Athens

We got up at 8 AM again. After a quick shower and ‘breakfast’ at the hostel- bread with nutella and instant coffee- we were off. Itinerary included: the Parthenon because it was only five minutes from our hostel, followed by just finding whatever else was closest and going from there.


So Brian and I begin at the Acropolis. Wandering around the ancient ruins, I remembered when in the British museum and there were all these sculptures that used be on the side of the Parthenon. I recall wondering at the museum, if there was so much there, what really could be left at the Parthenon.

The answer: very little.

The buildings were still there, but there was no decoration on the side of the building. I have no idea how the Brits got their hands on the art. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think their empire ever got to Greece, but one way or another they managed it somehow.


Now I don’t know where these dudes came from, I swear some of them materialized out of the Earth, but with in 30 seconds of the first drop hitting the ground, all of these guys hawking umbrellas showed up.

Now as a child, I was not allowed to have an umbrella because my mother feared, probably rightly, that I would attack my brother with it, break it, or break it while in the process of trying to attack my brother. So after being denied the joys of umbrellas for over 13 years of my life, whenever I am given the opportunity to use an umbrella I relish it. All the joys that come with an umbrella for only 5 euros?

Mais oui!

With my umbrella, we went down the hill to pay our respects at the Theatre of Dionysus. When the rain seemed to be letting up, we went back out into the garden and while I was taking a picture, an Indian lady with her son walked up to Brian.

“Do you know where this is?” (points to something on a piece of paper)
“No sorry, were tourists too, we don’t really know where anything is”
“Oh great! Why don’t you come along with us and we can visit all of these places together?!”

So I took a peek at the paper, and she had an entire itinerary of all the big sites in Athens listed and mapped out. So for the two of us, who really had no idea what to do or where to go once we got away from the Parthenon this was a rather appealing offer.

So we join up with our new tour guide and set off for some pottery and trinket museum. Not really my cup of tea, but she had EVERYTHING in Athens on that list, and then some and since I had just about given up seeing everything I had wanted to see in Athens because of our time constraints, no plan, and no map, I wasn’t going to pipe up for a change of plans.

I decide to start making small talk with my friend.



“So how old are you?”
“10”
“Is your Dad here also?”
“No hes back in India working. We are here with my aunt Bobbie, shes a senior citizen.”
“Oh where is she?”
“We lost her.”
“Uhhh you lost her?”
“Yea this happens a lot, she always just wanders away from us.”

I had visions of some 70 year old wrinkly Indian woman wrapped in a sari and running around lost in the mean streets of Athens. I couldn’t figure out why this kid wasn’t more worried over losing senior-citizen ‘Bobbie.’

“Well, how are you going to find her?”
“Oh she will just meet us at the hotel.”

Well if this kid wasn’t worried, then I figured I shouldn’t be either and decided to change the subject.
“ So how do you like Athens?”
“I hate it!”
“You hate it? Whys that?”
“I really wanted to go somewhere else”
“Ohh I see. Where did you want to go instead?”

The following is the best quote of the trip thus far—

“Detroit.”
“BAHAHA….Detroit?! Detroit Michigan? Why the hell…excuse me, why in the WORLD, would you rather go to Detroit, Michigan?!”
“Well, that’s where my favorite rapper is from!”

I knew the answer to the question before I even asked it, but just wanted to make sure…
“Eminem?”
“Yea yea! Eminem I love him! I wish I was in Detroit right now, instead of Athens.”

I had to pause right quick and evaluate the situation:

- In Athens
- Talking to 10 year old from India
- This Indian child loves Slim Shady
- He would much rather be in one of the worst cities in America, Detroit, than in Athens.
- The senior citizen in their group has gone missing and no one seems to mind.

After leaving the museum, we make our way to Greek Parliament to see the changing of the guards. On our way, my little companion gets all excited and says,

“There’s Bubby!”

My vision of a huddled over old biddy from India with a cane and a sari was shattered. Straight ahead is an Indian woman who’s age was about 50, max. She was rocking sneaks, a sweat suit, and a baseball hat that said I (heart) NY. She looked about as Indian as I look Chinese.

Neither Brian nor myself knew what we were in for with Bubby.

First she gave us cakes that she the nuns/monks had given her inside the Greek Church and told us to feed them to the birds. Whether or not these were stolen is open to conjecture.

Next, she told us to take her picture as she went up to the Parliament guard. Seemingly standard. Now the guards are the type who are not allowed to move/react to passers by. So imagine my surprise when this ‘senior citizen’ goes up, hides behind the guard, and then peeks around him. I wish I had taken the picture with my camera instead of hers.

The guards were not ‘changing’ because of the rain, so we continued on our way to the gardens. Bubby picked oranges off of the tree, took a bite, krinkled her face, spat it out, and threw the rest on the ground.

“Oranges? You call these oranges?! I have had better tasting lemons! These trees should be taken up and burned on Mt. Olympus!”

After the nasty orange trees, we went down to the Temple of Zeus.

Someone had misinformed Bubby.










She was convinced that this was the ancient Olympic staduim. So she said

“Ill race you! 1-2-3 GO!”

Off she went running around the temple.

Then she requested that I take another picture of her, this time, pretending to get off the blocks at the start of the 400 meter dash.

Again, a pause to assess the situation:

-Im at the Temple of Zeus, one of mankind’s greatest accomplishments
-Following around a 10 year old Indian boy who loves Eminem, his mother who is playing tour guide, and his aunt/senior citizen who must have smoked 15 crack rocks when she woke up this morning
-said ‘senior citizen’ is crouched on all fours like shes Flo Jo
-im holding the camera

Just another day in the life….

At this point the question was raised as to who is bigger nut job, Bubby or Mama. After all this time, I still am unsure.

Bubby then hopped under the fence, clearly marked DO NO ENTER, hopped on top of the remnants of a 2000+ year old column, and declared herself the winner of the 400 meter dash.

Again, I was on photo duty.

After the temple of Zeus, we headed towards the real Olympic stadium but not before sliding (breaking?) into the Athens tennis club. Apparently they have some big deal tournament there because I saw a couple names up on the wall that I recognized. What it is, I couldn’t tell you.

At the cross walk, a taxi stopped and asked for a ride, it went something like this,
“Taxi?”
“No thank you”
“Are you from the United States?”
“Yes” -Me
“YAYYY Hillary!” -Bubby
“Hillary? F*** Her!” Taxi driver
“Oh so your not Hillary fan?” Me
“No. I prefer Lewinsky.” Taxi driver then speeds off

It was just a quick walk then to the first modern Olympic stadium. I wish I had something exciting to say here, but it was a stadium all right. Track, seats, the whole nine yards. They had a nice bathroom though.

This was the end of our friends list, and we had a flight to catch to Rome, and so ended our 5 hour whirl wind tour of Athens.

Santorini Day II

For our second, and final day in Santorini, we got up at 8:30, which in the land of classes at 3:30 in the afternoon, I have come to consider deathly early.

For breakfast we of course went to Mama’s. She was on her A game this morning. Quote include-
“Oh God! You all again?”
“I did not want to tell you this, I wanted it to be surprise. But this November I go to visit Cris’s (our family friend who lives down the street and is Mama’s niece). I am going to come and sneak in your house, then find your room, and scream and wake you up! You will be so excited you will pee pee the bed! Then I make you breakfast.”


To two girls who walked in- “Did you girls behave last night?
“Nope.”
“Did you drink?”
“Duh. Its spring break!”
“Bad Girls!” Accompanied by a slap on the ass

When we go to take a picture with her, instead of saying cheese she says “Always Safe Sex!”

After the most cracked out breakfast this side of Peewee’s Playhouse, we left on our ATVs.

Destination: Unknown

We drove up to Oia on the north coast. Its kind of mind blowing that people actually live there. We drove around seeing what there was to see, me looking like a moron tourist pulling over every 5 feet and taking pictures in between taking my hands off the ATV and trying to take them while moving.

We really really really wanted to go cliff jumping into the water. But alas, we didn’t find any cliffs that were not listed in the Bear Sterns employee handbook under “Best Ways to End It All.”

So with cliff jumping not happening anytime soon, we settled for a beach. After putting our suits and making it a nude beach for a quick second, we got up the water and decided there was no way. I got half way up to my legs and called the Mediterranean's bluff. Remember when I said it was the off-season? There is a reason for that.









While I could go for another 4 inches or so on my height, on the ATVs pint size is an advantage. Brian easily has about 70 pounds on me, so when we both floored the ATVs I would go by him like he was using only half throttle. In addition, I went WHIPPING around the curves. The ATV may or may not have come close to tipping over like a Ford Explorer sitting on Firestones more than once.

After playing National Geographic photogs, went back to Mama’s for the second time in 3 hours because she had insisted that we be full so that we would not have to, in her words, “eat that shit on the boat”

I don’t know why we went. Neither Brian nor myself were hungry. So I had yogurt with fruit and honey. It sounds a little boring, but it was bomb ass. I don’t know what was in the honey, maybe some MSG, but it was the nectar of the gods.

With full bellies, we went back to return the ATVs. I had noticed marks on the tires from fishtailing around curves and significantly weaker brakes than when I started…shocking I know. So I dropped my cash on the table, snagged my ID which had been held as collateral, and booked it out of there ASAP before a through inspection and the resulting charges could take place.

We bummed around for a bit, went back to the internet café AKA a geek's dream, collected our baggage from the hotel and got on the ferry. Mind you now, we spent about as much time as we did on the first ferry as we did on Santorini itself. Needless to say, expectations were less than high.

So imagine my excitement when the ferry included two bars, big comfy seats with TVs playing The Swan, and best of all A FAST FOOD RESTAURANT. I woulda been kinda ok with getting stuck on this ship

Now if you don’t remember The Swan, it’s the reality show circa 2002 where they take the most busted up looking people they can find, give them full body plastic surgery makeovers, and then have them compete in a beauty pageant where one will be crowed, 'The Swan'.

Yea. It’s as good as it sounds.

I TIVOed the entire season.

We ended up chatting with a girl who goes to Bryn Mawr. Upon hearing this news, I guess I made a face to which she replied, “and no…im not a lezzie.”

I really need to learn to get my expressions under control before entering the corporate world.

“This is the Bosses Daughter”
“Oh! Pleasure to meet you.” Says my mouth
“Have you sent your entry to Fox for the next season of The Swan yet?” Says my face.

But I digress, it turns out she friendly with a girl from my high school. We didn’t really run in the same circles, but since our last names were close on the alphabet we would often be close to each other if we had a class together. She’s was pretty chill and always had great little quips in the back of AP English. So what up Alison Reingold if your reading this.

Turns out our new friend had some Greek in her and that she would be staying with her aunt who reserved a reputable taxi for her and offered to split the cab with us. We jumped at this because there was a whole section on the dangers of the shady Athens taxis in my guidebook. Since we were not looking to get our valuables or vital organs stolen it made sense.

We did not get to our hostel until 2 AM and our plane for Rome was leaving at 5:30 that evening. Factoring in time to get to the airport, checking in, and not to mention sleeping, this gave us a little over 6 hours of playtime in Athens.

Plan? Of course not.

What me worry?

Santorini Day 1

At 6:30 AM, we were finally told that we would be getting off the boat. For those of you keeping track, that’s 24 hours late and about 36 hours total spent on H.M.S. tourist trap.

Emphasis on the trap.

I spent the night on and actual bed in one of the rooms on board because I would have slit my wrists (vertically) if I had to sleep in the movie theater seats again. Brian was asleep when I asked him if he wanted to join me so he wasn’t really that into it. It was probably a good thing he stayed behind because he met three girls who were planning on staying in the same hotel as we were and they had called the hotel so that the shuttle would be sent down for us.

When we get to the hotel, we met my Poppy. To my surprise, Poppy was a chick and she runs the joint. She told us that since our reservations were for Monday and Tuesday, we could stay in the room until 1:30 in the afternoon to rest, but we would have to check out then and there was no guarantee that we would have a room this evening since we had no reservation. Whatever. I figured that if I had to, I could sleep in the movie theater seats again.

While Brian showered for the first time in about two and a half days I rested my eyes. When he got out, he asked me if I wanted to get going or sleep more. I said both, which while impossible it was exactly how I felt. Too tired to get going, but seeing as how we had already lost 36 hours to the ferry and only had one day here, I just had get up and to carpe the stuffing out of the diam. Plus, I a can always sleep when I’m dead.

Brian and I thought it would be a really good idea for us to rent mopeds. What better way for us to blend in with the locals than putting the fun between our legs and zooming through traffic? We found a shop that rented bikes and he asked if we had a motorcycle license. Nope but we had drivers licenses. Then he asked on of the more poignant questions of the trip so far. “Do you know how to ride one?”

Answer, “No, but can you teach us.”
Counter Answer, “Always these people ask me to ride something when they do not know how. That is not smart. Why do you ask to do something you do not know how? Sorry but no. A car would be safer for you.”

Score one logic point, and potentially thousands of dollars in medical insurance claims, for the moped guy.

On the quest for a car, we instead found ATVs. These had multiple advantages over our other alternate modes of transportation; four wheels=balance, cheaper, have experience with them, both of us could drive there by upping the fun factor, easily maneuverable in small spaces.

The guy who rented us the ATVs warned us that people here do not drive with rules like in the states. Instead, he told us to treat it ‘like a war zone.’

The ATV was by far THE BEST twenty five euros I have spent on the entire trip thus far because of not only the above reasons, but it let us go so so many more places than we would have been able to on foot or by the bus. I originally learned the importance of four wheels and a motor last year when we rented a car in St. Thomas, but this reminded me why its so crucial.

If you ever go to an island, just suck it up and get your own transportation. Its well worth the investment and you’ll thank yourself.

After making our purchase, we then went on a quest to find Mama’s. ‘Mama’ is the aunt of one of our good family friends who lives on the island and also owns a restaurant. I had never met her, but spoke to her on the phone when we were imprisoned on the ferry. When I spoke to her yesterday on the phone, she first, wanted to make sure I was ok, called me baby probably close to 25 times, and demanded that if we were able to dock that day that I call her so she could take us to our hotel. It was easy to see why ‘mama’ is our friend’s favorite aunt.

Saying we had a rough idea where to go would be generous. Looking back on it, we took the most round about way getting there, passed the place at least one if not twice, and came this close l------l to losing each other on the mean streets of Santorini.

Eventually, we got hungry enough that we swallowed our pride, and asked for direction. The first guy told us it was about 200 meters on the right. I have no idea how far this is since I am American and don’t use such silly systems based in logic. Although I did swim for more than half of my life and used to be able to get there in a little over two minutes in my hay day, so it shouldn’t be too far.

Then we went what had to be way over two hundred meters, and asked for directions again. This time Mama’s was now 500 meters on the right. As Brian said, this meant one of two things, A) the first guy also does not know the metric system either or B) he just wanted to mess with us.

We made it to Mama’s, and she was just as great as she sounded on the phone. First order of business was to give me a big hug from Cris, then make sure I was ok, and had a place to sleep for the night- which was still up in the air at that time.

Mama’s is not only warmhearted but as I had been warned before hand, ‘a kick.’ or as I would put it, off her rocker. When she is not out in the dining room making a spectacle over the freshness of the orange juice, she is in the kitchen cooking and harassing each customer who walks in the door by demanding that they “say good morning to Mama!”

We got to talking to the people at the table next to us, told them our tales of woe, how we knew Mama, and we then come to find out that they are from Bethesda, and live about 10-15 minutes from my house. I’m how many 1000s of miles from home and sit down next to someone less than 5 miles away from my house?

I’ve lost count of how many small world moments I’ve had in the last 3 months.

Breakfast was the best I’ve had in a while, omelet, hash brown, and toast for a very reasonable 5 euro. It was a nice change from croissants and jelly. Breakfast actually ended up being on the house, did I mention she was nice?, we made sure to leave a good sized tip and promised Mama we would return tomorrow. This time with the camera so we could take a picture of one of the less forgettable characters of our trip so far.

After breakfast, we went to Kamari beach, which is know for having black sand instead of the regular white/brown.

Fun Fact: Besides that its black, the sand is unique because it is really really small pebbles of volcanic rock, not grains like regular sand.

Less Fun Fact: When the wind blows hard like it was today, the sand hitting you feels like a bunch of small bullets.











Then we drove up the windy rode to Ancient Thira. Its about 1,200 feet above the beach. They close at 2:30 in the afternoon each day, we got there at about 2:20, and the guy told us it was closed. I would have liked to see the ruins, but it wasn’t going to happen.

After we got back down from the ruins, we called Poppy. You know when someone screams into the phone and all you hear is the reverberations and you can not hear them? Now add a thick Greek accent, and that’s what trying to talk to her on the phone was like. After asking her what the hell she was saying about 15 times, it turns out she had a room for us and we would not have to be homeless for the evening.

We got tired from lack of sleep for the previous two nights, and went to an internet café to chill out and get in contact with the rest of the world. This internet café was like nothing you had ever seen before. It was a nerds paradise. There were rows and rows of maxed out computers with kids playing World of Warcraft and other games for social butterflies. We just checked emails but made sure to snap photos when the geeks were not looking.










After the internet café, we drove around for a few hours exploring the island and snapping pictures. Santorini really does live up to the hype. It’s a place where just about every scene could be a photo.


Not much else happened after the sun went down, we went back to the hotel, had dinner, met a few kids who were also in our hotel and got some much needed rest.

Jamie & Brian vs. the Ancient Travel Gods

Our spring break plans are as follows- Monday: Geneva to Athens where we take a ferry to Santorini. Stay there until late Wednesday afternoon and then take the return ferry to Athens. Thursday night, we will then take a plane from Athens to Rome where we meet up w/ Tim, Lauren, and Andrew and stay there til Sunday (my birthday) when we take overnight train back to Geneva.

Last night, in the middle of packing/ hanging up my clothes to dry since the dryers in the Cite don’t really dry your clothes as much as they just warm them up, I thought it would be prudent to figure out directions from ports, to hostels, to airports, to train stations, etc. While trying to figure out the second leg of our journey, airport to ferry, I realized we had made an uh oh.

Our plane was supposed to land 20 minutes before the last non-overnight ferry was scheduled to leave the port and it was going to take us about an hour to get from the airport to the seaport, unless the plane was really early, or the ferry really late, we weren’t going to make it. This was a direct contrast to the cracked out, unrealistic, fly by the seat of my pants vision in my head of the ferries leaving for Santorini every 5 minutes and the seaport being conveniently located right next door to where our plane was landing. Why neither of us thought about checking this out beforehand, I don’t know.

I also forgot to mention that I didn’t make this discovery until approx. 2:30 AM and stayed up until about 4 trying to figure out what the hell we were going to do.

Sometimes I realize that despite practically guaranteeing ulcers and heart attacks, being type A does have its advantages.

So the next morning, Brian and I meet each other at 9:15 AM in the lobby

“So I think we’ve already got a snag in the plans”
“yea?”
and then I tell him my findings to which he just laughs and replies
“well so much for getting off on the right foot.”

When we get to the airport, we try and get put on stand by for the only flight that afternoon from Athens to Santorini. No dice. The waiting list is closed because it already has 8 people on it for a plane that only holds 40 people.

This means it looks like the launching sequence for plan B, the overnight ferry, will commence. Good thing it’s the off-season and our hotel is only 12 euros a night. However, I am not totally sure if we have to kiss that goodbye cause the site says you need to cancel your reservation 48 hours in advance. We didn’t even make our reservation until under 24 hours until we were planning on being there, thus making canceling 48 hours beforehand impossible. But I digress.

After passing through customs, we see the duty free shop. Never hurts to look right? There is nothing cheap in Geneva. Anywhere. Its an expensive city, but unlike other expensive cities I’ve been to, like London or New York which have bargains such as pound pints and one dollar giant slices of pizza respectively, there are no deals to be had in Geneva. I don’t even think there is a word for bargain.

We land in Athens and our first mission is to figure out how the hell to get to the ferries. This is not made any easier by the Greek alphabet or language. It might as well be Mandarin Chinese. Actually, scratch that, I would probably recognize at least the characters for my favorite dishes.

The stewardess said something to us as we got off the plane, which I assumed to be along the lines of ‘thanks for flying with us’ but if she had told me to go do dirty things to myself, I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference but still would make a stupid smile, wave, and said thank-you.

As were wandering around the airport, which thankfully had English translations of the signs, one of the workers must have overheard us and dropped the 411. We had to take the X96 bus that left from terminal 5. She told us to ask one of the travel agencies in the airport what the ferry schedule is, but if we buy from them, it’s going to be way more expensive than if we bought our tickets at the port. She was such a little nugget of knowledge. In less than 2 minutes she told us what could have taken us all day to figure out.

Then we saunter up to said travel agency window.

“How can I help you?”
“Are there any ferries left to Santorini today”
“Two, both leave at 8 PM one will arrive at the island at 3:30 am and the other at 7:30 am. I recommend the 7:30 because the time is more convenient.”
“Yea that seems like a much better idea”
“Would you like to book your tickets then?”
“Uhhhh no. Thanks. Bye!”

Then I did one of those walks, half runs, away from the counter. Information is free right?

Since the boat left at 8, we had a little less than four hours to kill until we left. On the way through the airport we spotted a place to get a haircut, And by a place to get a haircut, I mean a salon. Brian had badly needed a haircut for about two weeks and I could use one as well. This wasn’t salon along the lines of little old ladies in curlers, but rather, Europeans with cracked out dye jobs and haircuts that outside of this continent would get out mocked, beat up, or both.

Both of us with three bags apiece looking like we spent last night in the sewers walk into said salon and get that international look that basically says ‘are you serious right now?’

Me: “How much for a haircut.”
Attendant with Dragon Ball Z hair: “30 Euros”
Brian: “Lets do it!”

I was kind of surprised at his enthusiasm, seeing as how that comes out to about $45. I just figured he really really wanted a hair cut. Wrong. I came to find out later that he though the lady had said thirteen euros.

Brian goes first, and I don’t see him until I get my hair washed. He has gotten basically a buzz cut with a little extra left in the front. So my fears of ending up like euro trash are relieved for the time being.

Then it’s my turn in the chair.

Barber (stylist): “How do you make your hair?”
Me: “I want a hair cut that isn’t too European, something that I can also wear in America”
Blank Stare
Me: “Ok so I part it to the left, short on the sides, and have this part up a little”
I later come to realize that this last part was a fatal error.
Barber (stylist): “Yes. Now I do.”

I’m making small talk while he get to work, the usual routine- blah blah im in Geneva for the semester blah blah we are going to Santorini blah blah Im from DC.

Then after realizing this conversation was totally one sided, I throw him a low ball “Do you have any suggestions for things I should visit in Athens?”

Barber (stylist): Blank Stare

I realize he had little to no clue what I had been rambling on about and I then decide to shut up. As he is moving along doing the haircut thing, I realize where he is going with this and I have two choices; make him stop or embrace it. Out of curiosity I choose the later.

He finishes cutting, at some points literally hacking away, my hair. Then he gets out this… not a gel and not really anything I have seen before. For lack of a better word, heavy product. By product, I mean goop that goes into your hair white and dries like cement. Maybe it was Elmer’s Glue.

When the styling was done and the plaster in my hair almost set, he asks me “Do you like?”

I look in the mirror and have to try HARD to keep myself from laughing. It was almost too late, my little shit eating grin had already started to emerge so I just play like I’m really into my new haircut and enthusiastically nod my head yes, say how cool it is, and just grin away like the Cheshire cat.

I look like an asshole.

As Brian described it “no two pieces of hair look like they are going in the same direction”

As I would describe it “The hair cut of my dreams!”

He holds the mirror behind my head so I can see what it looks like back there, and I have a mini fashion mullet going on. Oh no. I will play your little how much goop can we throw in my hair game, but I’ve got to draw the line somewhere.

I point to the back of my neck and make the snip-snip motion with my fingers.

“But you have curly back here.”

Indeed, I do have ‘curly’ back there. My hair is naturally straight in the front and wavy in the back or “business in the front, party in the back” if you will. With good reason, I do my best to fight nature on this one.

“Yes I know, but I would like it short in the back please.”

He makes a face like his creation is now ruined. Suck it up. I’m going to be the one who has to walk around like this unless I get it fixed here and now.

So when I get out of the chair, I essentially look like one of the kids you see on the subways in Europe/ in tektonic videos. The saving grace though, is that the haircut is along the lines of my regular haircut so when I wash it and get all the shit out/wear it the way I usually do, I won’t look half as absurd.


I hope.

Fresh from the beauty salon, then we take the hour-long bus from the airport to the seaport. I sat across from a Greco-Roman land monster in a tube top who breathed like a donkey in heat. I was gonna ask her what she was doing later but she had a ring on her finger. Why are the good ones always taken?

We bum around the port for about two hours, get dinner, find our ferry and what not. We get on the boat and are lead into this room with rows of movie theater seats. No seriously. They had cup holder armrests. This is where we will be sleeping for the night.

Granted I have fallen asleep at just about every movie I have seen in theaters in the past 5 years, including, but not limited to, The Passion of the Christ. But movie theater seats are not really where I would like to spend a night. Add in choppy waves, a ceiling made out of tin that shakes and clatters along with the boat’s engine, and it makes for about the best place to sleep this side of the homeless pet incinerator.

I’m on the ferry as I write this, been awake since 6:30 AM local time. Our ferry is now 40 minutes late and I still can’t see land, granted it is foggy. Hopefully the shuttle from the hotel will still be waiting for us but I am not counting on it. But if everything went according to plan, then what would I write about?

Update: Its currently 1:48 PM local time, now 7 hours late and I have been on this boat for about 18 hours. Our ferry is sitting off the island because the sea is too choppy for us to dock. At this rate, my dreams of riding mopeds, laying on pristine beaches, and going cliff jumping into clear blue waters is getting close to never reaching fruitation.

If they have a t-shirt that reads ‘I went to Santorini and all I saw was the inside of the ferry’ I’m getting it.

UPDATE: We have officially reached the 24-hour mark on the ferry. The last time we moved was appox. 10 hours ago. I wish I were on the S.S. Minnow, they at least reached land. The man over the loud speaker said that, at the earliest, we will reach Santorini at 10 PM. That will have given us at least a full 26 hours aboard this vessel. And I thought all my dreams had come true when I got my haircut. Oh no Greece, you just got so many aces up your sleeves and just keep getting better and better.

Today’s highlights include:

- Having a chocolate muffin and a bag of oregano flavored chips for lunch.

- Our South Park marathon on the computer.

- Taking my shoes off for the first time in about 28 hours and being able to stun small children and kill wildlife with the stench.


Overheard on the Ferry:

Do you think we can mix our brandy with orange juice? – Random Girl to friends

You have friends on shore?! Have them call a boat. I have sailed for many many years and know that a small boat can make it out in these waters. Or even, have them call a helicopter. Even for 100 Euros an hour, you will have very lots of people wanting to pay to get off this ferry. I will even pay for you tickets. Just drink two more vodkas, call them, and then come find me. – Man desperate to get off the ferry to us, not realizing there is no landing pad on board or ladder to get down to a rescue boat.

London

So on our flight out of Montpellier, Jess and I get up to the Ryan Air Desk, where the nice lady tells us that she is sorry, but the desk is now closed because check in ends 40 minutes before the flight.

I tried to look as desperate, pathetic, and frazzled as I could in order to get some sympathy and I asked if there was anything she could do seeing as 1) no one had informed us of this policy and 2) according to the clock behind her we were exactly 3 minutes late. So she radioed in, said something in rapid fire French, and then told us to hurry up and give her the bags.

Had it not been for the rush, she probably would have charged my bag for being 3 Kilos over the weight limit. Now mind you, each kilo you go over is 5 euros. I wasn’t trying to pay that, but like the kid who asks the teacher ‘What’s our homework?’ when she forgets to assign it, I knew it was better to keep my mouth shut so my wallet would stay fatter.

Being Ryan Air, the flight was pretty budget. I don’t think I had ever seen more people packed into one airplane. And when I say packed, I mean packed to the point where it was questionable if we were going to be too heavy to get off the ground. It was only an hour flight and for around 50 dollars, I could live with flying like I was on the Tokyo subway. Again for what was not the first time on this trip, I am reminded that more often than not, you do indeed get what you pay for.

We landed at London’s Stanstead station, about an hour out of the city and took a bus. The bus dumped us off at a station that apparently is one of the main hubs in the city. A nice little bus station, train station, and metro station mix. Finding out where the train station stopped and the metro station started, was a large enough task in itself. Working the little machine that charged me 4 pounds, or 8 US dollars for those of you not familiar with the exchange rate, was a bit confusing. However, when we finally made our way into the Metro Station, I was greeted with the most zig-zig and indecipherable subway maps I have ever seen. In DC, the metro has 5 lines, all of them made up with primary colors. In London there are so many lines, that they have not only primary colors, but also shades.

“OK, so were gonna take the lime green one?”
“I dunno, I think I would call that more of an off-grass color, wouldn’t you?”
Luckily, there were not only colors, but also letter and numbers to go along with said lines.

It was at this point, where it dawned on me that we were actually in an English speaking country, and unlike where I had spent the last month, I could turn to the person next to me and actually speak in a sentence which would not cause that person to develop a nervous tic from trying to understand what the hell I was saying.

“How do you get to Russel Square”
“Take the ------ line, its right over there”

Its nice to be able to communicate with the natives.

So we get on our subway, heading in the correct direction just chatting away and the sound signaling that the doors are about to close goes off. This causes a bustle of activity and I wasn’t really quite sure why. Take a chill pill London.

Then the reason for the hubbub reveals itself. The subway doors here SLAM shut. If they don’t chop your limb off when they close, which given their speed is totally possible, there is no way your getting back whatever you got stuck in that door. God help you if its your arm or leg that got caught in the door because your not gonna see that puppy again. You very well could be dragged along side the train to your death.

This is not the metro at home, where the nice robot lady tells you ‘doors closing’ and then the doors calmly close and will open again about 5 times before they even start to get irritated and buzz if the door detects something in their path. No. These doors are closing so you better make up your mind and either get on or get off, because being indecisive will only get you a trip to the hospital.

When we arrived at Russle Square, all fingers, toes, limbs, etc. present and accounted for, I realized that somewhere along the way, I had dropped the directions telling me how to get from the station to our final destination. Even though I had learned my lesson about how fun it is to have no idea how to get from the subway station to your final destination when I was in Barcelona, the gods still wanted to toy with me despite my planning. Oh and Tim’s phone number was on that paper so I could not call him and get directions. Great.

So I called Lauren, and her and Tim came down to rescue us and showed us the way to our home for the next five days. On our walk, Lauren told us about how around the second week into their trip, some chick had a mental break down (more on the benefits of that later) and had to go home. So the sleeping options were both of us could have our own beds in the girl’s flat since they had started out with an extra bed pre-break down. Or I could share a bed with Tim in the guy’s apartment. It wasn’t a tough choice since I made sure to get inoculated against cooties before going abroad.

So we got to their flat. I know, flat, how British. The Colgate apartments in London are pretty upscale. Good location, bed rooms off of a big common, area, totally modern bathrooms, and all new kitchens. This sharply contrasts to lonely concrete room I have in Geneva, with communal bathrooms, and a kitchen where I have to go to the kitchen on another floor and steal a grate for the toaster oven whenever I want pizza.

So what was the first thing I did when I got to London you ask? Rush over to Big Ben? Tea with her majesty? Hell no. I took a 4 hour nap. I still wasn’t recovered from Barcelona and that coupled with of my last week in Montpellier had made me quite snoozy.

The next morning, sitting on the couch and trying to decide what to do for that day, I did something I have never ever done before in my life. I actually tore a coupon out a newspaper. I had a ‘god damn it am becoming my father’ moment, but the coupons gave me two big macs and a big mac with medium fries both for two pounds.

Also, the Bristish, unlike the French or the Swiss, understand McDonalds. In France and Switzerland a burger is more expensive than actual food and there is nothing fast about getting your meal. When I say more expensive, take for instance, a big mac meal in Geneva is 11 Francs, about 10 bucks US. Depending on where you go, you can get a good sandwich, soda, and pastry for about the same price. There is no point in going to McDonalds if its more expensive than real food and takes just as long to be served. But thankfully, England’s McDonalds function like ours.

China town, on our way to Buckingham Palace (I think). Nothing notable happened but this looked cool.













Our first stop- Buckingham Palace. This was a lot like the white house with a fancier gate around it. You can’t really get that close to the actual building, there are lots of tourists taking pictures in front of it, and once your there you kind of expect something exciting to happen but its doesn’t. You just kinda stand there and you think ‘oh the queen of England lives there. Uh so now what?

Then we walked up to West Minister Abby. But because it was Sunday, it was closed to the public unless you were going to pray or attend services. Ha ha yea right.




Then we went to Big Ben which was really close. It was cool, but I don’t really have anything interesting or witty to say here. It was big, and looks exactly like it does in just about every picture/tv show/movie that references London.









So then we met up with Timmy underneath the London Eye. He was sick of sitting in archives doing research all day. I am thankful I am not on the London program. Lauren described it as every day they just go to archives, where your afraid to blink too loudly for fear of getting sushed, and it’s full of little old men in glasses sitting around writing the text book that you will be studying next year. And apparently it is also very easy to tear the 300-year-old original documents since they are so old and fragile so you need to be extra careful. No fun.

Anyways, we did not ride on the London Eye because it takes about half an hour and despite being the biggest of its kind in its world, its still a ferris wheel. I prefer bumper cars anyways.

From there, we walked down to St. Paul’s Cathedral, home of just about every important British Wedding and Funeral ever. It was really impressive, but I could not take pictures of the inside, and again, since it was Sunday, tours were not being offered but services were.

That night was the Super Bowl. I was still tuckered out so I was in bed around 9:30, half an hour before kick off. The first super bowl I haven’t watched in my entire life, and it turns out to be one of the best in a long long time. Solid. However, I did get 13 hours of sleep.
The next day, Jess and I hopped on the Tube, which was much less confusing this time around, and went down to the Tower of London.

Fun Fact: In most cities, pedestrians have the right of way. In London, this is not the case. If you dare to cross the street when the little man on the signal is red, you had better book it. Like the doors on the subway, the cars do not slow down and would have no problem laying your ass out.

The Tower of London houses such wonders as the crown jewels and really old jails and torture chambers. I think. I wouldn’t know though because to go inside was 16 Pounds or 32 dollars. I kinda regret not doing it, but 32 bones is a lot for an entry fee. Pictures were free though.








So then we crossed the Tower Bridge, which I assumed was London Bridge cause its way cooler than the London Bridge. London Bridge is just a straight up plain bridge. If it has a whole song devoted to it, I think there should be a little bit more to it. Who cares if some boring bridge is falling down? Not me.







Then we went over to the globe theater where Billy Shakespeare, used to enjoy putting on plays. We thought about getting tickets to a play, but shows were not going to be put on until the next month.

A tour of the globe would have run about 12 pounds. I coulda gotten 6 big macs for that price so we declined. However, Jess and I were sooo close to slipping inside though when the tour guides were changing, but we were too slow to realize that the door had been left unmanned and when we started making moves, they were back. That’s really living on the edge though right? Almost breaking into the globe theater? Its level of rebelliousness is right up there with not recycling.







After our almost break in at the globe theater, we went to the Tate Modern. We walked in to what seemed like a warehouse and there was a giant crack in the ground. Both of us stared at it for about five minutes, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Then we found an explanation about how it was supposed to represent underlying racism in our society. If you say so….

Upstairs though there the exhibits were was cool. Being a modern art museum there were something that were, at the risk of sounding uncultured, totally wack. I did realize though that I prefer art that has some sort of message over art that tries to evoke a ‘mood’. After about an hour and a half of looking at priceless works of art, your brain can start to feel mushy, your feet start to hurt, and everything kinda starts to run together.

Then, yea you better believe we did all of that in one day, we took the tube over to Harrods. This is the mecca of overpriced goods. Take the Wal-Mart idea of everything under one roof and the set up of a department store. Now make everything in there a designer good with the prices to match and you get the idea behind Harrods. Im surprised they can stay open, it’s the size of a city block, 5 (?) levels, and I didn’t see anyone actually making purchases except for in the food department.

Jess and I spent the majority of our time in the toy wing and said food department. I had heard that there is a killer gelato stand, but it was nowhere to be found. However there was a fudge counter. I wanted some, but wasn’t trying to make purchases. The answer?

Samples.

Jess taught me the right way to take a sample. When you eat it, make a face like you don’t like it and give a reason as to why your not a fan, “its too sweet, I don’t like strawberry, its not soft enough etc. This lets you 1) not feel obliged to buy and thing and 2) leaves the door open to try another one that you ‘would enjoy more.’ Clever girl. The fudge really was not that good anyways. The stuff from the beach is way better.





Fun Fact: The guy who owns Harrods is the father of Doti Al-Fayed, the dude who was in the car with Princess Diana when her car played Pong with tunnel walls. He is convinced that there was a conspiracy to kill Diana and has pissed off the royals enough that they refuse to grant him British citizenship.









Doti's Monument to himself inside the main stairway of Harrod's.

On Tuesday, we went to the Portrait Museum and the British Museum. They not kidding about it being a portrait museum. There were more portraits and busts than you can shake a stick at. They ranged from tons of long since dead kings and queens, to Warhols, to a 3-D one of JK Rowling that I can only describe as similar to a diorama. Towards the end though, it was a lot like the Tate, my mind was mushy and all I wanted to do was sit down. If we had been there a week later, we could have caught the 100 years of Vanity Fair exhibit, which would have been nice cause I could look at people I actually recognized as opposed to royals from the 18th century who all have the same look of “I have a stick up my ass” on their faces.

Then we went to the British Museum which touted itself as the home to “Ancient Treasures of the empire.” We saw the Rosetta stone, lots of Ancient Egyptian Artifacts and tons of statues taken off of the Partenon way back when.

The next day, our last in London town, we took a leisurely stroll through Hyde Park and saw Kensington Palace because we had seen everything we wanted to. It was a lot like Central Park.

That night, I got to see a play with their group for free because the girl who had a mental breakdown had paid for everything and Colgate had bought all of the tickets and such before she flipped out, so they always have an extra ticket for everything they go to. The play was called The History Boys. They had all read, or at least in Tim’s case were supposed to have read, the play before going, but I had no idea what it was about. Basically, it the story of British School boys in an all boys private school preparing for getting into Universities. Sounds kinda lame, but it was quite good and I guess the powers that be agree because it won six Tony’s in 2006. Which was either the most ever or a tie for the most ever. Can't remember.

London was awesome. It didn't feel that much like a foreign country, sorta like Manhattan meets Georgetown with accents.

Barcelona

In order to get to Barcelona, we took a bus ride that was a little over five hours. During this ride I learned that the French overemphasize the rest part of rest stop. Our bus stopped for about an hour at a stop that is kind of hard to describe but essentially is a restaurant set up like a rest stop. Let me explain.

You stand in line and order your food. Normal. However, very little is actually already prepared so when you order your food the cook it right there for you. This makes it impossible to go wham bam thank you mam and get back on the road. When I google maps told me it should take three and a half hours and the REST stop was a major reasons for our trip taking as long as it did. Sometimes the laidback attitude is refreshing, other times you just want them to hurry up. This was the latter.

Once we got there, I realized I only knew what metro stop Robbie lived off of, but hadn’t had the foresight to get directions for the bus stop to the metro as well as how to get to his apartment once I got off. It is moments like these when I realize the benefits of a travel agent and by travel agent, I mean mom or someone who I can convince to play mom. So far the only mother like figure I have is Mark who wakes me up for class by asking if im going to class that day. The answer always being the same groggy, incoherent, yes.

Turns out the bus station was right next to the train station which had a metro stop in it. Having mastering the DC metro and figuring out the NYC subway all on my own that day this summer when I lost my car key in Manhattan stranding myself there for an extra day and a half, which is quite the story by the way, I figured Barcelona wouldn’t be too much of a struggle. I found my way to Robbie’s apartment and was greeted at the door by his landlady who was playing gatekeeper for the evening. Now I took Spanish for 4 years and on a daily basis in French class my teacher tells me that I speak my French with too much Spanish in it however, after French everyday for almost a month now, I found it taking me a while to think of words in Spanish. Basically my brain is divided into two sections, foreign languages and English. My brain can find the words in other languages (sometimes) but it isn’t always sure which words belong with which language. Basically if I’m not paying attention, I end up speaking in word salad.

Keeping that in mind, I was rather proud of myself that I explained that I was a friend of Robbie Green, that he was one of the American students who lived there, and I was staying for the weekend. I guess I made enough sense cause she actually let me inside. After crossing the threshold beaming with pride at how worldly I’m becoming, I realized that I only had Robbie’s address and not his apartment number. The palace guard aka land lady looked at me with a wary eye when I stood there on my phone and called Rob Job. She probably though I was selling drugs or some other sort of illegal activity. Turns out Robbie was about a block away and on his way there so when I walked outside of the building to wait for him, she was giving me the hairy eyeball.

So we hung out in Robbies for an hour or two and had a very Spanish dinner of frozen pizza. Then we went downstairs to some girls twenty first birthday. Im there for about two minutes and one of my friends from school, Teddy, comes strolling inside. I didn’t think anything of this cause Robbie and Teddy had been chatting all day and just assumed he had been invited. However, in reality, Robbie didn’t invite Teddy cause he didn’t know if he could and Teddy hadn’t invited us for the same reasons. Upon this, the melody to ‘It’s a small world afterall’ played in my head for about the 10th time so far this trip.

The twenty first birthday lasted only about twenty one minutes because the land lady, my good friend from earlier that evening, showed up and threatened to call the cops. Apparently this is the third time she has threatened to call the cops on them and they’ve been there for two weeks or so. But no one was looking to call her bluff.

So we then went to a bar which had close to 100 different shooters. These were very interactive. There was the Harry Potter-flaming shot with sparks, Mouthwash- minty which you swish in your mouth for 10 seconds swallow and then breath in, Finding Nemo- shot with whipped cream on top and an m&m (nemo) hidden somewhere inside.

So after there we went to a club. In Barcelona there are these two competing club promoters, both of them with the same name, keiki. Both of them have groups on facebook where every night they send a message out to all the members and hawk free drinks, free entry, etc for wherever they happen to be promoting that evening. These dudes literally make hand over fist and get to party for free just by sending out facebook message? Are they hiring?

So being cheap and not wanting to pay a cover, we went to one of keiki’s clubs of the day. With dropping his name we were able to by pass the line, get in for free, and use the VIP entrance. Not too shabby.

If France is the major leagues of pastries, then Barcelona is the majors of partying/going out. Seriously. Their daily schedule includes a nap and dinner starting at like 9:30.

Robbie and I got a late start on my second day in Barcelona- we didn’t leave the house until 2 in the afternoon but it was a rather successful day considering we had about four and a half hours of day light.

Since Robbie lives, there, he had already seen some of the major landmarks things, like La Sagrada Familia as well as the other Gaudi designs. I would have liked to see them, but living outside of DC I have had my fair share of playing tour guide so I had no problem seeing things he had not had a chance to visit yet.

We started by walking down “Las Ramblas” which is the main avenue in Barcelona. Its full of street performers, lots of those idiots who paint themselves like statues, and vendor selling all sorts of pets.

Do you want a chicken? What about a duck? Parrots? Hamsters, snakes, or rabbits, take your pick. Seriously, they had all of those. I would love to see who actually buys a chicken off of the side of the road.

Anyways, next to one of these stands turned pet store, was a guy doing that ‘watch me move the balls in the cup really quick’ game, you know, the one they play on the big screen at Nationals games. I wanted to stop and watch but Robbie practically pushed me to keep walking. He said that at all his orientation things they continuously warned them about pickpockets and said there are ones who are in with the guy playing the ‘ball in the cup’ game, so that while you focus on the cups, a guy will come up and steal your wallet. Its good he warned me because in Barcelona I talked to at least four people who all told me about how they had things taken from them, ranging from cameras, to wallets, to purses literally snatched off of their arms.

After Robbie warned me I thought it would be funny to try and pretend to steal his wallet. So I did. He wasn’t happy about it but I busted up laughing. That kid has got quick reaction time.

Las Ramblas ended at the port and a GIANT monument to Christopher Columbus. Id post pictures, but I left my camera at Robbie’s in my mad rush to leave because I though I had lost my bus ticket, but more on that later. We wandered around the port and stumbled upon a guy playing Beatles songs on the guitar. Since the weather was perfect- about 65 and sunny- and we were in no rush I probably sat there for close to half an hour. He was really really good, but we all got the impression that he didn’t necessarily know what he was singing, even though he knew all of the words. Kinda like a parrot just repeating what it hears.

Eventually we made our way over to the beach, where despite it being the middle of January, people were in bathing suits and tanning. It reminded me so much of Colgate in January that I almost couldn’t handle it. So then we wandered to where the Olympic stadium from the ’92 Olympics. That was impressive, but honestly, I though the coolest part was (and I know im gonna sound like a huge nerd) was Montjuic Tower which was used for the communications during the Olympic games. It looked like something from the Jetsons only less cartoonish. The architecht, who’s name I forget, is really well known for both his modern designs and incorporating an unexpected element into his designs.

Fun Fact: the unexpected element for the TV tower is that it doubles as a giant sundial.

I stole this picture from online cause its too hard to describe it well enough.

After waiting around at this palace, now museum, that was right next door for the water show that never happened because something was busted, we decided to get dinner. I was excited to try tapas, which is essentially a meal of appetizers, which are always my favorite part of the meal anyways cause if you don’t like what your eating its not like your committed to a whole meal. You just suck it up, throw it down the hatch, and move on. But if you do like what your eating, you can feast on them.

Basically I was excited to eat nothing but the Spanish version of spinach and artichoke dip, mini egg rolls, mozzarella sticks, and pigs in a blanket for dinner. And don’t front, you know your favorite part of fancy parties is all the dudes walking around with different appetizers on their trays.

Alas, this being Europe, you never know when stores are just not going to open for the day because they don’t feel like it. And to complicate the issue, this was Barcelona and most places don’t open for dinner until 9:30 at night. It was about 8:45, 9 o’clock and I was fiending for food so lets be real. I wasn’t about to wait half an hour outside of a restaurant that may or may not be opening at all for dinner that evening.

So we found another restaurant that looked how a restaurant would look if the same people who make the Apple stores designed it. The last time I had Spanish was 10th grade and unfortunately the menu wasn’t the same as Taco Bell, so I basically ordered blind, only knowing that my dish came with some cheese somewhere in it. I got what I think was pork with various melted cheeses on it. Sounds not too appetizing, but it was pretty good cause they used really good cheese. The portion size was what I considered to be a little more than appetizer size, so we all went back to the apartment and had a second dinner. It was quite similar to the people who were on the documentary ‘I consume 20,000 calories a day’ on TLC I watched at some point this summer. Only no mayonnaise and bacon sandwiches were involved.

So afterwards, we went to the “Dow Jones Bar.” This was actually a really cool concept. There were flat screens throughout the bar with the prices of all the drinks on them. Based on the popularity of the drink, the price would rise or fall. Every half hour or so, there would be a ‘market crash’ and the prices would all reset. They really only fluctuated like 50 cents, so you really weren’t saving all that much unless you were buying copious amounts of the drink. Which I guess, is kinda like the stock market, but lets be real, no one is buying 100 gin and tonics at a time.

So when we get home, I can’t find my bus tickets. Great. So I set my alarm for 9:30 giving me a full hour to get to the station and beg for mercy in a mix of broken Spanish, French, and English.

As im standing in line at the bus station the next morning, rehearsing what Im going to say, I find what I though to be my luggage receipt in my coat. I was hoping that this would work to my advantage as proof that at some time, I actually did have a ticket.

Brian then took this receipt, unfolded it, and showed me that this was in reality my bus ticket.

Better to feel like an idiot and save bus fair, than feel like an idiot because you have to pay the fair twice.

All in all Id say it was a great way to spend 36 hours, and I would definitely go back but with so many other places to see, I doubt I’ll have a chance for repeats.

Break

Im sorry for the long lapse in updates. I was traveling for ten days (London, to Florence, to Milan-with a small stop off in Modena for the Ferrari factory and museum) and could not get on the Internet for long enough to write a proper post. However, last night I got into Geneva and spent today going to classes, unpacking, and getting myself settled so I will have a chance to get back to writing entries.

Final Impressions

So I have one day and two nights left in Montpellier, and the month really has gone by absurdly fast. This city though has been a perfect introduction to Europe. Its city enough to offer everything I’ve wanted, but small enough for me to learn its streets of the old section (where I live) by spending one Sunday afternoon wandering around. Its certainly French with at least two outdoor cafes and patisseries wherever I am. But un-French because of the absence the cliché haughty attitude. With one exception at the ticket station, I haven’t found anyone to be purposefully rude or anti-American. A welcome surprise.

Its strange how things like walking past city’s Arc D’ Triomphe everyday on my way to school, sitting in a café with a guy playing the according 10 feet away, living in an apartment with walls dating to the 15th century, and seeing people walking around with baguettes can be foreign, mind-boggling, and romantic when I stop to think about them, but have become part of my day to day life.

So that being said, allow me to go through what my day-to-day life here consists of and/or things I haven’t gotten around to writing yet.

Get ready for Fun Fact overload.

One afternoon our group took a tour of the city, organized by our professor who thought it a good enough idea to have Colgate foot the bill. Unfortunately this was right after one of our classes so I don’t have my camera because I had forgotten the tour was that day, but maybe Ill steal some photos off of facebook. Anyways, we started the tour by going into the Arc that I pass everyday. I didn’t know that it even had a door, but even if I had I wouldn’t have been able to go inside cause the tour guide had a key for it. After climbing up quite a bit of stairs, we were on top of the Arc and had a fantastic view. The guide pointed out the court to our left and explained how the avenue right in front of/under us was way way younger than the rest of the city because they knocked the original buildings down (in the 1800s I think) and rebuilt it in the Parisian style of wide streets and this is why the architecture on the buildings was did not mach the rest of the city.

Oh and Montpellier is considered a ‘young’ city because its just a little under a thousand years old.

Then we went to the medical school, which either was the first one in Europe or the oldest in Europe. Nothing really too noteworthy. However, the school is attached to a cathedral and our guide pointed out the scars in the towers from the crusades.

Then we went to the Jewish baths. This was two underground rooms at the bottom of totally noteworthy stairs behind a door in an alleyway. The first room was for changing and the second was the bath, which was more like a pool. The guide said the water was very clean because it was rain water that gets filtered through rocks and sand.

Fun Fact: Jewish men only used the baths twice a year, for New Years and what the guide described as “Jewish Easter” I have no idea what holiday that could be. Maybe it’s a Jews for Jesus sorta deal. Ladies got to take baths on the same days, and also to purify themselves after menstruation.

I wondered though how clean the water really could be, cause there was no drain or anything at the bottom so all the dirt had no way of coming out of the water.

Centuries old menstruation leftovers anyone? Oh you’ll take seconds? Thought so.

So then we went to a couple houses that were very cool. Well we didn’t go into the houses, more stood in their courtyards and looked like fools to the people who lived there. Imagining a group of tourists rolling up on your lawn and taking pictures. Yea.

Fun Fact: The reason there are so many fountains all around the city is because back when people didn’t have running water, they would go to the fountain to get it. This is all very logical, but I just never made the connection.

There are also lots of homeless people in the city. The homeless people here are not the same as in the US. The majority of them are young, my age or a little bit older. Also, in the US a fair number of the homeless people have mental illnesses, not so here. Well, except for one black guy with no teeth who runs around moaning and humping air to the beat of the music being played in the plaza, but hes an exception. In class I asked why there are so many homeless (Sans Domicile Fixe or SDFs as they’re called here) as well as why most of them are so young.

All the other cities surrounding Montpellier have outlawed living on the streets. So they all come here. So many of them are young because they are not homeless as we consider it in the US. A large number of them are ‘anarchists’ and live on the street by choice. Basically hippies with a punk attitude. They reject they order of society as well as material things, go live on the streets, and like to cause trouble. Also, every single one of them has a dog.

Fun Fact: There is some antiquated law here where a person cannot be arrested for a petty crime if they have a dog, because the police will have to take care of the dog. (At least I think that’s the reason, im not 100% sure cause my teacher explained it in French, but the important part is having a dog equals no arrest unless your crime is serious)

So all the SDFs know this law and take full advantage of it. Also, for some reason, Montpellier is pro SDF and refuses to change any of their laws to become less homeless friendly. Including the one about the dogs.

Considering how horrible a five and a half hour French class has the potential to be, my class truly is great. This all can be chalked up to our Professor Denise. If I had to describe Denise in one way it would be ‘off her rocker’ but in a kooky crazy way, not a Tom Cruise scientology way. She lives by the ‘enthusiasm breeds enthusiasm mantra’, which Id say, for the most part, works. We get along well on a personal level, but out student teacher relationship has seen its strains. Most of this stems from my inability to get ANYTHING right when we play our little ‘guess the vocab word game.” I dunno what it is, I just can’t remember vocab for the life of me.

However, the vocab that I have been able to retain, is really really useful. I would say the majority of the words I know I have heard at least once out on the street, on tv, etc. This in no way means anyone will mistake me for a native speaker, but my French is way way better than it was before I got here. Most times I don’t even need to do the whole formulate the sentence in my head before I speak.

And that’s what is all about right?