180° in 8C

If it's really true that good things come to those who wait, my turn came on the flight back to San Francisco. After waiting for 3.5 hours in Frankfurt, I was waiting in line to board my flight when I heard my name paged from the desk. Wondering what in the world I possibly could have done wrong this time, I walked to the desk where I was presented with a new boarding pass... FOR A BUSINESS CLASS SEAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I had a really hard time containing my excitement as I walked across the faded regal red carpet and onto the plane. While waiting for economy class to board, I was served champagne. And then had my glass refilled. Then I checked out my goodie bag. Airplane socks? Cool! I put them on. Also included were lotion, tissues, a toothbrush and toothpaste, an eye cover, and earplugs. Waiting at my seat (which reclined 180° fully into a bed and has massaging features, by the way) was a comfy pillow and a nice blanket. I had my own 20" TV screen,
complete with like 20 movies and tons of other TV programs and games and documentaries. The lady sitting next to me chuckled as I told her how excited I was, and she gave me the full rundown on business class.

After a light salad, a lasagna, and a chocolate mousse, not to mention three glasses of chardonnay and a glass of port wine, I snuggled up in my blanket, which resembled a small comforter, and watched a couple movies. I think the flight attendants know what they're doing when they keep refilling everybody's wine glasses, because about an hour after dinner and dessert, the whole of business class seemed to fall asleep. I slept really well on my "bed" for about five hours, and then woke myself up so that I could enjoy every minute of being among the elite. The morning cheese and fruit plate was served with about an hour to go, accompanied by a cocktail (two, actually). When we arrived at San Francisco, I didn't feel like I had just been on the plane for 12 hours, and I had energy and didn't look terrible. It was so great. I love having United Premier status. I guess it makes sense that they have us go out a different door than the coach class, because when
we were all in line for customs, it was really clear by looking around at the other passengers that the majority of the flight hadn't enjoyed the air travel quite like I did. The little bit of guilt that I felt faded away when I remembered my travel woes of the last seven weeks, and I just took this as karma working for me.

Easy travel to Eugene. Arrived at around 9 pm where I was greeted by all my luggage and a wonderful welcome party of Dad and Autumn.

Now back in my own bed, fighting off jetlag...

Pooping Pigeon in Paris, Breakdown on the Bahn in Berlin, and Missing the Magdeburg Hbf

Get ready for a weeklong update. Here goes...

Parisians - they dress well, smoke too much, and stay up really late. They also put up with a lot of bad French and sometimes will share their umbrellas with you at the Bastille Day parade.

As I sat in Subway (as in sandwiches, not metro) near my hostel on Wednesday, I was beginning to think that the monsoon followed me here. The streams of water flowing down both sides of the street and the rain coming down so hard that the cleared the streets of people on the French National holiday were very reminiscient of just over a week ago when I was in India.

My first couple days in Paris were pretty relaxed. After a nap on Monday afternoon, I started to put my unlimited one week metro pass to good use. I rode over to near the Louvre and walked along the Seine towards the Champs-Élysées, remembering that familiar area near the Latin Quarter that I had spent time in last time I was here in Paris four years ago. I reintroduced myself to French bread and chocolate croissants, did a lot of window shopping, and walked myself silly. Since my days seem to revolve around food, I headed back to the area near my hostel and picked out a little Italian restaurant looking out on la Place de la République. From what I've seen here, I think that people sitting alone at restaurants actually have some of the best views at dinner. The front of the restaurants usually has outdoor cafe seating, with tables for two at the front. I was definitely not the only one eating alone, and I tried to take my cues on "dining for one" from the other seasoned lookig veterans around me. Good things that I picked up on from the bald man and the lady with the sun umbrella sitting near me: bring a book and have it open on the table or in your lap - obviously you don't have to read it, but if you want to, take a break about every half page to stare thoughtfully off into the distance, (since those French romance novels clearly require a lot of thought). Also, take as long as possible to order and eat each course and then wait to pay the bill until after the waiter comes back a fourth or fifth time. The first course should consist of wine and free table bread, and will also require a lot of serious thinking and twirling the wine glass in your hand as you stare longingly off into the distance. For the last course, get a tiny cup of coffee, and even though it should be served steaming hot, you should probably wait as long as possible, maybe 20-30 minutes, preferably until it is ice cold, to take a sip. These two single diners that I observed truly showed me the art of eating a slow meal.

The hostel that I stayed at seemed somewhat aged compared to the one in Frankfurt. The narrow, winding staircase that leads up the middle of the hostel is surrounded by walls that look a little crumbly and a little railing that couldn't possibly prevent anyone from falling down the tiny stairs. The room was fine, although I really enjoyed sharing a four-person room with one other person in Frankfurt. I don't know if anyone in my room spoke English, and if they did, they didn't to each other. I briefly met an old Brazilian man and there was a Korean guy who I never saw awake when I was there. There are also what I think were a couple German backpackers across the room. We all shared a key to the room which had to be taken by the last person to the desk when we are all gone, and there was nowhere to lock up our things in the room, so the backpacker's unspoken code of trust is what we were all going on I guess.

On Tuesday morning, I met up with a friend Stefanie from school and her sister Anne and cousin Annelie at the Rodin Museum. We spent the morning seeing Rodin's sculptures, followed by the traditional French lunch of a baguette and cheese in the garden. After a day of only speaking French, which was a great challenge for myself, it was nice to relax and share travel stories and laugh at ourselves in English. After lunch, we took advantage of our discounted price to the Musée d'Orsay that we got with our first museum ticket. Even though I had already been to the Orsay, it was still amazing to see it all again, this time being able to take my time as I went through. I had forgotten how huge and incredible the train station turned museum was, and we probably spent close to four hours in there with Monet, Dégas, Manet, Van Gogh, Rénoir, Cassat, and more. Anne and Annelie seemed to be more interested and knowledgeable art enthusiasts, and so Stef and I went through the museum on our own a little more lightheartedly, making up stories for and taking turns interpeting what was going on in the paintings. It was probably the most fun I've ever had in a museum and I'm sure that I laughed more than was appropriate and annoyed the serious museum goers that were also there a little bit. Eventually we all met up again and went out into the hot and sunny European summer day to find an ice cream shop that Stef and Anne's German relatives had declared was the "best in Paris". After a long adventure and lots of walking in circles and backtracking and pulling out our map just enough to give us the true tourist look, we finally arrived at the Berthillon ice cream shop...which happened to be closed on Tuesdays. Luckily there was a little place nearby that we were able to satisfy our cravings at, and even though it wasn't the "best in Paris", we still enjoyed it while sitting on a bridge and watching the sun slowly drop down behind the distant Eiffel Tower. Anne and Stef and I headed back to the family friend's apartment they were staying in and had an amazing pasta and grilled vegetable and 3€ bottle of wine dinner, and talked and talked until I left a bit after midnight to make sure I got back to the hostel before the metro closed. As I made my way back, I could already hear the occasional distant firework, beginning the July 14th Bastille Day national holiday.

Wednesday morning I crowded onto the metro with the rest of Paris and headed over to the Champs-Élysées to watch the military parade. The guide I read online advised arriving there at 9:30 for the 10:30 parade if you wanted to have space to watch. I suppose I was really a latecomer at 9:45, because the entire Champs-Élysée was packed on both sides of the street six or seven people deep. In hopes of seeing something of the parade, I walked a little ways down the street and eventually found a cross street where some members of the guard were walking in, and I helped to fill in the space behind them. I needn't have worried about space though, because about 10 minutes into the parade, it started to downpour, and those unprepared tourists without umbrellas or raincoats scurried off to the metro. I huddled under the edge of a tree, halfway underneath the umbrella of a little French woman who I think was trying to get me under it but she was just short enough that the umbrella rested on the back of my head and the water drained down the back of my neck into my shirt. The rain was off and on, but the crowd of umbrellas cheered nonetheless for the parade of soldiers with their tanks, police, navy, and firefighters who marched proudly down the street. The air force came in style, flying their fighter jets low over the street in at least 20 groups of five, in different formations. The first jets to go left a trail of blue, white, and red to represent the French flag and announce the start of the parade. It was great to see but by the time the rain started again I was really ready to be warm and dry, so I headed back to the hostel for an afternoon nap.

Next up was Mandy's Paris list. Since i'd already seen the big things to see in Paris last time I was there, I asked my friend Mandy who studied abroad in Paris this spring to make me a list of things to do when I was there that I might not find in a tour book or on the tourist maps of Paris. First up was the Parc aux Buttes-Chaumont. A little ways outside the city center, this gigantic park is built on a hill with an old gazebo on top that has an amazing view of the city. It seemed to be a more family-oriented place and was much quieter than any of the famous parks in Paris, making for a relaxing walk and a nice place to sit and read for a bit.

Wednesday night I headed over to the Champs de Mars (Eiffel Tower) area to see the fireworks. As the metro neared the stop for the tower, more and more people crowded on, and when we passed over the river before the metro stop, thousands and thousands of spectators came into view, crowded alongside the river and into the park and in every possible area that wasn't closed off to the public. I managed to squeeze in through a crowd behind the Eiffel Tower to watch the firework show, "squeeze" being the operative word. We were packed in so tightly that it was nearly impossible to pull my camera up out of my pocket because my arms were pinned to my side. The police were having little success with controlling the crowd, with everything from street traffic to preventing people from scaling the walls up to get a better view presenting a problem. The fireworks were amazing despite being in such close quarters with so many strangers, and the finale literally lit up what seemed to be the entire sky. Paris sure knows how to put on a show. Leaving the area actually presented way more of a problem than getting there though. I decided to walk against the crowd that seemed to be heading back to the metro stop that I had come from, hoping to avoid waiting hours in line. As per usual though, it seemed as if the Parisians knew something that I didn't know, because all the other metro stations nearby (and by nearby I mean within a 20 minute walk) were closed due to security reasons near the Champs de Mars. Eventually I walked to the Champs-Élysées and got on the metro back, which was still crowded, even an hour plus after the fireworks ended.

Thursday was my last full day in Paris, so I took advantage of my metro pass and continued checking things off from Mandy's list. Included were a trip to an amazing bakery where I had one of the best sandwiches of my life, and then I had my first macaroons from Ladurée on the Champs-Élysées. Afterward, while sitting in the park, stealing the free McDonalds internet, I got pooped on by a pigeon and had to go inside McDonalds and pay to use their bathroom to wash off (not something on Mandy's list). I guess the internet stealing karma finally caught up to me... After that, I met up with a friend from India who was in Paris for the day with her friend, and we went and got ice cream and sat in the Tuileries garden next to the Louvre. It was a great opportunity to continue my French speaking goal, because my friend Sarah's friend didn't speak much English. We spent some time gossipping and reminiscing about India, talking about our perceptions of each others' cultures, and me getting some French lessons. Afterwards, on my way back to the hostel I met a girl from Algeria who was about my age, traveling with a school group but trying to figure out  the Paris metro. It was fun that neither of us were native French speakers, but were able to communicate nonetheless.

Thursday night I headed over to see a cousin (of some degree), Rebecca, who was teaching in Paris for the summer with her three year olds, Henry and Juliette. We made a picnic and went to the park (the park which happened to be the Champs de Mars, in front of the Eiffel Tower). It was really relaxing to chat with Rebecca over bread and cheese and wine while Henry and Juliette ran around. Hanging out with the kids reminded me of teaching swim lessons at home and how much I like that. While walking around, we overheard some people talking about how they were from Oregon. Go figure. Small world, huh? I didn't end up getting back to the hostel until late Thursday night, so I took what can really be described as more of a nap (2 hours) than a nights' sleep before waking up to go to the airport to go to Berlin.

To get to the airport in the middle of the night while the metro was closed, I had to navigate through Paris' Noctilien night bus system, which Sarah had warned me contained some rather shady characters. I held on tight to my backpacks and tried not to fall asleep while watching around me. I got to the airport at about 5, and was greeted with a television monitor that read "retardé" or "late". Not to be phased by the continuation of my travel nightmares, I got my ticket and went to the gate, where the EasyJet rep informed me that there was a plane but no crew, and they therefore had to fly a crew in from the UK, and the 6:40 am flight would not be leaving until 10:30. When I finally arrived in Berlin 7 hours later, Nick was there waiting for me, saving me from trying to figure out the Berlin metro system which I came to hate over the few days I was there. Nick has spent the summer studying in Berlin, and I arrived on his last weekend in Berlin, a celebratory time for him and the group of people there with the program who had all just finished their finals the day before.

After dropping my stuff off, Nick headed off to a goodbye lunch for the program and I had an amazing falafel sandwich before beginning my usual self-guided wandering tour. As per usual, I was lost amidst a sea of signs in German that I didn't understand after about ten minutes, and by the time I finally found the famous Berliner Dome, it was time to head back to meet up with Nick and his friends (one of whom, Lexie, actually goes to Whitman! Small world again...). We saw a bunch of monuments and important spots in Berlin, and after six weeks studying the history, art, and culture of the city, my three tour guides collectively gave me a great introduction to the area. For dinner we went out to an Indian restaurant (ha!), although the Aloo Gobi Masala was practically devoid of spice and my refined Indian tastebuds didn't even recognize the food (though it was good in its own way). Running on my two hours of sleep since Paris, we then proceeded to head out to a "beach club" located near the river in the middle of the city. It was a really neat experience, and with the heat of the day just beginning to fade, I was glad to be outside. Sand surrounded the dancing area, and the lightning proivided for an awesome sort of unpredictable strobe light. It was cool though; becuase although we had lightning almost all night, there wasn't much rain. The endurance of the group I went with was amazing, and they were obviously well conditioned for the late night clubbing after their time in Europe. We stayed at the beach club until about 4, and didn't get back to bed until about 5. I was really glad to finally sleep, even though we were up again by noon to take advantage of the group's last day in Berlin.

Saturday, we went back to the Berliner Dome, which is an enormous church with amazingly crafted ceilings and pieces of art. We also climbed about 79 billion stairs to get up to the top of the dome, which had an outdoor viewing platform where we could look out over Berlin! Next, Nick and Lexie and I went on another adventure to find a certain pool that they had heard good things about. Especially after Paris, I was just really surprised at how long it took us to get anywhere in Berlin. The metros come anywhere from every 10-20 minutes depending on the time of day, and we often had to change multiple times to get to where we were going. Going to the pool required two metros and a tram, and that was all just to get us to the area near the pool. Actually getting to it was a process that included going down the wrong path and needing to jump a fence after realizing that our exit path was blocked. I'm pretty sure we circled the entire facility before we managed to find the entrance. Once inside, the huge slide and 5 meter platform jump were enough to be really refreshing and reminded me a lot of being home in the summer and working at my pool. After a bit of jumping and diving and swimming, we relaxed on the side of the pool and people watched, which Lexie and I enjoyed immensely. There was a group of guys at one point wearing swimsuits that I might even say are more revealing than the classic Speedo. They were taking turns posing and flexing and doing pushups for each other and taking pictures of themselves in the process. It was pretty goofy and certainly kept us entertained. We left the pool and headed to dinner at a German restaurant for my introduction to German cuisine. Despite the poor or lack of a reputation that German food has, I managed to get a great stuffed crispy pasts dish with a salad that wasn't smothered in mayo, a German love that I just don't understand. I also tried some of Lexie's cheesy spatzle, which was like a way better version of macaroni and cheese with German noodles.

We took a little break after dinner so that everyone could pack before we headed out to celebrate the last night in Berlin. The night began at "the Boxcar", a little bar that was built inside and around a little old red boxcar. They had amazing cocktails and I would have loved to have tried more of them, although it was probably good that I stuck to just the Watermelon Man and Sex on the Beach, with a couple sips of an Italian Colada. From the bar we headed to the China Lounge, another nightclub that the group had been before, and stayed again until just after 4. Like Lexie had predicted, the DJ was really into Michael Jackson, and I think he got in maybe six songs of his in the 3 hours we stayed there. After watching some sad goodbyes between the members of the group afterwards, we were off to another few hours of sleep before waking up to pack up.

My original plan for Berlin was to stay until Monday and then take the train to Frankfurt where I would leave from for home on Tuesday. While Nick worked on packing his stuff up, I ventured out to find my hostel that I was going to stay at Sunday night after Nick left to travel with some people to Munich. Just my luck though that construction was beginning on the already confusing to navigate lines. After a really frustrating and stressful hour and a half that involved me following all the right signs and somehow ending up in all the wrong places and nobody speaking English, I gave up and called Nick and met up with him as he was on his way to the train station to say goodbye. Even after traveling through India and around Europe on transportation systems much more ridiculous than this, the combination of getting lost, being exhausted from so little sleep, and carrying around heavy bags bags, I was so stressed out that it seemed like Berlin had finally broken me. We sat down long enough for me to have a minor meltdown and take a breath before going to the train station. Almost 50 days since leaving home, homesickness reached a high, and there was nothing that I wanted more right at that moment than to be home, in my English speaking country, with my family and friends and things that I understood. I have really been pushed out of my element on this trip enough times to last me quite awhile, and am ready for a break. I was really grateful to have Nick there with me, and once we got to the train station for his train, we came up with the idea that I should just go back to Frankfurt a day early instead of trying to deal with finding the hostel on Sunday and then figuring out how to get back to the train station on Monday. Although this was easier said than done, I finally talked to a ticket agent (she was the third one I went to, the first two had been really unhelpful and told me that I was going to have to spend over $100 to change the ticket, which was more than double what I paid for it initially). She explained to me that i could go online and have my ticket refunded, and i would have to buy a new one. Going the budget route, I got a 39€ ticket that took twice as long as my short four hour planned train and required three changes, but after getting my other 54€ ticket refunded, I somehow managed to make 15€ back in the process.

Finally satisfied that I was going to be able to get to Frankfurt at least, I boarded the train with my totally packed 65 L backpack and smaller backpack, as well as a large rolling bag they I was bringing home for Nick while he travels. Since I don't understand German, I slept and set an alarm for around about the time when we were supposed to be arriving at my first changeover.  When we arrived at Burg Magdeburg, I had to hustle to get off the train with all my stuff before the doors closed, falling on a woman and I'm sure hitting people with my backpacks on the way. As soon as the train pulled away and I began to collect my thoughts, i looked down at my ticket to see what track my next train was supposed to depart from. Gleis 6? Where was Gleis 6? Why was there only one Gleis? Why was the station practically abandoned? Looking down at my ticket, my eyes bulged in horror as I realized that my stop was Magdeburg Hbf, and not Burg Magdeburg. I ran to the front of the train station to check for the next train time. Not for a few hours, by which time I would have missed all of my connections. I turned around to find a large German woman in a minivan taxi. Magdeburg Hbf? She raised her eyebrows and wrote down a price. After realizing that I had no cash, my meltdown started all over again, and I think she took pity on me. We raced to the nearest geldautomat where I withdrew enough Euros to get me there and to give her a huge tip which I knew would be in order if we made it in time. She spoke almost no English, and me no German, and we sat in such silence as she maneuvered the minivan through the streets and then onto the highway that I became extremely conscious of my heart practically beating out of my chest. I don't know the kmh to mph conversion off the top of my head, but i'm guessing that by the way we were passing people and the fact that she maxed out the speedometer, 170 km/h must be pretty fast.

As we pulled up to the Hbf with two minutes to spare, I shoved €55 into her hand, inclusive of a much earned 40% tip. She smiled a smug German smile at me and just said "easy, no?". I ran to my connecting train, boarded, and collapsed onto the seat with my three bags. As the train departed, a teenage German girl and her friends started singing "I want to be in America". The timing was ridiculous.

The remainder of my trip to Frankfurt was delightfully boring. It felt so good to know that I was finally back in a place that I had already figured out and that was only a step away from going home. I got on the last bus of the night to my hostel, checked into a clean room, met my two french roommates, and slept so, so well.

Last day in Frankfurt today. I am going to spend it walking, shopping, eating, napping, and relaxing. Home tomorrow :-)        

Sylvie, Fromagerie, Chocolaterie

I found my retirement country. I will live in a chalet on the side of the mountain with my cows and eat fresh cheese and bread for the rest of my life.

Getting to the beautiful Swiss country on Friday proved to be my first real travel difficulty here. On the first of my two trains, heading to Basel from Frankfurt, an announcement came on in German over the train intercoms that made the people in my compartment very upset (I only know this because Victor made sure that the key German swear words were in my must know vocabulary). The woman sitting across from me who had seen earlier that I didn't speak English when the man came to see my train ticket leaned across the compartment and asked me if I understood what was going on. As I was delghtfully unaware of the situation, she informed me that there had been an accident on the train line ahead of us (involving somebody jumping in front of a train) and the train would therefore stop in Offenberg and go no further, a town about 90 minutes by train from Basel, where I had only 12 minutes to make my connection to Lausanne. The ticket man on board couldn't be
bothered to tell me what I was supposed to do when I arrived in Offenberg, where I had no idea what I was doing. Luckily, the other man in our compartment told me in his limited English to follow him when we got off the train. Not really sure what else to do, I followed him out of the train and into a mob of people around the information desk where he found another train to Basel, leaving in an hour. Clearly I was going to miss my connection to Lausanne, but Basel was a step further and hopefully there would be another train to Lausanne. An hour later, we crammed on the train with many other displaced passengers from the train before. Upon arriving in Basel, the German man sent me off towards an information desk, where I was easily reticketed to Lausanne on a train leaving in 15 minutes. I arrived in the Lausanne Gare only 2 hours late, and with no crisis. Wooooooooo!

After going out the back of the train station and getting myself temporarily lost (Sylvie's directions to her apartment were from the other side of the station), I finally found her apartment building, dropped my stuff, and flopped down on the bed, exhausted from a day of being lost in another language. The weekend in Switzerland was much better than the voyage there though. On Friday, Sylvie and I walked down to the huge lake that bordered Lausanne on one side and mountains on the other and stretched down to Geneva. I say "walked down" because the town of Lausanne is literally built on the side of one of one of those mountains. During the weekend, I think my calves doubled in size as a result of walking up and down the hills. After my walking tour of the area, we went back to Sylvie's apartment and made pizza and salad, my first non-Indian full meal in over a month. We also had this soda called Rivella, which is Swiss and which I found that I liked much
more than American soda because it was less sweet and tasted kind of fruity. After our dinner, we walked up the hill to La Festival de la Cité, Lausanne's city celebration around a huge cathedral on a hill that was lit up with green lights (making it look like a haunted witch castle, I kept pointing out to Sylvie). The celebration had a number of stages for music, spoken comedy, dancing, and other entertainment, as well as a number of bars and food booths all around. One of the things that struck me the most about the festival is that it seemed like something that would have been more geared towards a younger population in the US (20s and 30s crowd), but I found that even from 11-1 at night when we were there, the age range seemed to go from half my age to three times it, and most of the older crowd was still around when we left.

The next day we slept in a bit, me happy for a traveling break and Sylvie happy for a weekend break from work. She is interning at the Nestle headquarters this summer, using her dual citizenship with Switzerland to live and work in a region near family that her parents are both familiar with from their lives and travels. So after our late start, we headed to the metro (where I bought a day ticket so as to avoid some of the hills for a day) and went up to the farmer's market. Aside from the fruits and vegetables that one would fine at any other farmer's market, there was also a flea market style thing and tons of little boulangerie stands. We got hot cheese quiches with the best, most flaky and buttery crust that I've ever had, and walked through the cobblestone streets around town. Afterward, we went down to the Olympic Museum. Switzerland is the home of the International Olympic Committee, and from the Olympic museum and the occasion decoration of
olympic rings in Lausanne, the meeting place of the committee, this would be hard to miss. The museum was really cool and had exhibits with everything Olympics. Walking inside, we went under the world high jump record bar, which Sylvie couldn't even reach with her hands. There were displays inside of all the medals from the modern day games, as well as posters and advertisements dating back to the 1800s. A lot of equpiment and uniforms used in the Olympics were on display, ranging from running shoes that had been on the feet of some of the fastest people ever to the impossibly small ankle-length swimsuit worn by Michael Phelps in just one of his gold medal winning races in 2008 to sea kayaks and skis and ice skates and bobsleds. There was also am interactive section of the museum where we got to test our jump height, try cycling in a chamber that simulated being at altitude, test our memory, reaction time, and many other things. We left the museum and
walked out into the hot European sunny day, back to the apartment. We spent the rest of the day swimming in the lake (despite the seemingly imminent lightning storm), eating a pasta and salad and garlic bread dinner, and returning to La Festival for more music and dancing before bed.

The next morning we woke up early (7:45 is unthinkable during the summer) and took the train about 30 minutes away to Montreux. From there, we boarded La Train du Chocolat ("The Chocolate Train"), a scenic train tour that climbed through the Swiss mountains up to the town of Gruyère, home of the cheese. After our tour of the cheese factory and learning about the cow and milk to cheese and baguette journey, we got samples of this amazing Swiss cheese, and then hiked up to the Gruyère Castle. A small part of the castle now serves as a museum for modern art, but the majority is still preserved as it was for the knights and nobles. We had some time in the little village that looked like it was still stuck in the time and architecture of the nearby castle, and got pickle and cheese sandwiches on baguette and sat on a little wall looking out across the valley. I think that it was then that I noted to Sylvie that it seemed like we couldn't go somewhere in
Switzerland and not have an amazing view. Following this trend, we next went to a little restaurant in town and sat at a table on a porch hanging out over a cliff and overlooking another valley where we had fresh cream and strawberries and ice cream and meringue. Already feeling sugar happy and full of cheese, we then boarded a bus that took us down the windy road to the Nestle Chocolate Factory. Our tour included the history of chocolate from the discovery of the cacao bean to the modern factory, and ended in an "all you can eat" chocolate sampling room. After trying most of the chocolates (probably over 15 pieces) and feeling kind of sick, we took a little break before reboarding the chocolate train and heading back down to Montreux.

We made a brief stop in Montreux to walk down to the lake and see the expanse of the world-famous Jazz Festival, which over the past week had featured familiar names such as Norah Jones, Regina Spektor, and Tech N9ne. We were too early for any of the music that day, but enjoyed watching some break dancing and parasailing, and spotted the TV5Monde party boat at the pier.

After a long day of walking and standing and eating, we finally made our way back to the apartment and took a little break before going down to the lake area where, similar to Frankfurt, a huge screen was set up in the square for thosuands of people to pack into and watch the World Cup Final, where Spain defeated the Netherlands 1-0 in two extra periods. The Spanish fans were even more insane, rowdy, and loud than the small contingency of them had been in Frankfurt, and it was probably the mosh-pit environment and rudeness toward the Dutch fans than made me find myself secretly hoping for an orange upset. When the winning goal was scored though, after almost two game hours and three standing hours, packed in between all the Europeans and their cigarettes, I was just happy that it was over and even with the eruption of the city on that Sunday night, I still slept like a rock on the couch next to the window facing the street.

Monday morning I was up before 7 to catch my train to Paris, where I somehow managed to miss the critcally important memo that I had to turn my reservation form into the ticket office to get a boarding pass for the train (it didn't mention this anywhere on the reservation form). So the Swiss train ticket man made me pay an extra 120 CHF (Swiss Francs, about equal to the dollar), which he told me I could have reimbursed in Paris. This was only partially true, because after I got to Paris and waited in line for an hour, I was able to have my original ticket refunded, but my original ticket was like half the price. Expensive lesson learned I suppose.

Paris is different than I remember it. Obviously all the sights and sounds and smells are still here, but seeing it on my own is quite a bit different than seeing it with my French teacher when I was 16. I managed to find my hostel without too much getting lost (although I suppose some getting lost is necessary, and I seem to be getting my daily fill). I also was able to conduct all of my interactions from dealing with the ticket refund to buying a metro pass to finding and checking into my hostel in French, a big step in the right direction compared to when I was here in 2006 and the Parisiennes would only speak to me in English because they refused to respond to my bad accent and poor grammar.

World Cup am Main

Something about long bus rides and train trips must have me trained now, because the 9.5 hours on the plane on Tuesday night went by really quickly, and before I knew it I was back in the western world. The cool breeze and quiet morning were a warm welcome into Frankfurt, a city that I found to be easily navigable (is that word?), unlike its airport and despite the intimidating skyrises and German language on all the signs (I can count to ten in German and that´s about it). After clearing customs and quickly finding my bag, I took the S Bahn train from the airport into the city to the Hauptbanhof main station. From there, I managed to find the bus terminals and got on the number 46 going to the correct direction to Frankensteiner Platz. The bus dropped me off right in front of the Haus der Jugend, a huge German youth hostel that bore some resemblance to the residence halls at school. Since I arrived at around 10am, about three hours too early to check in, I put my backpacks in the luggage storage room and headed out to explore Frankfurt.

The city is set up around the Main River (hence the city´s formal name, Frankfurt am Main, or Frankfurt on the river Main), which runs through the city. The hostel is right on the street across from the south bank of the river in east-central Frankfurt, so it gave me a good place to start exploring. Accompanied by my Lonely Planet guide to Germany, I found a little grocery store a couple blocks from the hostel and bought muesli, yogurt, and a fizzy apple juice, and had my €3 breakfast in a little park nearby where a group of kids were running around during what I presume was recess. It was so relaxing, and I loved the fact that I wasn´t in India where I would have been sharing my bench with thirty people. I wandered around up to the northeast part of the city and despite gettting a bit turned around by the curving streets, I eventually found what seemed to be a big square surrounded by lots of shopping. Three hours of walking passed by quickly though, and I was excited to head back to my hostel and have a nap.

It was probably just because I was used to crummy Indian hotels where I was paying like $5 a night, but the €20 hostel room and bed seemed like a palace compared to where I´ve been for the past month. The people at the front desk were really helpful and well organized, the white sheets and pillowcases were actually white, the room was clean, as were the bathrooms down the hall, and there was a big wooden closet to put my stuff in. I slept for about an hour before I was woken up by the arrival of my new roommate, Viktor, who had just arrived from the Boston area to Frankfurt, en route to visit family in Italy and then spend some time studying in Spain. Viktor speaks German and had been to Frankfurt before, so for the afternoon we went and explored the city together, me with a kind of a tour guide which was awesome.

We saw some of old Frankfurt near the city center, and saw the pieces of the city that remained after it was bombed during the war. The older parts of Frankfurt actually reminded me a lot of Estonia, with old cobblestone streets and tall, Gothic architecture, and huge squares surrounded by these buildings with modern restaurants and touristy shops in them now. Eventually we came upon a huge area that was fenced off and full of people wearing German flags, with German flags painted on their faces, and all representing Germany in some way or another. Inside the fenced off area in the middle of the city were probably over a thousand people, all getting ready to watch the World Cup semifinal game of Germany v. Spain. Viktor and I found a shop that was selling German flags, each bought one, and went through heavy security to get into this square to watch the game.

It was a really fun, really exhausting experience. I quickly learned some of the German soccer fan songs and had my fair share of beer spilled all over me when people got excited. We were standing for almost two hours by the end of it, so even though Germany lost to Spain, I was quite ready to leave and head back to the hostel. The atmosphere in the city was amazing though, and everywhere we went there were cars honking their horns, people running around with German flags, Spanish team fans getting in fights with German team fans, and fireworks over the river. It was an awesome welcome to Frankfurt and to Germany, and I´m so glad that the timing of my trip worked out so that I could be here to see this side of Germany.

I slept great last night, despite being woken up briefly by the arrival of a third roommmate. I don´t know if it´s a European thing or just this guy from Serbia, but I will forever remember him as the naked roommate, since I woke up this morning to find him stretched out across his bed, totally naked. When he woke up, I´m pretty sure that he walked down the hall in the same fashion to the shower, and I didn´t see him in clothes until we were at breakfast. At the hostel´s complimentary breakfast, I had lettuce and cheese for the first time in a month. It was amazing.

Now Viktor and I are off to explore the city a bit more for the day before we both leave tomorrow. I will go by train in the morning to Lausanne, Switzerland (near Geneva) to visit my friend Sylvie from Whitman and to see what the Swiss have to offer. Can´t wait!

Escaping the Bandh

Although I was really bummed that I wasn't able to go to Mysore and see the temples and palaces, after watching the news in Chennai on Monday, I was glad that I made the decision to come wait in Chennai. Protests started up Monday across India against the government's increase in petrol prices. Last time there was a strike (or "bandh" as it's called here), the trains weren't affected and it was just in some places. But this time it's trains, buses, taxis, and domestic flights in some places. The striking protesters in Delhi and Mumbai also turned violent, causing destruction in some areas of the city. While Chennai seemed to be operating normally yesterday and I'm not actually sure if the transport systems were on strike here, there was still protesting going on in the city probably about a half hour walk from where I'm staying. I'll be glad to escape all of this soon...

Yesterday I walked to a bookstore on the main road and spent a couple hours reading travel books. This wasn't my original intention, but once I walked in and realized that the monsoon was coming, I decided to wait it out there. The monsoon is so weird, because it just comes completely without warning. When I left my hotel and walked to the bookstore, it was sunny, hot, humid, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. When I was standing in the bookstore, I felt a drop of water on my head and looked up to see that the ceiling was dripping. It was then that I looked outside and saw the sheets of water coming down out of the sky. It's the most furious rain I've ever seen, with a desire to soak everything below it. During a break in the rain, I walked to a restaurant for lunch, and then began back towards my hotel. Unfortunately I was caught in the monsoon's next wave on my way back, and rather than taking a rickshaw or waiting out the storm like all the locals that disappeared off the streets, I decided to wade through the knee-high streams on the side of the street to get back to my hotel. When I got back, I don't think I'd ever been so soaked in my life. Luckily it was just water though, and everything pretty much dried overnight.

Today I've spent the morning packing and relaxing in my room, and just discovered an internet cafe next door to the hotel. I will head to the airport tonight at around 9 and then wait for my 1:45am flight to Frankfurt. Looking forward to a bit more relaxing before then in my room though, I suppose, since the rain seems to be starting up again.

I'm curious if anyone knows if there is a "second world"? I would assume that countries like the US, Canada, Germany, France, etc.. are the first world, and you always hear about the third world countries in Africa and southeast Asia, but where is the second world? Are there more than three?

Just curious.

On My Own in Bangalore

It took about ten minutes for the novelty and excitement that I've felt about traveling on my own in India to wear off. As I stepped off the overnight bus from Madurai to Bangalore at 6:30 Saturday morning, I was immediately surrounded by rickshaw drivers, all trying to take me to a hotel, which I'm sure they were getting a cut from. With only the name of the hotel that Emanuel had given me for Bangalore, I found a driver, agreed on a reasonable price, and went to the hotel. Unfortunately, the manager of the Raj Hotel wasn't as nice to me as he had apparently been to Emanuel, and tried to charge me double the price for a single that Emanuel and Jess had paid for a double. I had been pretty confident in my bargaining skills, but this guy would have none of it and eventually stopped talking to me altogether. Somewhat offended, I walked out of the hotel to look for something else. Next hotel, twice the price of the first. Next hotel, dirty sheets and
cockroaches. Next hotel, the room hadn't been cleaned after the previous tenant left two days ago. Next hotel, didn't even go inside because there were cows blocking the door. Finally, exhausted and in serious need of sleep, I settled on a hotel that ended up only being 100 rupees less per night than the first one (which is about $2), and which was significantly grosser. I had the management change the sheets, which I'm not entirely sure that they actually did because the next ones looked almost equally bad. The electricity and water worked on and off, and aside from all of that, I thought it was fine as long as I had my earplugs in so that I couldn't hear "It's A Small World" playing everytime the lift was used on any of the three floors of the hotel. The bugs eventually emerged from the walls, and once I saw the first few, they seemed to be everywhere.

Feeling like somewhat of a failure, alone in a dark room in Bangalore, surrounded by bugs, I reevaluated my travel style. Yes, 100 rupees has come to seem like a lot of money since I've been here. However, at home I would usually spend that much without even thinking about on a drink on my way home, or for a quarter of a movie ticket, or for a bagel and juice for breakfast. And aside from my clear need for a change in perspective, I'd rather pay a little more and feel comfortable lying down to sleep, rather than wonder what else I'm sharing my bed with. I have also changed my opinion of tourist things. I used to be firmly of the belief that carrying around a Lonely Planet, wearing a backpack, and excessively applying hand sanitizer were all signs that one was too obviously a tourist, and these things should be avoided at all cost. However, after traveling with Emanuel and Alison, both of whom had the Lonely Planet guide to South India, and finding myself
in many gross situations where I couldn't wash my hands with Jess, who always carried around at least two bottles of "anti-bac", as they call it in England, I realized something: I AM a tourist, and while there are some things that I can do so to not be offensive, like dressing appropriately and eating with the correct hand, I'm in a third world country, alone, with no real idea of where the nearest restaurant or hotel is, and no way to find out.

Lesson learned! Ugh. If only it were that easy. Three and a half more days on India, then two weeks in Europe to keep learning lessons.

Anyways, the excitement of my post-travel nap was interrupted by the bus company that I had booked a ticket with to Chennai on Monday, in order to be there in time to be at the airport on Tuesday night. They were calling to inform me that there was another bus strike starting Monday (are these like a weekly thing now?) and that I wouldn't be able to get back until later in the weekend. And this is why I love India. So in order to make my flight in Chennai in time, I had to go back to the bus station (which was fine because the power went out at the hotel) and rebook my bus ticket for Sunday, just over 24 hours from when I had arrived. No Mysore Palace tour... (one pro to this situation was that I had slept most of the morning so I hadn't had a chance to book my tour to Mysore yet, which would have been nonrefundable since it was less than 24 hours before. It also meant that I would be able to get out of the gross hotel after only one night).

So I decided to make the most of Bangalore in my 20 remaining hours, starting with a walk as far as I wanted to go. At this point, I also realized that I was really hungry since the last meal I had eaten was at the wedding reception yesterday morning. I was either in totally the wrong section of Bangalore, or Bangalore was too far north to find the familiar "Pure Veg" restaurants lining the streets (although I'm going to go with the former). I finally found one after passing a demonstration at the town hall (I found the town hall!), where there were people protesting and yelling for peace, and shouting things like "westerners created terrorism" and "go away, UK". I steered clear of that and turned down the next street where I found the restaurant.

After lunch, I found a Vodafone recharge shop and decided to put some money on my phone since I was down to about 30 cents on my phone, which wasn't going to do me much good anywhere. I paid the guy 300 rupees (about $8, which is a lot here) and waited for the phone to get a message saying that it was filled again. Unfortunately, the message that I got said that I had only refilled 0.84 rupees, which is virtually nothing. The shop owner said that since I was from a different state, I was supposed to know the correct amount to recharge (333 rupees, apparently) and that otherwise it wouldn't work. Glad he warned me about that... not. Anyways, he still made me pay him the 300 rupees, and sent me to find the Vodafone main office. After an hour of walking and asking lots of questions, I finally found the office. This guy actually tried really hard to help me an spent half an hour on the phone with Vodafone Customer Service, but wasn't able to do anything
about my lost 300 rupees. At this point I started feeling really dizzy and hot, so I bought a couple bottles of water and headed back to the hotel.

In desperate need of a nap, I set my towel over the pillow and laid down. Within five minutes, I found two bugs on the bed, and was fairly certain that I had felt something move in the pillow. Next step to learning my lesson: check out. I bit the bullet and decided that spending an extra $10 to go and be somewhere that I would actually be able to sleep and feel clean was worth it. Despite my wounded pride, I went back to the Raj Hotel, and to my surprise the manager didn't recognize me. And probably due to the fact that it was later in the afternoon, he offered me the room for the same price that I had gotten for the gross hotel that same morning. It was so amazing to finally have a shower and lay down on a bed that looked much better and had no big bugs in sight.

The rest of Bangalore involved a couple more restaurants and watching Germany defeat Argentina in the World Cup in the bar of a nearby hotel that I don't actually know if I was supposed to be in. I slept really well with my earplugs and in that much better bed and hotel, and was really glad that I moved.

I woke up on Sunday and realized that it was the 4th of July! Unfortunately instead of fireworks and barbeques, I would spend my day traveling. Getting the bus to Chennai was a more successful adventure though. Even though I thought that I left my hotel really late (only 20 minutes before the bus was supposed to leave) it actually turned out to be good because I got to the place where I was supposed to take the bus and they told me that the bus was picking up somewhere else that day, so I took another rickshaw to get there, and i ended up being there an hour early because apparently the other place told me the wrong time. While I waited, I talked to an Indian guy named Krishna, who had lived in Boston for a year. The bus left 20 minutes late, and stopped in the middle of Bangalore for an hour to wait for people who hadn't been at the station on time. It was all fine with me though because I was on the air conditioned bus, sitting with my bags. I thought
that I was packing so light with just the internal frame pack and daypack, but with both of them full of things I had bought in the past month, lugging them anywhere turned into quite a feat.

Internet at a bus stop! I'm going to try to post this. Hope it works!

Exploring the Other Side of the Indian Hospital

Well even if today hadn't been my last day in Madurai, I think that my body is clearly ready to leave this place. The past couple nights I really haven't slept much at all. I woke up so exhausted on Wednesday morning that I took the whole morning off to sleep. Wednesday night wasn't much better. Part of the problem is that it's so hot here that I sweat all night and then wake up so dehydrated that I have a horrible headache. And if I try to drink a lot of water before bed, I just go back and forth between the bathroom and bed all night. This morning and yesterday I also woke up feeling really achy and weak. And then on the way home from the hospital yesterday, I discovered a light red spotted rash all over my arms and stomach. It's not itchy though, just kind of gross looking. It had been fading away yesterday, so I figured that I would go to bed and see how it was today. This morning, the rash was still there, clearer than yesterday, and it had spread
to my face and back and legs. My host mother finally convinced me that I should go to see the doctor, so a man from Projects Abroad came in a rickshaw to take me to Saravana Hospital.

I was not particularly thrilled with the entire experience, so I didn't respond well to the small talk that this guy was trying to make, was annoyed when he tried to tell me that only girls wear earrings, and I was less than excited when he got really close to my face because he couldn't hear what I was saying. However when we were at the hospital, I was glad to have him there advocating for me because you have to kind of push and talk your way to the front of the line in India if you want anything to get done. After waiting for about 20 minutes, I finally saw the doctor in a plastic chair set up in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by other Indian people trying to talk to him. I had my 15 seconds with the doctor where he told me I was probably having an allergic reaction to something, wrote me a prescription, and sent me on my way. We picked up the little tablets and lotion that he had prescribed and made it back home just in time to get ready to go
to the wedding.

Apparently the Indian weddings go on for a few days, and we just caught the last bit of the last day today. We saw the exchange of gifts between the families, including the largest collection of silver I've ever seen. We then had our photo taken with the bride and groom (who, believe it or not, had just met two days before!), and then spoke to the bride's father and went down to a big meal where I had all the Indian food I could ever eat. It was a fun experience and gave me a chance to try out my new matching vest and pants from the bazaar.

Spent the rest of today packing up and sleeping. I think the tablets are working and my rash is starting to fade a bit, so I feel better about being in transit for the next few weeks. Bangalore tonight, Mysore palace Sunday, Chennai Monday, Germany Wednesday. Internet may be limited for awhile so await some sporadic posts when I find wireless.

It feels so odd to be leaving my host family and know that I probably won't be back here. It's been amazing and I really will never forget them.

Goodbye, Madurai...