin, rather than taking away from natural beauty. It makes me feel proud of my body. I feel like I have something to offer the world.

[quatrainofthought]

Days in the Capital

After graduation I was fueled by the idea of moving to Boston, but inwardly I despaired about where my future was headed. I worried I wouldn’t be able to find a job, even a horrible, soul-sucking one, in time for a September move-in. Or find a rent I could afford. What if I had to stay at home, and ended up stuck?

Then, midway through the summer, I got a call. A call accepting me to an internship at the Smithsonian which I had given up on. I was completely shocked and speechless, and when I hung up I started to cry. Not to overstate it, but I was overwhelmed by the hope that I may actually be able to have the kind of life I want.

So I spent fall in Washington, D.C. While the internship wasn’t my dream internship, as I had thought it would be, it was still valuable. I got to have a foot in the life of a prestigious museum and cultural preservation institution. I got to live in a city with a vibrant cultural scene. I got to kind of sort of be independent and live on my own in a city where I knew no one (for most of the time). I toured the NPR headquarters, saw Malia Obama while touring the Capitol Building, heard Salman Rushdie speak at an historic synagogue and had him sign my book, and went to a concert at the 9:30 Club. I toured the Library of Congress with other Smithsonian interns, went to my first alumni events, visited innovative museums, went to a rave, and laid on the lawn underneath the Washington Monument.

I worked at a restaurant, which I feel is a rite of passage, and a museum gift shop, which was cool for the exposure to art, for the retail experience with cool products, and for meeting new people. Visitors came from around the world, and many were connected to the Smithsonian and other museums. I got to use my French in conversation with tourists, learn from a woman who was an exhibit designer at the museum, talk to a stage actor who met Steve Martin (and described him as “not funny at all”), and meet the person who inspired me to apply to the next internship I am starting.

A few weeks ago I fell in love with a touching Hanukkah Lights story on NPR and tried to find other stories by the author. Through the magic finding aid of the Internet I found the blog she maintains as a wedding officiant in Vermont. I’ve been making my way through the entries, and I’ve already decided I want her to officiate my wedding, regardless of the fact that I have no husband lined up and don’t want to be married for many years. I love her spiritual ethos and simple faith in love. She sums it up:

“Again and again, I find myself so grateful for the opportunity to do something which gets me to visit places I might never have seen and meet folks I’d never have encountered. The news is so often full of bad things and bad people or good people doing bad things or having bad things happen to them. It’s just an emotional relief sometimes to get to be a part of something which is nothing but positive. Nothing but hope and love.”

I want my life to be like that. I want to find that in my life. In small ways I’ve discovered it working my customer service jobs. People can suck. But people can also be great. Sometimes customers will see my tattoo and compliment it, and I love that the choice to ink a design that is meaningful to me on my body is connecting me to other people. One time I arrived at my hostess job to find a $25 gift certificate waiting for me. Apparently a customer brought it in because they thought I was “great.” I have no idea what I did, or who it was. Who does that? Who does something that nice for a random customer service worker?? Especially when I can’t remember doing anything special.

I will always be grateful to that person for reminding me that people can be great. I want to be that thoughtful and kind to others as well. And I want to have my own creative work that furthers that mission, and makes other people feel hope and love. Like the author, I love that my school and work have taken me to places I might never have seen and meet people I’d never have encountered.

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Moments from graduation

Although the commencement speaker, an ambassador, said his speech would be “like a poisoned arrow, short and to the point,” it was boring and could be summed up as “you should work in public policy!” He also said “commencement” sounded like “common cement” which I suppose had a point but he never really explained it.

The dean of the International Business School twice pronounced finance as “fin-ance,” and then Prez Fred did it twice in response when he granted them the degrees, and everyone is the audience was like “??? Fin-ance?”

Prez Fred actually had a pretty good speech. He talked how he was kind of graduating with us (he’s leaving this year) and about things that have happened at Brandeis, and warned people to be more thoughtful and kind over social media, which I appreciate and agree with regarding recent issues at Brandeis. At one point one kid said “yeah!” during his speech, and Fred pulled an Obama and said “I love you back!” to him, which was hilarious. His voice actually kind of sounds like Obama too.

One guy had a really Bostonian accent and it was funny.

Bethany, the student whose speech won the competition to give at commencement, was really good. When I read her speech I thought it was good yet others were better, but I should have realized the “performance” (she does theater) would be a crucial part of it. The grad student who spoke wasn’t as good of a speaker as her, but I thought her speech was really good, because she talked about how she worked at an NGO and realized she was not helping change the world just by working there and calling for money. So, she went to grad school to study poverty alleviation, and believes changing the politics will help change the issue.

They didn’t play “Pomp and Circumstance” as we went in, and not many people threw up their caps :(

My friends apparently hid Welch’s fruit snacks in their hoods and ate them during the ceremony.

As they were conferring the degrees, they described the graduate school classes with random adjectives, and Prez Fred spontaneously described us as “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” which was awesome and he totally knew his audience.

As we were leaving they played “Happy” and I felt very relaxed yet jazzed and happy and danced a little bit :)

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So...graduation...

Up until about mid this semester, I was dreading graduation like it was the gallows. I have only ever planned my life until college, and although I know more about what I like, I still don’t know what I want to do with my life. But now, with graduation tomorrow (later today), I am ready to be done with school. 

In many ways I feel as if I just got into the swing of college this year. I’ve made relationships with professors, worked on projects that actually meant something to me, actually drank and partied, chilled with different friend groups and expanded personal relationships. I find so much of what I like and value and what makes me me here, and the kind of people here are the people I relate to most, but the atmosphere can also be kind of claustrophobic. Though I’ve technically only been at Brandeis for three years, I don’t know if I could stand another semester.

I’m scared about the uncertainty about the future, but that’s unavoidable. What I will miss is the university environment. I will miss being able to go to interesting lectures, and having performances and events going on all the time. I will miss being able to get together with friends without needing to make formal plans. I will miss being able to take random fun classes and learning what subjects I like and living a spontaneous, well-rounded existence.

I really identify with being a student. It is all I have ever been, and I like the mindset of constant learning (I am a Ravenclaw after all). When you are a student there is leeway to make mistakes and try new things. Your future could be anything, so you are encouraged to apply for a random internship or present at a conference or perform in an arts show or submit to the literary magazine or newspaper or enter the competition to be the commencement speaker.

When you’re a student you’re given this honored status. You remind people of their glory days. Investing in you, in your ~personal growth~, means investing in the future, so you get discounts and special opportunities. Once I said I was a student working on a project, this company was willing to help me and give me information. But once you’re an average person with a job, nobody cares. You are just expected to get on with your life, become one thing, be professional, do things right. I know that’s oversimplifying to some degree, but ultimately it’s true.

So besides the regular life changes and the people, that is what I will miss. I will miss what it means to be a student at a university. But this year I finally felt like I’ve gotten into the swing of college, and had the experiences I’ve wanted. I regret a few things, like never finding a club I felt a part of, but overall I am happy. Plans are still in the air, but I am okay with that. The time to move on is here, and I am ready to move on.

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Some Pretentious Babble on Why A Liberal Arts Education Isn't a Waste After All

Recently I realized I may have accidentally come to peace with the central conflict in my life at the time I applied to college. 

In high school I wrote my college essay about how I felt betrayed by two friends who were bigoted towards me for religious reasons, and how Harry Potter and its message of love helped me at a time I felt very lonely.

Two thoughts:

1) I now cringe thinking that I wrote that for my college essay, but, in my defense, every message I'd received told me how the college essay is supposed to be the ultimate introspective, definitive declaration of myself and my life's journey, and that essay, if nothing else, did come from the heart.

2) That is such a Brandeisian essay and I didn’t even know at the time. (I mentioned Judaism, fandom, and social justice [in how the series inspired me to better the world]. Can't get much better than that.)

I was really angry and cynical about religion at the end of high school. I thought organized religion (specifically Christianity) was corrupt and hateful and tricked people into believing stupid things. When I first came to Brandeis, my perspectives seemed to worsen. I learned that Orthodox Jews could behave in similar ways to fundamentalist Christians. But, slowly, my outlook began to change. I developed my own sense of spirituality, and I want to learn more about the Jewish stories and traditions my faith is based upon. Time, also, helped heal my anger.

During my time at Brandeis I've added an anthropology minor, and because of it I've learned fascinating new perspectives on the world. Through my classes I realized the importance of spiritual belief and ritual, and how essentially human they are. Just like how three months trying new exercise habits can cement the new routine into a healthy lifestyle, so can quotidian rituals or life cycle rituals or religious rituals do powerful mental and emotional work. It is why people have secular holidays like Thanksgiving and memorials for historical events. I used to think that a lot of what my professors said in class was common sense, and I didn’t need to write it down, but while taking those notes and asking questions may not have been essential, I got so much more out of the classes through the physical impressions. Knowing can be listening, but also writing and speaking. They serve as additional ways to experience and reinforce information. Similarly, a cultural tradition and belief makes life richer. And I am not saying that atheists do not have rich lives; atheist thinkers like Thomas Paine explain how other systems, like science, function as their “religion”- as in a higher power or set of life-governing principles.

I don't think a system that tells people their actions matter long-term and have spiritual and emotional implications is fundamentally bad. Institutions become corrupt. Any institution can blind people or refuse to adapt with the times (though I admit religion has higher stakes). It is human nature to be greedy and superior and do bad things. And if the use of religion to explain natural phenomena is becoming more and more defunct, other uses like an accountable moral code and rich emotional significance are still relevant and valuable.

With religion people can connect to a cultural tradition. People can find community; church networks even organized a large portion of the civil rights movement. Spirituality and ritual are not just tools to delude yourself; they are a fundamental expression of humanity.

It is as my college experience is ending that I am beginning to realize its effect on me. Some things about Brandeis are fantastic and some suck, but I can thank Brandeis and my education in anthropology for reaffirming my faith in the multilayered, resonant human experience. Nothing can fully crystallize the beauty and purpose of a liberal arts education more than that.

[quatrainofthought]

Today marks a year to the day I last saw my cat, Smokey.

Early in the morning on the first of January 2014 I kissed my three cats (and family) goodbye and headed to the airport to study abroad for five months. Ten days before I was to return home, in mid May, I was doing some post-program traveling with my friend Ava. We arrived at our hostel in Florence and were able to connect to wifi. I had two Facebook messages. The first from my dad letting me know Smokey was not doing well, and the second, only hours later, telling me he had died.

I gasped loudly, and moments later was sobbing on the floor of the hostel's kitchen, then bathroom. I cried for maybe twenty to thirty minutes until I was spent and Ava came to check on me. Then I forced myself not to think about it. That night I would skype with my family, but at the moment I could do nothing. If I were to miss Smokey’s final hours, I would make the reason why worthwhile.

It’s hard to make this post not seem trivial, to communicate exactly what Smokey means to me. I remember writing a story in kindergarten about how we got him and his sister, Nala, and how I followed him around the basement of the seller’s house as he wandered to his food and water bowls. I remember how in third grade, Smokey would hear the school bus drop me off next door and would be waiting for me as I walked across the lawn, his paws resting on the screen door and head peeking up at the bottom of its window. I remember being angry or sad, curled up on my bed, and Smokey would pad down the hall to my room, and jump up so he could curl next to me, looking at me with his big, earnest (I don’t care if he was a cat, they were earnest) green eyes, and it would be the most tender moment, because I would be caught up in whatever my emotional inner turmoil was, and he would be this calm, loving presence when I was wallowing and closed off to everything, letting me know he was there, never able to harbor any bad feelings toward me.

I am such a cat person that as a kid I would take it personally when people didn’t like cats, so much so that the movie “Cats & Dogs” felt like a personal affront because the cats were the villains. When people said that cats were loners, and that they only liked humans because they fed them, etc., I would be upset because they didn’t understand. If they knew my cats, they would see how much cats loved their owners. I didn’t realize until he died what a great exception Smokey was to all the rules.

My dad has always been a cat person, and when my sister was little she would write stories about magical cats (which caused me to do so too), and translate what our cats meowed from the cat language “Purrtemp.” Since she was older she seemed to have greater knowledge and ability in all things, so when I became the one who the cats loved and responded to best it was one of the first things I was really proud of. Whenever I was bored after school because my dad was working or my sister didn’t want to play with me (as per usual), I played with the cats. I knew their favorite petting and scratching spots. They would come to me whenever I made a chirping noise. And always, Smokey loved me best, and I loved him best.

I realize these declarations sound silly, but I do not exaggerate when I say Smokey was the sweetest, softest, most patient, loyal, willing, and unconditionally loving being I’ve ever known. If I were to name the most comforting things I can think of, it would be hugging my mom, curling up with my old baby blanket, and petting Smokey’s fur.

It hurts that when I was talking about Smokey with my parents after he died, they described how my dad was his favorite. Smokey would sit on his lap or his notes while he worked at his computer. I got fiercely defensive, and told them that I was always his favorite. It hurts to think that they might be right. I’ve been away at school, absent from home for a couple of months at a time, and my patience for sitting and petting my cats for extended periods of time waned as I grew older.

It hurts the most that I had not seen Smokey for five months, and was going to see him in ten days. It hurts that I didn’t say goodbye. Five months is the longest I have ever been away from home, so he likely thought I was never coming home, that I abandoned him. A part of me wonders if that contributed to him wasting away. I was blindsided by the news, and I think if I had been able to see him and pet him a last time, to get closure, I may be better able to accept his death, especially given his age. The guilt and sadness eat away at me sometimes.

He occupies such a tender place in my heart. I want a way to remember him, to relive him, but there are only so many stories or memories you can think back on. I remember him sleeping on my bed every night, and how adorable he was when he curled up with Nala. Most of all, I remember his presence, and how, right after I would call for him, he would come trotting towards me, looking up at me attentively with his big, soulful green eyes, endlessly tolerant of me picking him up or hugging him. A lot of things from my childhood have left or changed, but Smokey dying is a piece of what makes home home for me dying.

I'm know I'm not the only one, because Nala doesn't like to come upstairs much anymore. She stays downstairs on the couch, wary of anyone touching her, now that her constant companion is gone.

[quatrainofthought]

After: At Home, In America

I've been back in the States for nearly three months, and everything is back to normal.

It didn't take long for it to happen, because at first I was just relieved since I was exhausted.

Soon after I returned I drove to visit a friend at her house, but there was no room in her driveway. I didn't know where to park, so until I could ask her where I could go, I parked at a lot of a used car shop next door, which I knew I shouldn't do. When I saw someone from the shop coming out, my immediate urge was to speak French at him. Something was wired in my brain that if I was anxious to approach someone and speak with them, I would be speaking French. In France, obviously, I was intimidated to speak with foreigners in a language I didn't feel comfortable with, and so when I was afraid of the car shop guy being mad at me and was anxious to explain myself, it was enough for the wires to cross in my brain to view them as similar enough situations. Which is kind of funny, really.

I don't really remember anything being really difficult to adjust to, except that sometimes I was primed to expect vocal interaction to be difficult, which then relaxed once I spoke English, a language I DO have a handle on. I remember when I was traveling with Ava, I had a sort of English tunnel vision (tunnel hearing?), so if I heard someone speaking English, my ears would perk up, as if they were really excited to hear a language they could easily understand.

Readjusting my palate was a bit difficult too. When I arrived in France, I would spread just enough cheese to cover my slice of bread, but my host mom would tell me to use more! eat more! and soon I was spreading huge chunks of Camembert on my baguettes. But that couldn't continue forever, unfortunately. My America-attuned body won't allow it.

I did miss being able to drive, though. Without my own reliable method of transportation, I feel like a part of my own agency is taken away. Plus I find driving to be calming, and no one will be annoyed at me singing along to the radio.

The things I do appreciate most about France, and I guess miss the most in America, are the great food, of course, and the small, specialized shops. It's really convenient to have department stores where everything you want is in one place, but it is very de-personalized. I wouldn't have necessarily thought it would be something I would feel a need for, but little boutiques and shops that only sell bread or pastries have so much more character, even if they are smaller. Even if you don't chat with the shopkeeper, it's a more personal experience (even at the grocery stores, which are smaller) and more unique. In department stores, you feel like you don't matter in the grand scheme of things, even though you expect all your desires to be met. You are just a little consumer in a big-box world, in one store out of an international chain, a beast larger and more important than you. But when the shop is unique, and you realize the shopkeepers and owners are local, your neighbors- your experience means more, even while you are looking to fill your consumer desires. It's more human, really.

And of course I miss Montpellier, and the landscape, and exploring, and even my morning commute. And the sun and pale buildings. When I think of Montpellier, I think of riding the bus in the morning to the center of town and the bureau, driving up the hill and passing the Arch du Triomphe and Peyrou and long, old pale buildings. One day I will go back, but for now, I will just appreciate America, New England, my home.

[quatrainofthought]

MARCHing Through Europe

In which I attempted to cover nearly 3 weeks and 8 cities worth of travel in a concise yet interesting manner. However once I got through our first city, I realized how long it took and decided just to write down the bullet points for now. Maybe I will elaborate later.

It all began Friday, February 28th, leaving from the Montpellier train station an hour and a half after my class ended. Eliza and I arrived in Marseille and spent some time walking around and went on the ferris wheel to see a cool view (which we didn't get to do when we went there for our excursion a few weeks previous) and got wifi in a fancy nautical-themed McDonald's before we had to get to the airport for our flight to Madrid.

MADRID 2/28 - 3/3

We arrived in Madrid at around midnight, and most of the transportation had stopped. After some awkward attempts to communicate with some of the metro workers, we managed to figure out the right way to go...until the train stopped two stops away and we had to get off. So we attempt to walk to our hostel RC Miguel Angel attempting to follow google maps and obtain wifi... and succeeded. Two hours later at 2 AM.

The next day we visited the Prado Museum / Museo del Prado, which is supposed to be one of the best art museums in the world. And it was pretty great. I tried reading everything until I realized how huge the museum was. We got to maybe a fourth of it. I really enjoyed the temporary exhibit they had on subject of The "Furias," which are, in the words of the Prado Museum website: "four figures who dwelled in the Graeco-Roman Hades as a punishment for defying the gods: Tityus, whose liver was constantly pecked at by a vulture for attempting to rape one of Zeus’s lovers; Tantalus, condemned to vainly try to obtain food and drink for serving up his son at a banquet of the gods; Sisyphus, who had to endlessly roll an enormous rock for revealing Zeus’s infidelities; and Ixion, obliged to turn forever on a wheel for attempting to seduce Hera." It was in the Prado that I realized that Miguel Angel (as featured in the name of our hostel) is the Spanish name for Michelangelo. 

We then spent some time walking around and getting a feel for the city. While I was fine with visiting Madrid, I wasn't super thrilled about visiting- obviously I wasn't bummed about it, but it wasn't one of my top choices. But I did like the city. In many ways it felt like just another big city, but the architecture was kind of fun to see, like on the Gran Via, the big street. Here is where we started the trend to go into nearly every souvenir shop we saw, and where I mistook a napkin holder for a taco holder...oops. For dinner Eliza had paella and I had a calamari sandwich, both which are popular there. Calamari was okay, though kind of rubbery, and heavy since it was fried. We also saw the Puerto del Sol (a busy square) with a statue of a bear and strawberry tree. For some reason this is the coat of arms of Madrid...something about how the church owned the soil, but the people of Madrid owned everything above the ground, like game...including bears...I don't get it either.

That night we went out to a club recommended online, the Joy Club, which fortuitously was right across the street from our hostel. We didn't even leave until 12:30am, which is apparently still early for the Madrid crowd, which we realized as we went in since it was still kind of empty. After paying the hefty €18 cover charge (ow), we got a couple drinks (also supa expensive) and danced. It was fairly enjoyable, even though mostly of the songs were in Spanish/ Latin club type music and I enjoy dancing to songs I know. At one point they finally played a song I knew and liked, so I maybe got a little too excited and started singing along...and saw a guy walking by laugh and shake his head at me. Awk. However we were out until like 2 or 3 which is pretty impressive for us Brandeisians. Also, Eliza randomly ran into a guy she went to summer camp with back near Boston. Small world.

On Sunday we went to the Palacio Real / Royal Palace, which is probably one of the coolest palaces I've ever seen. It's not as lavish as Versailles, but the interior of some of the rooms were really cool and decorated in diverse styles, like a room entirely in porcelain, the throne room with red velvet walls, a gorgeous chapel, an oriental room, and some beautiful rooms decorated in blue and silver, one of my favorite combinations. We also visited the armory and saw a cool view of the city from the back balcony.

After we stopped by the Plaza Mayor, which is the main square. It turns out there were some really cool shops there we saw that day and the next, but all out of our price range :(. We saw a couple street performers, like one guy with his head costumed so that you could only see in a baby carriage who made some rude motions towards us when we walked by, an engaging guy who used some audience participation to ring hand bells, and then also bells he had attached to different parts of his body and combined them to make a song. There was also a group of men dressed as women in pink clothes and curlers who sang a song that was apparently hilarious to the crowd around us even though we couldn't understand. Eliza took 2 years of high school Spanish, but it got us pretty far and it was pretty helpful.

We then had the local snack of chocolate and churros at Chocolateria San Ginés...and it was okay that we indulged ourselves, because it was culture. Yup. The chocolate was like a mug of either thick hot chocolate or thin melted dark chocolate. It was good, though it didn't blow me away as I predicted. We did a lot of walking everywhere and managed not to use any public transportation. We walked 55 minutes to get to a flamenco show that night, and on the way saw the monuments of the Alcala Gate and Cibeles fountain. We arrived at the Tablao Flamenco Cafetin la Quimera, a show recommended as more traditional/true flamenco, and enjoyed some sangria (which actually wasn't too bad although I usually don't care much for wine). The show had a male and female dancer, a guitarist and a female singer. I'd learned a little bit about flamenco in class I took freshman year called Music and Ecstasy; real flamenco is supposed to be kind of painful, because it was a way for people to express their troubles. You could definitely hear that in the singer's voice. It was rough, and not what you would traditionally think of as beautiful. But the dancers were very emotional, and started dancing when they felt the music; first the woman solo, then the man, and then the two together. Sometimes they even seemed like they were in pain. The man especially was amazing- the dancing involved a lot of foot stomping, sweeping arm movements and waving of skirts.

We ate that night at a restaurant called Le Petit Prince, though unfortunately it wasn't decorated like the book :(. The next day we spent time looking at shops around the Plaza Mayor and ate entire plate-sized pizzas for lunch because we followed the wise words of Louis CK: "The meal isn't over when I'm full. It's over when I hate myself." We also went to the Museo Reina Sofía/ Queen Sofía Museum, another giant art museum we only saw about a quarter of. It houses Picasso's Guernica, which was pretty amazing to see.

And then we were off to...

GENEVA 3/3 - 3/5

Monday 3/3

-Took a plane to Geneva, and arrived around 2am (due to confused directions) to our Airbnb with Carlos and his girlfriend Olympia.

Tuesday 4/3

-Walked briefly around the old city. Stopped at a Tea Room for some yummy pastries and the best hot chocolate I've ever had. Stopped at a chocolatier for some Swiss chocolate, which wasn't as amazing as I had hoped.

-Stopped in a Russian Church we walked by, and visited some tourist shops.

-Saw the famous flower clock, which was underwhelming as it wasn't in bloom yet and was being worked on. Saw Lake Geneva and the Jet d'Eau.

-Rode a bus around the city, which was actually a pretty cool way to see the architecture and landscape. (Plus we were tired).

-Ate amazing cheese fondue at the restaurant La Gruyèrien, which had adorable murals on the walls and cow lamps. Had chèvre and gruyère cheese on grapes, bread and potatoes (pommes de terre). Eliza made the awesome pun that she was about to "pomme de terre-it up."

Wednesday 5/3

-Toured the Palais de Nations, which is the second largest UN headquarters. It was very cool and official-looking with some beautiful buildings. It has a giant chair sculpture outside of it with a leg missing to commemorate those who were injured or affected by land mines. I thought it was interesting that the 6 official languages of the UN are English, French, Spanish, Chinese, Arabic and Russian.

-Took a flight to Budapest. The Genevan airport was super nice and didn't seem like an airport. We also had some chocolate there (to use up out Swiss francs), which was yummy and more like the quality I had been hoping for. Arrived at Maverick City Lodge Hostel, where I randomly ran into Sarah, a friend from Brandeis. She was on break from where she was studying abroad in Copenhagen with a friend. We drank (too much) wine (the hostel was having a wine night) with her and her friend. Eliza accidentally sprayed herself in the face twice with a thing that was supposed to make the wine bubbly, which Sarah said perfectly illustrated the concept of "Brandeis awkward" which she had been trying to explain to her friend. The hostel was brand new and very modern-looking, and the beds looked like pods in the wall (and had curtains) which felt a little strange.

-We walked around the Pest side of the city (the side our hostel was on) and had a delicious dinner at Hungarikum Bisztro, who had really nice servers who tried to tell us about Hungarian food.

Thursday 6/3

-Visited the Dohany synagogue (szinagoga in Hungarian) and its museum and art exhibit.

-Had lunch at the Ruszwurm café, the oldest café in Budapest. I had yummy hot chocolate and Ruszwurm cake. This is where I learned exactly how much better I felt once I had eaten, as this was the city where the fatigue began to set in.

-Walked the Fisherman's Bastion and saw its wonderful views (in day and night). Peeked inside the pretty St. Mathias Church (but didn't go in because we didn't want to pay. We lived pretty cheaply).

-Walk around the Buda side of Budapest (which was very cute and smaller, so I liked it better than Pest), looked at shops and walked through (not in) Buda Castle. Got asked by an older man to take a picture with his girlfriend (not take a picture OF them) and we refused, since we were confused as to WHY they would want that...

-Ate dinner at the classy Andante Borpatika wine bar. We drank Pinot Noir rosé and I ate goulash, which made me feel very Hungarian.

Friday 7/3

-Ate pastries, walked around the mall and bought a bunch of Cadbury and Kinder chocolate (kinder eggs, Cadbury Oreo chocolate bars, etc.).

-Toured the Invisible Exhibition, which was a museum completely in the dark with an apartment and scultpure garden you walk and feel your way through to get a feel for what it is like to be blind. Ate a lunch of Toblerone cake and a yummy cookie latte.

-Ate a yummy dinner of pork medallions, mashed potato and letcho at Mistro Bistro.

-Got SOAKED in the rain and had cars drive by us on the curb and spray sheets of water on us TWICE. Turns out it does not only happen in the movies.

Saturday 8/3

-Flew from Budapest to Dublin. Eliza ate a prune pastry in the Budapest subway and must have got food poisoning, since she puked twice on the streets on Dublin. But it was impressive as she held it in on the hour ride on the subway, through the flight, and through the 40 minute bus ride from the Dublin airport to O'Connell street. We then arrived at Abigail's Hostel.

-Walk around Grafton St (the nice shopping area), saw some famous Georgian doors and the Molly Malone statue.

-Had a pasta dinner and a delicious Bailey's cheesecake. Or at least, I did. Eliza abstained, save for some Tuc crackers.

-Saw "The Monuments Men" movie, which was pretty funny.

Sunday 9/3

-Toured the Guinness factory, which was pretty well done, but also, predictably, a big advertisement for the company. There was a beer tasting, but turns out I still don't like beer.

-Saw the pretty Christ Church and St. Patrick's Cathedral.

-Walked around Grafton St more, and at a chocolate shop I bought mango, latte, Bailey's, chocolate and salty caramel truffles.

-Had a siesta, then a pizza dinner, and a comedy show at @ Badass cafe where I had Bailey's coffee. (Bailey's everything was the theme of Dublin) We met up with a couple of people from our program, Kassandra and Erick.

Monday 10/3

-Went to the writer's museum (as Dublin has a lot of famous writers) and Eliza was super cool about waiting for me as I read everything. Ate lunch of sweet potato spinach goat cheese pie.

-Toured the Kilmainham jail, and had dinner @ Quay's restaurant with Kassandra and Erick (irish stew & Bailey's cheesecake [again!]). We then went to the Stag's Head pub and I tried a sip of Guinness (that was enough).

Tuesday 11/3

-Took a day tour of Wicklow and the Irish countryside. Unfortunately it was a little early so it wasn't as green as is famed. We stopped at Avoca Handweavers (a not that impressive shop) where I had a mocha, visited a beautiful beach, saw a picturesque bridge featured in "PS I Love You," saw the Guinness lake (which the Guinness family bought and had sand shipped in on one side so the lake looks like a pint of Guinness with froth at the top), and saw St. Kevin's monastery and cemetery and a nice walk around it. On the way back I got this horrible headache which felt like a migraine, which I've never had before. I laid in bed and felt kind of nauseous and my head hurt horribly and I couldn't get comfortable and light hurt, which sucked since we were in a female dorm of 10 people. After 5 hours or so I felt better.

Wednesday 12/3

-Toured the old library in Trinity College and saw the famous medieval Gaelic harp (the oldest harp in Ireland, found on Irish Euro coins, and is also the Guinness logo. It is a Celtic symbol and a symbol of Ireland because for some reason all the harps were being destroyed for Paganism or something, but this survived and is symbolic of the peoples' struggle...or something) and the Book of Kells.

-Stopped at an Irish sweet shop and I got Bailey's truffles for an Irish film we saw called "Stag," which was like an Irish version of "The Hangover." It was a little strange because the audience was me and Eliza...and then like 12 single men who came in by themselves. And one woman.

-We had lunch and then flew to London to sleep in Heathrow overnight.

Thursday 13/3

-We woke up for our early flight, and tried to check in...only to get a "wrogn airport" message on the ticket scanner. Eliza checked her info and found out our flight was supposed to leave from Gatwick, not Heathrow. We tried to get there, but arrived as the plane was leaving. We got a flight for the next day, but I was upset and pretty unbearable the whole day.

-We walked aimlessly around London, sat in a park for a few hours, and attempted to get "Book of Mormon" rush tickets...without success.

-The bright side- we went to King's Cross, and got pictures at Platform 9 3/4! Slept in Gatwick overnight. (Later, Eliza traveled again and had a layover in London, and had to sleep in another airport. She was very proud she could cross off more London airports she slept in.)

Friday 14/3

-Flew to Salzburg and arrived at Yoho International Hostel.

-Walked around Salzburg and its utterly charming old city, and I bought a cookie at this super cool bread shop. It had window displays of bread shaped like skiiers, the Olympic rings, and snowmen, among other things.

-We toured Mozart's birthplace and ate at the Mozart Cafe for dinner (which had Mozartkugeln everwhere. In fact, Mozartkugeln was all over the city. There were entire shops devoted to it.)

-We watched the "Sound of Music" at the hostel (which played it every night) and ran into Paige and Emily (and briefly the next day, Annalise), girls from our program.

Saturday 15/3

-We took the Sound of Music Tour, which was pretty cheesy but still pretty cool. (Though the tour guide repeated a few sentences verbatim one after another...awkward. When I asked he said he does 10 tours a week, so I can see it loosing its appeal. When one of us asked if he still liked the movie, he said "yeeees, it's magical" in a not-so-convincing way.) We saw the town of Mondsee and the Mondsee cathedral (where Maria and the Captain got married), the two mansions used for the Von Trapp villa, the "Sixteen Going On Seventeen" gazebo at Helbrunn palace, Nonberg Abbey (Maria's abbey, obviously), and took pictures at Lake Wolfgang. The scenery and mountains and homes tucked in them were absolutely incredible, and some of my favorite memories from the trip.

-We then visited St. Peter's Cathedral and cemetery, which had really cool decorated graves.

-We toured Salzburg fortress, comprised of the fortress museum, a small marionette museum, and state rooms.

-Stopped at the famous Cafe Bazar and had hot chocolate. We met and chatted a little with a local woman, and exchanged contact info, but we haven't heard anything since.

-Had dinner and local dessert of Nockerl, a souffle-type thing with peaks and powdered sugar across the top to represent the surrounding mountains.

-We watched the "Sound of Music" movie again where we ran into Sam, the other travel partner of the girls from our program.

-I skyped with Trisha for her birthday, and Eliza helped me sing "Happy Birthday" (as has become a tradition- each year at school I've had some friends help me sing to her on her birthday).

Sunday 16/3

-We walked through the Mirabell gardens and Nonnberg Abbey. It was strange when I realized were standing right in the place where the police cars pulled up to find the Von Trapps hiding there. (I wanted to visit the Hellbrunn palace with its trick fountains, the marionette theatre, and tour these salt mines, but the first two weren't yet open for the season, and the latter we didn't have time for. Reasons to go back. Salzburg was my favorite city of the trip, after all.)

-Took the elevator up to the roof of Hotel Stein to see the view, as recommended by our Sound of Music guide.

-Flew to Berlin, ate dinner and arrived at Grand Hostel Berlin.

Monday 17/3

-Ate brunch and visited the Topography of Terror museum about the Nazi regime.

-Took the hostel-recommended free city walking tour, which was actually really good. Our guide (ex-pat from London) was genuinely passionate about his love for the city, and spoke about how Berlin acknowledges it's past and has tried and still tries to atone for it. The tour stated at the Brandenburg Gate and combined the Nazi and Soviet history and pointed out major buildings in Berlin.

-Visited souvenir shops, and found out the Ampelmann (the figure in their crosswalk signs) has entire stores devoted to him. Ate currywurst for dinner.

-Stopped at the Fassbender & Rausch chocolate shop, which had really cool chocolate sculptures, like one of the Reichstag (Parliament building).

Tuesday 18/3

-Took the Sachsenhausen concentration camp tour. Was very sobering. We were going to go to a Jewish and Holocaust museum after that, but the tour was so heavy and four hours long that we couldn't do it.

-Walked around Berlin and some more souvenir shops. Walked the length of the East Gallery Wall, which was multiple sections of the Berlin wall displayed in the city. It had some very cool and famous art.

-Ate bratwurst for dinner, but didn't have a Berliner, which I will be forever sad about.

Wednesday 19/3

-Flew to Paris, and stopped at the Lindt chocolate shop for a much-needed rest and chocolate pick-me-up. (I got chocolate creme, creme brulee, and speculoos chocolate bars). We then dropped our stuff off at our sketchy hostel Hostel Blue Planet, which we chose even though it had less than stellar reviews on Hostelworld since it is right next to the train station and we had an early train. It didn't have hot water, and sheets were questionable.

-Stopped at the flea market, Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen, which wasn't that cool so we left early.

-Visited Montmartre and Sacre Coeur, which was one of my favorite places from the last time I visited Paris, four years ago in high school. That time I was walking around with another girl who got her portrait done in an artists' square, but there wasn't enough time for me to get my done. Finally, four years later, I got mine done. Hoewver, when I left Montpellier, I lost the portrait somewhere. At least Eliza got pictures of it, which I am very grateful for.

-I bought some macarons: citron (lemon), framboise (raspberry), and caramel beurre salé (salty butter caramel).

-Walked through the Luxembourg gardens, which were very pretty. We stopped at a café there for caramel salé (salted caramel) and passionfruit ice cream, while a (I think high school) band was playing movie and classical music nearby in a gazebo, which made for a very nice setting.

-Visited the Centre Pompidou modern art museum, which had some really cool art (like a white room with a bumpy topography outlined in black...maybe it's hard to explain). We went up the tube-like things on the outside to see a really cool view, where we could see Sacre Coeur and the Eiffel Tower. Had a dinner of duck (which, from Christiane, I've learned I really like) at the Bistro at Centre, right across from the Centre Pompidou.

-Took a night cruise on Seine with the company Vedettes du Pont Neuf, which I remember really liking from my last Paris trip. It was cold, but you can see nearly all the most famous landmarks and everything is lit up. After, I, with a reluctant freezing Eliza, went to see the love lock bridge, which was bursting with locks that couples attach to it with their initials to symbolize their never-ending love, Some were different shapes and pretty creative.

Thursday 20/3

-Took a morning train to Montpellier...and both of us had class in the afternoon. The trip was exhausting and my patience got short at times since we stuffed our days full of travel. But we took siestas midday which helped, and we left with many memories of an amazing trip.

[quatrainofthought]

i was looking for posts about cultural differences and i found one of your posts where you talked about things that amused you about france and it made me laugh, epsecially when you wrote about strikes in paul valéry cause i'm a student there. thanks for these posts i think it'll help me for my paper. enjoy your time in montpellier

Oh hi! I'm so sorry but I just saw this now! I didn't get a notification for it for some reason. But I'm glad it was helpful haha. You were a student at Paul Val too? Were you studying abroad?

[quatrainofthought]

Bonjour! I saw your post in the Montpellier tag (awesome photos btw) and I just wanted to say bienvenue a Montpellier! I've been studying abroad here for 4 months now and I've really grown to like it so I hope you do too!

Oh wow I just saw this now?? I didn't get a notification for some reason! But thank you! I really did love my time in Montpellier. What kind of program were you with? (I'm bummed I didn't see this sooner!)

[quatrainofthought]

End of (my) Days (in Montpellier)

I arrived back in Montpellier after a stopover in Perpignan, and after I picked up my suitcases from where I was storing them at the bureau, I went to drop them off at the airbnb I was staying at for the night with a couple my age, Stéphane and his girlfriend/wife Epiphanie. Stéphane was a student at the medical school, but then dropped out to get a job when Epiphanie got pregnant. I was the last airbnb they were hosting. Their apartment was super small, and they gave me their room while they slept on the pull-out couch. I felt kind of bad about that, but they were very nice and accommodating.

I sent the afternoon walking to my old haunts and favorite places of Montpellier, including the Place de la Comedie, Place de Canourgue, the old city and Peyrou, where I watched the sun set by the water tower, and a flock of birds fly down multiple times to drink a sip of water, which they did mid-flight without landing. I tried to complete my food checklist too, and bought some macarons as a gift for my family (which got squished and crumbly on the trip over :( ) and got some caramel fleur de sel (salted caramel- fleur de sel is a big thing here) gelato at a shop called Cabiron. Unfortunately the restaurant Le Carré was closed so I couldn't get any kinder beignets :(.

I also bought some madeleines, which I brought home too. I was almost going to bring home a madeleine pan as a gift for my family, but ended up getting a cheese plate with the names and pictures of some French cheeses. Madeleines are little cakes that look like this:

I had dinner at a place called Le Tomate, which was recommended as a good place with quality regional dishes from a guy in my grammar class. It was a little awkward by myself, but the waitress was nice. There was actually another guy around my age also eating alone, and I kind of wonder why. I asked the waitress what she would recommend, and she said their cassoulet, which is a casserole dish I knew as very indicative of the region, especially of Toulouse. It had beans and sausages, and I'm not sure what else, but the Wikipedia description says it typically includes pork sausages, goose, duck and sometimes mutton, pork skin, and white beans. It was good but the dish was giant, so I only finished like an eighth of it.

For the final item on my food checklist, I bought a tart with strawberries and pudding/creme on it that I had been eyeing for awhile, and told myself I would buy on my final day. I brought it with me to eat on the Corum roof at night. It tasted even better than I thought it would.

Corum's roof had new graffiti too, or old graffiti I had missed before.

On the left it says "SCHOOL SUCKS." Don't know why they are in English.

(French dates have the day first, then month. That is the way they write their number 1: 31/01/2014)

The view was beautiful at night, with the lights of the city against the inky sky. A good final view of Montpellier.

The next day I bought some longués (vanilla cookies flavored with rosé wine) at the airport, which are apparently a specialty from Montpellier. I had a layover in Paris, and I bought some French cheese (Brie, Camembert, and Roquefort) to go on the plate I bought for my parents. I also got some yummy butter cookies because I liked the tin, which had two maps of France with famous landmarks on one side and famous regional food on the other.

And then I went home. I cried when my parents weren't waiting for me at the airport gate, and again when I saw them, either from exhaustion or sadness at leaving or because I was upset they weren't there or relief at seeing them again. I was both sad and happy to be home. I have no snappy way to end talking about my experiences studying abroad, but I got to explore beautiful new places and eat good food and fulfill a dream I had had for a long time. I am still bummed I never visited the beach in Montpellier and didn't get my kinder beignets, but I guess that is just a reason to come back to the city I fell in love with.

[quatrainofthought]

May EuroTrip

I went traveling with Ava for about three weeks in Germany, Italy, and Spain. I hope one day I will edit this and write out what we did in more detail, but meanwhile here is a quick list.

Day 1 - May 14

-I miss my train but 30 seconds, and get on a train from Montpellier to Paris to Frankfurt. I meet Ava and we stay at Frankfurt Hostel. We meet a guy named Dante who also is going to Heidelberg.

-We walk around, visit a church, eat and frankfurter and sauerkraut, and see a girl get mugged while on a bicycle. But the thief is fairly quickly jumped by policemen.

Day 2 - May 15

-We take a train to Heidelberg at stay at Steffi's Hostel.

-We walk around the old town (aldstadt), tour the castle (visiting iside the Apothecary Museum and a huge wine barrel) and walk around the gardens with a great view of the city.

-For lunch I eat a pretzel sandwich, have ice cream, and a coffee-flavored sneeballen pastry (basically a ball of dough with optional frosting flavor, which originated in Rothenburg).

-We take pictures on the old bridge and with the monkey statue by it.

Day 3 - May 16

-We walk around Heidelberg's old town.

-We tour the old university, it's great hall, and it's student prison.

-Chill on grass across the old bridge and run into Dante.

-Eat a belgian waffle breakfast, cheese pretzel lunch, and delicious schnitzel w/ brown sauce & mushrooms for dinner.

Day 4 - May 17

-Take a train to Rothenburg at stay at Youth Hostel Rothenburg.

-I eat an original schneeballen (plain with powdered sugar on top). We run into Dante again.

-We walk around Rothenburg and climb up the Town Hall tower with a great view of the city.

-Take the Night Watchman's tour around the city, which is pretty good and funny.

Day 5 - May 18

-Eat black forest cake, walk the parapets around the city, and stop by shop tents outside the wall.

-Nearly miss our train to Munich because our stuff is locked in the hostel and we turned in our keys.

-Walk around Munch Marienplatz, see the outside of the famous church with two towers and sit in a park.

-Spend the rest of the time in Starbucks since it's cold, and take our uncomfortable night train to Venice.

Day 6 - May 19

-Arrive in Venice and check into our airbnb with Giani.

-Buy some fresh strawberries and eat tiramisu gelato.

-Walk around Venice and buy Murano glass gifts in a cool shop, see the Railto bridge and the Piazza San Marco.

-Visit St Mark's Basilica and see the terrace view.

-Visit Doge's Palace and the Bridge of Sighs.

-Eat spaghetti dinner by Rialto bridge.

Day 7 - May 20

-Eat breakfast in Giani's garden playing with his cats (two adults and two kittens).

-Take a day trip to Padua by bus.

-Walk around, see the Basilica di Sant'Antonio which is really cool, and have an awesome pizza lunch.

-Walk through the botanical gardens, and see the Basilica of St. Giustina.

-Walk through the Prato della Valle (park with statues), see the arcaded streets and the arches in buildings.

-Eat awesome cannolis near Giani's place.

Day 8 - May 21

-Take water taxi to Murano, walk around there and visit the really cool and creative glass shops. 

-See the colorful buildings, boats, hanging laundry and lace shops in Burano.

-Go up the clock tower (Torre dell'Orologio) in Saint Mark's Square and see the view while the bells ring. Miss meeting Shota there.

-Eat dinner of seafood (clam, mussels, squid) spaghetti, eat tiramisu and have hot chocolate by Rialto bridge.

-Take a vaporetto ride on the Grand Canal in the evening and see Ca' d'Oro.

Day 9 - May 22

-Take a train to Florence and stay at David Inn with host Nadia. I find out Smokey has died.

-See the Duomo, walk around, and see the church with statue of Dante.

-See the view of city at Michaelangelo square.

-Cross Ponte Vecchio with jewelry shops, and pass by shops at Piazza della Repubblica.

-Eat dinner of gnocchi w/ tomato sauce & mozzarella & mushroom cream sauce and tortellini in Piazza della Signoria which has a lotta statues. Eat a gelato mishmash flavor.

Day 9 - May 23

-Get a reservation for the Uffizzi Gallery, then visit the Medici palace with the Boboli gardens.

-Stop by a really cool homemade painted pottery shop and buy my mug there.

-Wait in line for a tour of the Accademia Gallery which has the David. Then a guy stops by while we are in line and offers a tour, since we might not even make it in that day with where we are at in line. It turns out to be a really good tour, and the David really is spectacular in person. We also see inside the Musical Instrument Museum and Michelangelo's unfinished sculpture series "The Prisoners," which looks like people fighting their way out of stone which is very eerie but very cool.

-Have pizza for dinner, drink (too much) wine, and have gelato at shop called Grom.

Day 10 - May 24

-Tour the Uffizi Gallery.

-See the outside of the synagogue (since it's closed for Shabbat), and happen by swing dancers randomly dancing in the street flash mob-style, and then go ride their bikes somewhere else. We walk around and go in some shops.

-We eat an extremely delicious dinner with people form our hostel: Brad, Mike, Paige, Caroline, and Chris. We eat awesome Florentine steak, yummy ragu (meat sauce) spaghetti, an amazing gelato/meringue w/ caramel dessert. We then stop at a sports bar meeting with others from our hostel (John & Curran) and see Real Madrid soccer team winning a game and the bar explodes in cheers.

Day 11 - May 25

-We take a train to Roma at stay at airbnb with Ilaria/Silesia and her cat Rufo.

-We walk around the city and see the Palazzo Venezia.

-We see the Trevi Fountain at day & night, eat gelato at Giolotti and have kinda gross dinner of fetuccini alfredo that tastes like paste, but have good Pinot Grigio.

-We walk by the Pantheon where a woman is busking singing opera and accordion players playing for people eating dinner in the square.

Day 12 - May 26

-Eat pastries for breakfast (fruit tart, mint doughnut, cannoli) on Ilaria's rooftop terrace.

-Take a very good tour of the Colosseum, the Forum, and Palatine Hill from a company advertising on the street.

-Eat a fruit cup snack and gelato at Fatamorghana (stracchiha-- cookies & cream, biscotti oreo, coffee chocolate).

-Tour the Pantheon, Piazza Navona, and have dinner of Roman veal & bacon r--- pasta.

Day 13 - May 27

-Take a tour from a company advertising on the street of the Vatican museums, St. Peter's Basilica & Square, the crypt and the Sistine Chapel with a pervy guide who keeps hitting on Ava. We don't get to see the Raphael rooms or walk up the Dome.

-We walk by Castel Sant'angelo and eat gelato at Giolotti gelato.

Day 14 - May 28

-See the Spanish steps but the building at the top and the fountain are under construction. I write my postcard there to my dad like he said he did when he was there.

-Ww walk through Borghese park gardens which takes forever and get lost, only to find out the gallery tickets are sold out. So we just walk around its park area and see the view and clothes/candy stands there.

-Walk through Popolo square and eat Fatamorghana gelato again in a different location. Visit Capitoline Hill and then have dinner. Livia, our airbnb host for Barcelona, cancels for tomorrow, but offers her sister's place instead.

Day 15 - May 29

-Take flight to Barcelona and stay at Debbie, Livia's sister's, airbnb.

-Eat tapas dinner @ Ciudad Contal (crispy camembert, cuttlefish, cod, tomato oil bread, prawns, bravas potatoes) and drink too much wine and a gross licorice-tasting liquor the nice waitress recommends.

Day 16 - May 30

-Wait in line for ages for the Sagrada Familia tickets, and then tour Casa Mila.

-Tour the Sagrada Familia and get soaked in pouring rain.

-Go to a tapas bar Yelp recommends as a good local place, only to run into a bunch of Americans (and one Hungarian couple) who came for the same reason. The owners only speak Catalan so we try to help each other with the menu. We eat bravas potatoes, fried mushroom & potato ball, and a fried fish ball and have Sangria.

Day 17 - May 31

-Walk down Las Ramblas street, go to an outdoors food market and eat empanadas, get chocolate, and I eat chocolate strawberries.

-Walk around Park Guell (in between rain) and tour the Gaudi museum house there and example house.

-Eat paella dinner and meet up with Ava's friend Madeline who happens to be in Barcelona too, and her friend Joyce.

Day 18 - June 1

-Walk through Gothic district and see the outside of its cathedral.

-Tour the Palau de Musica Catalana (Palace of Catalan Music).

-Tour the Casa Batlo.

-Eat tapas dinner, have flan and Catalan Creme for dessert, and see an amazing Flamenco show at the Palau.

-Drop Ava off at the airport bus stop for her flight early the next morning while I stay at the Sant Jordi Hostel Rock Palace that night.

Day 19 - June 2

-I take a train to Montpellier with a stopover in Perpignan and stay at an airbnb with a couple, Stéphane and Epiphanie, for the night, and then take a flight to Paris and then Boston the next day.

[quatrainofthought]

Poppies, and Saying Goodbye

(Typical-ish Montpellier architecture)

The last day before I began traveling was an emotional one. My classes had finished just the day before. My integrated class had finished before our trip to Morocco. I had to write an essay about how to analyze an urban legend the professor had given, which I felt went pretty well. I stopped to speak with the professor after class to thank him, and he chatted with me for a while. He told me he was interviewed for something (a paper?) and was asked what the most recent urban legend he had heard was, and he told them one I had told him when I stopped after class before to ask about the final, which was pretty cool. It was a story/link going around Facebook about someone who was stuck on a deserted island, and wrote SOS on the beach, and they were found by Google maps. I had written tests for Grammar and Phonetics, which went fine. I had some oral presentation for Phonetics, but I don’t really remember what it was. The most memorable presentation we gave was of a well-known poem “Le Corbeau et le Renard” (“The Crow and the Fox”). I had a final presentation on Monday of an essay for Stage, and one the following day for La France Mosaique. I wrote about the education system for my Stage, class since I knew a deal about it by then, and about Normandy for the second, which was a pretty fun report. 

That night we had a good-bye potluck. All the students and host families were invited, and the students were told to bring something “American.” This turned out to be things like pigs in a blanket, seven layer dip, pizza, and Doritos, with cookies and brownies for dessert. I had planned to ask my mom for a recipe, but after I came back from Morocco, it turns out my parents and sister were in Hyde Park for the weekend, so I didn’t really have time to choose one. My friend google helped me out and I ended up making a baked spaghetti. It was supposed to have Monterey jack and cheddar cheese, but those are non-existent in the go-to supermarché, Monoprix. Instead I used Emmental, which is the closest thing they’ve got. I was trying to make it by myself while Christiane was visiting with her sister and her sister’s husband, but I was too slow (she had to go babysit the boys) and I guess too unsure (I was relying on the recipe a lot since I really don’t cook) that she and Colette basically took it over. I didn’t end up eating it but I heard it was good.

Christiane ended up leaving right away, saying she didn’t like the atmosphere and didn’t know anyone or any English. She told me she was going to leave, and I immediately felt bad and tried to introduce her to Françoise, the director, but then Christiane told her she was going home. I felt bad about it, and I probably should have tried harder to welcome her, but once she decided to leave she was pretty set on it.

Instead I ate food and chatted with the people I’ve met on the program and said goodbye. Most people were staying at least until the 15th, when there are the group flights back home. But there are a number of people who are staying to travel either with other people on the program or meeting up with their own friends. There was someone who found an internship with Corinne and was staying about a month longer, and others working as au pairs for their host family. When I was giving my final presentation that morning for Paul’s class, one girl told me she really disliked it here and couldn’t wait to be home, which I thought was kind of sad. I really enjoyed getting to know Montpellier better by wandering around the streets of the old town, discovering little shops and hidden parks, and seeing the change of spring, which I will always associate with purple flowers, pale stone, and the brightness of the sun through leafy green trees. 

Goodbyes were kind of long and drawn-out and kind of awkward, and as I was leaving the bureau it made me realize I was really leaving these people. It didn’t feel real for awhile because everyone is leaving at different times and there’s always Facebook and I still had a Euro-adventure with Ava for about three weeks more. I do kind of regret not getting to know people better, which is probably my fault for not putting in more of an effort, and for not going out after the potluck, but I did want to say goodbye to my host mom and I had to wake up at 6am to catch my train to Frankfurt.

But walking home alone in the dark was a little sad, especially when I saw a group of people who were going out, and I didn’t want to call their attention just to say hi and bye again really quickly. I just got a touch of the slightly fragile pre-cry feeling, and per Louie CK’s advice, I just let myself feel it.

I returned around 10pm to Christiane, where she told me that earlier she was feeling a little shy, and that she was a bit upset, since she had thought I was leaving on the 15th (the official end of the program), even though I had marked on the 14th on the calendar. To say goodbye to her students she likes to go out to dinner the night before, just the two of us, but she didn’t really get a chance to say a proper goodbye. Since I booked my flight with the group flight company, I have to fly back from the same place as I was going to before I changed my flight. So I told her I would keep in touch while I traveled, and my last evening I would meet up with her again for dinner (although she never replied to my email so it didn’t end up happening). And she was happy that I do want to continue to work on my French my visiting Quebec (which I had told her earlier.) I also gave her a little tagine I bought in Morocco that she could put jewelry in or something. It was wrapped up on my dresser before and I have a feeling she opened it up beforehand because she seemed very unsurprised when I brought it out and told me right away that she would put perfume in it. I told her that I knew she had already been to Morocco, but she assured me that she still appreciated it because it was from me.

The next morning I had to wake up at 6am to catch my train, but I got confused trying to find my platform, and when I finally found it I pressed the button for the door to open, but it wouldn’t, and then began to pull away. Which was the most heartbreaking thing of it all. A new ticket cost over $200, and then I began to cry everywhere (the woman at the ticket office looked like she couldn’t give an f). Maybe it was because it was early and I was sleep-deprived, or maybe because I didn’t cry the night before, but I didn’t really care that I was crying in public and that I was getting weird looks. I didn’t even bother to try to stop. 

And then I had a stopover in Paris, and to keep a long story short, I got hoodwinked by some man who claimed to be from Tel Aviv and told me his wife was in the hospital and needed an injection. So I gave him 300 euros, which he promised to pay back after exchanging information. I keep beating myself over how stupid it was, because if it had happened to someone else I would have thought they were a complete idiot. He just seemed like a real person. He got me because after I said I’d been to Tel Aviv, he asked if it was Jewish, and then if I knew what a mitzvah was. I was already emotional, and I am insecure about my Judaism, and I was worrying I was too closed off to meeting new people (on my program and others while traveling), and then the idea of a mitzvah, that I was doing a good deed, and maybe that was the reason I missed my train, which sucked me in. Life lesson I suppose.

As I was leaving Montpellier I stared out the window for my last look at the southern France landscape. I was still feeling kind of fragile, and this kind of wistful sadness about leaving. I was just starting to feel comfortable with French and now wanted to use it in conversation with natives instead of feeling scared at every encounter. Fields of poppies (les coquelicots, as Christiane taught me) were whizzing by, and suddenly I got an urge to take a picture of them. So I dug out my phone and got it on camera setting. But it seemed I had passed the last poppy field in the entire south of France. A couple times we approached one, but I didn’t get the camera up fast enough, and then there were no more. I had come to really love the poppies so abundant here, and I became so set on getting a picture of them, as if their abundance in this area was epitomic of my entire experience in this region and could be captured and essentialized by a single shot. But I had passed by all of them and didn’t get the shot when I could have.

Later, once I got home, I was going through pictures and realized I had gotten a picture of a field of poppies that I had happened upon by surprise at the Domaine de Grammont in Montpellier. So I didn’t get my picture at the poetic moment while I was leaving, but I had gotten it before while doing my own exploring. And maybe that was a better memory after all.

[quatrainofthought]

MaROCCing the Kasbah

When I got back from our program's 8 day excursion to Morocco, my thoughts could be summarized by "whew." The trip was great and fun and a cool experience, but surprisingly tiring. Probably all the driving and the heat. Morocco is part of the countries in northern Africa that form le Maghreb. Traditionally in France le Maghreb refers to le Maroc, as well as l'Algerie and la Tunisie, which were protectorates / colonized by France and still speak French today.

It was quite a trip, full of long bus rides, a camel ride in the desert, bartering in marketplaces, peeing in the desert, eating lots of tagines, traveling to the entrance of the Sahara desert, and visiting kasbahs. We basically played on repeat the two songs we knew about Africa ("Waka Waka (This Time for Africa)" which Shakira sang for the World Cup, and "Africa" by Toto), and I constantly had "Rock the Casbah" stuck in my head.

1) On Friday, May 2, we took a train as a group to Marseille, because it as a bigger airport. From there we took a three hour flight and landed in Marrakesh where we were treated to a beautiful sunset. We met Ibrahim, our guide, and our cook and bus driver. After checking in at our hotel, Ryad Mogador, we stopped at a restaurant for a late dinner where I ate some delicious chicken couscous, and the next day we all hopped on a bus and were headed off into the countryside / desert.

2) We spent a lot of time on the bus this trip, and while we stopped often enough to take a few pictures and bathroom breaks, it did get a little much in the 90+ degree heat. But it was a cool way to get a better feel for the country in places most tourists don't go. We drove through the Tichka mountains so a lot of people got carsick, though surprisingly I didn't. Usually I am the one to get sick, but maybe the French version of pepto bismol I was taking prevented motion sickness too? It wasn't safe for us to drink the water, so we all drank bottled water, but knowing my sensitive stomach I was nervous anyways. Per the instructions of a nursing student named Sarah, I got some pepto bismol (except they don't have pepto bismol in France so I got something close enough from a pharmacie) as a daily preventative. Corinne, our "chaperone" for the trip, told us about 30% of us would get "la Tourista", but mostly no one did. Not even me- either the medicine worked or I just didn't get exposed to anything bad.

Anyway, we entered the desert, which was mostly dry, but did have some more lush areas in the valleys, and even some fields of poppies (les coquelicots) like they do in the countryside in the south of France. The architecture is really cool and beautiful. It's a lot less developed than "the Western world"- a lot of the buildings are made out of clay, and bathrooms often lack soap, sinks, toilet paper, and even toilets...meaning they were squatting toilets. If we stopped in the desert we had to just find a place to squat off the side of the road behind some bushes, which led to a lot of group pee experiences. For the girls at least- there were about 20 of us and only 4 guys.

The highway was interesting. Not only was it curvy, but it only had two lanes, and often there were large trucks with oversized loads coming from the other way and it was a tight fit. Once our bus stopped right before a curve, and then a big truck came from the other direction and passed by us with inches to spare. I almost didn't know it would make it. I'm not sure how the driver knew to stop, but he's good at his job. Often on the side of the road were stands with men selling souvenirs, and men just lounging by the road or sleeping between some rocks. It was kind of confusing, because there wouldn't be any buildings or homes nearby so it seemed they just came by the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere for the day. The stands had souvenirs like had things like arthropod fossils in stones (fake) and geods (with artificially-made crystals). We also passed all sorts of animals, including goats, sheep, and donkeys, both with and without cargo / human passengers.

We passed by the highest point the "Col au Tichka," the highest point at 2260 meters, and had a nice cool lunch of pasta, cucumbers, tomatoes, oranges, olives, sardines, spices, and khobz bread, which resembles naan bread. Ibrahim brought a couple mats and cushions we could sit on so we could eat anywhere, like by some pretty flowers on this day. We also stopped in a room for the sweet honey-like mint tea Moroccans drink all the time, after meals and breaks during the day.

In the afternoon we toured Ait Ben Haddou, a fortified city, or ksar, dating from the 17th century. The streets were curvy and uphill, but we got to see a lot of cool shops and clay (I think) homes. We got to see the inside of one, which was very simple. The bottom floor had a living room-type room full of rugs, a basic kitchen, and even space for the goats and chickens inside the house, with a part open to the open air. The top floor had a roof we could step out on and a bedroom with some pillows and rugs and a hutch. As we left we got to see the woman living there weaving a rug on a loom. Ait Ben Haddou's kasbahs (which is just a fortified home) comprise a UNESCO heritage site, and multiple movies have been shot there, including "Gladiator." We also bought scarves here of multiple different colors and learned to tie them around our heads like the locals. As one man was putting it on (I think it was Ibrahim), he said "Look, I'm a terrorist!" I wasn't really sure what to think about that...but I guess it's his own prerogative to make fun of the racist stereotype, so I'm glad he has a sense of humor?

That night we stayed in a guest house called "Kasbah Valentine," which was beautiful and had rugs everywhere on the floors and walls and decorative pillows and cushions in the dining room. We ate our first "tagine" here, which is basically a plate with a triangular clay cover food is cooked in. Typically we had couscous, with chicken and a variety of vegetables on top, like peas, carrots, potatoes, zucchini. And of course spices. Then a few of us spent some time stargazing on the roof and trying to beat each other with the most embarrassing stories. I roomed with Melissa, Ashley, and Sarah.

Tagine:

3) The next day we drove a lot more, and stopped to tour a "sousterrain" village, which was a village that had earthen homes all connected with tall walls. I was melting on the bus in the heat, but the earthen buildings in the village blocked the sun and created their own natural cooling. After we stopped at a pottery shop where pretty much everyone chose something to buy. There were cups and mugs and bowls and plates and dishes and tagines that were all beautifully hand-painted in a variety of colorful designs.

We drove through the Valley of the Draa, which is the biggest valley in Morocco, which had vast stretches of palm trees that looked like seas. For lunch we stopped under some palm trees, and as we were all going out for our first group pee, we heard from Ibrahim to not go too far in because there was a dead cow carcass there...which we had our daily vegetable lunch next to. The smell made for a fun meal.

In the evening we arrived by the Dunes of Tinfou by Zagora and rode camels to a bivouac. Who would have thought I would spend two camel rides and nights in the desert within a year? The camels kind of clomp along so the ride is a little rocky, but all the camels had saddles and groups of two were connected on ropes. The men who led them were very blasé about the whole thing: some were barefoot, and one guy was even talking on his cell phone- I have no idea how his service works in the desert. Sarah and I named our camel Claude, just because it's French and seems like a good name for a camel. The hardest part of the whole thing is the camels getting up and kneeling down. It's pretty alarming and because they are so tall you feel like you are going to fall because they are raising/lowering you a lot very quickly.

It took about 30 minutes to get to our tents, and then we all climbed up a nearby dune. Most of us started at a run, but about halfway up the momentum stopped, and it got very hard to slog up it. Here is was very easy to see why they were those scarves- they keep the sun off your scalp and face a bit, and block some of the sand, which definitely got in my eyes. Sarah, Corrine and I rolled down the dune, which was actually kind of fun, since my cotton pants covered me well. I didn't think cotton pants, which Corinne suggested we wear, would look good on me, since they are baggy at the hips and taper at the ankles, which is not good for a short pear-shaped person. But it turns out I love them; they are the perfect desert gear because they're comfy and light, and they keep your skin from sticking to itself like it would in shorts.

We had our tagine dinner, and then the men who ran the tent place started to play drums  and chant, and one started a dance circle around the fire with our group and the one other French family that was staying there. It was kind of random and didn't make sense, but it was one of the most fun parts of the entire trip. The guy brought forward the daughter of the family (who was about 11) to dance, and she protested at first but then was super into it and shaking her hips like nobody's business. Then he brought me forward...and I was embarrassed and tried to refuse, but then just did his little wavy arm dance so it wasn't that bad.

At night I left the tent for a pee break over a dune, but then sat near the top of the dune to spend some time looking at the stars because my favorite memory from Israel was stargazing in the desert. Just like at the guest house the previous night, the stars were really bright and beautiful, and over the small dune I couldn't see the tents and it was like no one else was there. I wish I could have stayed there longer, but I thought it wasn't a good idea to sleep outside overnight so my tentmates wouldn't worry, and since some people said there were scorpions there... So I got up to return to my tent and realized the whole time I was laying next to someone's pee spot. Which took away a bit of the magic.

4) The next morning, Monday, we woke up early to watch the sunrise on the same dune. While the climb was still a workout, it was a lot easier without shoes on. The sky was grey and I guess kind of cloudy since when the sun rose we didn't actually see any colors. It was still cool though. We ran down the dunes, which, it turns out, is really fun. It kind of feels like skiing down in the sand. I spent a little more time looking a the sun and some of the other dunes, and then we packed back in the bus to eat breakfast at an upper room at some establishment. Our typical breakfast was khobz bread and these thin pancake-type things with a variety of spreads, like honey, butter, jam (like this delicious honey-like apricot one), and a couple times goat cheese and argane oil, which we thought was peanut butter at first.

We stopped at the pottery shop again to buy the pottery or jewelry we had picked out the day before (since it would be a bit hard to bring them to the tents). We stopped at a place to get some drinks and go to the bathroom, which felt like such a luxury since not only did the bathroom have toilets with seats, but they also had sinks and soap. 

We spent that night at a guest house called Chez Aissa and had a really yummy meatball dinner. After one of the best showers of my life, I learned how to play a card game called President with Melissa, Eliza, and Charlie.

5) After some driving on Tuesday, we visited the Dades gorge, which was cool both literally and colloquially. It had a little stream and some rocks to climb on, and some stands nearby selling some souvenirs like rugs, jewelry, and other decorations. We stopped at a couple shops later in the day selling a variety of the same souvenirs and scarves, but a little higher quality. Lunch was curry with some eggs and meat and I'm not sure what but I just remember it being really good. We had a late dinner at a guest house called "Chez Aziz-Dar Panorma," which was probably my favorite one. It had a cool terrace / roof area with a lot of rugs. Some people thought it was too windy, but I loved it; I guess I usually love the wind though. Two women there gave the girls henna on our arms, but it was very light so mine is already almost gone. The guys tried to get some of the Berber free man symbol, which looks kind of like a lizard to me, but the women didn't speak English or French and were very confused. The internet told us that apparently men don't get on henna except for special occasions like weddings, and even then it's only on their fingernails. So henna didn't happen for them.

A few girls started assigning everyone Disney/animated character alter egos, and I ended up with Snow White, because I am "go with the flow" and "always have a nice word to say." Which is nice, but I later said to my roommates that I felt I was a little sassier than that. And then got denied super hard and told I wasn't sassy. So I guess my sass is all internal until I get to know people better? If I'm not sassy then I am not who I thought I was.

6) We spent the day backtracking on the highway on which we left Marrakesh, and drove through Ouarzazate, which is known for cinema, and passed by the studio. We stopped at a few shops, one for rugs, one for spices, and one for huile d'argne (argane oil). At the spice shop they had a little demonstration where they told us what what they spices or lotion or whatever was for. Many people got stuff, like cream for cold sores, spices for food, tea to lose weight, rose lotion, or a "magic lipstick" (a light pink lip stain that lasts a long time) that most of the girls got. At the next shop we learned that what we thought was a peanut butter spread was actually argane oil. The oil comes from the argane tree, and we got to watch some women crushed the nuts by putting them through a hole in the top of what looked like a tagine, and turn it to crush them. A brown goop comes out the side which is directed to a bowl. Argane oil can be used cosmetically for hair or skin, or it can be used for food, like the nut spread, or an oil which was kind of like olive oil, both of which we got to taste test.

That night we arrived back in Marrakesh at the same hotel. For dinner, we split up to go to either eat at the hotel or got to a restaurant about 15 minutes away. I went with the latter and got a really yummy chicken curry.

7) Thursday morning a guide met up with us to give us a tour of a few sites. She constantly asked us if we understood and spoke kind of loudly, but got her point across I guess. First we visited the Jardin Majorelle, a botanical garden that was owned by Yves Saint Laurent. It was very pretty and green  and pleasant to walk through. We next stopped by the Palais Bahia, which was the palace of a vizier to a sultan, who ruled for while the sultan was too young. The tiles were colorful and intricate and had some beautiful designs, and there were some pretty gardens too.

We stopped again at an herb shop, who told us a lot of the same things as the last one, but had some new items too. The woman there told us about the tea to lose weight, but said that it is more common in Morocco that women ask for a tea to gain weight. Men apparently like their women a little larger. We found that to be true as we watched some music videos in the salon du thé (tea salon) at the hotel that night. All of the women looked kind of like Kim Kardashian.

We next visited a Koranic school, which had a lot of intricate deigns like the palace, but had personal rooms upstairs and no gardens. We had the rest of the day to ourselves, and first I got some chicken couscous for lunch by the main place, Jeema el Fna Plaza. It was huge, and in the middle there were snake charmers, men with monkeys on leashes trying to get you to take a picture, stands where women did henna, and stands selling orange juice (which Christiane, who has visited Morocco, said was safe to drink, but I wasn't sure I believed her... Corinne said she drank it a few times before on her previous four trips to Morocco, but got sick once, and thought it might have been from the orange juice. But then she said it was good so she was going to have it again anyways).

We split up next to go to the souk, or marketplace. I went with Sarah and Eliza, and later met some other people in our group there. There was so much going on it was a little hard to keep track. The souk seemed to go on forever in on itself, with curvy paths and shops (which really were more like open stands) of all kinds, selling metal lanterns, mirrors, other decorations, pottery and tagines, leather bags (they are apparently known for their leather), jewelry, and even belly dancing outfits and babouche shoes which Corinne got for her daughters. It was necessary to barter there- we were told to cut the given price by three. I ended up with Corinne later I almost got some of the colorful tea cups that we'd been drinking out of, which had some pretty gold and silver designs, but then I wasn't sure, and asked Corinne if 100 dirham (10 euros) was a good price for four. She said they were worth one euro a piece, and I wasn't even sure if I should get them, so I backed out, and then the owner got mad, asking why I would do that, because it was mean to do to people...oops. Corinne was fun to watch though, because it seemed the shop owners could sense somehow that she could be persuaded to spend money. They were shouting after her and chasing her down the street, and grabbing her by the arm. One man basically wanted to marry her, and wrote her name in Arabic on a keychain and gave it to her free, and offered her tea and took a picture with her.

Also there is a guy in our program with a beard who the Moroccans call Ali Baba, and they call all the girls Fatima. And they just cat call all the girls in general- Corinne warned us ahead of time to dress modestly, but it didn't necessarily do a whole lot.

We stopped for a drink at a cafe by the plaza, and then returned to the hotel and chilled by the pool. For dinner some of us returned to the same restaurant and I got some...interesting mushroom (champignon) risotto. At the hotel some of the girls made good on their threats to put makeup on one of the guys, John, and the result didn't look too bad.

8) I was pretty tired at this point, even though it seemed we spent half our time in the car. So after I ate breakfast I went back to sleep, then met with people downstairs to go to lunch. The first night in Marrakesh I saw some guys next to us that had some brochette, and I thought it looked really good so I ordered it, but it wasn't that awesome. We next got some McFlurrys, because Melissa orders one in each country she goes to because they always have a local candy option. I decided to do the same, and got one with "Philippinos," which looked like a doughnut in the picture but tasted like cookies and cream. It was pretty good.

After we returned to the hotel and chilled on the wifi until we had to leave for our flight back to Marseille. It was a little annoying how everyone was so dependent and crazy about the wifi. When we were together in groups relaxing or waiting for dinner people were always on their phones, as if they just couldn't enjoy present company. I mostly just wanted to check a few things, like emails and reservations for my upcoming Eurotrip with Ava, but when everyone was on their phones, it seemed like there was nothing to do but follow suit. But that was only a small thing.

Ibrahim took us to the airport, and from there we said goodbye to him and his wife Flora (who met up with us the last few days). We flew back to Marseille and got in late so we stayed at a hotel. The next day I took a train back home to Montpellier. And that was it.